I did Dinny

I hate it when visitors I don’t know spend more than an hour in the house. I feel absolutely violated and my space invaded. So when my grandfather passed on, I knew it was going to be a challenge dealing with all the people coming in and going out. Though the funeral wasn’t at my place, relatives and family friends arrived at my place because grandad’s house isn’t big enough. Cousins and uncles I have never met before, claiming to know me and all telling me they last saw me as a toddler. Like I really care.

I locked myself in my bedroom and kept myself busy with my BB. My mom kept interrupting me to introduce me to more mourners and to ask me to make them tea and biscuits for them. Right there in my reluctance, dragging my feet, I set eyes on three people from whom something stood out. This woman had a clear skin and her daughter the most charming smile. They were with a guy, that had broad shoulders and a silky smooth voice. He killed me with his “Pleased to meet you”. I thought, “Meat me please! I’m not one to let dick go to waste”.

In all honesty, I didn’t warm up to the girl. She had a flat stomach and long smooth legs. Jealousy just got the best of me. I think I must have thrown a cup in her direction, without even looking her way. Her beauty made my stomach churn, but her brother’s voice melted my heart. I wanted to jump him and have my legs around his waist.

I’m usually at my horniest the 3 days before I get my periods. At this stage, I had reached the peak of purple flames. I wanted to extinguish them right there and then. It was as if God had heard my prayers when I heard they would be sleeping over. I vowed to pretend to be sleepwalking and get into bed with him. The sleeping arrangements were such that the girl, who was introduced as Dinny, would share a bed with me and Jabu would be in the guest bedroom, while my mom would be sleeping with their mom.

Realising this, I decided to be more polite to Dinny and showed her around the house. She had a perfume that neither smelt feminine nor masculine. It was just attractive and made me want to walk closer to her, but at the same time had to convince myself that I hated her. The more I tried to enforce my hatred for her the more I was drawn to her. Her mannerisms were just magnetic. How she flicked those dreads back and stuck them behind her ears. How she moved her lips gave me that feeling I cannot explain when she said Nthabi. My name has never sounded that sexy before, worse it was from a girl I hated at first sight and whose brother I was eyeing.

Once we were in bed, I locked the door, played Anthony Hamilton and whipped out the previous night’s leftover whiskey. We drank from the bottle, as I was already comfortable with her.

As liquor began to take its toll, conversation soon became about how badly men treated us in the past, but we still live in hope that we will one day meet the right one.

Right then my mind was wondering of the things I would do to her brother who was sleeping next door, but I knew I was in no state to do anything. I thought I could always blame it on alcohol, the morning after, but decided against it. Soon after the bottle was finished, I got into my nightie and prepared to get into bed. As I was tucking in, I couldn’t keep my eyes off Dinny’s body. Firm C-cup breasts, a size 34 figure and a pear-shaped ass. She looked like a handcrafted work of art. Her silhouette stuck against the wall like a pinup poster as I switched of the lights and left the side lamps on. Her presence illuminated the darkly lit room and my heart beat fast as she slowly approached the bed.
“Sweet Dreams, hun!” she said.
What an anticlimax that was, as the lights went off.

Throughout the night I hoped she would accidentally touch or roll onto me, but she was well-behaved. She didn’t make a single sound nor move. Smelt good too. I just wanted to have my arms around her, but was afraid to. In an act of desperation, I turned away from her and intentionally let my foot touch hers. My heart raced as I realised what I just did. I was expecting her to kick me so hard I fell out of bed. She surprised me when she didn’t. She slowly rubbed my foot against hers and moved closer to me. I felt my hair slightly move, exposing my ears and a warm tongue ran behind it.
My heart almost came to a standstill when she whispered, “I hope you don’t mind this.”
I couldn’t grasp my breath and get my words out, but I reach for her face and caressed her cheeks in approval. She didn’t need a second invitation and licked away. Moved lower and started working on my neck. As I turned around, our lips locked and we smooched away. I couldn’t keep my hands away from her Coca-Cola bottle figure. She felt soft and delicate in my hands, I moved closer to her until my breasts were up against hers. I stuck my leg between hers and felt the warmth contained in there. Through that deep kiss, I felt my pussy getting wetter and wetter. Even more so when it hit against hers. With my right hand I kept fondling her left breast until it her tit got rock hard. Her breathing went heavier as her tongue rolled deeper against mine. She began making sounds and I knew we were feeling each other, as I had also began moaning. Once my mouth was detached from hers, I started nibbling at her one tit while rubbing another with my hand. She was running her fingers through my hair and I could feel her muscles stiffening, as she gripped my head tighter.
I helped her take her panties off and slipped my finger between her legs. In a Yellow Pages movement, I alternately ran my index and middle fingers against her clit. Bit by bit my fingers were getting immersed into a sea of natural juices. I stuck my middle finger inside her and bent it to caress the front wall of her punani. I felt that area becoming larger, as she was getting wetter. The grooves dilated and I felt the entire surface area of her G-Spot literally triple in size. Through her dilations she held me tighter and firmer. Softly, I heard her say “Nthabi, Don’t Stop. Nthabi, Yes!”
I knew she was close. She tightened her thighs and screamed. Her body stiffened and she shook like she had been electrocuted. She pressed her pussy against my fingers and thrust hard and fast, as I rubbed her punani. “Aaaah!” she arrived. We cuddled and slept with our arms around each other and didn’t wanna let go in the morning. To wake her up, I licked ice cubes off her body and woke up to get to the church service.

