Silver Fox

Fatima was a gorgeous 30-something bachelorette who had moved to Lagos five years ago. She had lived in Canada in the 10 years prior to her return. She was a woman of endless curves, light-skinned with curly jet-black hair and had the face of a girl who was at least 10 years younger. Even though she had dominated the academic arena, she had always been more popular because of her looks. She was always baffled by the myriad compliments that glorified her hair or her supple skin or bodacious body and next to none about her insights into problem-solving. She had an endless stream of men vying for her attention. They lavished her with gifts and fine dining but she had never once compromised on her high standards. They had all turned out to be assholes in search of nothing but the pleasures between her thighs. She had all but given up on the prospect of finding a worthy man, someone who would cherish every part of her and push her to the heights she knew she was capable of. Then she met Lanre...

Lanre at the time had just turned 40. Inexplicably, he had begun greying at 32 and by his 39th birthday, his induction into the Silver Foxes Hall of Fame was complete.  He had taken care of himself over the years primarily with tennis and swimming so he could still pull of a suit as well as any guy half his age. He was well-read, well-travelled and the consummate gentleman...or at least almost. Lanre had a short attention span when it came to women. He knew it was his problem. He had been unable to make it click with several women who he would describe as perfect on paper. There was nothing wrong with them and any man would have been lucky to have them. But there was just not enough spark to keep Lanre engaged and so at 40, he had never been married. 

Lanre and Fatima met at the Wheatbaker Hotel in Lagos, at a Harvard Business School alumni dinner. He hardly came for things like this but he decided to give it a shot for some strange reason that year. He had overheard her talking about some public policy work she was doing in partnership with McKinsey and being a sucker for intellectual stimulation, he decided to dig a little deeper. "In all honesty, your approach to stimulating SME growth is solid on paper. But with all the intricacies of Nigeria, do you think you'll be able to break through the red tape to get any of those initiatives implemented?", he asked her. And so without any introduction or small talk, the conversations went on and on and they eventually exchanged business cards. Lanre was excited about the prospect of another one-on-one with her.

The next weekend, they saw the Fela play together and over dinner afterward, they talked about her visions for a new Nigeria and plans she had for making sure she had the most fun life she could have while still doing meaningful work. "I'm a firm believer that you can have it all", she often said. Between her dogged determination, intellectual prowess and her courteousness, Lanre found himself enthralled. Fatima was enjoying his company quite a bit and while they walked to her door at the end of the night, they held hands for what seemed like an eternity.  They spoke at 10pm every night and in those short but potent conversations, Fatima finally felt like she was seeing a glimpse of what she wanted in a man. As time passed, their affections grew stronger but had remained unexplored physically and the heightened tension was driving Fatima in particular, insane. She would not make the first move! No way! Why was Lanre so perfect?! Why hadn't he tried to be inappropriate at least once? She had once caught a glance of a dick print in his suit as they walked to her door so why hadn't he at least tried to kiss her? She knew he found her attractive, who didn't? She decided she would coyly address the subject the next time they went out together.

Lanre was on a flight back from Johannesburg on Friday, May 13th. They had planned to meet up to go bowling on Saturday night. Lanre typically slept through long flights and so his last memory was the sight of smoke filling up the cabins and the screams of 100 people aboard as the plane tumbled to the ground. There were no survivors. When Farida heard the news, her heart broke into what seemed like one million pieces. She was so numb, she could not even cry properly. She sank into herself and for one week, she refused to leave her room. Memories flooded her thoughts and all she could think of was Lanre in his final moments. As the days passed, she longed for him more - his smell, the feel of his skin against hers, the sound of his magnetic baritone voice...Her longings became cravings and soon she began to have fantasies of him.

One night, as she slept, she felt a strange but familiar presence in the darkness. She wasn't sure if she was experiencing early onset dementia or if it was a dream. It all felt very real but the situation was impossible. The scent, the sounds, the mood, all screamed that Lanre was somehow in the room with her. She felt him hold her from behind as she lay naked beneath her duvet and his strong arms wrapped themselves around her so his breath was on the back of her neck. "I thought I had lost you", she said in disbelief as she felt the warmth of kisses she had never experienced before. They moved from the back of her neck to her ears and made their way down her back and back up her spine again. Then came gentle bites all over her back as she moaned gently. She could feel what felt like fingertips running up and down the sides of her luscious thighs and soon, a set of fingers between the well-trimmed mound between her legs. The melee of sensations was a sensory overload for her and soon she was gasping, almost out of breath. She felt herself moisten as she laid on her back and spread her thighs apart for whatever was happening. The touches were exactly what her body so desperately needed. She felt her nipples being tugged, stroked and flicked, ever so gently by what could only have been the most expert tongue. She groaned, clutching the pillow as her body trembled at all the pleasure she was receiving. 

She felt a strange sensation of her lady parts gently being penetrated and filled up completely. But she could feel no body towering over her. It was almost as if, whatever was pleasing her was completely inside her. Her juices flowed abundantly spilling onto the sheets and forming a wet spot beneath her ample butt cheeks. She spread her legs in the air, her thighs parted the full distance as she gave in to the rhythmic thrusts of her invisible lover. She responded with vibrations, gasps, yeses, bulging forehead veins and occasional screams as her invisible lover made love to her while she lay down. Sometimes she turned onto her sides and pushed out her hips as she felt the pounding coming from behind. It was almost as if it knew exactly where she needed to be touched. When her clit was tingling, she would feel it being rubbed gently ahead of her own fingers reaching in to do it. When her nipples needed to be tugged hard, she would scream in pleasure as she felt an invisible pressure on them. She was drenched in sweat and losing her mind when her orgasm rocked her off her mattress violently. Then she blacked out.

A few hours later she woke up on the floor, thoroughly drained but still tingling from the sensations of the most peculiar night of her life. The wet spot on the bed was still there. Why the hell did she fall off the bed. She ran her bath water and as the mound between her thighs burned, she turned on the shower head, directed the jet of water against her throbbing clit and closed her eyes once again as she tried to recount the events that had taken place that night. For the first time in many weeks, she smiled naughtily to herself. She had been visited by the man of her dreams after all.