Chapter Eighty-Three – Thou Shalt Flee Sexual Immorality

Kwame did his best to get the thoughts of Stephanie out of his mind. Each time he tried to read his notes, thoughts of the kiss that didn’t happen came back to him. Sometimes, he completed the thought with an actual kiss. He imagined what her lips would have felt like. What if he slipped his hand onto the small of her waist while she grabbed his neck, her acrylic nails grazing his neck.

Then he would quickly snap out of it. Shaking his head furiously and rebuking the thought. Pastor David had preached about that recently. He said as a man thinks, so is he. Then it’s important for a man to think only good thoughts. Kissing Stephanie was definitely not a good thought.

There was also the times when the memory came to mind and instead of letting Stephanie in, he shut the door in her face. Perhaps that’s how Samson wished he had dealt with Delilah.

In all this, Kwame was conflicted. He didn’t know which of the thoughts he wanted to be. He oscillated between the two. Feeling shame and a thrill from the first one and pride from the second. Who said choosing God was easy? He needed to have a word with the bugger.

I will always maintain that abstinence is far easier than chastity. He had tasted something. Something he hadn’t tasted in months and try as he might, the familiar feeling was still there and from time to time, he wanted to feel that thing again.

He labored his way through the notes, eventually giving up and setting the book aside. He looked around the library. From his seat, he spotted me buried in my laptop. Next to me was Lara. He sighed. Why couldn’t he be just as focused?

He hadn’t studied in his room since the incident for fear that Stephanie would show up again. That and he thought that the library might help him focus. Boy was he wrong.

He avoided the girl like the plague, turning the other way everytime she approached him at church. She showed up to Bible Study a few times but he was always careful to keep me or Boateng by his side as some kind of shield.

I mean, Stephanie was his type to a tee. Physically, she was everything he wanted. She was thick in all the right places. Her waist pretty much didn’t exist and her lips. Well, her lips had him curious.

Okay, now I’m grossing myself out trying to describe it to you. so just know this, Stephanie’s game was working. Kwame wanted to put up a fight but he was weaker than he imagined.

Packing up his books, he came to bid us goodbye and left. His room was very cold from the window he’d left open. The harmattan evening air had seeped in. He changed out into his pyjamas and hopped into bed. If reading couldn’t distract him, perhaps a good movie could.

Just as he pressed play, there was a knock at the door. Kwame looked at his watch. It was 11:30. Who could be trying to see him at this time? Should he have asked who was at the door? Yes, he should have because he opened it to find Stephanie standing there. She looked like a lost kitten.

Kwame was at a loss as to what to do. Had his brain been functioning properly, he would have thought to tell this damsel that now was not a good time and to come back in the morning. But here the object of his desires was. He had spent the greater part of the evening imagining things that would leave the angels disgusted. There was no way his brain was going to give any good suggestions.

He stood transfixed at the door as Stephanie looked at him sorrowfully. The advice Mark gave had vanished into thin air. It was just them two standing there. The tension in the air was palpable.

“Can I come in?” she asked. A voice in Kwame’s head screamed that he should say no but the one he chose to listen to was the one that told him to open the door wider and ask, “is everything okay?”

Stephanie came in. She had on a camisole and lose shorts. She shook her head. “No. I can’t sleep.”

Kwame paused the movie and stood closer to the door. “God help me” he said over and over in his head.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. Perhaps she was in need of help and here he was being a lustful idiot. No. He would be a good Christian brother and help this sister in need. After all, she hadn’t done anything wrong or sought out to tempt him. He was the one who needed to learn how to control himself. What kind of brother would he be if he couldn’t help his female sisters because of his own desires?

“I’m actually quite sad,” Stephanie began, closing the distance between the two of them ever so slightly. “I don’t know what I have done to offend you. The way you avoid me like I have some type of disease makes me feel so bad.”

Kwame stuttered. “Did I do something?” Stephanie’s voice shook a little and Kwame sensed she was holding back tears. I must say, this was a truly stellar performance.

“Oh, no! why would you think that. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Stephanie had Kwame right where she wanted him. She let out a sigh and closed the distance between them a tad bit more. The last thing she wanted to do was scare Kwame off. His guard was down and it had taken a good minute to get him there since their last encounter.

“Actually, I know why. I know why you’re treating me like a disease,” she declared, allowing room for a long pause. Kwame’s interest was piqued. What did Stephanie think the reason was? He probably should have said he doesn’t see her as a disease but curiosity kept him silent.

“I know what people in church have been saying about me. I know the rumors going around. They think I’m a Jezebel. That’s what you guys have been saying.”

Kwame became defensive immediately. He knew exactly what it was like to have people make assumptions about who you are. How could he let these rumors get to him? Perhaps Stephanie was a different woman now.

“I don’t see you that way at all. Don’t talk like that.”

Stephanie in her sorrow went in for a hug and Kwame in his empathy did nothing to restrain her.

The tenth victim was successfully secured.