by T. Styles
When the phone rang on the table by the bed, she rolled off of him and crawled toward it. She plopped down on her belly, and her tight ass cheeks sat up in the air like two firm melons. Because she was on her stomach and her legs were slightly open, her pink pussy stood out against her chocolate skin and had him wanting to dig into her all over again.
“Hello,” she said, popping her ass cheeks like the girls in the American porno movies, knowing that her young husband was watching. “Oh, Afua,” she said cheerfully. “My dearest friend. How are you?”
“I’m fine. This baby is keeping me up all hours of the night, of course. But how are you?”
“Great. Just preparing to leave for America,” she said proudly.
“I know, my friend,” Afua sighed. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. When do you think you could come over, Thandi? I’d like to prepare a meal for you before you leave. You know…how we used to do years ago.”
Afua and Thandi had been friends since they were toddlers. When Kerrick first met Thandi, Afua was with her. At first, he was attracted to them both but it was Thandi’s sharp tongue and witty conversation that won him over. He’d been pleased with his decision ever since.
But Afua wasn’t a slouch and therefore, she wasn’t single for long. After awhile, she married Ulan and they had a beautiful baby together. Although Ulan didn’t have the intelligence to go to college like Kerrick, he was a workingman who made his living in the fields and provided for his wife and six-month-old baby the best he could.
“How about tonight?” Thandi said. “I can make some hibiscus punch and we can chat for hours.” She giggled.
“Oh no,” Afua said in a disappointed tone. “Tonight would usually be great but Ulan is not here. And I won’t have anyone to care for the baby. Besides, he wanted to say goodbye to you also.”
Thandi rolled on her back and looked at her husband who was eyeing her as if she were a piece of steak. She widened her brown thighs to give him a greater view. Her pussy opened like a rosebud and whispered his name.
Turned on, Kerrick crawled on top of her and stuck his dick into her warmth as she continued her conversation. Her body shivered with delight.
Damn I love this man, she thought.
“On second thought, tonight won’t be good for me either,” Thandi said as Kerrick moved inside of her. “My husband gets off early tonight and he wants to take me out to dinner before we leave for America. Tomorrow he works all day and that will be better for me.”
“Oh…I…I want to see you sooner than that. It’s urgent.”
Thandi sensed something in her friend’s voice and Kerrick sensed something wrong with his wife. Thandi’s body tensed up and he looked at her with concern. “Why do you sound unhappy, friend?” Thandi asked.
“It’s just that I want to tell you something but I’m not sure if I should. It may not be my place.”
“What is it about?”
“Kerrick,” she said firmly.
Thandi’s eyes squinted. “What about Kerrick could have you so unhappy?” she giggled.
Kerrick pulled out of his wife and looked down at her. Now he was concerned since he was a part of the conversation.
“I’ve been hearing things,” she swallowed, “awful things and I want to talk to you about them first. But let me not ruin the day. Tomorrow works for me, Thandi. What time can you come over?”
“I’ll be there at noon. But is there something I should be concerned about?”
“That’s up to you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
When she hung up, Kerrick looked at her with an accusatory stare. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Why are you upset?”
“That was Afua. She said she wanted to talk to me about something.”
He bent down and kissed her chin. “About what?”
“You.”
He rose up and laughed. “What could she possibly want to say about me?” He got out of bed and slipped into his black slacks on the floor. “The woman doesn’t even know me.”
He watered his plants, a hobby that was handed down to him by his mother before he had to kill his parents to avoid being tortured by Chimwanje, a militant group trained by the guerillas. Kerrick was taken by the same group and tossed from village member to village member, where he was raped by men and sold to others for profit and slavery. When asked why he was raped and not allowed to fight for the rebellion, they said he was too soft. And only the most violent ruled.
“Are you sure you are being faithful?” she asked him calmly.
Kerrick ambled over to the wooden chair in the room and slipped into the white t-shirt he wore earlier. “Thandi, I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just ask me that.”