Eauthanasia

In a frenzy, I pulled my 9mm parabellum pistol from underneath my seat and ran towards his car, holding it close to my chest. As thought it was a stethoscope measuring my heart rate, my heart beat frantically against this weapon that was manufactured for a single purpose. To kill.

Hoards of onlookers cleared a way as I approached. Some taking their children away from what was soon to become a scene filled with blood. I had one thing in mind. I had no doubt I was justified in my actions. Once I reached the vehicle, I bit my lower like, pointed my weapon at his head and fired twice. It silenced his violent screams. His sister thanked me with a kiss on the cheek. She told me she appreciated my bravery in affording her brother a dignified death.

Traffic backed up for about a kilometre, with most people out of their vehicles to get a good view. A scene of a collision between sedan and a petrol truck. The BMW M3 pierced right through the belly of the truck and immediately caught fire. Wails from the driver sent shivers down everyone’s spine. It was a scream straight out of a tormented soul. Hell’s soundtrack. His door had crashed against the truck and it appeared his feet were trapped too. His screams were intermittent and varied in noise levels. He sounded like he was violently shouting a woman’s name, while he struggled to release a seat-belt that had already caught fire. He was grilling. Smell of burning flesh filled the air like a cloud of gathering rain. “Auwww, shame. Sizani bo.” some said. We all felt helpless. Then I resolved to end his misery. I fired two shots straight to his temple and his suffering ended

Magic Waters

Her torn clothes exposed her nipples. Naked she was, in front of the world. Ashamed of her bare state, she couldn’t maintain eye-contact. She was clearly embarrassed to be seen in that state. Though she was a proportionally built woman with a firm body, she didn’t find her nudity sexy. Her cracked lips and battered skin told a story of treacherous roads she had traveled. Troubles of her bruising past had worn her out. She was so dehydrated, even her tongue was dry. A state that impaired her speech. She was thirsty and desperate for water. For the sake of her life, she needed a drink.

He too wore torn clothes that exposed his manhood but he walked like it didn’t bother him. So comfortable and confident he was with himself, he looked people straight in the eye when communicating. He paid so much attention he looked to be zooming into the pupils inside people’s eyes, as though he could see into their souls. He was attentive, yet the torn clothes he wore exposed his manhood. He walked like his nudity was sexy, but it couldn’t be any farther. His skin was silky smooth and his lips hydrated, for he carried a bottle of magic water. He kept taking sips off it as he listened to all who spoke to him. He never spoke much, but people enjoyed his company. All he had was that magic water that kept his skin glowing.

Stumbling upon her words and struggling to get her voice out, she asked for a sip of his magic water. With a smile, he duly obliged. Miraculously, her skin was instantly re hydrated.

Her cracked lips moistened and her once dry skin glowed. Her tongue loosened up and speech returned. Her beauty shone and confidence returned. She was now comfortable to maintain eye-contact. Her torn clothes still exposed her nipples. Even though her beauty resembled the stars in the night sky, she was never comfortable. Though she was more beautiful than the orange and yellow rays of the rising sun, she was never fulfilled. Unlike him, her nudity bothered her. He asked her to stay with him, but she couldn’t for he wore the same torn clothes as her. She left him behind, in search of a cloth to cover her nudity. In spite of his repeated pleas to stay with him, she left and followed a man who wore silk robes.

