Moxie (4)

The days seemed to follow a regular pattern. In the mornings, Nnedi would prepare breakfast for her husband before he went to his shop in the center of the town. Ogbuefi Ihenacho had many sales boys serving him so he simply went there every morning to supervise them and see to it that they were not stealing from him. Nnedi spent her afternoons doing needle work and in the evenings she prepared dinner and sat watching her husband while he ate. Then she was once again at his mercy, he pounding at her furiously and she lying motionless after which he would collapse in sleep.

Nnedi dreaded the nights and feigning illness did nothing to save her from this nightly ordeal. Soon she discovered that allowing her mind to drift away to that time when her classmate, Peter, put his hand up her skirt behind the staff room block, made Ihenacho’s sexual ‘assault’ bearable.  With Ihenacho she felt none of the excitement she had felt with Peter that afternoon as he deftly caressed her with his fingers bringing her to a surprising climax.

She hardly talked with Ihenacho’s other wives save greet them when and where expected. Ihenacho’s sixth wife, Chiamaka, however went out of her way to help Nnedi and show her around Ihenacho’s massive compound. She was just a couple of years older than Nnedi.

Sarah’s Serendipity Part 2

This is the concluding part of Sarah’s Serendipity Part 1. In case you missed it, you can read it here. 

So I decided to be Dr. Brown’s girlfriend for the next three weeks and beyond. My well-though out argument why I should just buy his car and send him on his merry way flew out the window in the face of his romance tainted logic. Even when I argued that long-distance wasn’t really my style; Brown reminded me that there was Skype and Facetime. I really didn’t stand a chance anyway, this man knew what he wanted and he wasted no time wooing me.

“Three weeks!” he said.

“That’s all the time I need to convince you that I want you in my life for the long haul”

When Brown showed up at my office the following Friday to pick me up for the weekend, I had a big grin plastered over my face. We had been texting each other via Whatsapp Messenger all week and when my supervisor started giving me the side-eye, I found myself sneaking into the bathroom to reply Brown’s messages.

He was waiting in the parking lot when I got downstairs and as soon as he saw me, he stepped out of the car.

“Hello beautiful”, he whispered, as he planted a peck on my cheek

“Hello, Doc”, I replied trying to be as unaffected as possible by his nearness

“Can I take that?” he said, gesturing for my overnight bag

“Sure”

We walked back to the car, hand in hand. Just like in the dream. I smiled inwardly as Brown opened the car door to let me in. I could get used to this I thought to myself.

Later that night as we lay in bed sated from our lovemaking, I knew I had found my “the one”. Brown’s two-bedroom apartment with its urban-styled furnishings had a home-y feel to it and I felt so at peace in his arms. I loved the way he sucked in his breath as he stared at me after undressing me.

“You’re even more beautiful than I imagined”, he proclaimed, his hands softly stroking my arms, my breasts, my belly, my thighs.

I rewarded him with a coy smile

“Don’t blush”, I mean it, he continued

I closed my eyes and sighed as he eased me onto the cool sheets. My blood boiled with every sensual kiss, each one deeper than the last. When Brown decided he had had enough of my lips, he proceeded to rain little feather light kisses all over my face and behind my ears.  He continued to kiss his way down wards and when his lips latched onto my taut nipples, I cried in pleasure.  A jolt of electricity shot through my veins as he hovered between my legs, his tongue in my moist center. As Brown continued his tender ministrations with his tongue, whatever shred of self-control I had left was destroyed and I gave in and let myself be sucked into this vortex of pleasure. Time after time that night, Brown drove me to heights of desire I didn’t know existed.

I woke up to sunlight streaming in through the windows. I rolled over languorously, recalling the events of the previous night. Brown was nowhere in sight. I checked my phone; 8:45 am. I clambered out of the bed with the intention of heading for the bathroom to ease myself and winced slightly at the soreness I felt down there.

When I re-entered the room, Brown had set a try of toast, eggs and sausages on the bed.

“Good morning dear”

“Doctor Brown at your service”, he announced. “Breakfast is served, your Ladyship. Bon Appetit”, he continued

I dissolved into laughter at Brown’s sense of humour.

“S’il vous plait, joindre à moi”, I returned

“Slow down, French Professor” he cautioned.

“I hope you brought a couple of outing clothes”, Brown mentioned as we ate.