Her attitude seemed serious. “Are you faithful?” Unlike some women, she did not fear him.
He sat on the edge of the bed and placed on his brown loafers, no socks. He also slid the red ribbon bracelet that Thandi made him in art class onto his wrist. “You already know the answer to that.”
“And yet you ignore my question anyway.”
His brows lowered. “Never forget that a lot of women in this village are envious of you,” he responded. “We are going to have the life together that they always dreamed of. Don’t get replaced because you don’t trust me.” He stood up and walked toward the door. “There are plenty of you, my beautiful Thandi. But there is only one of me.”
****
Nighttime fell on Zimbabwe, bringing with it a warm breeze. The darkness acted as cover as Kerrick approached the shack with vengeance in his heart. Before breaking into the house, he looked behind himself and then removed a knife from his back pocket. Carefully, he stuck the blade into the keyhole of the door and it popped. Once he turned the handle slightly, it clicked.
He had gained entrance.
Kerrick pushed the door open and crept inside slowly. The floor creaked under the pressure of his weight as he eased toward the back bedroom. He arrived at a wooden door, which was welted due to Africa’s sweltering heat. He approached the door and placed his ear against it. From inside, he heard heavy breathing. The door creaked when he entered and the snoring ceased.
Startled, Afua sat straight up in the bed when she realized she was not alone. She pushed herself back into the headboard and brought her legs against her chest. Her face glistened due to the moonlight shining against the sheen of sweat covering her chocolate skin. “I knew you would be coming.” Her tone was calm but she was horrified. Her eyes darted around her room and landed on the machete her husband used to cut sugar cane on the floor next to the door. She considered running for it.
“You’ll never make it,” he warned. “I’m quicker and more deadly. Tell me, Afua, how did you know I would come tonight?” he took one step inside.
“I dreamed of you.”
He raised the knife in his hand and rubbed the tip. It pricked his fingertip. He had been around violence so much that he loved murder. “Why did you have to stick your nose into my business, Afua? I would’ve never acted so hastily had you not violated my marriage. Don’t you realize how much I love my wife? And how far I will go to protect her from my secrets?”
“I wasn’t thinking, Kerrick. I love my friend truly.” A single tear rolled down her face and dampened her white cotton bra. “I always have and always will. And I thought she should know that you steal babies for profit.”
“That’s your biggest problem. You think your love trumps mine,” he bellowed. “She is my wife and I will go to the ends of the earth to keep her impression of me pure!”
Afua exhaled. It was as if all of the air was pressed from her body. She knew there was nothing she could say to him. Her time in this life had expired. “Before you kill me,” her body trembled as she reconciled with her fate, “I need to know something. About my son, are you going to sell him too?”
“That’s no longer your worry.”
Her forehead crinkled. Now she was enraged. “If you take my son, everything you touch will be cursed. Y
our food. Your children and even your wife’s lovely face.”
Enraged that she threatened him, Kerrick stepped in further and crawled on top of the bed. Afua tried to run but he overpowered her and straddled her body. He felt superior as he stared down at her. His eyes squinted as rage coursed through his blood. “Afua, you must not ask questions about things you don’t want to know.”
Tiring of her, he slammed the blade into her throat and her eyes popped open. Blood splattered on his eyelids and his mouth. When he was sure she was dead, he crept to the room where her baby lay in his crib. He looked down at the child and watched him sleeping peacefully.
The more children he stole from their mothers, the more heartless he became. He wanted to see if he would spare Afua’s husband’s only child. But for one thousand dollars, he decided he couldn’t. So he removed the baby from the crib and washed into the night.
Kerrick ambled five miles on foot until he arrived at his destination. The child cried a few times but for the most part, he remained silently sleeping. Needing some rest, he approached a bench and waited for his customer.
