We looked at each other across the crowded room, like in those Korean movies. She stared at me like she wanted something, her eyes were stunningly blue and hungry. It took me a second to realize she was eyeing the appetizers I was carrying. I chuckled to myself because earlier, I had smoked a joint with Chibuzor. It was the only way we could get through our boring job of waiting on guests during the wedding cocktail.
Well, as I looked through the crowd, I could see she was attractive, with her hair all done up for the wedding and a pretty face. Sure, she might have been way older than me, but that didn’t bother me. I was also into MILFs.
As people grabbed suya meatballs from my tray, I made my way over to the woman, hoping to get a better view of her. As I got closer, I caught little glimpses of her and became more intrigued: she had really big boobs that had a deep valley of cleavage even though her dress wasn’t that revealing. That caught my attention, but what I saw when someone moved out of the way made me freeze in my tracks, nearly tripping over myself.
She was pregnant. Like, super pregnant. You know, the kind of pregnant that makes people stop and stare, either feeling sorry for her or just amazed by how big she is. Her belly was huge and she showed it off in a long, flowing sky blue dress, with a little black belt under her big boobs. Just in case you are not aware, I am a boobs lover, the kind of boobs that make you appreciate the creative ingenuity of God.
As I got closer, I noticed who she was with. First, there was a little kid, maybe around one or two years old. She was holding the child on her hip. Her hips were curvy. She was quietly talking with another guy, probably her husband. He was a big bald guy, and he looked a bit underdressed.
That’s when I realized I was really into this woman. I instantly disliked this guy and thought he looked like a mess next to his stunning wife. She looked like a queen to me. And I felt like her loyal servant, here to bring her food.
“Do you want some suya balls, ma’am?” I asked casually, lifting my tray. She gave me a look, and I thought she had clocked my game. She knew I had been staring at her, longing for her.
“There’s none left,” she pointed out. I looked at the empty tray.
“Oh,” I said. Her expression fell. I felt like I had let her down. What an idiot I was!
“That’s too bad. I’d really like one if you’re bringing out more,” she said.
“Okay!” I would get her whatever she wanted. I looked at her boobs again. “Just between us, we have something better than the suya meatballs. Let me bring you some peppered snails or peppered gizzard.”
She smiled and put her hand on her belly. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome ma’am,” I smiled.
“I need another mocktail,” the husband said.
“Oh, the bar’s over there,” I said, pointing with my tray towards it. I hurried back to the kitchen, only realizing later that my supervisor, Duro would have wanted me to take the man’s orders. Oh well, he’s not crippled.
In the kitchen, all I found were suya meatballs. “Do we have any peppered gizzards or peppered nails?” I asked Duro.
He shook his head. “Take these.”
“Nobody wants them,” I said.
Duro gave me a suspicious look. Negotiating with him took longer than I’d hoped, but eventually, I left the kitchen with a tray of hot peppered gizzards and peppered snails. I rushed towards the pregnant woman, ignoring anyone who wanted an appetizer.
As I approached, I had another opportunity to admire the woman’s figure. She had her back turned, and I couldn’t help but notice her full, round ass. Then I overheard the hushed conversation with her husband, which sounded like an argument. I should have just left her alone.
Instead, I cleared my throat. “Here ma’am?”
“Thanks,” she said, adjusting the baby on her hip. I was impressed she could manage both the baby and her big belly. “Could you hold her for a second?” I briefly thought she meant me, but she was asking her husband.
“Fine,” he grumbled, and I disliked him even more. He took the kid like it was a burden. She took the peppered snails and then offered the gizzards to her husband.
“You can have more,” I said. Her smile brightened as she ate, which made me happy. Guests sneaked up and grabbed food from my tray. I wanted to chase them off. I offered her the tray again.
“Thank you,” she said, taking two more plates, one for her and one for her husband. Then she turned back to him, and the moment ended. I left and went to distribute the rest of the appetizers.
I always made sure to pass her whenever I had good snacks on my tray. She and her husband chatted with different groups, and she often held the baby. Sometimes, she’d rub her belly or stretch. I felt jealous when she asked Chibuzor for directions to the bathroom. Watching her walk there, I admired her graceful movements.
I returned to her with the last tray of peppered snails as cocktail hour was ending. I tried to get her attention, but the baby was crying, and her husband was whispering something to her. She was trying to calm the baby, bouncing her up and down, and her breasts were bouncing too.
