Northern Africa, circa 1949
The house seemed to be virtually empty, with Anna off in France again, Mark back at work, and Henriette visiting friends in Marrakech. Dad had thrown himself into his work with fervor, so it seemed that I had no one to talk to. I had and endless amount of time for practice, and I devoted the time that I spent away from the piano into actually studying my French lessons. I’d come a long way in a few weeks. Olu noticed the difference, and complimented me on my expanded vocabulary and my improved accent.
We’d put that embarrassing moment in my bedroom behind us, or at least, he never brought it up, and I never mentioned it. I’d started spending more time with him, outside of my lessons, because Dad’s newest dig was rather close by. I would ride my bicycle out to meet them some days, on others I would just travel with them in the morning, if I could get up early enough. All I did was watch, taking a book with me, just in case I got bored sooner than I expected. There wasn’t much to see in a given day at a dig; mostly, there was just digging and sifting and washing. Interesting finds were few and far between, and extraordinary finds were rare.
I think that Dad knew that I was trying to develop an interest, but he also could tell that it was a challenge for me. Sometimes, if he noticed me staring off into space, he’d send me on a nature walk with William. After a few of these, he’d come up with the idea that they would be more meaningful if I was learning something along the way, so he started sending Olu with me instead. I’d assumed that Olu would be resentful for being assigned as my tour guide, but he seemed to enjoy the break from the monotony of the digs.
One dig, I’d developed a special interest in, because I had the opportunity to find something myself. They had let me delve a little, just enough to get myself covered in dust and soil, and when the washers began to clean my contribution to the dig, they found a fragment from an old ornament. Dad was elated, and promised me that he and Olu would put the other things aside to go through the books to find out more about my discovery.
I began to stay up with Olu, sitting in the study, sometimes reading with him, sometimes, reading something of my own, just enjoying human contact. Most nights, I would fall asleep on the small sofa, or if we were in his room, I’d fall asleep in the rocking chair. Olu, ever the professional, would brusquely awaken me, and fuss at me to get more sleep at night. But, I noticed that he would never set a real curfew for me to leave his presence; he would always allow me to stay until I drifted off to sleep, and often, he would let me sleep until daybreak, if he’d happened to stay up all night.
One night, the sofa looked too inviting to resist, so I lay across it, bringing my book with me, but knowing that I was too tired to read any of it. I’d decided to rest my eyes, only for a moment, but I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up, I didn’t know where I was, only that I could hear someone speaking to me softly, in French.
‘Wake up, pretty girl, it’s time for bed…’
I slowly opened my eyes, too groggy to realize that this was Olu, being gentle with me. I stared at him for a moment, as he knelt in front of me, smiling. I smiled back at him, a reflex action, I guessed, and saw something new in his face. His look changed; it wasn’t friendly like before, but more focused on me. He seemed to be looking inside me, trying to figure out what I was thinking. I sat up a little, with his help, immediately feeling a slight buzz of excitement as his hands held my arms, to brace me.
He looked tired. I unconsciously moved my hand, not noticing that I was touching his face until I could feel his dark squared jaw in my palm.
‘You should sleep…’ I said.
‘In French…’ he corrected. The spell was broken.
I searched my mind for the right words. After a minute had passed, I gave up, settling for a simple, ‘Bonne nuit.’
As I moved to stand, I knocked my book onto the floor. I knelt to reach down for it at the same time that Olu moved to pick it up. We almost bumped heads, with Olu stopping to stroke my forehead.
We both stared at each other again. I knew that I was supposed to stand up and leave at this point, but I didn’t want to move. I leaned back against the sofa as Olu moved toward me, focusing his eyes on my lips, allowing me to catch a brief instant of the desire that could be read in his face. He gave me a simple, clean kiss, almost innocent, similar to a kiss that my father would have given me. My lips were ablaze with feeling, though, and I was trembling, overly excited, but wanting more. He kissed me again, in the same way, clean and innocent.
‘You are simply adorable,’ he whispered to me in French, smiling again.
