Adisa

Dammit, the light is getting in.

Maybe, I'll open my eyes and I won't be hangover. Maybe, by some miracle I'll feel fresh, the smell of coffee will fill my nose. Maybe, I'll wake up, roll over and see my wife give me that disapproving smile.

I roll. Count to 10. And open my left eye.

Yup. That was a mistake.

First the light squeezes past my eyelids. Then solidifies as shards of glass that seem to become molten and settle into a throbbing pool in my sinuses.

So. Hangover. Check.

Well, its not my first, and unfortunately I'm not smart enough for it to be my last. All I need is ibuprofen, clean water and bacon.

I brace myself for a little more discomfort and open my eyes for real.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuckity. Fuck.

Fucking Africa.

Last night was a celebration for the team getting through the first phase of a 3 month training program. I'd been tasked to take 10 local grads that we'd just hired and bring them round to our style of software development.

So far it had been a successful trip. As expected the new hires were smart, well educated and eager to make a good impression. Local internet was a little spotty, but good enough for our needs, and the Apple MacBook Pros that we'd given them more than cemented us as the best gig in town.

In a couple of days we'd start 'Project Month' where I'd observe the director of the office, Adisa, bring the group together. She was the reason I was so optimistic about this new venture. A thirty year old Bassari woman who was fiercely proud of her ancestry, complete with a myriad of ear piercings, wore a porcupine needle through her septum out of work and whose hair was pulled into a tight, central braid. Tall, elegant but with an inner strength, she'd graduated in the middle of her class with a masters two years earlier from DIOP, the regional university, but hadn't managed to convert her degree into anything more than a retail job at a small electronic store in Diourbel, something she attributed to her refusal to convert to Islam. Fluent in French, English and her native Oniyan her accent was almost transatlantic with hints of both french and east coast american slipping in, something she attributed to binge watching French and American TV on netflix during college. She was to be our woman on the ground liaising between her team, her French clients and her English bosses.

The hut I was staying was dark, but it still took my eyes a couple of seconds to adjust. As I blinked a little both squeeze out the pain behind my eyes I heard something click. The room then seemed to fill my senses all at once. Something was wrong, unfamiliar. The air was a little sweeter, more humid, warmer. Like there was something, or someone in the room. I felt the adrenaline start to set fire to my blood as my hangover brain struggled to figure out if I should fight or flight.

"Finally, your awake" a familiar but surprising voice said. "I thought you Englishmen could drink". Then there was sound of a smooth, deep inhale and my eyes focused just in time to see Adisa sitting up right, next to me in bed, have her first smokers cough of the day.

The adrenaline shifted from flight or flight to confusion and panic as my brain associated the click with the lighter. I tried desperately to go back in time just a fraction of a second, to the wonderful, pain and alcohol addled moments where I hadn't been an adulterer. Maybe this wasn't what it looked like.

I remembered leaving work, buying the first round of drinks and the second. Saying good polite goodbyes to the majority of the team who had really only come out of politeness as they didn't drink, leaving just me Adisa and Piere. Piere had bowed out after the second round of this clear, sweet liquor that Adisa had bought leaving just the two of us. She'd suggested that I share some of the good whisky I'd been bragging about, we'd gone back to my hut.

We called them huts. They were designed to look like the traditional huts on the outside, but inside they had power, water and most importantly to me AC and most importantly to our employees high speed internet. The purpose was give to the impression to our clients that in addition to getting amazing software they were also humanitarians. The reality was the Senegal has it problems but was rich in smart, technologist looking for a market to sell their wares into.

We shared stories of family, college, drank Caol Ila from the bottle. I remembered thinking how beautiful the fire behind her eyes was, how wonderful she smelled and then asking her "How do you kiss with the needle in your nose?" and then finding out. Our tongues finding each other. The taste of Marboro Reds reminding me of my girlfriends in college. It was a strong, gentle kiss.

"Are you OK?" the question bought me back to reality.

"Hey?" I stammered, "I'm more than just a little hangover. How much did we drink?". I looked around the hut. The bottle of Caol Ila was about half full, a good sign, but didn't explain my head.

"Poor Englishman, you don't have the stomach for real Senegal liquor." she laughed and jabbed me in the shoulder. It was probably true, like all things in Senegal it was incredibly sweet and sweet drinks had always left me worse for wear.

"I need MacDonalds, an ibuprofen and some diet coke."

"Well boss, you're in a 'hut' in rural south east Senegal. You might still have some Advil, but the best we can do for MacDonalds and Coke is pictures on the internet."

