The Game of Love
There is not a game more vicious, more dangerous, more exciting, more important than the Game of Love.
The Game of Love is now available for purchase.
Each episode of the Game of Love costs K10. An episode is a small book which has five(6) or seven(7) parts (chapters) to it.
When you buy an episode it will be sent to you directly to your Facebook inbox, whatsapp or email in PDF format. Fill in the form at the bottom with your order and I will get in touch with you ASAP.
So far, the Game of Love has five(5) juicy and complete episodes. Episode 6 will be available soon, so stay tuned.
Here is an excerpt from episode 2 to wet your appetite:
Take your soul
Put it in me
Take my soul
Put it in You
And let us be one
“Wow... um... this is weird.” James said, totally at a loss, withdrawing his finger from his mouth, folding his fingers into a fist and leaning his cheek against it.
“What is?” she asked innocently, her eyes narrowing. Her finger was still in her mouth.
He paused in reflection for a second, eying her, marvelling at every little thing about her: her curly, black hair which folded neatly over her smooth forehead; her rather broad nose with a little shiny stud above her left nostril; her well formed lips smudged with lip gloss; her unusually long neck; her large breasts with their cleavage generously exposed, threatening to burst out of her bra any time soon, that is if she had a bra...
He felt something he had never quite felt before for a stranger: he felt like flinging his arms around her, pulling her close and kissing her like it was the end of the world. He wondered how her lips would feel against his, and how they would taste; he had this notion that they would taste like strawberry.
He shuddered. He wasn’t supposed to desire such things. Not for a stranger. He already had a woman. He thrust his hand in his pocket for the hundredth time and felt the box therein. He breathed deeply, perhaps too deeply, because his chest hurt a bit.
Yes, a stranger. Who knew where she had been? What she had done? That stud on her nose said it all.
Stranger? Why then did he feel as though he was staring at himself when he looked into her eyes? He felt a connection, a strong overriding connection. And what was that scent about her? There was a strong scent about her that seemed to be overriding his senses.
He nearly freaked out when he realized that he was still staring at her, at her cleavage actually, and that she was staring back at him.
“What is weird, mister?” she asked again. Her tongue was painted red.
“Nothing.” He tried to look away, but his eyes were glued to her.
“Come on, do tell.” She insisted, leaning towards him. “If it is too weird, you can whisper into my ear.”
Her voice tasted sweet to his ears. He liked her. There was no harm in opening up to her, was there? After all, when they reached Ndola, they were going to go their separate ways; and probably never see each other again. He felt a dull pain in the region of his heart when he thought of the prospect of never seeing her again.
“No, no, it’s not that weird. I feel like I know you.” He said.
“Oh, most people say that about me.” She leaned away, towards the window. The rain was spattering all over the glass and moisture was slowly forming; barely anything could be seen outside.
“Not that... I feel like I have known you my all life.”
“Okay, that’s weird.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Fine. If you do know me somehow, tell me something about me that no stranger can ever know.” She turned to face him, watching him with expectation; her eyes boring into him, as if scrutinizing his soul, sifting him, searching for any and all untruth.
“Challenge accepted.” He shut his eyes and pretended to think. He racked his brain. “Let me see...”
He could feel her smile broadening.
“You love lollipops, especially the red, strawberry flavoured ones.”
He opened one eye and glanced at her. She was the one gapping now. A look of surprise painted across her face. Her lips were now perfectly round like the letter ‘O’.
“How the hell did you know?”
“Like I said, I know you.”
“Oh please, it was just a good guess.” She hit him on the upper arm playfully. He liked it.
“No, I know you.” He smirked.
“It was a guess. I can also do that!”
“Fine, go ahead. Hit me. Tell me something about me that no stranger would know.”
She smiled: “You going to see your girl friend. And you have a surprise for her.”
It was his turn to be surprised.
“How did you—”
“Ndalama,” a gruff voice barked. “Nipatseni Ndalama.”
He turned only to find the bus conductor glaring at them. He was so dark that for a second, James could only see the white of his eyes and the outline around his frame, the situation made worse by the darkness that was slowly flooding the bus.
James slowly reached out for his jacket pocket and pulled out a fifty kwacha note. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Jane fumbling for her purse.
“Don’t bother,” he told her. “I’ll pay for you.”
“That’s generous of you.” She smiled broadly.
After he had paid, and the conductor had turned his attention elsewhere, Jane leaned in and whispered into his ear: “Damn, he is so black.”
He nudged her, and they laughed heartily together, heartily enough to irritate one or two other passengers who glared at them, especially the women, who seemed to have a fundamental need to feel irritated.
As their laughter died down, they found themselves staring at the storm outside, awed expressions on their faces. The bus had slowed down to a crawl, and they realised that they were right in the middle of a traffic jam.
“It’s because of the construction works along the road, so we're using one lane instead of the regular two.” James cared to explain.
“I know tha—” A sudden peal of thunder made the bus rattle. She screamed, along with several other passengers, all of them women from the sound of it.
James never cared for thunder, but lightning did freak him out; and it had occurred at the same time with the thunder. He breathed in deeply, and held his breath. A warmth seemed to envelope him, from the waist all the way up to his chest. He soon realized that Jane had wrapped her arms around him and was holding him tight; her face was buried in his bosom. He was stumped. His immediate impulse was to wrap his own hands around her, but he was too dumbfounded.
She suddenly jerked, and pulled away, an apologetic look on her face. “Sorry, I just got nervous.”
“It’s okay,” he found himself saying, and before he could even pause to evaluate, he pulled her back. He suddenly realized that he had forgotten to breathe, and inhaled deeply. He took in her scent. He pulled her closer.
What the hell am I doing? He thought. If Julie saw me right now, I’m so dead! I should stop this right now.
But he couldn’t let go of her. Her warmth had him mesmerised. It seemed to suck him in; into her.
There was suddenly another bang; but this time, it was not thunder. James found himself thrown forward, then sideward. He clang onto Jane desperately. She shrieked, digging her fingers into his side.
“What was that?” He asked in confusion when the sudden movements stopped. People were screaming and jumping out of their seats, scampering for the door and others attempting to jump out of the window.
“We’ve been hit!” someone screamed. “We’ve been hit!”
“Get off the bus! Chokanimoni mu bus!” another screamed. It must have been the conductor. He couldn’t tell.
“Jane!”James screamed above the deafening din of car engines and horns. His heart raced and he tried to lift her up but she was heavy and was clinging to him tighter than ever. He slumped back into the seat. Wiping away the moisture from the window, he squinted, trying to make out something in the chaos outside.
Then he saw it.
“Jane!” He cried frantically, pointing at the truck speeding towards them. Impact was imminent.
“Are we going to die?” She looked up into his face and saw the horror in it.
James was helpless. There was no use trying to escape. It was too late.
“Jane,” he said in a pained voice. He held her tighter. He couldn’t afford to see the terror in her face. Tears streaming out of his eyes, he lifted her chin and wrapped his mouth around hers.
Time seemed to stand still—like it was end of the world.
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P.S: If you do not like an episode, I will send your money back.
The Game of Love
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