17. Wet Dreams and Break Ins

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⌞M I N D E L Y N⌝
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⌞♥⌝   In the wonderfully whimsical world of womanhood, legends say that when a girl gets laid with the man of her wet dreams, she wakes up with the glow of a goddess. Birds serenade her good morning as the sun's golden rays dance to celebrate her glorious achievement. It's a fairytale princess moment that feels like a dream because that's all it ever was and ever will be: a damned dream.

Instead, I woke up in a nightmarish hell where aches graced every fiber of my being. With a rock concert hosted in my head, my mouth was as hydrated as the damn Sahara. Every movement felt like a war against gravity. It was as if I had a heated match with a sumo wrestler, given how beaten up my body felt -- not like I had spent the night with the man of my dreams.

"Chester Nel is a fucking monster. Damn it," I groaned, unraveling myself like a mummy who had awake from a tomb.

The room was as dark as night when I managed to pry my eyelids apart. However, the stream of golden light near a partially closed blackout curtain made me realize that it was, in fact, daytime outside.

Blake and Layla hated that about me — how I always slept with the curtains open at night. They worried that some Peeping Tom might take the opportunity to watch me sleep, gathering the courage to break in and do worse. So, given Mr. Nel's high alert on security, I knew Chester had left them shut before he left.

My heart swelled a little as I croaked, "That was kinda nice of him..."

That was my initial thought until I remembered his last words to me while half awake:

"Miss Suberson, right? You, woman, are going to be a problem."

His words were a stark reminder of the tension simmering beneath our facade of cordiality. As the echoing memory sent a shockwave to my soul, any appreciation for his gesture evaporated. I shut my eyes in hopes of falling back asleep and restarting this crappy awakening.

However, my overactive mind had a revenge plan of its own as I drifted off to a world of my own...

Stuck between a daydream and the subconscious on a bed of clouds, I found myself wrapped in red lace and crimson satin beside a plate of my favorite chocolate-coated cherries. Just as I was about to munch on one, a hand grabbed my wrist.

Although his jet-black hair cascaded past his bare chest to his waist, and he had long, white devilish horns that matched the surrounding abyss of clouds and silver vines, the mischievousness radiating from his smirk and amused grey eyes gave him away. I stuttered, "Uh, Ch-Chess..."

Bringing the candy-covered fruit to his mouth, he sucked on my fingers a little before pulling away, leaving only the stalk and me feeling hotter than a sauna. Teasing a grin, he said, "Why so surprised, sweetheart? You know I like chocolate, but the cherry... I have to say, I had much better last night, if you know what I mean?" and finished it with a wink.

Even in my delusional headspace, he was such a sweet talker. Aware that my chubby cheeks probably looked riper than most tomatoes, my heart raced. "God... You're impossible, Chess."

He leaned closer, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Impossible? Or irresistibly charming?"

"Maybe a bit of both." I laughed, feeling a mix of exasperation and desire.

Mr. Nel's ethereal doppelganger's smirk widened as he brushed a strand of hair from my face. "You know, I could get used to waking up next to you. But I suppose that's up to you."

"Me?" I felt my breath catch. "What do you mean?"

The muscular stud before me with the glimmering oily skin leaned in, his lips inches from mine. "I mean, you don't have to go back. Stay here. With me. Miss Suberson...."

'Mrs. Nel sounds kind of nice too...' I thought, too drunk on the fantasy and this idiot's kisses.

There was no way in hell he'd hear that from me in real life without thinking I needed to be shipped to a psych ward. There was something liberating about being in your head, but there was something equally dangerous.

However, no matter how delusional, all good things — like this wet dream — had to come to an end.

"Miss Suberson?"

The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the intensity of his silvery gaze and the pounding of my overworked heart. But just as I was about to respond, the scene began to blur, and a distant voice broke through the dream.

"Miss Suberson? Miss Suberson?"

I groaned, my delusional fantasy slipping away as reality intruded. Blinking groggily, I found Thabang standing at the foot of the bed, his expression polite but firm.

"Good afternoon, Miss Suberson, my sincerest apologies for disrupting your sleep."

"Afternoon Thaba—wait, what!" My eyes widened as I jolted out of my sheets, almost flashing the elderly man, and screamed, "Wait! What do you mean by 'afternoon'?"