"I'm not your boss. If anything you're my boss. I'm just a consultant, you're the office manager." she reached over and touched my face.

"Are we OK?" she asked. Her eyes widens and breath paused as I didn't answer immediately. I scrambled to form an answer.

"I'm not entirely sure whats happened between us." I stammered. "I remember drinking, I remember talking" I paused looked down, ashamed "I remember kissing". Adisa took a drag on her cigarette and shifted her hand from my cheek to my chin, pulling it up until we made eye contact. Her eyes narrowed slightly. She exhaled smoke through her nose and mouth, being careful not to blow it directly in my face.

"We fucked." and then before I could react. "We fucked a lot. You fucked me like it was the worst idea you'd ever had." and gave me a coy smile. "I liked it and I'd like to do it more, but I know your married and we-"

"-we work together." I finished her sentence. The reality of the situation falling in to place. The memories of passionate sex rolling back into place. Returning the coy smile "I liked it too. But I'm married. The best thing for me is that we continue to work together, pretend that I slept on the floor and try and find someway of being friends."

"Is that the normal thing to do in this situation?"

"I have no fucking idea. I've never been in this situation before." Adisa, cocked her head and inhaled as she took in this apparently surprising information.

"I don't believe you. You travel the world. You're friendly and you're good at what you do. I bet you have a woman in every port."

"Honestly, I think part of what happened is that I was flattered. I'm a middle-aged software engineer. Beautiful women rarely give me more than the time of day." she smiled at this.

"You think I'm beautiful?"

"That's what you heard?" a little surprised at her response, "Of course I think you're beautiful. And honestly I've always had a thing for piercings."

"These?" she gently shook her head, making her earrings jangle a little.

"Yeah, those." I grinned and was surprised to feel the blood rushing from one head to the other. I really hoped that Adisa didn't notice, which is probably why she noticed.

"I see." looking at my crotch and giving me a broad smile and taking another drag. "Look, I know your married, I also know we're thousands of miles from your family and honestly, international nerds of mystery are rare in this part of the world."

"Internal nerd of mystery. I like that" I smirked. "And I think that is about to change. As soon as we start making money out here, nerds are going to descend on Senegal".

"Enough business. I like you. I've liked you since I first met you and I'm pretty sure it wasn't much after we met that you started to like me too. I don't care that you have a wife, but what is good for me right now is that we pretend, within reason, that you don't."

"But I do."

"That is true. You're here for one more month. Lets just take it easy. We'll keep this a secret at work and- well." She finished her cigarette and blew the last of her smoke, seductively in my face and I kissed her again. She was right. I'd wanted her since the first moment I'd seen her wrangle her team. Direct and funny she was a natural leader. She drove me wild. The taste of fresh tobacco covered her tongue that I'd always associated with bad girls and the gentle prodding of her septum needle against my cheek was intoxicating.

Adisa grabbed my cock and expertly bought me from morning wood to full attention as we continued to kiss I could hear ear earrings, fueling my desire for her. I reached up to her left ear and caressed them. I felt her smile in our kiss.

"How many are there?" I asked

"Twenty in each ear. Now stop caressing them, and pull on them." I did as she asked. "Harder." she demanded. I complied, and freed my right hand to pull on her other ear. "That's better." and kissed me with a fury that almost made me cum. "OK, lets slow this down a little" she cooed, pulling away and gently kissing me as she moved down my body towards my throbbing cock. I continued to play with her earrings then she wrapped her mouth around my entirety. I grabbed the braid in the middle of her head and she groaned and played my penis with her tongue just as I thought I was about to come she raised, pulled herself back up, kissed me and slid confidently on to me finding our rhythm.

"How do you do that?" as a she flushed, clearly on the verge of orgasm herself. I tried to answer but she increased her cadence riding me to the orgasm of my life.

Adisa rolled off me and reached for a cigarette as I lay trying to get me breath back.

Slowly, the blood returned back to my head. "Do what?" I asked as she lit the cigarette and relaxed into the crook of my arm.

"Touch that part of me. Its like you're custom built for my pussy."

"Maybe I am." I joked.

"I've been with my fair share of men. I'll be honest, all much larger than you, but it has never felt that good." I struggled with the mixed emotions of wanting to defend my penis and the obvious praise I was getting.

"I think I'm just lucky."

"I think I'm the lucky one." she sighed, took a drag and offered me the cigarette.

"I don't smoke."

"Yet." she exhaled towards me and we both dosed as I ran my fingers up and down her ear.