The child cooed and tossed but Kerrick never looked directly into its face. He didn’t want the child’s features etched in his memory. This type of work was heartless and it took a man like Kerrick, one who was both ambitious and selfish, to do the job. His cold manner made him a pro.
Thirty minutes later a late model, blue Ford pickup pulled up in front of Kerrick. A cloud of dust twirled into the wind. Kerrick stood up and greeted him with a nod of the head. The child was firmly in his arms.
Ochi, a man who led a sex driven lifestyle, hopped out of the vehicle and walked over toward him. “Is this the child?”
Kerrick nodded and handed him the baby. Ochi reached into his pocket and handed him five hundred dollars. Kerrick counted each bill in his hand.
“It took you long enough,” Ochi said, hoping to break Kerrick off of his count.
“You’re short,” Kerrick exclaimed, still examining the bills. “Where’s the rest of my money?”
“Are you sure?” Ochi said. “I just counted it and it was all there.”
Kerrick threw him a glare. A deadly one.
Ochi knew if he persisted in lying to Kerrick, he would meet his demise. So he stuffed his hand into his pocket and grabbed five crumpled one hundred dollar bills. He slapped it into his hand and scowled. “Here. Take your money, baby-napper!”
Kerrick counted the cash again and this time he was correct. So he folded it and placed it into his pocket.
“Why did it take you so long?”
“It doesn’t matter how long it took me. You’re still HIV positive, right?” Kerrick walked away without waiting on an answer. “That’s all you should be worrying about.”
Ochi watched him as he walked up the dirt road and faded out of sight.
Kerrick had a deadly job and he owned up to it. Africa had one of the highest HIV rates in the world and Kerrick capitalized on it. He, and many others, believed in the Virgin Cleansing myth. In their warped minds, they believed that if they had sex with a virgin child, preferably a baby, they would be free of HIV. To the date, Kerrick had stolen over twenty babies in an effort to raise enough money to have a good start in America. He was as evil as they came.
This awful line of work was the reason he had to kill his wife’s best friend. Afua caught on to what he was doing and was going to let Thandi know, and Kerrick decided to stop her the only way he knew how. Through cold blooded murder.
****
The night sky continued to cover Africa like a blanket. Sweat poured down Kerrick’s back and several mosquitoes took to preying on his flesh. After delivering the baby to his customer, Kerrick walked five blocks to the Chaka Bar. He was due home an hour ago but his line of work always made it difficult for him to sleep. And there was only one thing that could cure his ailing heart. Liquor. And plenty of it.
Kerrick strolled up to the makeshift bar and grabbed a plastic white chair. It scraped along the dusty ground as he pulled it to a table. Trying to prevent sweat from pouring down into his eyes, he grabbed a napkin off the table, wiped his brow and flagged over a sexy African native with an ass as high as a basketball hoop and as tight as a guitar string. She was an example of Africa having some of the most beautiful women in the world.
The delightful waitress smiled when Kerrick caught her attention, and grabbed a pencil and pad off the bar. She sashayed in his direction, more than ready to take his order. The red shirt she wore barely covered her miniscule breasts and her white shorts clutched her ass like shackles on a death row inmate.
“How can I help you?” she asked smiling widely. Kerrick was a regular customer and she knew the drunker he was, the better the tip.
“The usual.”
She licked the lead at the tip of the pencil and said, “Vodka and brandy coming up.” She wrote down his order and went to fulfill it.
As he waited, he glanced over at a group of women dancing in a herd. Their bodies glistened under the leaning lamp, as the bass from the speakers possessed their moves. Life in Africa, one of the poorest continents in the world, always seemed brighter when music filled the air.
All of the women put on a performance for Kerrick. They were sexy, no doubt, but not one of them could hold a candle to his beautiful wife Thandi. And he would give anything, including his life, and the lives of innocent babies, to make her happy.