The man with silk robe gave her one of his finest, especially imported from Syria. She smiled, yet the moisture on her lips had weathered. The magic water’s effect works only for a short space of time. Though it never runs out, one has to continuously take sips of it to remain moisturised. She was clothed, yet her skin was cracking. The man with silk robe had a gravelly voice. Doctors said it was due to a deteriorating state of his internal organs. Many gossiped he suffered from Soul Decay. He would temporarily regain the voice, every time he took his robes off. That seldom happened so much he never noticed. Though his skin was generally in good condition, the magic water would have the same effect on his voice and internal organs as it has on the man with torn clothes’ skin. He knew that.

The lady’s skin condition was fast deteriorating to levels worse than experienced before. She came to a realisation that she needed the magic water. She went back to the man with torn clothes and glowing skin and demanded the whole bottle. He told her he could only give her a sip, but even then she had to take off the silk robe she was wearing and promise to walk with him. She refused to take the robe off but begged him to have a sip. He wouldn’t budge. Told her she couldn’t have it both ways. It was either the sip that would rejuvenate her skin to glow like sunrays or the robe that hid her nudity from the world. She chose the robe.

Upon return to the man with silk robes, she told him of the man with torn clothes but had magic water that could help both of them with their conditions. For the man with silk robes, the magic water would renew his internal state. For her, it would rejuvenate her external state as it once did and restored her impeccable beauty. They had a Eureka moment.

She went back to the man with magic water and smiled at him. He looked straight into her eyes and saw through her nervousness. She swayed her well crafted hips gently from side to side as she took off her silk robe exposing her cracked skin.
“A sip is all I need and I am all yours”
Overwhelmed by temptation, he duly obliged. Instantly, she transformed into a beauty on witnessed in fairytales. She kissed him, but instead of experiencing Nirvana that lied on her lips, blood came out his mouth. A dagger had been stuck on his back, resulting in internal bleeding. He met his end, courtesy of a conspiracy between a man and a woman in search of his magic water. The bottle fell to the ground and disappeared into thin air. The magic water was his and could only be used by him on himself and whoever he chose to let have a sip.

