The velvet scrunchy

The Valentine of the year 2004 was disappointing for me. First this holiday was unofficial, so I was in the office. Secondly I was wearing something unacceptable. Though it was concealed, fear of somebody finding out stuck to my chest making me feel uncomfortable all day. It was a Saturday, and the secret wear was a female pink lace. I did not put it on willingly. No, I would not in a thousand years. But I had to, because I lost in a stupid game my girlfriend and I were playing the previous night: Truth or dare.

Whenever a colleague came to my desk for help or to discuss something, I started sweating. My heart beat faster. Some asked if I had fever or something wrong? I gave them a fake smile and said it was the temperature. But we were in an air conditioned office. They all made weird faces before they went away. The deal, I had to this the whole day. I chose my times to visit the gents and made a point of not using the lino even when it was just to pass down water. I had to go in an enclosed place. No one was supposed to find out in the office or I would fast become the object of conversation for the next six months. Either the gay label or cross-dresser would have stuck on my forehead. In addition to the underwear, there was something else on my thigh that made me uneasy even while sitting. I couldn't help touch it from time to time. I could not cheat, because Sarah made sure I did not carry any extra garment in the morning when I left for work. I knew, it was gonna be a long day!

Sarah and I had gone out two times prior to Yesterday. It was our third date and I was excited because it was “the night.” although I had a job, I was still living with my parents in that year. And once in a while sleeping out made me feel wild with temporary wings. After dinner at the Mombasa sports club, she drove to her apartment in Ganjoni and invited me in for coffee. I made myself comfortable on the sofa watching a late night movie featured on the local TV station. She came to join me after freshening up and at that time in the movie, the starring and the beautiful actress lover were playing Truth or dare game. I was amused, Sarah too. When it was over, Sarah said she is waiting for me in the bedroom. So I jumped in the shower to get rid of the summer night sweat that climbed and lingered on my skin during the dinner.

The bed was big and had ten pillows on top of the white sheets. Extravagant, I think two pillows are enough on a bed but hey! I am a man. I thought it would be a good idea to play the Truth or dare game, just like in the movie. There was something itchy, and out of curiosity I thought this would be the perfect chance to find out. She agreed after we changed the rules a bit. If one does not want to tell the truth, then the dare becomes obligatory on them. You can all guess, my first question was how many men have you been with in your life? I had asked for trouble. After a minute, the ballpark figure she gave out was unbelievable. It bothered me so much that she had slept with men seventeen times more than me. I was not a sleeping around kind of a guy. And when she asked me the same question, I felt shy giving out the tiny number. The penalty, I was dared to hold my feelings and expectations in cage for tonight. No one would be getting laid here tonight.

Sarah worked at Barclay's bank, that's where I met her on the help desk. The bank uniforms enhance their looks to make them more attractive. They are tight and colors picked carefully by the designer. Sarah didn't need enhancement, she had pouty lips, an hourglass figure like Congolese dancers and beautiful eyes. She was also nice, above the customer care nice. I made sure I visited her desk each time I went to deposit some money even if I didn't need help. After four times she agreed to go out with me if I promised let her do her job in peace. She had a colleague at the desk who always smiled when I was there. Her name was May and she was also her roommate. I was friendly to her too and always made some jokes for her benefit. She was amused by my style of pursuit on romance. And she sent me a friend request on Facebook the same night I met them for the first time.

The next question on truth or dare was somehow brutal. Would you tell me if its real or you faked it tomorrow night? I know I'm not getting any tonight. Her pouty lips and frown sent a clear message. This was supposed to be fun, not a fact finding mission. She chose dare, though I knew she could easily answer this. I had to tone down the dare, I dared her to withdraw big money from her account and foot all bills tomorrow after work for our Valentine getaway to Wasini island Marine park. Well, it felt good to get something out of her that the other guys couldn't think of. She would also have fun. Lucky her for I didn't suggest going to a nudist colony. Its something I have thought about, but they are not common in Africa. It was her turn now, I tried to be strong because I knew she was about to seek a bomb size truth. She said: The truth, tell me about your insecurities. About the fears in your heart, if its fear of love, intimacy or whatever. Tell me your secrets, about your preferences on love and love making. That's too much, I objected. And it will take a lot of time to talk about those issues. She replied that she had all night. The truth is, I didn't want to touch on those matters. Especially to someone I have gone out with for less than two months. So I finally retreated to a dare.

She led me to her walk in closet. On the top left, there were her under-wears hanging on hooks. The line up revealed she was on to style and fashion deeply. There were some that were made from small material and some enough. I could see G-strings, see through laces and a variety of lingerie. The dare was to wear her underwear tomorrow for the whole day. She was kind enough to choose the pink lace for me. At least it had enough material to hold me. She smiled while touching her pink bra but my face clearly conveyed to her I would never go for that. She picked out a pink scrunchy and said “this will be enough, it goes up from your foot to thigh. I will put it up myself on you tomorrow morning.”

The fabric was not bad at all. I think it was a hundred percent cotton. It was cool inside and the fabric was soft against my skin. Most male under-wears have rough texture but its nothing to complain of because we are used to it. But this felt good. So good that it scared me. I wanted to feel secure about my masculinity, that this one day thing would not change me inside. Now and then the why am I doing this question kept popping up on my head. Apart from the shame I was risking, I didn't like this business at all. But then I thought, it was me who started this game. I didn't want to upset Sarah more or break off the relationship. And the more important reason that made me go along with this was: its frowned upon in Men circles to break up from a relationship before getting in the sack.

After a very slow day and a late employees meeting I was finally on my way to Ganjoni. No one at work found out. I have completed the dare, and promised myself never to play that game again. I was so exhausted that after the kiss hello I went straight to the bathroom. After the long shower I realized I hadn't taken my costume from Sarah's closet for change. I called out her name but no response after three times. I put on the pink lace and walked freely not remembering that Sarah had a roommate. After four steps I realized May was standing between the kitchen and the bathroom. Sarah followed her back. Then in a flash, she pressed her cell phone to take a photo. I showed her that I didn't like that but they kept laughing at me. I shared my concern with Sarah as we were preparing for our Wasini trip but she said they were very good friends and that was just for fun. She wouldn't do anything to jeopardize their friendship.

I was a little relieved but on our way I asked myself, What about after we break-up? My fear was reliving the ordeal if the picture found its way to Facebook time-lines. I am doomed. Wasini was supposed to be a happy trip but here I was buried in ugly possibility thoughts. I would die if my Facebook friends see the picture. Word would go round to my family and relatives by the click of the “share button.” what a valentine!