“Not out here,” I heard the husband whisper. “Can’t you think?”
The conversation continued. The next thing I overheard was her telling him “Not the bathroom,” she sounded angry. The baby was still crying. Just as I was about to leave, she called out to me.
“Sorry….Excuse me?”
“Yes ma’am?”
“Is there somewhere private I can feed my baby?” she asked.
It took me a moment to understand her request, and when I did, I accidentally looked at her boobs.
“Oh! Yeah, let me think… There’s a storage room near the kitchen. I can show you,” I offered.
“Thank you,” she said. I tried not to look at her boobs again. I led the way.
I slowed down because she walked slowly, understandably. The baby squirmed in her arms, crying louder.
“Would you want me to hold her?” I asked, then regretted it. I’d never held a baby before, and this one was moving a lot. Plus, I was still pretty high.
“I’m fine, but thanks,” she said. I noticed she had a big purse, maybe a diaper bag, too.
“She’s really cute,” I said as we made our way through the crowd. “How old is she?”
“Seventeen months.”
“Wow,” I replied, not wanting to bother with the math. As we passed the kitchen, Duro called out to me.
“I’m coming Duro, just one minute.” Duro just gave me a pissed-off shrug, and I kept moving. We turned and found the door.
Inside, it was more like a big closet, packed with extra folding chairs and linens. I grabbed a chair and set it up.
“Um, you can sit here, there’s no lock on the door, but nobody’s going to come back here.”
“Thank you,” she said, flashing me a smile. I grinned back like a fool, although I’m sure she was eager for me to leave. I turned and left, closing the door carefully behind me.
As we got dinner ready, I started to clear my head. The buzz was wearing off, and being away from the crowd helped. From the kitchen, we could hear the guests moving to the dining room. Victoria and Funke were busy filling up champagne flutes for the toasts. Once we had the main courses ready, we had a little break. Chibuzor would be waiting as he had another joint rolled up for us.
I went into the dining room and arrived during a toast, probably from the bride’s sister. The bride looked nice, but she didn’t compare to the pregnant woman I’d met earlier. I looked around but couldn’t find her. There was no sign of her husband or the baby either. “Damn,” I thought, seeing two empty seats at table nine. They had left.
Lost in my thoughts, I made my way to the exit. When the door suddenly banged open. It wasn’t Chibuzor, it was my pregnant queen. I turned to watch her storm towards the bathroom, her ass jiggling with each furious step. “Are you okay ma’am?” I called out.
She didn’t respond to me, just went into the ladies’ room without her husband or the baby. I realized it would be a bad idea to follow her in and ask what was wrong, so I left her alone.
Chibuzor leaned against the wall, chuckling, a joint dangling from his mouth. He passed it to me. “Wetin happen?” I asked, nodding toward the door.
He laughed. “The woman just get one serious quanta with her husband, for there, ” he said, pointing to the parking lot where an SUV was pulling out.
“Onto wetin?” I asked.
“I no sabi, but e funny die. That woman fit shout oh! She dey call am selfish bastard, useless man, mumu. The baby dey cry sote him leave am here, na real wahala.”
I forced a laugh, holding the smoke in. But I felt bad for her.
As we smoked and talked, I pictured myself as her knight in shining armour. What if I could comfort her, hold her close, make her feel better? I wished I was just another guest at the wedding, so I could talk to her like a regular person.
In my imagination, I envision finding her alone and upset outside the dining room. I offer her a listening ear, unlike her husband. She opens up about her troubled marriage, her husband’s neglect, and his hurtful comments about her appearance. I reassure her and suggest leaving the event. We go to my place, where I give her a shoulder to cry on and a dick to…
Duro called for us, reminding us that we were supposed to serve dinner five minutes ago. I snapped out of my thoughts and followed Chibuzor inside.
She was sitting at her table. I persuaded Funke to switch with me so I could handle tables one through ten. She was suspicious, so I explained I was avoiding someone. I brought over the main courses, matching them to the colour-coded place cards. Lanre Cole, who wasn’t there, had ordered amala, gbegiri, and ewedu. Atinuke Cole, in the blue dress with a big belly, had ordered Chinese rice.
“Thank you,” she said, barely looking at me. “But my husband had to leave early.”
“No problem, take both,” I said. “Eating for two, huh?” It was a silly thing to say, but she seemed to brighten up a bit. She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile on her face.
