The first time she saw him was from the window of her room, exiting her father bodyguard's black Bugatti Veyron.
He had said he came from a poor country, devastated by the pollution and the lack of natural resources, bought by the black market, one of the primary contributors for the insertion of drug trade. But he wasn't a poor person back in his country. He actually owned properties there, and people worked there for him, receiving, at the end of the day, a misery of a salary.
When she met him, he was illegal in the country. A couple of fake VISA's because he never got his papers. When she met him, he had given up on love, done with the heartbreakers. When she met him, he was getting money from illegal business, counting grams and shipping them. When she met him, the first thing she noticed was his left arm, covered with tattoos. When she met him, he had told her he was taken from his parents because someone had sold them out.
But still, she helped him. She felt him. She allowed her father to take him under his wing, to give him a job, to get him straight up, even though the job wasn't any better than the ones he used to make. Her father and she took him to Belgium, and he kept his head down, but never forgot to thank her and her father for the offer.
She never forgot her first impression of him. One of her father's security guards had introduced him. He claimed that he was one of the bests in the business, that he knew how to solve the 'problems' with the Custom and authority. He entered the house wearing a dark green cardigan and a fisherman's hat. His skin was tanned and his hair black and spiky, but his eyes weren't visible. She thought he was a joke.
Until her father told him to give his jacket to a maid and get comfortable. The jacket came out first. Under it was a pair of skinny faded jeans and a white tank top. And his hat came out next. And, when it did, he looked up to her, whom was climbing down the stairs. His shiny jade green eyes bore into her soul.
And he never forgot his first impression of her. A wild and sexy beauty coming down the stairs, her navy blue hair waving behind her. Her black rimmed apple green eyes, emphasized by the make-up, were his set-off point. Plus the knee-high high-heeled boots, the cream colored shorts and her black tube top worked pretty well.
She remembered the first thing he had said to her. She was leaning on the second floor's security fence, and he came behind her. Softly and unnoticed. He whispered at her ear "Bitches this pretty, now that's seldom". She blushed, but smirked and turned around, letting him take her hand with his.
And, after that, everything seemed to go away.
Each time he'd leave, he'd kiss her goodbye in the forehead. Each time he'd come back, he'd kiss her cheek, her father standing right beside them with a satisfied look; the job was completed once more. But at night, each time he'd come back, muffled moans could be heard from inside her bedroom.
He'd call her Momma Dee. She's call him Daddy, like a daughter. Because he always made her feel good. He liked when she got drunk, she was wilder. But she liked him sober, so he wouldn't harm her. She would let him play with her, as long as she could her fun with him as well.
"When are you gonna stop treating me like a child?" she, so many times asked, but never got an answer. Her father's 'companions' would yell and bother her about him. But it was him…
"If they talk, then stop." He had told her one time. She had immediately answered:
"It's you, baby, this ain't High School. I told you. Anywhere, everywhere, baby, it's yours."
And he never spoke about it again.
She had a person at home and another on her side.
Her best friend was a lesbian, so they fucked a few times. He thought it was hot, but she refused to do it again. She had him by her side. She didn't need anyone else.
One day, they were in the kitchen. She was cooking something, an omelet, he thinks. Leaning in the table and looking at her back while she moved around, he couldn't help but realize that she and her mother were exactly alike. Both worked and refused to life by the rules of the man's world. But they were also very fierce and foxy. Maybe that is why they fought so much.
He couldn't resist to pull a joke when she bend down to catch the spoon. So he opened his mouth and demanded:
"Make me some money."
And she smirked and stood straight, glancing at him from the corner of her eye "Make me your wife."
"Bitch, you crazy. Fuck wrong with ya'?" he asked, but smiled anyway.
One time, he found her talking to another of her father's 'associates'. She smiled, as she always did… But her touches were intimate. Her smiles were seductive ones. Her looks were sexy as fuck. She had told him he was the only one… So why is she trying to bed that fucker?
So, when the conversation was over and the guy was gone, he pulled her to a hidden place, asking, not able to hide his jealousy "What about them fuckers?"
She said "What about them fuckers?" and he had smirked and replied "You right, what you're doing tonight? Put on something tight."
She only loved him like a brother. He knew that. But what confused his heart was that, even though she loved him like that, she would fuck him like a husband. She was too hot for him to handle. So hot he needed goggles. While she's lying on top of him, she said that she was his. He asked "Stop lying. Mine and who else?" She giggled and whispered "Worry 'bout yourself."
He'd had enough with the provocations.
Her tight and revealing clothes, the constant teases, the discrete winks. The soft movement of her hips only for him, the seductive looks. The innocent poses, the dirty words she'd whisper at his ear every time she greeted him.
He had pushed her into his room and shoved her down his bed. It was in the middle on an agitated afternoon, but he didn't care if the whole house heard her screams. He pinned her arms over her head and ripped off her clothes, pleasuring her in every way he knew. He did everything to her. He leaned in her ear and asked "Does this belong to me?"
As her answer "Baby it's your world, ain't it?"
She knew they were serious. She could feel it. But, as long as she was there, in her father's house, she could never be truly with him. Their relationship would always be behind closed doors, hidden at everyone's sight. So he came up with a plan. He told her what to do, he would be waiting for her. He promised.
So she did as he had told her.
She had put on a mask. A mask that belonged to her mother, a golden and black mask. She went to her father's safe-deposit box and marked the code, taking everything valuable from inside it, placing them inside a bag she had brought with her. Precious necklaces, money, everything she could get her hand on. And, when she heard the helicopter landing on her backyard, she ran to it, taking off the mask and dropping it on the floor.
He was there, as he had promised. He waved at the helicopter and told them to stop, while he climbed, holding out a hand for her to take. A bag with clothes, the money and a pair of shoes was all she carried. She fastened her jacket up and entered the helicopter, leaning against his shoulder while she watched her house fade away in the night.
"What now?" she asked.
"Just close your eyes and this horizon is ready." He answered, with a smile. She looked up to him and smiled back, whispering his name:
"Ozuma…"
"Mariam…"
A/N: This is dedicated to LadyDiamond92 or Carmen. I saw for the first time the videoclip and the music today, and this came into my head. I was thinking on which pairing would fit when I remembered that Mariam would be perfect for it.
This isn't a normal songfic, but it's a fic based on a song AND on the videoclip.
If you weren't able to figure out which was it or if you don't know the story behind it, it's the song 'High School' from Nicki Minaj. I'm not really a fan, but this song it very catchy and the message behind it is fantastic. It's basically a forbidden love... My thing : 3
Love 'ya!
LoneeWolf :)