Cool as cucumber as always, he nodded. "Yes, Miss. It's already a few minutes after two."

"Two PM?" I was starting to sound like...a paranoid parrot repeating everything with my big mouth. Slapping my cheeks, I fell back into my mess of blankets and grunted to myself. "Ugh, another day wasted. What's wrong with me?"

Thabang shook his head with a stern and fatherly "Don't fault yourself too much, young lady," then explained, "Resting was essential after your travels and last night's activities. I can imagine the extra strain on your body given that Chester has always been a very energetic and determined child."

Remembering how Thabang had seen us disappear into the bedroom, my cheeks blazed from embarrassment. "Um, thanks for the bit of information, Thabang." I squeaked, silently praying for my bed to swallow me there and then, asking, "Is Blake back?"

"No. Dr. Rhyson is still out."

Something about that statement irked me as I mumbled, "Oh, okay. I see." However, I set it aside and masked my disappointment and concern with a cheery and hopeful "Well, I better get up. I'm thinking of taking a long walk while the sun is still out would be a good idea. Would you like to join me, Thabang?"

"Although that sounds delightful, Miss, I must decline as there are some things I have been asked to prep for your trip with Johan this Friday." Though he delivered his statement with the utmost politeness, Thabang appeared taken aback by my offer before chuckling, "You are quite a rarity, young lady. A pleasant one indeed. But, I must warn you, in this culture, it's not a good idea to share such pleasantries with the help. So, be very mindful of that when you are around the abundantly affluent folks in Sub-Saharan Africa."

His words took me to a Sunday evening dinner after mass service at our local church.

With my Mother at work, my father had flown me out to Manhattan to dine at some upscale Italian restaurant with a scenic view. My father was quite the romantic, especially when he needed to deliver bad news or other heavy matters.

That night was no different when he instructed, "Remember Mindelyn, you are a Suberson, and that means you always sit on the best chair with the best view. However, don't forget the world is just a little scarier the higher you are seated at the table. So, although you have a good view of most things, you never know who's holding a gun aimed at you under the tablecloth. So, never send out free meals unless you know they carry an untraceable poison."

My feet barely touched the ground as the jingle of the little bells tied to my pigtails silenced from the death of a passing breeze. "Yesh, dada," I responded, head to the ground, putting my fork down and feeling my indigestion set.

It was crazy how, despite being brought up in the top 1% of the world's elite with the influence that made governments tread on their toes, the man who created half of me made me feel the complete opposite of the Afrikaans men.

Hoping I didn't offend the butler, I thanked him, "Thanks for the advice, sir."

"No problem, Miss. However, I did come in with another purpose."

"Yes?" I gathered more of the duvet to cover whatever decency I had left, gesturing to him to go on. "What is it?"

"You are expecting a visitor."

"Huh?" My movements lagged as my brain struggled to process this old gentleman's announcement. "So-sorry? Come again?"

He glanced at his wristwatch, saying, "You have company on the way, Miss. Calculating the time of the call, traffic, and their speeding tendencies, we have twenty minutes tops."

My stomach dropped.

Had that black-haired devil returned to paralyze me? Or was it his blonde angel friend with questionable hugs? Whichever was the answer, I was determined to use every microjoule of energy left in me to escape from the bathroom window.

Dear Lord, please tell me this person isn't on a Forbes list, or I might flip myself over the balcony...

I pulled the closest pillow over my face and groaned aloud, "Is it Mr. Boardgame or Ken, his blonde best friend from Barbie's dreamland?"

Stifling a chuckle, Thabang cleared his throat. "Neither. The guest is a childhood friend of both Mr. Nel and Mr. Pretorious and is a frequenter at this resort."

Of course, with my luck. My day would start with a challenge. The outcome could either be an awkward encounter or another hellish rollercoaster ride.

Irrespective, I needed to keep up the pleasantries since they had paid for my accommodation.

So, after a quick ruffle of my curly mess of bed hair and a sigh anchored with defeat, I sent him a meek smile. "Fine, let me get myself ready first."

"Understood. While you prepare, I will do my best to have them wait in the sitting room."

"Thabang?" I mumbled, rubbing my eyes. "It is too late to say I died in my sleep or something?"

Thabang appeared unflappable. So, when he didn't try to hide his laughter this time, he surprised me with the warmth of his supportive chuckle. "I'm afraid they are quite insistent, Miss."

