Part 2: Shackled Affection
26 December 2006
The streets of Actonville, Benoni, were usually bustling with th, but today, Paarl Street was unusually quiet.
It was the morning after Christmas, and the city felt still asleep, recovering from the late-night celebrations.
Fire drums that would typically burn into the night stood cold and still, waiting for the following evening to come alive with music and chatter.
I stood outside my house, glancing up and down the empty street, wondering what the day would bring.
It was around 5:22 p.m. when I noticed the flash of a red sedan driving past. The car caught my attention not because it was fancy or out of place but because I had seen it before.
It belonged to someone in the area, but tonight, it was different. It seemed to linger, moving slowly as if the driver was searching for something or someone. I squinted, trying to get a look at the driver, but the car rounded the corner and disappeared.
Shrugging it off, I returned to my idle thoughts, thinking about how the night would likely be as uneventful as the day had been.
But minutes later, the red sedan reappeared. This time, it didn’t just pass by it stopped. The car stopped right in front of the black steel fence where I stood, and that’s when I saw her.
She was stunning, even from a distance. Her brown hair shimmered under the fading light, and as she leaned slightly toward the window, I saw her hazel eyes.
I was 22 years old at the time, and I had never been one to approach women easily, especially not someone as breathtaking as her.
I could feel my heartbeat pick up, a mix of nerves and excitement flooding my chest. The car pulled away again before I could move closer, leaving me confused and a little disappointed.
Was she looking for someone else? Did she mistake me for someone?
But there was no time to dwell on it because not long after, the red sedan returned once more.
This time, the car slowed to a near crawl, going no more than 20 kilometers an hour as if teasing me.
Some neighbors who had come outside also began to stare, curious about the car that was now clearly circling the street. My pulse quickened. Was she going to stop again?
I held my breath as the car finally stopped right in front of me. The window rolled down, and there was this beautiful, confident woman.
Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, her eyes sparkling in the dim evening light.
I was utterly frozen, caught off guard by the intensity of her presence. She smiled, and my heart nearly skipped a beat.
“What are you doing this evening?” she asked, her voice smooth and playful.
I blinked, stunned for a moment. Was she talking to me?
I glanced over my shoulder to see if someone else was around, but it was just me.
She laughed, a soft, melodic sound that instantly put me at ease. That laugh had something behind it, like a promise of adventure, of something more.
“I’m… I’m not doing anything,” I stammered, trying not to sound as nervous as I felt.
Her smile widened. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
She tilted her head, her eyes never leaving mine. I felt my face grow warm as I tried to compose myself.
“No, no ghost,” I said quickly, trying to regain confidence. But my voice cracked slightly, and I immediately regretted how high-pitched it sounded. Dammit, why couldn’t I keep it together?
She didn’t seem to mind, though. Her smile softened, and she leaned in closer, her eyes locking with mine. “We’re having a barbeque at my place tonight. You should come.”
She blinked again, my brain struggling to catch up. Was this happening? A woman like her inviting me, a random guy from the street, to her place for a barbeque? It felt surreal, like I had stepped into a dream.
“Yeah, uh… sure. I’ll come,” I said, trying to play it cool.
“No, silly,” she laughed again, “I’ll come pick you up.
Be ready at 7 p.m. sharp.” She gave me a wink, and with that, she rolled up the window and drove off, leaving me standing there like an idiot, grinning from ear to ear.
I hurried inside, my heart racing as I rummaged through my closet for something decent to wear.
I found my black formal pants and a navy blue shirt, leaving the top button open for a more casual look.
I slicked back my hair with some gel, ensuring I looked as good as I felt. This was wild beyond crazy, but I wouldn’t miss this chance.
At precisely 7 p.m., I heard the sound of a car horn outside. She was here. I dashed out the door, shouting a quick goodbye to my mom before jumping into the car.
We drove through the streets, the city lights reflecting off the windshield. Her house was beautiful, large with iron gates and a balcony overlooking the street.
We pulled into the garage, and the door closed behind us.
“Where are your sons?” I asked as we stepped out of the car, trying to make small talk.
“They’ll be back later,” she giggled, her voice playful and full of energy. “But for now, it’s just you and me.”
She handed me the remote to the music system.
I hesitated, feeling out of place in this lavish home, but she disappeared into the kitchen before I could say anything.
Moments later, she returned with a bottle of Southern Comfort in one hand and two glasses in the other.
“Would you have a drink with me?” she asked, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sent a chill down my spine. I nodded, unable to say no.
We sat across from each other, sipping our drinks and talking.
She told me about her life, her two grown sons, aged 23 and 21, and her three-year-old daughter, who stayed with her father for the holidays.
She spoke about the loss of her husband, how he gambled away their savings and left her to pick up the pieces.
Despite it all, she had managed to keep her family afloat. But there was a sadness in her eyes, a loneliness that I could feel even across the table.
The night flew by, and before we knew it, it was 10 p.m. She offered to drive me home, but something in her eyes told me she didn’t want me to leave. “Or… you could stay the night,” she added, her voice soft, almost hesitant.
I nodded, my head spinning from the alcohol and the overwhelming feelings building up inside me. She handed me a blanket and a pillow, and I made myself comfortable on the couch.
As I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, all I could think about was her beauty, warmth, and vulnerability. I felt like I had known her for years, even though it had only been a few hours.
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