Sylvia gatecrashing a party is the biggest mistake of her life as she meets and falls in lust with a total stranger who turns her life upside down within few hours of meeting him. First, Darsh is forced to kidnap her and takes her on a hair raising journey riddled with danger. To make matters worse for Sylvia, Dash isn't fully human and he isn't going to let her go.
Sylvia felt strongly drawn to him the moment she saw him. The attraction was instantaneous because he seemed to be her type. Slim and plenty of hair. And this guy did not only boast of a narrow waist but adorned it with proportional broad shoulders. He was lithe. Like a slim tiger having leisure time. Complete with a full head of stylishly bushy hair and trimmed beard.
He moved with natural grace as he took a seat at the end of the bar and waited patiently as a horde of party animals with darkened eyes yelled orders at the overworked barman whose kohl had smeared around tired red eyes. Most people in the party wore khol, which made them appear cattish. Sylvia wondered if it was a kind of a club thing. She never knew who the celebrant was or even the reason for the party.
Hours ago, before she crashed this party, she was abysmally drowning in self-pity at home. Then she decided to seek out a hangout far from the area where people knew her, and where she could be unrestrictedly decadent. She found a place with loud music and poor lights. A group of party goers were drinking up a storm at a table, she sat close to them and soon struck up an irrelevant conversation with them. She eventually joined them to this party. Ordinarily Sylvia wouldn't have talked to those strange people or even go to a party she wasn't properly invited to. And the venue of the party wasn't the kind of place she would have attempted going to with strangers. It was situated in an estate still under construction at a remote part of town. She was probably suicidal that night due to the cruel rejection she had suffered earlier.
Her new acquaintances, except for the drunkest of them, disappeared on her as soon as they entered the party hall. The drunk guy hung around her. She pointedly ignored him. He was of average height and stocky and odiously plastered. He disappeared many times and always reappeared with a fresh bottle of drink; a different brand from the last one.
Sylvia had contented herself with a small plate of chops and a bottle of strong alcoholic wine she had snagged from one of the unattended tables as soon as she arrived with her new friends. She didn't open the bottle since its alcohol content was above her usual gauge, but as the party progressed without direction, she was forced to uncork the bottle. She wanted something milder but the stampede at the bar discouraged her.
As the loud music changed to a popular hit, the drunk guy suddenly placed himself before her and leered down. 'You care for a dance?' He was moving his body side by side in a funny motion.
'No, thanks,' Sylvia replied. 'I don't want to dance.' This wasn't what she was looking for. If one must eat a frog, they better go for a juicy one. The reason for coming here was to do what she never did before: have a good time on her own and pick up a delicious guy to hang out with. That was what she wanted, as opposed to playing it safe, which she had done all her life. Look at where playing it safe got her. John betrayed her. Discarded her without remorse or even respect. Made her a laughing stock.
'Why?' the drunk guy asked, taking hold of her hand. The kohl on his eyes had mixed with sweat and spreading towards his cheeks. He burped. She slipped her hand free from his sweaty clutch.
She quickly scoured the hall for better entertainment and to avoid looking at the man before her when she sighted what she wanted. The new guy wasn't ostentatiously dressed, just in dark jeans and shirt, so nobody took notice of him, except her of course because he was her type. The drunk guy pestering her finally weaved away, dancing with his hands lifted up. She sighed with relief, gulped down half glass of her own drink and liked the instant buzz it gave her. She decided to wait for the new guy to get comfortable before she could "bump" into him and strike up a conversation. It would be easier for her If he had a drink in hand. But then, a little after 15 minutes of his arrival and after she had taken more gulps of her drink, he hadn't gotten a drink, so she approached him with hers. 'I've got a whole bottle, you care to share? We will ask the barman for an extra glass.'
He seemed surprised at her brazen approach but he shrugged. He was better looking up-close. Thick ruffled hair, light brown in colour as if tinted, fine groomed facial hair, but not too groomed; full darker eyebrows and lashes. The dim light in the hall cast a shadow on his face and softened his complexion to golden. What she saw of him was handsome in a rugged way. She liked him more.
'But I don't drink alcohol if that's what you've got,' he said to her, his voice, light and friendly. 'Thanks all the same.'