My head felt heavy. I had just woken up but I already wanted to go back to sleep. I sighed. "Fine. Let me get ready."

"If you allow me, I would love to share some advice."

His serious tone froze me to the spot. It was a tone my father used so casually before ripping into my self-esteem; so my instinct was to run, but another voice deep inside told me to let the greyed man with wrinkled and worn-out hands holding a neatly folded towel before me speak. "Um, yes?"

"From the second you stepped through the entrance; I could see your heart is heavy with a lot and your mind is overwhelmed with everything." He placed the towel at the edge of the bed, and then continued, "However, from this old man's observation, you can handle whoever comes through this establishment. Trust yourself."

I was staggered by the warmth and genuineness of his tone. "Me? You think so?"

He nodded with a kind "Don't take the resilience, intellect, and other gifts God's given you for granted, Miss Suberson. Yes, this trip is a once-in-a-lifetime holiday, but it is a potential opportunity as well. The kind of opportunity is up to you."

A potential opportunity?

What did he mean?

I was stumped.

Before I could utter another word, a flustered maid called for him in the hallway. He excused himself with an assuring smile and wink and left the room in a poised but speedy stride, clicking the grand doors shut.

Throwing from the stupefying daze and clinging onto the sheet wrapped around me with my dear life, I rolled out of bed, half-expecting to see pieces of my sanity scattered on the floor.

Standing up was the biggest wake-up call regarding the state of my body.

Everything hurt. My darn legs could barely hold my weight, with my knees giving up on me every time I tried to walk. The confounding jetlag exacerbated the throbbing aches in every muscle.

I made a mental note to book those Pilates classes Layla recommended as soon as I landed back on American soil. They'd save me from medical bills and chiropractic expenses after this trip. My flexibility had grown rustier than a nail next to the Titanic — especially with how one night with this man had me feeling like I had mild arthritis. The thought of another twenty-four hours with him this weekend felt like it would be the end of my existence.

When I got my bearing and turned to grab my gown from the floor, I flinched when I spotted the crushed chocolate cake on the floor and the small trail of feasting ants. I was disgusted, but that instantly dissipated to give way for a nasty concoction of embarrassment and arousal when I recalled him dropping that box faster than a bullet train to eat me to an orgasmic haven.

That annoying bastard... Why couldn't he be an ugly gremlin and make my life easier?

It was ridiculous that he had me this worked up without even being in sight. I could still smell him on me, even after dropping the sheets and storming to the bathroom, and what I hated most about it was how I couldn't decide if I was comforted by it or wanted to throw it in a bonfire outside the suite.

Readying to brush my teeth, I caught my disheveled reflection. The several red and purplish bruises decorating my collarbone and neck in the same mirror that I had delightfully leered Mr. Nel through as he rocked my world had me choke on my saliva as I turned into a tomato head.

No wonder I felt like absolute shit. My appearance was the very definition of it.

When I regained my breath and the blinding fog of lustful fantasies cleared, I slapped my cheeks, shook my head, and scolded myself with the energy of a sergeant, "Miss Suberson! Get a damn grip! A well-educated young lady like yourself cannot—and will not—be thinking about an egotistic smartass whose admirers refer to him as a 'sexy fuckable bank!'"

I would be damned if I flew halfway across the world to get myself heartbroken again and mind-fucked by the African upgraded-in-every-category version of Ray Dalton 2.0 and his slick-tongued sidekick playing homie and homewrecker for shits and giggles. Tired of Johan's tests and Chester's relentless interrogations and being plagued by his departing words of cynicism, I was ready to put up a fight to save my heart and headspace.

I was better than that. Whoever they sent to intimidate me and continue their mind games was going to get it straight up their ass. Dropping my toothbrush, I grabbed my loofah, put on my best game face, and stormed into the shower to prep myself for war.

As the water cascaded over me, I couldn't help but channel my inner warrior and scream, "This is Sparta!"

My voice echoed off the tiles, fueling my resolve with fierce determination, as I strangled the soap out of my sponge.

However, I was wrong. Oh boy, I was off the mark by a whole damn century.

This wasn't Sparta. This was Johannesburg and I had just entered the second level of a chaotic humbling experience.

