It started with a drink at the bar, a tap on the shoulder, and a question.
"Femi?"
I had come to Portimao for Afronation over the weekend. The biggest Afrobeat's festival in the world happened to be in the same area where my friend Emilio lived. We had met at our university salsa society and being the only Black and African guys doing salsa that year, we bonded over our insistence on playing Afrobeat's and afro house at every event or club we went to. So, when Emilio told me his dad had gotten spare tickets for Afronation over the summer, I was immediately booking a flight to Portugal. Having a place to stay and a friend who spoke the language made things a lot easier. I arrived and within 3 hours of landing I was in the middle of a crowd listening to the son of an icon Femi Kuti perform live. Approximately 3 hours after that I was high and drunk in the middle of a group conversation outside a bar. I had no idea who any of these people were and the conversation kept switching between English, French and Portuguese which left me lost.
Thankfully I didn't have to contribute much as my mouth was otherwise preoccupied with a lovely naija girl from London. Suffice to say I had a great time over the next 3 days. Emilio would occasionally disappear to go and chat to a girl but when everyone's been drinking all day new friends aren't hard to find. Eventually Afronation rolled to a close and the festival goers departed back to wherever they had come from. I had booked a flight home for the end of the week which gave me a few days to recover, and time to actually see some of the sights in the Algarve. One of those days ended at a local bar that happened to be having a Kizomba night. As soon as the music started playing, Emilio immediately left to get coupled up with a lovely lady on the dance floor. Used to this behavior by now I retreated to the bar to get a drink when someone tapped me on the shoulder and called my name. I turned around and to my surprise saw a familiar face smiling back at me.
"Nadia?"
Nadia was a former member of the black people that do salsa society (there were never more than 5 of us in any one year) before she graduated 2 years ago. I hadn't seen her since her birthday party last year where I'm pretty sure one of her aunts tried to get with me. Which is a shame because we always had a great time whenever we went out together. Last I heard she was working in Manchester, and yet here she was standing in front of me with her hair in dreads, red lipstick giving a stark contrast to her dark skin, wearing a deep cleavage Ankara dress, honestly looking amazing.
I turned back to pay for my drink and the two of us stood to one side of the room watching the dancers while we caught up. Apparently, she had left her job in Manchester and was currently using her free time and savings to travel around Portugal. She'd come to Portimao to do Afronation with some of her freinds. Many bad decisions later and she'd managed to get their exhausted asses on a plane home this morning, looking forward to enjoying her last night in Portimao before heading back to Lisbon. So of course, she went looking for the nearest Kizomba spot. As we talked Emilio came up to join us and after brief introductions the three of us sat down at the nearest table for a round of shots and memories of university. I could feel my liver crying in pain as I downed the tequila, but I could always look into black market options to replace it when I wasn't on holiday. At an unheard signal Emilio decided it was time to head back to the dancefloor. He said something to Nadia in Portuguese though it was quite clear from his outstretched hand and gesturing, he was asking her to dance. She smiled, gave an affirmation, and was led to the dancefloor where they were soon in a soft embrace. I watched as they glided across the floor, stepping so effortlessly to the rhythm, her hips making the smallest movements seem so sensual. He was good, but she was obviously better. They danced together until the song ended, after which she walked back towards me while Emilio went to find his next partner. Keeping eye contact she took both my hands in hers and pulled me to stand as the next song started to play.
"You dance kizomba?"
"No, not really. I kind of know the basic step but that's about it." I gave a quick demonstration of the side to side motion that encompassed half of all the moves I knew.
"We can work with that. Come on don't be boring." Not wanting to disappoint I decided to give it a try. I held her close, her breasts gently pressed against my chest, my hand placed just underneath her bra strap. I started stepping to the rhythm really noticing the feel of her body against mine. My moves were basic, and she followed my lead, but it wasn't smooth. Nadia didn't seem to mind though. She wrapped both arms around my neck, and leaned into me even more, enjoying the slow hypnotic beat. My hands were now wrapped around her waist and we continued our slow steps, my thoughts turning sluggish, my dick hardening in my trousers starting to grind against her. In the back of my mind I thought about moving away but the song was soon ending, and it felt good. There we were in our own corner of the dancefloor, definitely not the most impressive couple, but definitely one of the most sensual as I led us around as best I could. Eventually the song drew to a close and for a moment we just stood there, holding each other. Then the moment came to an end and she was soon whisked off to dance with another partner, leaving me to question whether I had imagined the connection we had just shared.
Still I did say we always had a great time whenever we went out together and this time was no exception. Kizomba eventually gave way to afro house and reggaeton at the insistence of myself and Emilio, much to the chagrin of the hardcore kizomba lovers. Despite their initial annoyance we lit up the place, dancing and drinking with everyone who joined us. I gave at least two impromptu salsa lessons and received a 10-minute lecture on the many differences between Spain and Portugal. Never ever confuse the two. I danced and grinded, whined and twisted with many girls throughout the night, but always in the back of my mind was Nadia. Emilio apparently picked up on this and possibly making up for the past week of disappearing, quite loudly announced that he was leaving, and Nadia was not to allow me to go till the place closed. He gave us both a huge overly dramatic hug, me a quick wink, and left with a curvaceous older woman on his arm...on second thought he may have just found his better alternative. Regardless Nadia agreed, and we stayed at that bar drinking and dancing till about 2am.
"Do you want to head back to my place?" she asked. The bar had started to empty, and the staff was starting to clean up. Neither of us wanted the night to end and had been discussing another place to go.
"I've still got quite a few drinks leftover at the flat and I need to try and finish them before I leave."
"So, you're not inviting me to your place just because you miss me. I'm disappointed."
"Sorry, but I only need you for your drinking capacity and your weird ability to clean while drunk."
"That was one time and Precious had just thrown up in my living room, and corridor. I was not leaving it for the next morning."
"So, then you can help clean mine, and then maybe I'll give you a reward."
I paused at that, excitement building at the promise of something more happening. "What kind of reward?"
"Hmmm, maybe...my eternal gratitude"
"Nope, not good enough. How about I ask you a question and you have to give an honest answer no matter what." She raised an eyebrow at that.
"It's going to be a sexual question isn't it?"
"Might be, might not. You'll just have to wait and see." She met my eyes and grinned unflinchingly at the challenge.
"Alright then naughty boy, let's go."
Transaction complete we went out into the night, navigating the confusing cobbled streets of Portimao. It was quiet outside, but the loud quiet of a city at sleep. The quiet murmur of doors opening and closing, lights flickering on and off. People's whole lives playing out behind closed doors, dancing and drinking and sleeping and dreaming. Some places show a darker side when the sun goes down, but as I walked down poorly lit alleys and questionable streets, Portimao still felt as bright and warm as when the sun was high in the sky. Though that may have had more to do with the alcohol and the prospect of going to bed with Nadia.
We eventually reached her residence and she let us in giving a brief tour of the place. The evidence of the girl's trip was scattered around the living room in the form of empty wine bottles, dirty dishes and cutlery, pizza boxes and a swimsuit hanging off a chair. It was decently sized, well furnished with a large upstairs balcony that faced the road and row of houses across from us. There was a small table and a large comfortable sofa on the balcony, so I proposed we take our wine and conversation there.
