(Previously, Obi’s chance encounter with Dacie rekindled memories of a night draped in mystery, passion, and unspoken truths. Over drinks and cryptic dialogue, Dacie challenged Obi’s sense of self, offering not just her presence but a piece of her rebellion. As tensions simmered and identities blurred, she left him with a white lace token—and perhaps, an invitation to step beyond desire into dangerous intrigue.)

‘My baby said she loved me

love me all night

My baby said she loved me

love me all night long

long as my mojo be working

She'll love me all night long….’

The song went. The band was good, playing the blues and immortalizing Chris Beard, serenading the floor with couples swaying to the music.

“You know, with a passion like mine, you can never go wrong,” I whispered into her hair. Her locks smelled like hot vanilla cookies. I snuggled closer, nibbling lightly on her neck.

Sky whimpered in pain and collapsed onto my chest, slightly shivering.

“Please, Obi!”

“Mmh? Talk to me, my lady.”

“Please don’t,” she begged.

I could feel her legs begin to buckle as she held on tighter for dear life.

‘My baby squeeze me tight

Squeeze me tight all night long

My baby squeeze me real tight y'all

Squeeze me tight all night long

She keeps me warm when I'm cold

She'll love me all night long….’

As her claws dug deeper into my chest and arms, she threw her hair back wildly, and sucked in shakily…. The guitar went berserk.

The music has always been good at the Crafty Chameleon, especially with fairy lights beneath a starry sky, and bosoms pressing on to me, each twitch and shiver controlled by the tip of my thumb, especially like tonight.

‘……She said, "You be good to me

I'll love you 'til dawn"

Play the blues, play the blues, play the blues

My baby said she loved me

Love me all night long

My baby said she loved me

Love me all night long….’

The vocals went, the strings played, and brass echoed, as she held on tighter, a soft cry escaping her lips and her teeth chattering.

“You’re bad, Obi,” she whispered, her voice raw with pleasure.

“So, she says, and yet craves to lick my finger,” I replied, rubbing my thumb lightly along her soft lips and teasing a kiss. She leaned in and closed her eyes.

I like kissing, but the wait, even more. Having her stew in hunger, lips parted in anticipation, breath held, and eyelids slightly twitching at the warmth of my breath.

“My tongue is certainly more versatile,” I whispered against her lips as the music drew to a close.

She opened her misty eyes, and looked at me incredulously as realization dawned on her.

“Be a gentleman and get drinks for us. We’ll find a place once I freshen up,” she giggled, picking her purse from our booth and heading for the ladies.

The bar was a little crowded. So, I stood back to let the press subside before making my order and watched couples kiss in darkened booths, whispering and giggling.

“Let me guess, a glass of red for her, and a bourbon for you.”

“Yes, please,” I said, turning.

“Dacie!”

“Yes, Obi,” She replied calmly.

“You are not the waitress.”

“No, I’m not.”

“A stalker maybe,” I jabbed in masked horror.

“Darce, there you are,” said a tall, dark man, in a suit, walking up to us in crocodile shoes. He had two glasses in each hand, each finger fiery in rubies, gold, and every other metal in the periodic table that could curve a jewel.

“Ndale, this is Obi. He thinks he’s too important,” she said, accepting a glass.

“Come on, Dacie. He’s just a small man,” he gave a toothy grin, with a flash of gold, extending his ringed hand.

I accepted the huge hand and shook it firmly, looking into his eyes and smiling.

“I’m also a wildlife conservationist and a human rights activist fighting child labor,” I said.

“And being funny while at it,” his smile had shriveled, and his face creased even more.

“Get our tab, Ndale,” she said to him. And like a lucky, he turned on his heels.

“He’s an ugly man with an ugly temper,” I said as he retreated.

“Are you jealous?” she asked. “You disapprove of him; that warms my cockles,” she went on, smiling wickedly. “Who is that girl you are playing with tonight?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Are you embarrassed? Is this just some young thing you like to screw, dinner and a quickie, something casual?” She dug on.

“Where is my glass of red, Obi?” Sky asked, walking to my side and extending her hand to Darcie.

“I’m Sky,” she said smiling timidly.

“I am…” Darcie began, and “… just leaving,” I finished.