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The doctor’s second love

The doctor's second love

Mack.

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"Good day, ma'am." He greeted while examining my injured leg. "And here goes someone who doesn't wear stilettoes the right way." I narrowed my eyes in response to his words, his voice was such a fine one, the sort that would make a woman moan if it meets her ears in night whispers. Alessandro Greco, a dedicated Italian doctor temporarily transferred to Ivory Coast, crosses paths with Sita Kouassi, an enigmatic African politician and philanthropist harbouring a clandestine life as a spy. Drawn together by circumstance, their initial encounter blossoms into a passionate affair amidst the complexities of love and duty. However, as secrets unravel and betrayals surface, their relationship is put to the ultimate test. Can their love endure the shadows of deception and the dangers lurking in the mist, or will the high road they traverse tear them apart? This captivating tale delves into the intricacies of romance, intrigue, and the indomitable power of love in the heart of modern-day Africa.

Chapter 1 Prologue

One thing I had never figured out what best to do with, so far had remained the reason why Pa Koffi woke the neighborhood every morning with his large amp, blaring odd songs in our ears every morning.

One such song was the sad piece from the Everly Brothers; Take a Message to Mary, and for lord's sake, that was big-time sound pollution to our neighborhood, but no one ever spoke of such because Pa Koffi was a pretty old man doing the things he spent his youthful days doing.

I would bet I forever remain one of those who hate the old big amp, and the songs that found their way off it, and sometimes, I'd swear by my cunt to stone that pan, or cut the wires if there were any, at least, that would keep the neighborhood at peace for a while before he would fetch someone to fix it, but something was different tonight.

He seemed to have timed the whole business, and he never let that amp do its job until Alessandro slipped his hand in mine and leaned in to brush his lips around mine. Those cute lips I would have sworn to snatch if they never came to me, those lips that attracted me to him, they met mine and brushed mine open so his tongue would find its way in my mouth, to meet my tongue and count my dentures, while his fingers tightened against mine like we were holding each other from falling from grace.

It was then that the amp gave up what it had been holding down in its thin belly, a song I knew well, from Shirley Bassey. That piece wasn't a soft piece for a kissing moment, but it somehow found its way into our heads and made us switch from a calm romantic moment to something I must call silly.

First, it started with the rhythm of the song; Kiss Me, Honey, Honey, Kiss Me, then, it went deep into some wild exploration of both fingers, mine digging deep the lining of his back and his gripping to every bumpy and robust part of my body, till they found their way under my skirt, and the rest of the night's game was a story I wouldn't forget in a hurry.

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