Tumble

Jack raced through the deserted streets of Cape Town as if the devil was closing in on him...fast!

His hands gripped the steering wheel; his knuckles showing white. Hitting the boulevard worried signs flashed warnings at him, but he sped on hugging the white line as if it was a long lost lover. Hospital Bend held him in a grip, but he refused to gear down, he felt in control behind the wheel of her A5.

Nearly Midnight and the heat felt thick clinging to him, making him boil, plastering his white T-shirt to his sunburnt skin.

"Jeez," he muttered, "it's an inferno in here."

He set the aircon on high, aimed it straight for his face. He caught his hair doing a dance in the mirror and he gave a throaty laugh.

She loved running her hands through his thick black hair, stroking it gently...Till the yanking started, till she became rough and demanding; moving his head down, locking him in, her grip vice-like, her eyes smouldering, her growl primal and fierce.

"She's really gonna love me now," he whispered into the dark, rubbing his stubble; it was way passed a 5 o'clock shadow.

And his hair was scruffy and unkempt.

As he made his way round bends and curves like a pro, his faded jeans bulged as thoughts of her played on his mind:

Her nails as it dug deep, leaving welts and raises.

Her thighs as it locked around his bottom so he could hardly move.

Her teeth, nibbling, then biting as if she was Dracula's spawn.

"It's gonna be painful!"

He squirmed in his seat, his body already sore from days spent out in the sun in Bishop's Court landscaping her backyard to perfection.

He was nervous as hell.

He reached for a Camel and sucked deep.

"Some Santana!"

Carlos was like a sedative.

He took one hand off the steering, flicked on the shuttle setting it on loud and let Carlos sing to him of "Black Magic Woman".

He tapped his fingers to the beat, "Ah, smooth."

It took the edge off.

Set the tone

Geared him up to face her.

He glanced in his rear view mirror; not a soul on the road behind him: the city slept early on the day of rest.

He made it to the airport offramp as the clock struck 12. He was running late; her flight was landing in 10 minutes:

SAA 667.

"Apt," he'd muttered under his breath to the housekeeper when her itinerary came through.

He remembered being glad for the 7.

Maybe it was a good sign.

Maybe he wouldn't be left battered and bruised this time.

Maybe the scars would be superficial, not etched on his mind and heart.

"You should've had your hair cut!" Mavis said looking at him in disapproval, "madam Godiva is gonna mouth off at me cos you look like a bergie wandering around the place!"

"If only you knew, Mavis, If only you knew."

He wasn't ready for her.

He got used to a vanilla life with her gone.

Was happy to coast on auto-pilot.

She had made a big move, relocated her whole family to Joburg.

"A big promotion," she said.

"More money to spend on you," she said.

"And I'll fly into Town all the time on business anyway," she said.

"New car, new apartment, new job, but I'm keeping my old house and my old lover,"she said.

She was on her knees, her hands tied behind her back, his red bandana blinding her: "Can I?" she pleaded, "can I keep you?" It had been her last night in town, they spent it together in his tiny apartment above her garage, her family already settled in Sandton. He had never seen her looking so out of place, she was shaking, goosebumps appearing on her naked flesh.

"Beg me!" he commanded, and she did, cowering on all fours.

He saw the tower looming in the distance and his adrenaline started pumping; moving him forward at breakneck speed. He hurried down to Arrivals to meet Jill, saw her standing there with her hands on her hips, her eyes already clouded over and his heart took a tumble.