With every drop of water, the city snickered outside my window as a mischievous smirk of adventure played on its skyline. It was as if someone — whom I would later come to know as the Miss Universe of Nutcases — had broken into my room, and... well, let's just say it was the most bizarre welcome gift I had ever received.

- ☀︎ -

Fresh out of the shower and wrapped in a towel, I used one hand to wipe a clear circle on the clouded mirror as the other brushed out my curls. Hair damp and cheeks flushed from the heat, and a dirty thought born from my eyes catching the aloe lubricant, I exhaled with a hint of irritation but also relief.

God, I gotta get myself together. Even my sigh is a hot mess.

After turning off the hairdryer, a faint rustling noise caught my attention. However, the sudden cling of glass and a teasing but amused, "Yoh, am I still in the same dimension? When did Mr. Panty-Ripper get so cheesy?" was what froze me solid. Though the voice held a similar British and native African twang like Thabang, it was too feminine and youthful to belong to him or any other staff.

Heart pounding and ears erect, I realized the sound was coming from my bedroom, which made my anxiety shoot to the roof.

God. Am I being robbed?

The several articles of South Africa's notoriety for violent crimes and its comparison to the delightful hood of Detroit screamed in my head like an incessant siren. Realizing my life was on the line, my shaken soul switched into full survival mode.

Tightening the towel around myself, I ripped off the plastic handle of my brush to reveal a sharp steel rod. I crept to the bathroom door and cracked it open, only to find a short, dark-skinned young woman standing by my open suitcases, rummaging through my clothes.

She had her back to me as her long blonde dreadlocks swayed to the rhythm of a song playing from her phone perched by my dresser. She hadn't heard me enter as she continued singing along in the local language some staff used when communicating among themselves.

"Hey! Who are you and — what are you doing?!" I exclaimed with a mix of shock and indignation, ready to bludgeon the person going through my baggage.

The intruder looked up and turned herself to me. Despite glancing at my weapon, her unbothered, bright brown eyes met my murderous and confused-as-hell ones; Lady Ludicrous flashed a mischievous grin as shiny as her white diamond nose stud and as rebellious as the expensive biker jacket and ripped jeans that — dare I admit among the crazy — she was rocking.

"Oh, hey there! You must be Mindelyn. I'm Shirley. It's a pleasure to meet you," sang the stylish madwoman, tossing my sheer viridescent sundress over her shoulder. Her casualness left me so stunned that I barely reacted when she reached out for a hug like we were old friends meeting for a long-awaited coffee date, exclaiming, "Holy shit. You're even sexier in person, girlie!"

"T-thanks?" I blinked, trying to process the audacity of this person and figure out whether I was genuinely awake. A good part of me wished this were a dream because I knew I'd eventually wake up with my sanity intact. As she got too close for comfort, I tightened the grip on my murder brush. "Sorry, who are you again?"

"Oh, right, sorry. Let me introduce myself properly." She stopped in her tracks, retracted her hands and started counting each statement out loud on her fingers. "Name's Shirley Dlamini. I'm half black and half colored. Twenty-three years and still kicking it. My family runs this joint and — what the hell!"

Before I could even react, Miss Dlamini rushed to me and, gentle enough not to hurt me but yielding a firmness I couldn't easily shake off, she grabbed my shoulders and whispered almost breathlessly, "What happened to your neck? Did you get ambushed by mosquitos or something?"

"Mosquitos...?" I traced the gaze from her horrified eyes to the rainbow of love bites that were courtesy of the vampirish billionaire's one-night exclusive subscription package.

Like she read my mind, she stammered, "Go-god, did he do this?"

She studied my face for an answer. Unsure whether or how to respond to that, a bunch of confusion left my mouth: "What? Uh... Yes?"

And I liked it. Maybe too much for my own good.

However, a stranger like her didn't need to know that. Now or ever.

It was the wrong answer. Heck, dare I say the worst answer possible.

My statement wiped the smile off her purple plum lips and crinkled her well-shaped brows into a pair of venomous-looking Nike logos that could be the company's leading design during the Halloween season. With a look to kill, she studied my face and hissed, "Which organ of his do you want after I gut him alive and force-feed him his testicles?"

"Excuse me?" I blinked, shocked at how we had were ended up planning someone's slaughter. "Why would you do that? Aren't you acquainted?"