“We’ve got a wine tasting at noon, a book reading for 4 pm and dinner reservations at eight”

“It’s your turn to slow down, boyfriend”, I countered. “You should have asked me first”

“Well, let’s just say I know what you like”

I couldn’t complain. He had read me like a book

Brown cleared the breakfast tray while I went into the bathroom to take a shower. I stepped into the steel and glass shower cubicle and pulled the lever on the wall in front of me outwards to turn on the water. The heat of the water surprised me and I relished the feeling of the residue of the night’s exertions being blasted from my skin. I was pondering what it would be like spending the day with Brown when I heard the door to the bathroom open. There was a rush of cooler air as the cubicle door swung outwards and he entered the shower.

I handed him the bar of soap and we proceeded to soap each other. I was aware that we were pressed for time, but that didn’t stop me from running my soapy hands across his nipples, over his belly and downwards; coaxing him until he became hard. He grabbed my hand to still my hand motions and spun me around so that my back was against his and my nipples were pressed against the cool tiles. I shuddered as he entered my velvety softness, each thrust bringing us closer to the edge of the precipice until we tumbled off the cliff together in sweet release.

We lingered in the shower, washing each other; our soapy caresses were merely warm and friendly after our hurried coupling. We dressed quickly and headed out for our day together.

Whatsapp Messanger

Dr. Brown: Hey Beautiful!

Me: (blush smiley)

Dr. Brown: The rate at which you blush, one would think you had a permanently pink complexion

Dr. Brown: Just to let you know I’ll be out of town this weekend

Me: What’s the matter?

Dr. Brown: Nothing. I want to spend some time with my parents before I travel.

Me: Ooookay. But I’ll miss you

Dr. Brown: I’ll miss you too, hun

Me: (sad smiley)

Dr. Brown: I’ll only be gone a couple of days. I promise I’ll make it up to you when I get back.

By the way, my lawyer is drawing up the change of ownership papers for the car. We’ll have all that sorted out once I return. I love you, Bae

Me: Ok dearie. Love you too

A couple of days away became a week because he had to put some things in place before he travelled. I missed him terribly I couldn’t complain. After all, they were his family and he wasn’t going to see them for a long time. When Brown finally returned, we concluded the paper work for the car and we went out to dinner to celebrate.

“A toast to your first car”, he proposed

My smile was weak, tinged by the sadness of knowing he was leaving in two days.

Brown’s flight from Lagos to Boston was for 8:50 pm. We had planned we would meet at the airport. The minute the clock struck five, I was out of the office in a bid to beat rush-hour traffic. Airport parking was a drag but I finally met up with Brown at the airport waiting area.

As I approached him he stood up from his seat. He was holding a toddler in his arms. As I got closer to him, a Caucasian lady who had hitherto been sitting also rose to stand beside him.

“Your description does her no justice”, she muttered

“At least I tried”, came Brown’s reply

“Hello, Sarah. It’s so nice to finally meet you in person. I’ve heard so much about you”, she offered cheerily, stretching out her hand for a handshake.

I looked from her outstretched hand to her pale, oval face. My eyes moved quickly to Brown and he averted his gaze. My brows were knotted in confusion; I could feel a headache coming on.

The lady slowly dropped her hand and continued,

“My name is Vanessa. I’m Brown’s wife and that’s our son”, she gestured towards the toddler cradled in Brown’s arms. And that was when I looked at the kid closely and saw that he was decidedly mulatto.

“Brown!?”, I ventured, part question, part plea.

I wanted him to tell me this wasn’t happening. That it was all a sick joke

“We’re in an open marriage” she explained.  “I really wanted to meet you earlier and maybe invite you to our bedroom if you were up to it but Brown said you weren’t that kind of girl. Now I see why he said that”

Brown finally spoke up, “I’m sorry you had to find out like this, but the time was so short”. “I… sorry we still want you in our lives for the long haul; I wish you would agree to share our bed with us”

“Yes”, I heard Vanessa say.

“I’ll be joining my husband in a couple of months and we were thinking of sending you an invitation to the States once we’re finally settled”.

The tears finally came, feely and unbidden. How could Brown do this to me? How could they use me this way? So all the while I thought Brown was special and he was “the one”, I was simply an experiment for him and his ‘oyibo’ wife.