She Had to Die

As far as they were concerned there was no doubt he had done it. Emeka, her loaded boyfriend. Now that I think of it, we should have called him Mr. Make It Go Away. Whatever your problem was, he’d make it go away. If someone owed you money and they didn’t want to pay you back, he’d “talk” to them and you’d get your money back. If your boyfriend broke your heart, he’d “talk” to him and if he didn’t come back to you he’d at least have felt the same pain you felt, albeit physically. A colleague bullying you at work, Emeka would make it go away.
Lying in a bath tub full of water diluted with blood, her left wrist that bled the life out of her lay on her left thigh. “She knew what she was doing,” someone whispered. ‘’…for she cut the vein vertically, as opposed to horizontally.” Maximum impact! The first to see her lifeless body was her mother who then called the deceased’s sister,who then called her friend. Lastly, the boyfriend arrived unannounced and uninvited. Her mother, her sister, her best friend and her boyfriend gather around her body. Four people that were in her life for their own convenience, four people that kept her close to leech off her. One of them killed her, one of them is me.
If is boiled down to motive we are all guilty; Sindi and her mother never really got along. She left her with Granny while she remarried. They’d had a turbulent relationship ever since, but that’s not why she’d kill her own daughter. She grew jealous of the success Sindi attained despite being raised by Granny with little resources. Sindi went on to become head of Public Relations at a top firm, drove fancy cars and bought a flat in an upmarket area, while she and her favourite daughter, conceived in a new marriage, never amounted to nothing more than being defendant on their husband and father.
Nomsa’s motive would be tied to that of her mother. When Sindi would take a lot of time without visiting they’d accuse her of thinking she was too good for them, when she visited regularly they’d say she was there to flaunt her material gains. A Ping-Pong battle of ‘’I don’t ever want to see you here again’’ and ‘’now that you’ve made it in life you think you are too good for us.’’
Since the death of her granny, work has been Sindi’s family. Other than that, and when he was available, she was glued to her boyfriend of three years. Prior to that, she was best friends with a bottle of Pinotage. During Easter and Christmas holidays she’d either fly overseas or tag along to a family gathering of one of her online friends, colleague or neighbour. Never one to play it safe, she made friends easily, but never really had friends. Nor family.
Besides living a parallel and fiercely competitive life to Sindi’s, Tshidi owed her money. Tons of money. Tshidi did everything in her power to make everyone believe she and Sindi were still best friends, but things had long fallen apart and Sindi was even way past the pretending stage; she was ready to set Emeka on Nomsa.
Just an inquest opened, the death was considered suicide until further evidence that suggested otherwise came forward. Nothing concrete, apparently, could be found to suggest ‘’foul play’’, but I looked at the murder weapon, the razor blade sandwiched between her right thumb and index finger, and it appeared unused. I don’t think they checked it for prints or even traces of DNA that didn’t match hers. I wasn’t the only one that thought something was amiss.
You don’t need a motive to make Emeka look guilty. He is a foreigner without a recognised job, tons of cash and reputation of a violent character. If he isn’t guilty, he is definitely a perfect fall-on guy. Someone we could all hide behind.
The scapegoat trick was never late down someone’s sleeve. “You killed my daughter, you bastard,” barked the “inconsolable” mother. You’d never know if she meant he did it physically, drove her into doing it or attempted to divert attention away from herself.She is jealous of Sindi, but no mother would kill her own daughter; except she has tried before.
Very early in the marriage, her family tried to bring Sindi to stay with her mother and the new husband, as they were financially secure. Tragic because she had not told him Sindi was her daughter. He didn’t know she had a child, and she was already seven. He had seen Sindi before but there were a lot of kids living at Granny’s house, he wouldn’t know who was who, nor would he really care.
On one of her visits to Granny’s house she cooked and laced rat poison into one of the plates and handed it to Sindi who was too preoccupied with playing with her cousins to notice. Sputnik, the family pet died a slow, painful death; curiosity landed the cat at the wrong place at the wrong time. A human life spared; almost everyone knew instantly what had happened, though no one would dare breathe a word. The plan to take Sindi to live with her mother was immediately aborted.
Later on in life, Sindi would hear the story from an uncle who had had a bit too much to drink. This worsened relations with her own mother. The uncle lost his mind, and was never seen sober again.
Inconceivable that lightning would strike twice at the same place, Sindi’s sister, Nomsa, could have a motive of her own, or one similar to that of her mother twenty years ago. She grew up privileged, had all luxuries Sindi dreamt of. It was only natural that a rivalry would ensue. Jealousy could have driven Sindi to kill Nomsa long before Nomsa even knew they were sisters. Granny never hid anything from Sindi; she told her who her mom is. Nomsa only knew the truth in her early teens. By then Sindi already had a Bachelor’s degree while she had just had a baby girl and struggling to finish high school. Sindi had three cars and a not so modest flat in town. Nomsa felt Sindi was flaunting her newly foundopulence the same way Nomsa was doing with her father’s money
The truth about Sindi landed on her mother’s husband’s ears, she was already a child any parent would be proud of; academic success and financial fruits, she was everything he wished Nomsa was. He warmly opened his house to her, gave her a room in the house no one else was allowed to use in her absence. Not only was Sindi’s mother nauseated by the insincere gesture, it incensed Nomsa; the torture of being constantly compared to a “low life” like Sindi was unbearable for both of them. That and the fact the Sindi had taken their places in their father’s and husband’s heart. It became clear his love for Nomsa was as conditional as it was for her mother.