"Oh, we are almost like siblings. That's why I know his sacrifice will be justified, because seriously, who the on this Earth bites or sucks someone like this and isn't a cannibal? Look at you!" She bit down her lip before ranting further. "Domestic violence is rampant in this country as it is, so trust me when I say the last thing you want to be is another dreaded statistic."

"But what if I asked him to do it..." I defended, feeling my cheeks burn from embarrassment. "... Some people like that kind of stuff."

"Eish, man. Chester needs to chill, for the love of God. It looks painful." She winced and then sighed. "Regardless, I suppose it's better than being snared by Han..."

Han? Who's that?

The only Han I knew was the evil clan from that Disney movie that tried to dethrone the emperor through treason. So, my brows crinkled. "Sorry. Who? I don't quite follow."

Her eyes scanned the area before she whispered with clenched fists, "Johan."

I was utterly baffled at how he was connected to this conversation. Then again, this discussion was like managing a labyrinth blindfolded. God knows where you would wound up.

The frostiness of her tone was heavy with a level of distaste so jarring that goosebumps broke out all over my skin. Johan was the last person I'd expect to rile up such a reaction from someone — especially from someone as carefree as Miss Dlamini.

Chester's friend seemed so sweet towards me; it was hard to digest that something sinister was at play. From the surprise airport pick-up to the casual lunch date, he was undoubtedly the perfect gentleman and host — and the more I thought about it, the more alarming it was.

My gut nudged me to hear her out for interrogative purposes. So, I queried, "Hmm. Johan, huh? What does he have to do with this?"

"Everything," she stressed while releasing my shoulders. "From my intel: This suite is under his name, and he requested and picked up an extra keycard last night."

"Wait! Last night?" My heart was racing. "W-Why would he do that?"

"Listen, I don't know." Shirley looked toward the door, then back at me, and said, "But I have lived with enough men to know that if you don't want to find out the hard way, lock it from now on. I would add more security but with the contract between our families, I'd be asking for serious trouble."

My eyes narrowed. "How so?"

"It would be a level four breach of private affairs."

"Keeping your clients safe is limited?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "No offense but this sounds like a treaty."

"Because it is. You see, they saved us from collapse during apartheid, so we are forever indebted to them. Tsk — it honestly infuriates me," she sneered the last bit with a sharp click of her tongue and placed her hands on her wide hips before shaking her head and mumbling, "For some reason, no matter how hard the suffering pray, Satan works hard in Serenity's Health."

It was as if the Hiroshima bomb of havoc had dropped on my life when my chest tightened.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

No wonder Blake disappeared. He knew he had dragged me into something too big to ignore. In his chaotic perspective, it was an opportunity he thought could benefit both of us, but the reality was far from it, and we'd both find out the harshest way possible.

"Wait -– are you referring to the world's largest health-leading company in innovation and quality global care, Serenity Health Corporation?!"

Nel... Pretorious... Serenity...

The various billboard signs I walked past on my way to school, the medical bills I would shove aside after a rough day during my clinical rotations, and the exciting news of expansion and developing exchange programs in Africa and Australia broadcast on CNN and FoxNews — suddenly it was all coming back to me. Hard.

I hadn't thought of it much since Google had said those were very common Afrikaans surnames. So, when the pieces fell into place, my heart skipped a beat and my feet grew cold.

Oh, God... oh, God...

They weren't just pretty men with fancy pockets or Blake's boss's bosses. These men also sat in the pinhead of the pyramid of the multi-trillion-dollar corporation. Blake, a mere commoner, had decided to meddle with their empire for a bit of fun and make me the sacrificial sheep.

Blake Everett Rhyson, wherever you are, know that the second we meet again you are a dead man.

I clenched my weapon and cursed my ditcher of a best friend with such fervor under my breath a passerby would think I was about to whip out a voodoo doll and perform my magic on his dead ass.

"But on a more serious note, how have you made it so far without knowing these men?" She asked, mirroring my horror.

With pursed lips, I jabbed a finger at my chest and, as irritation gnawed at my last shred of dignity, I blurted out, "I swiped right for a billionaire," and thanks to that reckless gamble and this bizarre encounter with my unexpected guest, I had scored myself a non-returnable suitcase stuffed with a billion new problems.

Without a doubt, this was surely not in the dating app's terms and conditions.