“Thank you, darling,” she said. Did she just call me darling? Oh my God!!!
That night, I paid extra attention to my tables, especially table nine where Mrs Cole sat. She seemed to cheer up as dinner went on, chatting with other guests, and enjoying her meal. Although I didn’t hear her talk about the parking lot incident, I noticed her whispering to the woman next to her at times.
I focused on being professional. While refilling her water, I admired her cleavage. I also tried to see if her breasts looked different after she fed her baby, they seemed bigger. During dinner, I cleared plates. When the bride and groom fed each other cake, I noticed a sad expression on Mrs Cole’s face. I guessed she was thinking about her husband.
While serving dessert, I noticed Mrs Cole adjusting her bra strap, and I couldn’t help but let my mind wander. She caught me staring directly at her cleavage.
“Oh, um,” I began. I wanted to apologize, but would that make things even weirder? I didn’t trust myself to speak without making it worse, so I gave her an awkward smile and continued serving cake. The woman beside Mrs Cole whispered something to her, and she laughed, glancing at me briefly. She blushed, and so did I.
I stayed out of sight until it was time to clear the tables. I avoided making eye contact with her, but I sensed her gaze on me. Was she going to complain about me? Should I say sorry? I felt unsure about what to do, so I stayed quiet.
My job was pretty much done for the evening. All that was left was cleaning up. I had fun, peeking at her cleavage, and I could let my imagination run wild when I got home. I’d fantasize about Mrs Cole Cole asking for my help to take off her dress and how her big, milky breasts would bounce when we had sex… I’d masturbate and I’d be okay.
But then she called me “darling.” Was it just a friendly gesture, or was there something deeper behind it? She must have noticed me staring; that much was clear. Yet she didn’t react negatively or report me. Maybe it was just my horniness and being high making me act stupid, but deep down, I felt like this wasn’t the end of it.
As the music started, our lengthy cleanup began. Each time I returned to the dining room, I noticed Mrs Cole went nuts and flocked to the dance floor, and when I glanced over at Mrs Cole she was talking to her friends. She held out her hand and one of them helped her to her feet. I thought she might be going to the bathroom, but she was headed for the dance floor.
At first, her dancing was goofy, as she giggled with her friends. I watched her hips sway and her boobs jiggle as she stumbled, awkwardly shifting her weight from foot to foot. I couldn’t look away as she rubbed her belly and people laughed. But then something shifted. She was no longer a pregnant mom dancing for laughs. Tonight, Mrs Cole was letting loose.
She bent over, sticking out her large ass, and shook it. Placing her hands on her hips, she started twerking. Her whole body moved with the rhythm. The silly smile faded, and I caught a glimpse of the expression I imagined she made during sex, she was breathing heavily, sweating, but it only enhanced the allure.
I completely forgot about my job. While I was standing there staring at her, the water glass I was refilling overflowed and spilled all over the table. I managed to stop, but I never took my eyes off Mrs Cole. And just when I thought things couldn’t get any crazier, she glanced over her shoulder, locked eyes with me, and shook her ass right at me.
It wasn’t a coincidence. She was telling me something, I got the message. The only thing on my mind was whether she was just joking around or if she had something more serious in mind. In that moment, though, I didn’t give a damn. My heart was pounding, and I was as turned on as I could ever remember being.
She was still at it, outshining all the younger, slimmer women. My gaze was fixed on her: her bouncing chest, swaying hips, occasional glimpses of thigh as she adjusted her dress. Her belly swayed as she moved, appearing weighty yet enticing.
The song ended quickly, and people clapped for Atinuke. She returned to table nine and finished her water quickly, signalling me. As I refilled her glass, I was near enough to notice the sweat on her forehead and chest and to feel the warmth of her body. She took another sip, then, without looking at me, she whispered something.
“Hey, how old are you?” She asked as she struggled to catch her breath.
“22.”
She still wasn’t looking at me. “You remember that room you showed me?”
“Yes, I do.”
Without saying anything, Mrs Cole grabbed her large purse and walked away. It took me a moment to understand what had happened, and by the time I did, she was already gone. When I managed to move, I felt dizzy. But nothing could prevent me from following her to that storage room. It was like I was drawn there by some unseen force, going over my best lines in my head and imagining exactly what I was going to say and do to her.
Written by Sixtie 9ine
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