This is my fourth date with the lovely Sasha; I met her for coffee twice last week, and one lunch date. I initiated two of those dates; she initiated one. That, in my books, is a lady with a fairly high interest level. Normally, I would make it a rule not to see a chic I’m darting (that is urban slang for seducing, for those of you who are over the hill) more than twice in a week, but Sasha is interesting, she is gregarious and she is gorgeous. I can be accorded some benefit of doubt-things are on a free fall.

She is wearing white linen pants and a lacy black top, creating such sharp contrast with the green grass of the well manicured lawn. Her skin complexion is ebony and rich. Her hair is tied fiercely in a knot behind. She looks breathtaking. She is wearing a Channel 5 scent. We drove out here in my sister’s car; a sleek silver Subaru Imprezza. I saw the look on her face when I picked her up in town in the gleaming wheels and I quickly told her that it was a borrowed car. The worst thing is to give a girl an impression that is non-existent because then you will be forced to maintain that lie and maintaining an expensive lie is very expensive!

“I had a weird dream about you last night,” I am saying while nibbling on a steak. She smiles sexily and asks skeptically, “Oh really, about what?”

“I dreamt that you were this bus driver.” She starts laughing immediately. “really, you were a City Hoppa driver. You drove the Karen route. Men fought to ride in your bus. Men shoved to get a seat in your bus”.

She had that disbelieving but anxious look in her face. I continue: “Then one day you fell sick and couldn’t go to work. That evening there was a crowd of men at Kencom who didn’t know you were not working that day. They stood there waiting till 9 pm when a City Hoppa official came over and told them that you were sick and you’d be working the next day.”

She is chuckling and shaking her head, “That’s such a lie!”

“I agree dreams are crap,” I say. “Anyway, the next morning all the wives and girlfriends of men who stay in Karen went to City Hoppa offices to demand your sacking. You were breaking happy homes, they said. Our husbands leave their personal cars to ride in the bus to work with that witch,” they cried. One pregnant wife said that her husband had the nerve of suggesting that they name their unborn child Sasha Hoppa, it was a girl. They were furious at you…”

She was really laughing now. “Do you want to know how the dream ended?” I ask.

“Yes!”

“Okay, I will tell you but not today”. She begged and bugged me to tell her how the dream ended but I told her she would have to wait. Truth is I couldn’t tell her because I didn’t know. The dream was all bull, I didn’t dream of anything like that; I can’t even remember the last time I dreamt. But things like that amuse the hell out of chicks, trust me. You don’t have to talk about rocket science or your fictitious 3,000 hectare wheat farm in Kitale to impress a chic, the silliest of things like that really put the cheers in their lives.

I have earned Sasha’s admiration. You always know when you have earned a chic’s admiration and trust; they will always get an excuse to touch you. A chic that doesn’t trust you will never touch you. I am no psychoanalyst nor am I a behavioral scientist. I am a street scientist and I can climb up any podium or any agora and defend this theory- no chic you are seducing who mistrusts you is gonna lay a finger on you! Sasha got every excuse to touch me. She touched my arm, she touched my shoulder, she held my hand and she never pulled back when I reached to remove a strand of hair from her face. I was in! I was in the game!

We had more drinks, walked the breadth of Blue Posts, a very beautiful place. Just the perfect place to take a chic you fancy. We then drove around Thika, had one drink at some pub called Thorn Torns or something. The music there was great. At about 6pm, we started off to Nairobi. It was sort of romantic; I was doing 100 kph on the highway, and playing some really nice old mix of Bobby Brown, A few good Men, Shai, New edition, Next and Keith Washington on the car stereo. She was a study of sexiness on our way back; reclined in her seat, knees hugged to her chest. It is a miracle I didn’t drive off the road.

When I dropped her home, she invited me up for coffee (clear throat), but I took a rain check because I had to return the car back to my sister. She thanked me for a superb time and I drove off with a lewd smile on my face. One thing I was sure about now was that she is ready for the next step; she is ready to be kissed. I could have done it at Blue Posts; in fact I could have sworn she was half expecting me to kiss her but there is a pride in making a lady wait and long for it. Besides, they say a true lady waits.

The Sasha project is moving along flawlessly. I have managed to skirt around the issue of her boyfriend in the states; such topics don’t have any effect on litmus. I only do/say things that change the litmus paper. She has so far been very receptive to my fancy advances, she knows the script and she is eager t play her role flawlessly. The plan is not to see her for a week and see how she handles that. Then when I finally invite her over to my place, we shall see how best she will restrain herself from jumping on me.