via Daily Prompt: Marathon

The people of Iran-Aya readied themselves for a week long celebration of the Ganwe chiefdom. During such gatherings, people gave thanks to their hosts as well as to the gods and the earth. Sacrifices to the gods marked the commencement of the festivities. Slaughtered animals replenished the people, just as rainwaters replenished the crops, and people replenished the soil of the earth. Such rituals maintained balance in the life cycle. The palace dining hall was covered in a spread of exquisite delicacies: bitterleaf soup, pounded yam, dodo, jollof, coconut rice, egusi, meat pies, and puffpuff. Servants had spent the greater part of the month decorating the grand room, marinating choice cuts of lamb, goat, and bull, and sending invitations to the nobles of the villages for miles around.

Such a grand display of the newly seated chief’s power and generosity would draw the loyalty of neighbors. Arms occupied in the embrace of friendship cannot grasp for weapons, his council of elders advised. The elders administered their wisdom in proverbs, as the elders before them, and the elders before them had.

The chief’s eldest daughter, Abeni, had little patience for such meanderings. As she saw it, they had gathered for frisk and folly, nothing more or less. No need to soil fleeting moments of merriment with talks of war and arms.

Abeni walked among the dancers and drummers, escorted by an entourage. The drummers busied themselves tightening the skins on their instruments, ensuring crisp sounds would reach far into the night skies. Dancers likewise oiled themselves and massaged each other’s muscles, preparing to give their bodies away to the dance, and potentially for temporary possession by the ancestors. Everyone took turns painting their faces and bodies with markings that told the stories of great warriors.

The Ganwe valued fortitude and courage on the battlefield above all. Though women usually kept to the fields, Abeni had proven her strong marksmanship and deft knifing abilities more than once. On one occasion, young warriors from a neighboring village had come to scout their lands before an ambush. The ancestors were with her that night. Despite their light feet, Abeni’s ears pricked. She impaled the intruders and sounded the alarm. Because of her, the village had been able to defend itself. In her people’s most recent invasion, Abeni struck down a score of men-on-horses, a key to their victory. The people regarded her as an invaluable addition to their warring clan. Abeni readied herself for her spoils.

“Our lion has struck down his brother, our lions have struck down a pride,” the musicians sang.

“You there, come,” she motioned toward a dancer drawing linked circles on her legs. Something had alerted her. The young woman was not from Iran-Aya.

“How may I serve you, princess?” The dancer did not bow, but stood sure-footed and square-shouldered. A warrior’s stance.

“Do you know what you are doing there?” Abeni motioned toward the paintings.

“I am Kalejaye of the highlands. My clan has come from far west. Since the beginning of our travels, I have not ceased to hear about a brave warrior who struck down a score of men-on-horses. Tonight, I will honor her.”

The two locked eyes, knowledge exchanged.  

“Dance with the ancestors.”  

After the most talented had showed off their crafts, after the flame eaters had swallowed balls of fire and sharp shooters hit targets compounds away, after the libations had been poured and obeisance given to the gods, after the ancestors had possessed their kin and danced among the living, finally it was time for the feast.  

Abeni had other things on her mind. The royal beckoned her eunuch.

“I’d prefer a different sort of dainty,” she said simply.

“At once, my shield.”

    Kalejaye appeared, the eunuch in tow.

    “Princess.” This time she went to one knee, bending her head in reverence.

    “Rise,” Abeni commanded. Kalejaye stood tall and proud. Lean muscle encompassed her frame, still glistening with sweat and sweet oil.

“You’ve danced well.” In truth, the spirits recognized her willingness to be possessed and entered her body. They danced with such vigor and fighter’s spirit. “You have brought great honor to your namesake and your warrior,” she continued. “Eat at my table.”

    Kalejaye obliged, her jewelry clinking with each movement. Ringlets adorned her ankles, wrists, and neck. The white paint had faded, though still visible against the contrast of her dark brown skin.

“My markings still look good on you,” Abeni flirted.

So the rumors were true. The princess Abeni of the Ganwe of Iran-Aya fancied the intimate company of women.

“May I bathe in your waters tonight?” Kalejaye returned.

Abeni sat back. “We will run a marathon together,” she said, a smile playing on her lips, laughter dancing in her eyes.

The two young women made a dash toward Abeni’s compound, kicking up dust under their heels. Once the water had been boiled and the bath readied, Abeni dismissed her servants.

“Do you enjoy spices?” Abeni produced a pouch of herbs, pungent and earthy. Kalejaye brought the bag to her nose, inhaling.

“This reminds me of a plant from my home. We use it for calming and increasing vitality.” Kalejaye toyed with the knot on the wrap covering her body, making small traces around the bunched up cloth without unloosing it. “Sexual vitality,” she clarified, placing a leaf on her tongue. The taste was bitter, its effects potent. Kalejaye crushed a palmful in her hand, sprinkled the contents onto the steaming water.