Sylvia hitched a hip on a stool beside him. 'This is all I could get.' She poured more wine into her glass and took gulps. She had become nervous. The wine gave her that spur to approach him so brazenly, and the fact that she was beginning to get tired of getting courted by men she didn't like. She now wanted to go for the ones she liked and save everyone the trouble. John, her recent ex, had chased her for a month, when she finally agreed, she regretted it almost immediately. He wasn't her type to begin with. He was overly muscular in a boxy way, but since he had chased her relentlessly, she took her friends' advice and gave him a chance. First, the romance was forced. The chemistry wasn't there. They just dated, going with the squiggly flow. Meanwhile, she was committed to the relationship and tried her best to make it work, to the extent she started seeing him as her type and even managed to fall in love with their relationship. She kind of started believing she loved him. What was there not to love? He had a good job, good looking, dressed well and came back home before 7pm. He was a husband kind of guy. Only for him to stab her. She caught him cheating on her and when she confronted him, his callous reason was that she wasn't committed enough in their relationship to be his wife. He got engaged a week later. Sylvia felt more humiliated than broken-hearted. Yesterday, one of her friends and roommate made snide remarks about her being dumped for a village girl. Sylvia stormed out of their flat and hadn't gone back. She slept over at another friend's place and decided to crash a party with total strangers today. She didn't know whose party and she didn't care. She promised herself to hook up with any fine guy and have a nice time. And here she was chatting up a cute guy who was totally her type.
'My name is Sylvia,' she extended a fist to him and he bumped it. 'I'm Darsh.'
'She smiled at him. 'You look foreign.'
He chuckled. I am a little foreign. My grandfather isn't from here. East Africa.' 'That's nice. East Africa has beautiful people. Ethiopia, especially.'
'My grandfather is Ethiopian. Does that make me beautiful?' He gave her a teasing smile and a wink.
She laughed and gulped more wine. He's so hot, she thought. Liquid warmth rushed through her body.
He got up, brought out his wallet from his back pocket, flipped it open, riffled out a snapshot and showed her. She got her phone from her handbag and switched on the phone torch. The elderly man in the picture looked more like a crossbreed between an exotic canine and a human. His dark brown face has a long golden beard covering the entire lower half part of his face. His thick brows and deep set eyes were startlingly clear and had a set of piercing golden pupils. The man was wearing a grey suit and white shirt and held a cane.
'That's him. My grandfather.'
'Wow! He's remarkable.' She looked at the photo longer.
'He is a remarkable man. I grew up under him and he taught me a lot.' He put back the photo in the wallet and slipped the wallet behind him.
'Do you want to dance?' She asked him. He shrugged. 'I'm not good at it?'
She grinned at him. 'I'll manage what you have. What's a party without dancing?'
He gave her a slight shrug and followed her to the dance floor teeming with dancers, so she held onto him with one hand and the other clutching her bottle, and still managed to sling it around his shoulders, he put his arms around her waist. She liked the warmth from his body, his skin felt good on hers as they moved slowly to the loud beat. Her body was comfortable with his maleness. She held him closer, her breasts cushy against his chest. He wasn't that taller than her because she was on high heels. She suddenly wanted him to touch her intimately. She longed for it. It was a crazy yearn beyond her natural self. It was so strong.
Overpowering. And he reacted to that need too as if by telepathy. He seemed to have felt her vibe and splayed his fingers on the small of her back, nudging her close and tight to his frame, his leg shoved in between her legs. They couldn't get closer than that on the dance floor. Her body trembled, she brushed her face against his face, her mouth close to his mouth, seeking a kiss, shocking her normally reserved self. He brushed his lips on her chin and cheek, avoiding her mouth. She sighed and sagged on him, he held her. Right then the light and the music went off completely in the entire hall. There was total darkness. People gasped. Some whooped.
Darsh's mouth took Sylvia's in a hurried but passion-racked kiss. She yielded at once. Her fingers buried in his thick hair. His hand toured her body, his mouth ravished her mouth and neck, her cleavage. She loved his scent and his taste in her mouth. He intoxicated her more than the wine.
Sylvia's eyes were shut in the darkness but seeing fireworks. Darsh touched her intimately without seeming vulgar. She loved it and wanted more. She wanted to go to bed with him that instant. To completely give herself to him. She held on to him tight, believing that she had completely gone mad because of a man.
The light and the music came back on. The drunk guy had returned again and was now standing close to them, staring open-mouthed. Darsh stopped feeling her and stepped away. Sylvia reluctantly let him go.
'You said you didn't want to dance,' the drunk said accusingly, pointing at Sylvia. 'I asked you first. We are together.'
'We are not together,' Sylvia replied. 'I don't even know you.'
'That's harsh,' he slurred, then glared at Darsh. 'You don't come to our party and steal our women. Not done.' He stomped away like a spoilt child.