Lailah: The Milestone

She's a Cougar

       "Do you have sex often?"

     She said, leaning on the stem of the palm tree on which the man was. He had been on the tree since she could remember. For what? He was trying to pluck few edible coconuts. 

   Not only was he trying to pluck them, he was also tearing the fond off with his teeth. Lailah was weary of watching him do the whole drama. 

    He looked down at her at the question. She met his contoured face with hers. He seemed to had been caught off guard by the question she'd asked. 

    "Beg your pardon?"

    He said. She chuckled. He could feel the strength of its wave on the neighboring branches. He wasn't in for the lady's game. 

    She hadn't explained to him yet why she made him have sex with her on the beach where anyone could pass through. 

    She made him have sex with her even without knowing him. 

   And after the whole scene of the previous day, she wouldn't let him work in peace. 

    He didn't know how the lady think or what precisely inspired her thought. You know sometimes, you want to fight some urge you have. She wasn't like that. 

     He hadn't known her since  forever but he could tell from the few hours which had been sewn into a day, that she didn't care about the consequences of her words. 

      "How often do you have sex?"

    She said again. The man almost fell off the tree. 

   Well, he heard her in the first place but he thought she'd refuse to answer him the second time like all ladies would. At least every sensible lady. 

    But she didn't seem like one. He didn't know what he was expecting. He already knew that she was odd. He shouldn't expect the scales of an angel falling off her sides. 

     "That's not a distance talk."

    He said and tried to concentrate on the last coconut in his hands. 

   He finished off with it and began to climb down. 

   To be honest, he enjoyed the sex spree he had with her throughout the previous day and hell! She was hell of a tormentor.

   He'd love to know her more, sexually, but she seemed to be pushing him away unintentionally with her untamed questions. 

    He wasn't comfortable with it. Neither was he with several others she asked during the spree. Such questions he didn't want to bring back to memory. 

    He slide down and embraced the rage of the calling wind. The wings of the winds seemed to be hostile as they swept past his side. 

     "Watch out."

   She said. He looked, he almost stepped on a Cutlass with an erected end. He had no idea how it got there. 

    There was a bench-like seater few steps away from the tree but which was technically under it. 

    Twas made from bamboo stalks and its legs were supported and braced by some of the oak woods used on the hut. 

    You couldn't possibly have an idea how possible was there to be an oak close to the sea. 

     He walked over to the bench and sat on one end. He called at her,

     "Over here."

     He was thinking hardly. All he wanted was never to have that conversation. Well from another frame of reference, they were both mature. So it seemed. 

    She sat next to him. Very close to him. She didn't seem to have any female ego. Damn. He was partially beginning to feel nauseated by her lackadaisical pulls. 

     "Were you going to die if I didn't show up early yesterday?"

    He said, hoping that she would bite off that conversation.

     "Hard to tell."

     She said. He sighed. He looked briefly at her and resumed his gaze on the never ending rage of the waves. 

      "Only a frustrated person would think death an option. Plus, drowning. That's hard."

   He continued. She was kicking her legs against the beach sand. She was kicking the sand. 

    He didn't want to read some odd meanings to it. He was only going to keep observing. At least she was having the conversation with him.  

    "What would you had advised a PIGEON-HOLED lady who is being haunted by the man whose baby she's carrying?"

    She said. Her expression didn't change neither did she stop kicking the sand. 

    "That's messed up. Prettily."

    He said. Then he continued, sharing his gaze between her and the sea,

     "Marriage is difficult to judge if you're not in it. The man wouldn't be acting in isolation."

    She didn't seem convinced. She didn't hide it,

     "I thought as much."

    She scoffed. The man had no idea what she was doing,

      "What?"

      She stood up and walked few steps away from the bench, with her arms folded over her bounty boobs,

       "Isn't it so obvious? Men would always fight for men."

     She turned and walked back to the seat. She sat quite far from him that time. At the other end of the bench. 

     "You can't expect me to judge after listening only to the lady's part."

     He argued. She looked at him. Her gaze was polished in determination. He hadn't seen her look in such manner ever. He probably was getting to see the other part of her. 

     "So, I'm telling lies?"

     She said. Her thin arms were still folded over the oversized boobs. 

     "You're putting words in my mouth."

    She stood up and hurled,

     "In short, hold your hut."

    She said and began to walk away. Away from the place. 

      He looked stupefied. The peaceful call of the horizons wasn't appealing. He felt distorted. 

    He didn't know whether because he wouldn't be able to have sex with her anymore or because whatever. 

     "That's it?"

    He said as loudly as he could. She didn't even look back. 

    She kept swaying her heavy shape to the rhythm of the wandering winds. 

     "Didn't see it coming."

    He muttered. He was standing. He didn't know what to do. Whether to go after her or just consider her as the waves of the sea that come and go. 

   Twas hard to decide, but he could learn from the swelling horizon...