Abeni heard enough. She stepped behind the young woman, holding her around the waist. “Tonight, let us do the touching,” she whispered, grasping for the knot that held Kalejaye’s covering. Blues and greens pooled at their ankles.

Kalejaye nodded, leaned into the hands exploring her torso. Abeni savored the feeling of Kalejaye’s back, firm and strong. Her fingers passed over the muscles in her back and shoulders once and again, massaging her into bliss. With each pass over her body, she removed another piece of jewelry.

“I will bathe you, and it will feel even better” Abeni suggested, walking her towards the water. Kalejaye tested the temperature, vocalizing her agreement.

“Join me, princess,” Kalejaye said, tugging Abeni’s garments. Warm golds and reds fell to the ground as Abeni slowly relieved herself of her clothing. Kalejaye held her breath, excited at the sight of her athletic body.

The air surrounding the bath had become humid and thick with steam. The two women submerged in the waters, hand in hand, face to face.

“Today the gods have blessed me,” Abeni said, taking in the sight of the woman before her. A sturdy woman, Kalejaye’s physique filled Abeni with the most sensual of desires. She wanted to pleasure this woman until the sun peeked over the horizon. She wanted to hear her cry out to the gods.

“You’re staring,” Kalejaye accused, splashing at her paramore. She knew better than to be self-conscious, but still, it was fun to poke fun. Abeni splashed back, and soon the two were trading warm gushes of water without end.

“Turn around, before we have no water left,” Abeni laughed. Kalejaye obliged, offering her back once more. Abeni lathered the soap, a hard and fragrant block, and began to rub down Kalejaye’s back. Rivulets of clean sweat beaded down Kalejaye’s skin, racing their way back to the pool of water. Abeni cupped water in her hands, letting it wash down her lover’s body.

Kalejaye turned around, facing Abeni once more, a relaxed smile on her face. She pulled Abeni into her, wrapping her legs around her waist. Abeni eased into the warmth of the water, eased back into her lover, letting her hold her weight. They stayed like that for some time, Kalejaye playing in Abeni’s hair and humming a tune in her ear. These were the moments Abeni wished could last forever. In these moments, she seemed to touch places of her sensuality that only the intimate embrace of a woman could brighten. Their soft touches pleased the Mother of the Heavens and Earth, who loved to see her children happy.

Kalejaye’s hands brushed over the top of the water, her fingers barely breaking the surface. She brought her hands up to Abeni’s nipples, rolled the pert nubs between her fingers. Kalejaye loved to play, especially this sort. Abeni’s head rolled into her partner’s shoulder, urging her to continue her stroke. Kalejaye broke contact only to latch on with her mouth, suckling like a newborn. She pushed her chest closer to her mouth. A sigh escaped Abeni’s parted lips and turned into a contented hum.   

Kalejaye slurped on her nipple until Abeni fed her the other.

“Awgh, Yeye,” she moaned, her clit pulsing. In these moments, Abeni’s head swam, closer and closer toward her release.

“Shall we do the touching?” Kalejaye offered, nipple popping out of her mouth. Abeni nodded, already reaching for a drying cloth. She wrapped Kalejaye first, patting her body dry, then herself. Eagerness abounding, Kalejaye led them to the bed.

“You are beautiful,” Kalejaye said, cupping the princess’ face in her hand.

“As are you,” Abeni replied, still dizzy from her previous treatment.  

Their breathing came in ragged spurts. So close were the two that they felt wisps of air on each other’s cheek. Their breath flowed into each other, and then, the two were kissing. Abeni straddled her energetic partner, loving the feeling of her bush between her legs. Abeni’s kisses were strong and firm, while Kalejaye came on playfully. The two soon found a matching rhythm, melding into their desire.  

Kalejaye had never practiced these dances, just did what came naturally. Whatever felt good must be the right move, she reasoned. When Abeni’s hand slipped between her legs, a fire blazed.

“Yes, there,” she encouraged.

Abeni knew she had been blessed to savor each curve of this beautiful woman’s body. She took her time exploring the warmth of her thighs, the wetness between her lips.

Kalejaye bucked her hips up into Abeni’s strong hands.

“Now, I want you now,” she whispered against warm skin. Abeni pressed forward, entering her. Kalejaye rocked in time with her paramore’s insistent thrusts, clenched heat rising in the pit of her stomach.

Kalejaye wanted to shriek, but couldn’t disturb the neighbors. She settled on biting her fist, then sucking at Abeni’s neck and ears, aching for a way to express the intensity of her pleasure.

“Bemi,” Kalejaye crooned, giving way to her sweet release. “Bemi, Bemi.”

The two slept soundly that night, arms and legs entangled, listening to the humming cicadas and hooting night birds. Kalejaye smiled into the crook of her warrior’s neck, dreaming about where their marathon might take them.

Marathon
Exquisite