I turned and stumbled blindly out of the airport to my car. I have no recollection of how I got home but all I can say is I am alive to tell my story.

Sarah’s Serendipity Part 1

Finally I decided that my days of walking, hopping on and off buses and taking cabs in Lagos were about to end because the rains had finally come and in Lagos, when it rains it pours. I couldn’t endure yet another year of Lagos rains in this condition.

I had been saving for a car for a while so I called my only male bestie and told him we needed to go car shopping.

“Mark I need a car”, I said without preamble as he picked up the call.

“How soon?” came his reply

“A.S.A.P. Can we go car shopping on Saturday?”

“Sure.”

I smiled inwardly as I hung up. What would the world be like without good friends like Mark?

Saturday’s weather was even drearier. The rains beat upon the earth with such ferociousness you would think there was a quarrel between earth and sky. Mark and I were out in the rain driving from one car lot to another in search of a car suitable enough for my budget. After hours and hours of fruitless search, we finally decided it was time to head home.

I sagged into the passenger seat of Mark’s car staring at my muddied feet. He gave my shoulder a squeeze and I sniffled, next thing I knew he was laughing so hard. I wondered why he was laughing and I told him I wasn’t finding it funny at all.

“When you want to buy a car, you need to be patient. Else you will end up in regret”, he said, all traces of laughter gone from his voice

“You trust my judgment that’s why you brought me with you, right?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Don’t worry; I’ll make sure you get a good car. That’s a promise”

I sniffled even harder.

The rains continued to pelt the streets of Lagos in the following weeks, turning them into small streams and tributaries. I on the other hand continued to pester Mark about getting me a car.

Blackberry Messenger:

Me: Mark, where is my car

Mark: I saw one (mentions model and year of car), but I don’t think you will like it

Me: I’m tired of hopping buses in the rain (insert crying emoticon)  

Mark: Do you want to try Cotonou (Benin Republic)

Me: Noooooooo. I hear they are all fraudsters there

Mark: Good. Be patient. We haven’t exhausted all the car lots in Lagos.

Just when I was beginning to believe that the witches in my village were behind my inability to get a good car, Mark turned up with some useful information. His colleague’s friend was travelling to the United States for further studies and wanted to sell his 2006 Toyota Corolla.

“His name is Dr. Brown. Call him now” urged Mark

“You bet”, I replied

“Hi, Dr. Brown, my name is Sarah. I understand you have a car for sale”

“Yes I do”, came a rich baritone from the other end of the line.

“When would you like to take a look at the car?” he continued

“Saturday looks good”

“Saturday is fine.  Are you on Whatsapp, so I can send you the address?”

I felt it was a little odd that he wanted to send the address via Whatsapp when a simple sms could have done the job. I dismissed the thought from my mind and called Mark to tell him we would be seeing the Doctor’s car the following Saturday.

Later that day on Whatsapp Messenger:

Dr. Brown: You have a beautiful face to match your voice

Me: And how can you tell?

Dr. Brown: Your profile picture. How did your day go?

Me: Cold, wet and stressful.

Dr. Brown: Sorry about that.

Me: You haven’t sent me the address

Dr. Brown: I’m sending it now….

As planned, Mark, his car mechanic and I made the trip to go and see Dr. Brown’s car the following Saturday. Mark and Dr. Brown started discussing cars while the mechanic went to work looking at the car beginning with the engine. I went to sit in Mark’s car for the mechanic to finish.

By the time the mechanic was done, Mark and the Doctor were still discussing cars so animatedly I wondered how anybody or group of people could be so enthusiastic about a piece of machinery. From where I was sitting in the car, I watched Dr. Brown as he laughed at something Mark said revealing gleaming white teeth. I got out of the car intending to break up the emergency male bonding session that in my opinion had gone on for too long. As I approached them, I found myself staring up into Dr. Brown’s deep-set chocolate brown eyes framed by shaggy brows.

“I’m sorry to interrupt this discussion, but can we go now?” I asked shifting my gaze to Mark

“Sure thing, boss” Mark replied in mock salute.

I turned on my heel and strode back to the car, with Mark following closely. I only got back to the car when I realized I didn’t say goodbye to Dr. Brown.

“I hope you like it”, came his rich baritone from behind.

“I didn’t know you were following me”, I answered, turning around only to find him so close I could smell his aftershave; it was a light, airy scent.

