HAVE YOU READ? Red Lines by Timi Waters #WomensFiction #amreading
All she wanted was to lead a simple life. Then she met the Ajibade twins, and the LINES turned RED.
RED LINES begins the story of three people; Bekere, Folu, and Fola Ajibade.
Bekere Bodmas, a preschool teacher, wants the simple things in life, marry a good man, and raise a family.
Folorunsho Ajibade, a successful entrepreneur, had everything money could buy, except what he truly desires—a woman to love him despite his genetic flaw.
Folarin Ajibade, Folu’s twin, had everything, wealth, good looks, women, and a clean bill of health. But he secretly battles deep-seated loneliness and loathing for his twin.
Bekere was instantly drawn to Folu when she met him at the mall. That same evening, she met Fola at a balmy restaurant, and he too felt an instant attraction to her.
When the twin brothers discovered they shared a love for the same woman, they went into an all-consuming battle that can only end one way; RED LINES.
Folu wandered into the alcohol and wine section of the supermarket and began surfing through items. He was returning a cheap, overly decorated wine into the shelf when he raised his eyes and saw her. He held the wine bottle, arrested halfway into the rack.
She was startlingly beautiful. No, Folu shook his head, gorgeous, no, not that. Nothing was potent enough to describe how she appeared in his eyes. She stopped him dead in his tracks, paused time for him, and made him want nothing more than to spend all day staring at her.
She couldn’t be real, Folu thought, she must be an aberration, a figment of his stressed-out mind. He shook his head, followed her every move across the room with unblinking eyes, knowing he was staring but unable to stop himself. He saw her bury her head in one of the shelves, browsing through items. She picked up a can of processed food, peered at it, and returned it to the rack.
Then, she wheeled her cart towards his section of the aisle, her gaze trained on the fruits and vegetable rack, taking all that was on display in swift glances, without stopping to look closely.
She hadn’t noticed him, mostly because he was partly hidden by one of the shelves, so he had enough time to watch her uninterrupted.
Up close, she snuffed the air out of his lungs. She was of average height, about 5’7 with peanut-butter-truffle skin tone, an oval face, large expressive eyes characterized by long sooty lashes, straight nose, and a pert voluptuous mouth. Her curly hair, which he knew without a doubt, was all hers, was pulled in a ponytail—a fleeting image of letting it loose with his fingers and burying his hands in them while he kissed her ricocheted unwittingly down his groin.
He ran appreciative eyes down her slim neck, small shoulders, and well rounded, ample bosom cloaked in a cream-colored cashmere t-shirt, down her tiny waist and curvy hips that disappeared into dark blue jeans.
He noticed how her long and thin fingers clasped the cart, how her small dainty feet hit the floor noiselessly in a graceful walk. The alluring smell of her perfume wafted through him as she drew near. He inhaled the deliciousness of it and swallowed a low groan.
The wine section was secluded from all the other aisle, so he noticed that it was just the two of them there at the moment. He knew she was bound to come up close to him, brush past him, walk away from him. The last thought filled him with so much pain; he thought his heart would burst open.
Folu angrily dropped the wine he’d been holding into his cart, noticed the loud bang caught her attention, saw her regard him briefly, and was about looking away. He raised his eyes to hers and locked gazes with her.
He wanted her, he thought, with a sudden intense fierceness that almost keeled him over.
One of the waiters he had earlier greeted asked if he would prefer the usual. He nodded, brought out his phone, and despite his earlier resolve to spend tonight alone, began scrolling through his contacts, looking for a potential dinner companion.
A soft, musical chuckle got him raising his head and following its direction. Locating the sound’s origin, he noticed a lady dressed in a strapless shimmering black gown, shaking her shoulders in mirth. She had her rear to him, so all he saw was the face of her dinner companion.
Her date, Fola noticed, was doing his very best to keep her laughing. He had a handsome face, but he felt it was too straight, his nose too long, his lips too thin, and his Adam’s Apple too big.
He looked like a civil servant, like someone who had worked all his life for what he had. He must be doing well for himself, Fola surmised, to afford to bring his girl to a place like this.
Snickering at his observations, he returned his attention to the menu.
The girl laughed again, dragging his attention back to her. The sound of her laughter seemed to drag him towards her, pulled at him, make him want to see the face behind the laughter.
Fola saw the woman’s date take her hands in his and looked at her with love burning in his eyes.
He gave a derisive laugh when he noticed the man’s action caused the girl to stiffen and pull her hands away. The man held on and even placed his second hand on hers, his eyes imploring.
Fola snickered when the girl pulled her hands from his to pick up her wine glass.
“She isn’t into you, douche bag,” he said sotto voce.
And who’s to blame her? Fola scoffed. The guy looked like an English teacher or someone that worked as a humanitarian.
He smothered and was about returning his attention to his menu perusal when the girl got off her seat and turned in his direction.
The smile died on his lips.
Fola inhaled sharply at the instant arousal he felt when he raked his eyes down her entire form and sat up from an earlier languorous position to peer closely at her.
Blow me, he thought, staring openly at her approaching form.
She was startlingly beautiful, he observed in wide-eyed wonder. Her ample cleavages nestled closely in the low bodice of her dress, and the curvy figure of her body made his slacks suddenly uncomfortable.
Sweet mother of Jesus! Fola huffed when she drew nearer to him, who the blessed bundle of bliss is this girl?
He adjusted on his seat to make room for his engorging cock. Reined in on his self-control to keep from inflating it beyond what he could hide—at the same time, keeping his unblinking gaze on her.
She looked so pure, so untouched, so unspoiled, like something fresh out of Vogue’s magazine.
He gazed longingly at her arresting face, took in the gentle sway of her hips, the sweet smell of her perfume, and the mischievous sparkle in her eyes.
Fola wanted there and then to call her to him, sweep her into his arms, and rip her clothes off.
Goddam! He exhaled when she walked past him, and without a second’s thought, he dropped his menu and made a beeline for her.