A half hour later, Kerrick was on his second drink. The plan was to stop where he was but his mind was on Afua. He had killed many in his lifetime. So many he could no longer maintain count. But the curse she stuck on him had him worried for his future and he didn’t know how to shake it. He hadn’t known Afua to deal with black magic, but with the confident way she cursed him, he couldn’t be sure.
As he nursed his second drink, he eyed the women and their show. Every time they bucked their hips, they looked in his direction to make sure that he was watching. He had no intentions on fucking any of them but since he had just killed his wife’s best friend and sold off her baby for profit, he could use the mental escape.
“So you’re the reason I can’t get their attention,” an American said, standing behind Kerrick.
When Kerrick turned around, he was staring up at a tall white man with eyes as green as the Caribbean Sea. “May I have a seat?”
Kerrick shrugged and lifted his half empty cup, “It is a public place.” He turned back around and focused on the women.
Although Kerrick seemed calm, his heart thumped around in his chest and he felt uneasy. He doubted that a white American would busy himself with a couple dozen missing African babies but he couldn’t be sure. America was known for butting into other countries’ business.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” The strange gentleman flopped down clutching half a beer in his hand. He leaned back in his seat, which squeaked. “I can’t believe I’m in Africa,” he moaned before taking a large gulp of beer and slamming it down on the table. “Young man, I see your cup is almost empty. Want another?”
Kerrick shrugged. “I guess so.”
The stranger waved the waitress over and she brought the stranger another beer and Kerrick another drink.
“I’m Peter Cramer, by the way,” he said extending his hand. The tips of his fingertips were as red as cherries. “And you are?”
“Kerrick Khumalo.” Kerrick shook his hand.
“So I take it this is your native country,” the stranger asked.
“I’ve lived here for most of my life. But next week my home will be Baltimore, Maryland in America.”
Peter’s eyes widened. He appeared overly excited as he moved around in his seat. “Are you serious?”
“Very.”
“Tell me. What brings you there?”
“I have obtained a visa for school at Johns Hopkins University. Me and my lovely wife, of course. And I’m looking forward to a beautiful future together in the land where dreams come true. In fact, I’ve earned it.”
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“Well isn’t this something,” he nodded. His eyes were on Kerrick but he appeared to be looking through him and not at him. “America is my home too. And I am here to spearhead a new project for my company. Cramer Construction and Associates, also in Baltimore.” He took another gulp. “We’re building luxury buildings here, in the hopes of stimulating the economy,” he boasted. “So what is your major?”
“I’m an engineer.”
The stranger leaned in. “You can’t be serious,” he proclaimed, afterwards slapping the table, almost spilling both drinks.
“I am very serious,” Kerrick smiled as he started to appreciate the gentleman’s vigor for life.
The stranger reached into his pocket, grabbed a small silver case and removed a red and black card. Now Kerrick didn’t feel so uneasy since he was certain the man was not there for him. “Take this and when you reach America, contact me. We’re always looking for engineers.”
Kerrick looked down at the card with hopeful eyes. He always worried about the next step after he secured a degree. Could the strange man with the cherry fingertips be the answer? “Should I wait until after I attain my degree to contact you?”
“Heck no,” he chuckled jovially. “I’d like you to contact me the moment you touch down. We need good interns. We can teach you the business too.”
Kerrick’s smile was so wide he felt clownish. It was unlike him to get wound up by hopes and dreams. He was a man of action and realized that in life things didn’t always go his way. “I will contact you, sir,” he smiled widely while nodding his head. “I most certainly will.”
The stranger leaned back again and looked over at the women in a huddle. They looked like snakes being charmed by a pungi instrument. Back home, he would watch black women from afar, admiring their thick bodies and chocolate skin before beating his dick in the bathroom at work. But in Africa, he could indulge. He could satisfy all of his desires.
“Look at those women,” Peter said out loud to himself. “I have done all I could to win their attention but they don’t seem to be interested in me. Maybe my pale skin and large personality is too much for them,” he said arrogantly.