“And miss the chance to say goodbye to a beautiful lady?” “Not in my dreams”

I found myself blushing at his compliment.

“We can start the paper work on Monday”, I offered as I got into the car

Mark was waiting when I got in.

“He’s a cool one to know. Pity he’s travelling soon”

“Hmmm”, I grunted

Whatsapp Messenger:

Dr. Brown: Home yet?

Me: Yes

Dr. Brown: How is your boyfriend?

Me: Who?

Dr. Brown: Mark

Me: He’s not my boyfriend

Dr. Brown: Seriously?! (Surprised smiley)

Me: Yes. We’re just friends. Why?

Dr. Brown: I like you. You’re even more beautiful in person

Me: (tongue out smiley)

Dr. Brown: I don’t have a girlfriend

Me: How is that my business?

Dr. Brown: Will you be mine?

Me: I thought you were travelling in three weeks

Dr. Brown: Travelling, not dying

Me: Well, no

Dr. Brown: Can I at least take you on a date to seal the car deal?

Me: Maybe

Dr. Brown: Let’s write our little story. And hope it ends well. I’m not promising heaven and earth but all I know is I’ll be nice. Both indoors and outdoors

Me: Whatever that means. Have a good night

Dr. Brown: I really wish you were mine. I wish you would give me these three weeks. Your heart is all I need.

Me: To do what? Break it?

Dr. Brown: To mend it. I’m a doctor, I mend. I don’t break

Me: Goodnight doc. It’s been a long day

If only the handsome doctor knew the effects his words had on me? I lay in bed long after I ended the chat thinking of what it would be liked to be kissed senseless by Dr. Brown. I wondered what it would feel like to be held in his embrace and stroked by his warmth. When I finally fell asleep I had the most beautiful dream. In the dream, I was walking through a field. The wind was in my hair and the sun was in my eyes. Rose petals were strewn everywhere. Someone was holding my hand, gently guiding me through the field. When I looked up, I saw Doctor Brown smiling down at me.

To Be Continued……

 

The Abuja Incident

And that’s when she walked in. The most beautiful creature on this earth or so I thought. For the next few minutes I was transfixed just watching this ethereal creature that just floated in confer with her friend. They were talking in whispers so I could barely hear what they were saying despite the fact that I was just a few feet from them. Not to mention that the room was noisy. Then she straightened up and looked directly at me. Our eyes locked for what seemed like an eternity and just when I was struggling to tear my eyes away from her compelling gaze, she smiled.

You see, I’ve seen thousands of people smile and that’s not an exaggeration. As a wedding photographer, I get paid to capture peoples’ smiles. But this smile, the one this fair-complexioned exotic beauty rewarded me with was different. Her eyes seemed to light up as she smiled and I caught a glimpse of mischief in the upturned corners of her full lips. And there was that dimple, a lone one. I ran my gaze over her and was pleased by what I saw: tall and slim with curves in all the right places. I let my gaze rest once again on her cherubic face.

Now let me tell you what usually happens to me when I see a beautiful woman, especially at events: the photographer in me takes over and I quickly approach her to have her picture taken. But with this Northern beauty, I didn’t just want to take her picture; I wanted to take her home with me. I quickly erased that thought from my mind and returned my attention to her friend, my client who by now was watching the wordless exchange between us with some amusement.

“George, meet my best friend and sister from another mother”, she proclaimed.

“Her name is Aisha”

I stretched out my arm for a handshake and was rewarded with her dainty, henna-painted right hand. My palms easily swallowed hers for she had the smallest hands I had seen on a woman.

“A pleasure to meet you”, I said, trying to give her my best professional smile and failing woefully because I was grinning from ear to ear

“Same here” she responded, flashing perfect white teeth as she smiled again

I heard my client say, “Aisha will help you arrange my different outfits so you can take pictures of them, just like the ones you put on Instagram” and with that she turned her attention to the makeup artist who was already getting impatient by the interruption.

So we went to work, Aisha and i. She brought out her friend’s dresses and shoes and jewelry and I took picture after picture. We laid the jewelry on the bed, hung a few dresses from the light fixtures and even had a shoe peeking out from under the bed. Trust me not to waste this opportunity to have a conversation with her while we worked. She told me she was a Graduate Assistant in the Department of History at the Ahmadu Bello University and had flown into Abuja the previous day for the wedding. From behind the camera I could see as her brow creased while she was trying to match two outfits. I longed to touch her face and smooth the creases with the pads of my thumbs. I clicked the shutter, capturing that moment and freezing it in time.

