ASIA
Best wait ever?
Bigirimana is wondering if this is the best wait ever: waiting to see his crush naked. This crush cut the video call a minute ago to go to the bathroom, but it more feels like she cut the video call a year ago. He is losing patience. Eyes on his phone. Not blinking. If a fly decided to fly into his eye, it would do so without any difficulty. His heart is pounding harder than when he is about to watch adult film.
“Girl, I’m still waiting,” says the look on his face. The morning is mild and cold, yet his forehead is coated with sweat. And does it matter that the figure on the taskbar on his laptop has dropped to $3,200?
He seems to have no idea how his partner in crime, Mbola, will react when he discovers that the profits they had made from scamming girls are being reduced in this way. He bets Mbola should stay with Chax in the bathroom for another good hour. For the third round. But what if Mbola chooses to come out now?
Bigirimana would have no answer, or it would be a difficult one. Or perhaps he doesn’t mind, because his mind is completely focused on the girl miles away, waiting to see her naked. No day could start this mad. However, he needs to be patient because the girl still hasn’t returned the video call.
He sighs. The hot air coming out of his nose would kill a mosquito. Suddenly, to his delight, the girl’s video call has filled his entire touch screen. His fingers have responded unconsciously; as if his fingers couldn’t wait any longer, like the phone is now controlling his consciousness. “Damn”. He actually sees the girl’s entire abdomen: her pink busts facing him; her cleavage is like a desert valley between two Egyptian pyramids. The bonus is the ruby ring on her belly button that sparkles in his eyes. Nothing is better than this.
He barely swallows. He can only see the upper part of her body, the part that is only visible on the screen. The lower part might be hidden at the bottom of the screen. Maybe scroll down to see it?
In fact, he has scrolled down and realizes how dumb it was to do that. This is a video call, not a Facebook page. Idiot. He almost accidentally ended the video call. It would be stupid to end the video call. Now he is smiling at the girl’s belly, ignoring her embarrassed face. He has no idea that the girl might be embarrassed about herself (she gave a shy smile and put her forefinger in her mouth). Bigirimana doesn’t care about her face now, he is even more eager to see her lower body, however, the girl turns on the shower.
“No, why did you turn on the shower?” he asks, indicating that his vision has just been disturbed.
“I showed you what you wanted to see. By the way, I came here to take a bath, remember?” she says.
Of course it’s that, but Bigirimana wants to see the real deal. Her lower body. He believes he has paid for it — to see it — the spot between her legs.
“Jhe, you’re there to take a shower,” he says in a calm but frustrated tone; “but you didn’t show me what’s underneath… like… below your waist.”
“My lower body has its own price,” she giggles, “what you paid for was for my upper body.” She turns off the shower and wipes the water from her face with her left hand that isn’t holding her phone.
Silence follows. Bigirimana scratches his head. This girl is much clever than he thought. It is obvious that she wants more money. Bigirimana takes this as a weakness; not his but hers. He is sure he will win her heart. He has faith in himself! The word “overconfidence” does not ring in his head. Not even reckless. What rings in his head is confidence. This girl can take another R20,000 to reveal her real deal — the spot between her legs.
He looks at his laptop, sending her another R20,000. Simple as that. Now it’s show time. His head swiftly turns towards the phone. He can tell she has received the money by the way she bites her moist, pink lips. He can’t wait to see her move the phone camera down to her lower body. To his pleasure, the girl is doing it. Slowly. Steady. And as she does so, the inside of Bigirimana’s blue shorts begin to stretch: it’s like there is an AK47 in his shorts being raised to shoot a terrorist.
The girl’s phone camera now moves past her belly button. Almost there. Bigirimana’s shorts are about to burst despite the fact that the girl’s phone camera hasn’t reached the target he looks for. She is playing with his patience.
“Shanja, are you there!?” another voice shouts. The phone camera freezes. How on earth such disturbance. Bigirimana sighs in frustration.
“Who’s it?” Shanja responds to the voice.
“It’s Tracy, I need to pee. Can I come in?” says the voice desperately.
“Sure… give me a minute,” says Shanja, hesitantly.
Why did the builder combine the toilet and the bathroom? Stupid. Bigirimana would ask builders such question. Some house plans ruin things like these. But the name Tracy sounded familiar.
“Who’s Tracy?” he asks Shanja.
“A silly friend of mine who forced me into a fake beauty contest,” Shanja whispers; “I’ll call you back in a minute.” She cuts the video call.
Then Bigirimana, facing his default WhatsApp wallpaper, lowers his eyebrows. It must be the ugly Tracy. How annoying.
“F*ck you, elephant,” he cusses, and stands on two legs, however, he seems to have a third leg. He pulls down his shorts, and that third leg appears to tell him that it will never shrink unless it does its job. He holds it, but before he knows it, he has messed his laptop desk. He quickly takes off his headphones and pulls up his shorts. No one should see this mess, but it’s too late, footsteps are approaching from behind.
“Oh sorry, did you accidentally spill milk on the table?” says Chax, innocently, like a five year old.
Before Bigirimana can respond, Mbola comes from behind Chax and says: “We don’t have milk in this hostel, what are you talking about?”
There is silence. Mbola now faces the whole scene: creamy liquid spilled on the laptop desk, curtains pushed aside, and dollars on the laptop slashed to $2,080. What was going on here?