DJ
Crosby was on the board and that statement alone tells you everything you need
to know about the success of the event given that it was a salsa dance party.
This guy handled the turntable with such finesse that I found myself wishing I
was a turntable, being maneuvered masterfully under the tips of his fingers to
produce sounds that were pure aural bliss. This was profound given that
‘Spanish Guitar’ was playing when I had this thought, and I have wanted to be
played like a Spanish guitar for as long as I can remember.
My
dance partner that night was perfect, making an already awesome night all the
more awesome. This guy was one of the most sensitive dance partners I have ever
had. He made me look like I sashayed into the aviation social center after
stepping off the plane from an international salsa competition where I won several trophies, a remarkable and commendable feat given
my two left feet.
Despite
my loving his partnering skills, I had only danced with Boris twice. His
Barbie-proportioned girlfriend was usually an arm’s length away tensioning you
with her perfect figure and flawless make-up. As if that was not enough, this
girl had the most piercing brown eyes that made you feel guilty and want to
confess even when you had done nothing wrong. She was a lawyer and I felt for
those who would stand trial in her courtroom when she became judge.
Only
one girl had been able to break her cool, collected,
I-know-my-boyfriend-and-I-are-the-hottest-couple-here stance and that was my
crazy twin, Robbie. When Robbie walks into a room, she immediately singles out
the hottest guy in the room and introduces herself. The day I managed to drag
her to salsa, she walked straight to the guy and introduced herself while he
was dancing with his girlfriend. Chelsea looked at her with her best ‘back-off
he’s mine’ look and Robbie, without batting an eye said “Oh, but it’s not him I
was checking out. I was actually playing out fantasies with you in my head.”
This silenced Chelsea, a first, and everyone cheered silently for Robbie.
Chelsea was nowhere in sight tonight and I took full advantage to fulfill some of my tamer fantasies with Boris. I
danced a little closer, popped my back a little harder to make my behind look
bigger, and exaggerated every sway of my hips, using every turn to run my hands
through my hair and slide them artfully down my nape, ending provocatively
right above my bosom.
The ever-sensitive partner, Boris quickly read my vibes and turned me in his arms, putting me in
prime position to grind upon him during a particularly sultry Portuguese
number. Caught in the sensual haze, I had not noticed the lights in the
makeshift dance studio had dimmed until my furtive glance around to see if we
were putting on a show. We were not. In fact, the couple next to us was
bordering on obscene and no one was paying them heed because each couple was
caught in their own cocoon of lust.
Emboldened
by the darkness which assuaged some of my catholic guilt, I slowly unleashed some of the dance moves I usually reserved for my
mirror at home.
The
song barely ended when he put his palm in the small of my back and led me
outside. It seemed to have rained while we were inside, and the night was cool
and dark, beckoning one into the shadows with sultry promise. For
some inexplicable reason, Boris became shy when we found a step to sit on and
he just held my hand and talked. He told me about his recent break-up with
Chelsea (I cheered silently), and we got to know each other. In fact, he was
regaling me with an anecdote about his time as entertainment prefect in PRESEC
when I looked up and saw the sun had begun to rise. We had talked from 1am to
6am!
I
bolted from his arms, remembering the wedding I had to attend with my mom later
in the day. It was in Keta and we were scheduled to leave Accra by 9:00am. I
should have gotten home eons ago.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………
♪♪ Ai se eu te pego, ai ai se eu te pego ♪♪. I
glanced at my phone. Boris. We had
spoken every day this past week, but had both missed salsa this Friday due to
work commitments. Today was a week after the wedding.
-
Hey!
-
Hey!
-
Do
you swim?
-
Some.
-
My
buddy is having a pool party later today. Wanna come?
-
You
don’t have to do this to see me in a bikini, you know? You could just ask.
-
Okay,
Miss. I would very much like to see you in a bikini at this pool party my
friend is having today.
-
Touché.
Where at?
-
He
lives near Midindi hotel, but I insist on picking you up.
-
I’ll
be around Labone visiting with cousins so text me the address and I’ll have my
cousin drop me. You can drive me home, though.
-
I’d
rather pick you up from your cousins. But if you insist…
-
I
do (I cut in)
-
Okay.
I’ll text you the address. See you later.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………
Boris
in swimming trunks was truly a sight for sore eyes, but then I already knew
that from the slim-fit shirts he sometimes wore to salsa. Besides, you don’t flip and lift all xxx pounds of the
awesome I am with such ease without serious muscles.
“Where
can I change?” I asked. “I’ll show you.” He briskly whisked me off. We had
scarce turned the corner when he slammed me into the wall and kissed me.
“Hello!” he said, after a brief kiss. “Hi!” I said, leaning in for a longer
kiss. “Behave!” He said slyly. ‘We are in somebody’s house.” I laughed, vowing to get back at him later.
Boris’
whistle when I came out was worth the $80 I had spent on the Calvin Klein
bikini set I had bought on sale at Nordstrom. I stood taller and somehow
flicked my kinky afro hair. After introductions to the group, we raced a couple
of laps and sat down, legs dangling in the water to talk.
-
I
got my test results back from the doctor yesterday
-
Which
test results?
-
Chelsea
and I broke up because she was cheating on me with a girl. Well it turns out
the girl was cheating on her with a boy who must have also been doing his own
thing because he caught hepatitis B and passed it down the chain. Chelsea only
told me because she had to.
-
Oh!
-
Anyway,
I had had the vaccine so knew I probably hadn’t caught it, but decided to do
complete blood work to verify I was clean and see what else I may have caught.
-
And…
-
I’m
clean
-
Oh,
ok
-
I
would also like you to take all the tests
-
You’re
assuming it will matter. You’re assuming we will…
(I gasped! He had snuck his
hand behind me and trailed his icy-cold fingers down my sun-kissed back. I
glanced sideways at him, the Ghanaian girl blush, as Mensa calls it. The heat
in his eyes made me blush for real. Okay, so we definitely would)
-
Should
I feel insulted because you are demanding this?
-
No,
you should feel taken care of. It’s not just for my safety. There is for
instance no way to test for HPV for guys. Take the test, and get the vaccine.
Let’s know what we are working with.
-
You
can catch stuff from kissing too, you know? (I asked, musing.)
-
I
know. You could have given me oral herpes already…
-
Among
other things… (I solemnly said )
The
rest of the afternoon went wonderfully, and as I lay in bed that night, I
thought of safe sexual behavior and remembered a question Nana Darkoa asked
last week. “Is ‘safe sex’ truly ever safe?”
This
is a generation that tweets and blogs about one-night stands and having risqué
oral and other sexual encounters in parking lots and backseats of cars.
A
condom does not protect against contact-spread infections, and your
faithfulness does not guarantee your partner’s.
With
so much seemingly out of our control, it’s perplexing that we do not always
control what we can. We have people priding themselves on being #teamraw. We
have people thanking God they are not pregnant every month. We have people
having unprotected side sex all the time and bringing back to their partners who
may have been faithfully waiting at home, not just news of babies, but
infections upon infection.
We
see people brandishing Postinor as their birth-control method of choice, proud
that they are baby-free, ignoring what infections they may be picking up of
spreading.
How
does one keep safe in the madness of it all? Aside the best bet abstinence
which even then can only last till marriage, how do you keep safe? What are
your rules and defense mechanisms? Are they truly enough?
Food
for thought.