Sindi abhorredpoverty and everything the represented it, she steered clear off everything that reminded her of her childhood days at Granny’s house. Her choice of friends bore testament. Tshidi was a Human Resources manager at a blue chip firm; she belonged in the same tax bracket as Sindi,and should be enjoying the same lifestyle as her friend; except she didn’t have an Emeka in her life. Nonetheless, she not only aspired to, but lived the social media lifestyle that came effortlessly to the Sindis of this world. The Caribbean cruises and Dubai shopping sprees; she did those on formal and debt, while Sindi had Emeka to pay for it. Tshidi’s last trip to the Seychelles was funded by a R35 000 cash loan from Sindi. She hasn’t paid a cent back in over a year and she knew Sindi was about to set Emeka on her.
Although it didn’t start off that way, Emeka was more of a sponsor than a boyfriend. He spent less time with Sindi, but showered her with cash at every opportunity. A woman in her sexual peak, Sindi opted to outsource what was missing in her relationship. She’d often go to pubs to pick up random guys to sleep with, just to satisfy the urge. She eventually picked up the wrong guy, and Emeka found out. He confronted her about it and she denied it, but she knew Emekawas a street justice type of man. Though he never said much about it nor cut her allowance, she knew he would seek “justice”; it was just a matter of when.
A man she gave up her dreams and ambitions for now placed first a child she was willing to kill to keep him. He had her quit her nursing studies at second year level because he would not have a wife that works. Now he is Sindi’s number one fan because she is independent and doesn’t wait for any man to do things for her. Everything he didn’t her to be, he now admired in Sindi. Her anger was more directed at her husband who betrayed her loyalty. She’d kill him if she didn’t depend on him for livelihood.
Grew up his princess; had all the toys, all the clothes she wanted. Even attended multi-racial schools. He’d always brag about her white friends sleeping over at his township, but lavish house. The apple of his eye that did not live up to his expectations; if only she had completed matric, went on to study medicine so there would finally be a Dr.Ndlovu in the family. He had always wanted to be a medical doctor, but was prevented by the political atmosphere of the 70’s.
Though Sindi wasn’t a medicalor a Ph.D doctor, he loved that she was childless, aggressively pursued a career and did not live off a man. Nomsa hated her father’s admiration of Sindi for it reminded her of how he loved a young Nomsa. The sparkle in his eye when he speaks to Sindi was the same one when she had when he would hoist little Nomsa up and told her she was the most beautiful girl in the world. He no longer said those words; no longer praised her for anything except remind her she turned out just like her mother, who was a teen mom and went on to quit school so she could be taken care of by a man. “Why can’t you be like Sindi?” were haunting words that came out of her father’s lips lately. Sindi had stolen her father’s love from her, Sindi had to die.
More so because she is a lying and cheating whore. Emeka is not the kind of a guy you want tocheat on; he makes problems go away for a living. A missing person’s file has been open for two weeks for the guy Sindi slept with; still she knew Emekawasn’t finished and soon hewould come for her. All the money she spends on hermade her the envy of her friends and she repaid him by making him the laughing stock of his friends.
Street credibility is key in Emeka’s line of business; he is an underworld debt collector. When criminals want to branch into organised crime, such as an internet scams, hijacking and/or cash-in-transit heist qangs, but don’t have the financial resources they borrow money from the drug underworld money lenders at 100% interest. The debt doubles exponentially every month. Debt collectors like Emeka collect from problematic clients on 30 % commission.
It takes specialised intimidating tactics to threaten even the most hardened of criminals to honour their debts. Emeka is that guy, feared by even the most feared of criminals yet he could not keep his woman’s legs crossed. Sindi’s actions were bad for Emeka’s ego, street credibility and business. He had to kill her to send the message to the underworld.
Tshidi has seen Emeka at work. The thought of him coming after her frightened her. She had to stop Sindi from setting Emeka on her because he would takeaway her German Luxury Sedan and, with it, her social status. She was already deep in debt and could not afford a replacement car nor would she be seen dead driving a cheap car. The carpet was about to be pulled from underneath her. She wouldn’t allow that. What would people say when she is a pedestrian? She had to kill Sindi to avoid that humiliation.
Despite all the bickering throughout their lives, Sindi longed for a family and was willing to make peace with her sister and mother. That is why her mother went to Sindi’s house and “found her dead” in her bathtub and she was so “distraught”she called her daughter and Sindi’s sister, Nomsa, who then called Sindi’s friend Tshidi. Emeka was there to see his girlfriend and found the women consoling one other around herblood-bathed body. He called the police who declared it suicide in the absence of evidence to suggest otherwise.
Her mom was not genuine in her efforts to make peace with Sindi; she was looking fora way to get her in her husband’s bad books. And thus reclaim her position in his books as a good wife. Maybe if he saw she wasn’t perfect he’d realise his wife is not what is wrong with his family. What kind of a perfect daughter commits suicide?
Nomsa also wanted her position back in her father’s heart. Sindi had stolen her joy and it was payback time; her chance to go one better on what her mother failed to do twenty years earlier. She’d do it so clean no one would suspect her; it would all be seen as Sindi’s own doing.
Tshidi was never gonna allow her lifestyle to downgrade. She lived it infront of 20 000 followers and she could never risk them learning she was no longer the globetrotter they knew her as. She made sure she stopped Sindi before her friend sent Emeka to turn her world upside down.
Emeka had seen way too many of these scenes. If he couldn’t collect a debt he’d have to bring the debtor’s skull back to the creditors; everything done so clean the police don’t come after anyone. He’d staged a few suicides, people jumping off buildings, shooting themselves in their cars parked at shopping malls and hanging themselves in their children’s bedrooms. Sindi cheating on him was more than just an invite to make her disappear without a trace, but he had to sign his work with excellence and display it for all his future clients to admire it.