I blushed, looking down to the floor. He lifted my face with his finger, and moved to kiss me once more.
This kiss was longer, more involved than the previous two. Olu held me in his arms, pulling my lips with his teeth, dragging his lips across my face, as if he were trying to see me with his mouth. I let him slip his tongue inside; it was large, hot and wet, immediately hypnotizing my own into action. I followed his lead, wrapping my arms around him as he did amazing things inside my mouth with his tongue. My pussy was throbbing, and my clit was sharp with attention, but Olu didn’t touch me any further. His kisses alone were enough to make me melt. I sighed with pleasure as he ran his hands through my hair.
‘Enough for now,’ he whispered, in French again, pushing me up to my feet as he sat on the floor. He handed the book to me, taking the time to slowly stroke my hand before sending me off to bed.
The next day, I still sat daydreaming about our kisses at the dig.
‘I’m sorry, Love,’ my father stepped in front of the blazing sun as I sat in the grass a few yards away from the series of trenches he, Olu, and the others were working in. ‘You look bored already… why don’t you and Olu take a short walk? He looks like he needs a break, anyway…’
I looked up to see Olu wiping sweat from his brow. He’d taken his shirt off, and his dark, muscular chest was sparkling under the sun.
‘Olu, why don’t you take Liv for a walk now? She looks as if she’s about to die from ennui…’ Dad squinted as he turned toward the sun.
Olu walked past my father toward me, but instead of telling me to join him, he just kept walking. I had to run to catch up with him, because he was walking rather briskly. Even in my trousers and boots, it was difficult to keep up with him. He seemed to notice this, because he’d look back at me every few paces. But instead of slowing down, Olu extended his arm, offering his hand to me. I reached out to grab it, skipping a little to start a new pace with him. He held my hand firmly; not affectionately, with the fingers intertwined, but securely, as if he were leading a child.
We walked through the trees and over an expanse of low hills. Olu never spoke a word, quickly leading me further away from the dig, into the mesmerizing beauty of the countryside. We didn’t stop until we reached a pond, where he stooped to wash his hands and his face. I was hot and sweaty, and I longed to take a dip in the cool water. I assumed that Olu would frown on it, but we were far enough away from the others for me to do it.
I stood behind him, quietly slipping my boots and trousers off, soon standing in nothing but my knickers and my thin cotton peasant blouse. I took a running leap into the water, rudely splashing Olu as he stood up and wiped his wet hands on his shirt.
‘Olivia! What are you doing?’ He yelled at me.
I swam to the bank as soon as he called me, afraid that he would be angry if I ventured too far away. He stood with a confused look on his face, watching me as I pulled myself out of the water.
‘Look at you; you’re all soaked. How will I explain this to your father?’
‘You’re not wet; he won’t care,’ I walked past him, twisting the water from my hair.
When I was behind him, I pulled my shirt off to wring out the excess water. I looked in his direction, to see if he was watching, but he had walked up the hill, to sit beneath a tree. I put my shirt back on, now, wet and wrinkled, but much cooler. It was still wet enough to cling to my body, but I guessed that it would dry fairly quickly with the bright sun beating down on it. I found a large tree to stand behind to take off my dripping underwear, to wring them out. I decided, after thinking about it, to leave them, since I had to put my trousers back on. After I was dressed again, I joined Olu in the shade beneath his tree.
‘You’re like Henriette,’ Olu smiled at me as I sat next to him.
‘What do you mean?’ I was confused.
‘You’re a free spirit. You do whatever comes to your mind, whatever pleases you. You never hesitate…’
I looked at him, squeezing at the dripping ends of my hair.
‘I wish that I could be like that sometimes,’ he lamented.
‘I’m not so much like Henriette,’ I confessed to him, playfully twisting my hair.
‘You are…’ he wrinkled his brows, searching for the right words. ‘I’ve never felt… free enough to just act… without thinking.’
‘You make me sound so thoughtless,’ I leaned back against the tree.
‘That’s not what I meant…’
