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[maniroko]

PART 2

I looked and saw a group of 3 girls, 2 blonde and one dark haired, looking at me and tittering. I coolly raised my glass in a salute to them and drank, wondering whether I am the cause of their animated discussion.
One of the girls rose and walked towards the bar, she was slim, in fact model thin, and that don’t do for me. She got to the bar, requested for a drink and then turned towards me, saying hi, I was like here goes.
I greeted her back and she asked, with a lisp, Are you American Marine? I wished I could say yes, as it appears that the only black they see are black US marines, I told her no, she asked me if I was from UK, I said no, Nigeria, she tried to place the name, I added Africa to help her, but she was still trying to remember something, then she blurted out, Yeas, Nigeria pronouncing it as Nijeriya, my uncle, he was in team that played Nigeria at the USA World Cup 1994.
Men, I remembered that match, Nigeria’s first appearance at the World Cup and first match ever, we explosively demolished Bulgaria 3-1. Even with their captain and then reigning world footballer of the year , Hristov Skoichov playing. No wonder, she was trying to recollect, her uncle was part of the Bulgarian team and may have Nigeria team picture pin up somewhere. She invited me over to their table and my visit to Bulgaria became more interesting thereafter.
But this case was different, do I approach that table and introduce myself and ask for her contact, what if one of the stocky men sitting there is her husband or father and the guys band together to play rugby with my skin, which after all is their favorite sport.
I wondered if I should give a waitress a note to slip into her hand, wont she on receipt of the note draw attention to me that will result in same outcome i was dreading. My head was calculating as I watch her sweet lips move, the more I look the more I feel hot even with the cold Johannesburg weather.
Then she rose, and walked past me towards the ladies, as she waltzed past me in her short black mini skirt, I inhaled her fragrance and it was quite heady, she just glanced at me and I tried to cook up an awkward smile but she had already passed before my pimpled teenager like smile could mature.
As she walked, I stared at the roll of her well defined but packed buttocks as it rolled up and down in tight formation, the fresh firm legs tapered to slim pair of ankles, I hungered to heft the pert asses and squeeze. My hard on was paining me at this time.
I stepped close to the gents still thinking on how to introduce myself, I just decided that I will introduce myself and see what happens.
Next, I heard shit! From the direction of the ladies, then she poked her sweet head out of toilet and saw me standing there, she instructed me to get her a hook or something as the button and zip of her short jean skirt have broken.
There was no way she could hold it and even walk as the mini skirt was even showing lots of skin when it was whole.
I guess she thought I was a janitorial worker since I was gawking just outside the toilets.
Wao! I remembered, as a frequent traveler I always carry an emergency palm sized mini sewing machine, since I got embarrassed on a trip to Dallas, where I was supposed to receive an award for one of my films and on the night of the event my suit was missing a button and the hotel laundry man had left for the day.
I told her to wait and took off in a scampering run, my heart heaving wildly, praying that she do not get a solution before I rescue her.
I could have told her friends of her predicament but that would have entailed revealing that I may have been watching them, also, she might not have wanted the other ladies to see her in that situation as the girls could have been jealous of the hold she had over the men.
And also I was a bit selfish and didn’t want to share my damsel in distress rescue mode with anyone, no matter how closer to her than me they may be, me,I no send. [I no send is a Nigerian street speak meaning, I don't care] As I dashed back to her she was almost in tears as she was still holding the edges of the skirt together with both hands.
I thrust the machine into her hand as she reached to collect it, one hand couldn't hold the skirt together and it fell open to reveal creamy succulent looking laps, her crotch was bulging the silky material of the scant covering.
I tried to turn my face away and leave, her voice arrested me, she gave me back the machine saying that she cannot use it.
I was about to tell her that she has to remove the skirt when she just slipped it off and gave me the skirt to mend.
She was wearing a very tiny G string and the sides of her pudenda were showing, puffy and succulent looking. She caught me looking and turned her back and the sight was even more erotic, the Gsting was just a string at the back , with the cheeks of her pert bum completely exposed.
I wanted to kneel and nuzzle that bum, part the cheeks, caress and heft of side up and slid my throbbing dick into the hot pussy.
But I turned my eyes and concentrated on the skirt, it was wafting with her fragrance and I wanted to wear it over my face and inhale deeply.
I wished I was the G string covering her vagina.
She had turned back to look at what I was doing and I could feel a scowl on her face at my pertinence for looking at her body.
Soon I finished with the buttons and they were a bit manageable but she have to cover it with her shirt.
She brought some small rand and offered to me and I told her I do not understand, she looked at me askance and spoke in Afrikaans I replied that I don’t hear what she was saying and I then offered her a complimentary DVD of my latest film, that was when she asked me who I was, I told her I am a film maker from Lagos, Nigeria, immediately she blushed and apologized. She said she thought I was working in the toilet but that she ought to have known that I should be a West African because of my height.
And I smiled and answered that I would gladly work in the worst toilet if it would guarantee my seeing her every day. At this she smiled and her aplomb returned. We exchanged names, I will not give her real name, so we would only know her as SHE.
I told her I was returning to Lagos that day and if I could take her number. She gave me but said that she does not really give strangers number, I told her that at the point of her need I was not a stranger to her and no matter what happens thereafter, we are no longer like two ships passing each other at night but will remember each other.
I called her a couple of times from Nigeria but her response were not really with warmth, but I was very happy even being a mere friend and cherished the few seconds we say hi to each other.