The last fight 8

By LAWRENCE CHITERI
Published February 3, 2010

Father Zamisha has a very noble duty to perform, and as a dejected Sister Tata makes a forlorn retreat, he saunters into Hasho’s room. Hasho is first irked by these persistent visits, and is determined to get above them. Father Zamisha meekly approaches Hasho, who sits still to await his word. The chilling quiet, accompanied by the firm, and metalic stare from Hasho, mellows Father Zamisha. He stops in his track, and obviously awaits Hasho’s reaction.

The Bishop knowing Hasho’s leaning towards Macho, has instructed Father Zamisha to lend a manly perspective to this mission; he is called to duty, and finds it akward to let the moment beat him. As thoughts race in the mind of Father Zamisha, as what approach to give Hasho, she breaks the silence, “and what brings you here? Won’t a whole man of your station, be ashamed of entering a woman’s private room, and without the courtesy of a notice?”

Hasho succeeds in disarming Father Zamisha, and knowing this, she makes for a kill; she is covered in a light wrapper, whose length is intended to reveal the whole upper knee, upto the feet below; the wrapper was held together only by her left hand. Hasho decides to meticulously ease herself from the couch, into which she had reclined when Father Zamisha entered the room. She then casually, and deliberately glides towards Father Zamisha. When she reaches within arms length, she stretches her right hand, and gets hold of Father Zamisha’s coat.

Hasho urges him to let her ease the coat off his back, “I must apologise for being a bad host. Pardon my queer manners. I can keep this for you,” she says. A stunned Father Zamisha, still sublimed in his sojourn to oblivion, lets go of his coat. Hasho swings her body, supported by heavy gyration of her heaps, as she proceeds to hang the coat in the closet. She then eases her hand off the wrapper, hurls it onto the couch and wow!, she is in tight fitting, and very brief silky pink petty wear. Virtually every contour of her frame is clandestinely exposed.

Father Zamisha notices this, and in a moment of human virility, is tempted to play; he muses to himself, “where did the man inside me go? This is gorgeous!”  But before he concludes his thoughts, Hasho is breathing behind him, cooing beneath his ear, “I have noticed knowing looks from you all this time. This is your chance, your only chance; you do not walk into a woman’s room and not buy the pleasures that come with it. Come on. I know you are up to it. This way….”

Hasho holds him by the shoulders and turns him towards her. Father Zamisha takes one look at Hasho and lets out a war cry, “Temptations! Oh my God. This is an ugly society. What an ugly world!”  Father Zamisha has disengaged Hasho’s hold, and turned his back on her.

Hasho knows this plot must be resolved, if she must come out dry. She does not relent in her resolve, pursues Father Zamisha, and lets it all out, “This is real Abedi.” That did it!

“Abedi? Where did you get that? Father Zamisha enquires, his voice betraying alarm. Hasho likes the way things are proceeding; she has begun some discourse, and therein lies her jackpot. “Every woman wears a third eye for some man in life. Come on. Let’s not waste time; you are my guest, ” she says. Father Zamisha is more than smashed, his knees can hardly hold, as he mummbles inaudile, and incoherent words. He knows there can only be insurmountable trouble, now that of all people, Hasho knows that before he came here, he was Abednego in some quarters, and Abedi is quite some others. This was intriguing.

Hasho seizes this moment of mental limbo in Father Zamisha’s mind, to get his hand and lead him across the room. She is virtually on top of things, and Father Zamisha out of reflex than anything else, complies. This compliance, he thinks, is the only window, out of the stunning revelation from Hasho of over 10 forgotten years. Hasho unbuttons Father Zamisha’s shirt, gets his vest off, unbelts him, before getting him out of his trousers; and the holy Father only has his underwear on him.

He naturally warms to this climax of events, and takes Hasho’s cues religiously. When Hasho gestures that he enters an inner room, supposedly her actual bedspace; Father Zamisha sheepisly cues in. After Father Zamisha has fully entered the room, Hasho straightens herself,recovers her poise, and slams the door behind Father Zamisha; she ends up on the other side of the door and…..

To be continued.

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