D Siders

What's In A Kiss?

In the heat of the moment, Bonani and Spox shared a passionate kiss.

A startled Bonani sat back on his couch, on the other side of the lounge. He was puzzled, at a loss for words. What the hell did I just do? he thought of the repercussions of it all.

“Let me guess, you don’t wanna be unfaithful to Naledi,” Spox teased, putting her pajama top back on. “You wanna be a good little boy for her because she doesn’t deserve it, right? She’s all Christian and perfect.”

Bonani was still in a daze, assessing the situation. The kiss felt great, but also wrong.  Thabo! This is Thabo’s girlfriend! I can’t do this! he kept thinking. His dead brother wouldn’t approve.   

“Okay whatever, Bonani. I’m playing the movie now,” she explained casually, grabbing the TV remote control.  

“No don’t, wait please. Let’s talk about this,” he finally suggested, in a soft polite tone.

She turned to him, curious. She sensed a tinge of vulnerability in him. “Okay …”

“It shouldn’t have happened, Spox, I’m sorry. I was mad at Naledi … I am mad at Naledi, and I took advantage of you. I’m sorry.”

“You took advantage of me? Dude, no one takes advantage of me. I initiated the kiss, and it felt good. You can actually kiss. I’m proud of you,” she teased.

 He gave a slight chuckle. “Thanks, I think. So you aren’t mad or upset?”

“Nope, it’s all good.”

He breathed out, sighing. He’d dodged a bullet. “Okay, you can play the movie now.”


She was still facing him, concentrating. “But I’ll tell you this – you don’t kiss a girl the way you kissed me, without having some kind of feelings. I’m not saying you like me or whatever, but you feel something. Either for my body, or my personality or something - I’m just saying.” She sat back, waiting for his response.


He’d been bust. He stared at her plump luscious lips, and then down to her firm breasts. He was aroused.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Spox. It was just a kiss, that’s all.”

She watched him sideways, not believing a word he’d just uttered. “Okay, if you say so.”

“Yeah. And it can’t happen again. I don’t wanna ruin our living arrangement, y’know.”

“Okay, I get it. You don’t want any awkwardness between us.”

“Exactly,” Bonani concurred, grabbing his cell phone. “I don’t want it to be weird between us.”

Spox sat back and pressed ‘play’. She had a wry wicked smile on her as she concentrated of the film.


He sent Naledi a text:

Babe, I suggest we quit stuffing around, and get 2 the bottom of this mess we’re in. U wana move in, and I’m not sure – let’s just wrap it up NOW. I’m good wit whatever we do. Anyway I love u and I trust u. U can trust me too. I miss u. I’m tired of all the fighting. Col me when u’re done with your conference. Chat soon


He turned back to the TV, anxious.

It had been quite an interesting evening.

“So could you fill me in,” Spox asked. “Did you enjoy the kiss? Don’t get all worked up now, I’m just asking if you enjoyed it, like I enjoyed it. It’s a simple question.”

“An inappropriate one.”

“Bonani, did you enjoy kissing me or not?” She demanded, pausing the film, and turning to him.   

Bonani scratched his head, thinking. There was no right answer, he supposed. “Yeah, I did. Whatever, play the movie.”

“Good,” was Spox’s response. “Good to know,” she concluded, before turning her interest onto the fiction playing out on the screen.



The morning after Emma took cocaine at the club:


Emma’s eyelids felt like they were weighted down with stones.

She could hardly lift them.

She tried to sit up, but it produced such a screeching head-pain, she sank back down.

There was a horrible taste in her mouth too – something chemical, almost like bleach. A sour, biting taste. Her throat was sore too – had she smoked cigarettes?

She groaned.

Slowly, so as not to hurt her head any more, she managed to open one eye.


The room around her was foreign.

Her stomach trembled. Where was she?

She looked around the room.

She felt green, like she’d been vomiting.

She had no idea where she was.

She sat up properly.

Across this strange room was a large, full-length mirror.

She hardly recognised the person in the glass.

Her make-up had smeared and dissolved, leaving her with panda eyes.

Her hair looked greasy, and was sticking up in various directions, like a clown.

The headache pounded in her head like a gong – doof, doof, doof.

She thought she might need a doctor.


“Where was I last night?” she wondered to herself.

She could only remember fragments – a strobe light. Vodka shots. Had she been in a nightclub? Who with? How did she get home? Where was she?


She tried to get out of the single bed, but her legs were like jelly.

She collapsed to the floor.

“Ugh,” she moaned, feeling like she might need to vomit again.

At the same time, she was extremely anxious about where she was.

She hoped with all her might that she was at Zinzi and Lerato’s.

She’d been at their place a few times, though, and didn’t recognise this room.


Like a baby horse standing for the first time, she hoisted herself to her feet, wobblingly.

She wrapped a sheet around herself, reached for the door handle, and mustering courage, opened it and peeked out.

She saw a wooden corridor, and walls, on which were a calendar, and a poster of The Avengers.

Whose place was this?

Making little noise, she walked down the little corridor.

Then, she heard a radio playing, and the smell of coffee.

It smelt good.

She turned right, into a kitchen.

At a small circular table, a man sat.

“Good morning,” he said, with a friendly smile.

He was of medium height, with short red hair the colour of fire.

He had green eyes, and a smattering of freckles on his cheeks. He wore spectacles with black frames.

“Who are you? Where am I?”

“I’m Ross. Who are you?”

Emma ignored the question.

She was still suspicious. “How did I get here?”

“I thought you’d be more appreciative!” said the man, but he maintained a friendly tone.

“Sorry,” said Emma, stroking her fringe out of her eyes. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a bus, then a truck, then a bus again.”

The stranger laughed. “I know the feeling.”

“Is this your place?” Emma asked, tentatively edging into the kitchen.

“Yup,” said Ross.

Emma laid eyes on the espresso machine, which was emitting a delicious dark coffee smell.

“Please, help yourself.”

Emma poured herself a cup, then sat gingerly on the chair opposite him.

“Did we….you know?”

Ross laughed awkwardly, then became agitated. “Oh, no, no…nothing like that. I just…The thing is, I found you passed out in the men’s toilets. It didn’t seem gentlemanly to leave you there, concussed, so I hoisted you over my shoulders and put you in my car, and brought you home. Don’t worry, we didn’t sleep together. You were passed out stone cold. I put you in the spare room. Did you sleep ok?”

“I think so. I mean…I don’t remember.”

“Think you must have had a bit of a rough night.”

“I assume so,” said Emma, with a smile, lifting the coffee cup to her lips and talking a sip.

“Thank you,” said, after a minute of silence. “For rescuing me.”

Ross became shy. “It’s what anyone would have done.”

“No,” said Emma, “someone else would have done something far worse. I owe you. Thank you.”

Ross crinkled his nose, shook his head lightly. “Don’t mention it,” he said.


Coming Soon
Will Spox respect Bonani’s decision of not pursuing a fling with her?