I asked her if we could meet for drinks later in the day and she agreed. The rest of the wedding went by in an exertion-filled haze and occasionally my thoughts strayed to Aisha.

My client had spared no expense in ensuring that I was comfortable. They had booked a posh hotel in one of the high-brow areas of town and that is where Aisha and I met later that evening for drinks. I was waiting in the lobby when she walked in and I guided her to the restaurant. While we waited for our order, I surreptitiously checked her out. Her wide set brown eyes shone in her fair-complexioned face. She had the straightest nose I had seen on an African. I imagined her heart-shaped, full lips on mine. She noticed me staring and I was rewarded with a shy smile revealing her lone dimple once again.

“Stop staring”, she chided

It was my turn to be embarrassed.

The evening flew too fast for my liking. Aisha was easily the most interesting person I had met in my entire life. Like me, she was a voracious reader and the conversation quickly drifted to books. She had this uncanny ability to be able to follow a thread of conversation even after we had departed from the subject which I thought was one of the hallmarks of a good news reporter and I told her so.

She was leaving Abuja the following day for Zaria and I was on my way to Lagos for another assignment. As we waited on the street in the balmy December evening for a cab I sneaked my hand behind her waist and held her close. She leaned into me and I caught a glimpse of her scent. It was heady and intoxicating. She lifted her head and smiled up at me and I seized the opportunity to do what I had been dreaming of all night. Kiss her. Her lips were even softer than I imagined them to be. As I slammed the cab door shut I knew I had to see her again.

Two weeks after I met Aisha for the first time, I found myself in Zaria. Of course in those two weeks I called her every single day not to mention our marathon bouts of texting. I checked into a hotel and called her to let her know I was in town.  When she showed up at my door my last strand of self-control broke. I practically dragged her into the room. No words were needed at this point. With her back pressed against the closed door, I kissed her with all the longing in my being. She matched me thrust for thrust. With our lips still locked, I reached behind her and unzipped her dress, letting it fall to the floor. When I unhooked her bra, her breasts bounced free, welcoming their new-found liberty. Everything about Aisha was perfect even her breasts. I tweaked one rock-hard nipple between my thumb and forefinger and she sighed with pleasure. When I placed my mouth on the other nipple she moaned loudly and grabbed my arms. She reached under my shirt and found my nipples. I thought to myself that if she continued what she was doing, we wouldn’t make it to the bed. While still pinning her against the door I slid off her panties and carried her to the bed. I slid one finger into her, she was warm and wet, and then I followed with two fingers while she panted loudly grabbing the sheets and thrusting her hips. She started fumbling with my belt buckle and that’s when I realized I was still in my clothes. I quickly got out of my shirt and shorts and lay beside her.  She sat astride me and proceeded to guide me into her. The sight of her breasts as they bounced up and down drove me to the edge very quickly and watching her come was all I needed to send me tumbling down the brink.

We lay spent in each other’s arms, basking in the warmth of our love-making. There was something on the TV about Boko Haram bombing somewhere in Borno. I asked her what life was like living in the North and in constant fear of being attacked by the insurgents. She assured me that Zaria was pretty safe.  I kissed her and found myself growing hard. I reached for the remote control and switched off the TV and shutting out the depressing news. I surrendered myself to Aisha’s bewitching ministrations.

Aisha was my spot of sunshine. She brightened every one of my days. She was the first thing I thing I thought about every morning and the last thing before I went to bed at night. Of course my work took me to different locations across the country but I was comforted by the fact that she was just a phone call away. I lived for the moment I could be with her again and with Valentine’s Day around the corner; I knew it would be sooner than later.

“Hello George, my name is Abba and I would like to book your services as our wedding photographer”

“By the way, you come highly recommended and my fiancée would kill me if you said no”

I looked down at the phone and smiled. Most of my clients came based on referrals, which is why I never joked with giving my best to any particular client.

“We would like to have our pre-wedding shoot at Utako in Abuja”, Abba continued.

“What date I asked”?

“Valentine’s Day”. “Send me your email so I can forward the address and other details to you”

That was two weeks away, I mentally calculated.

“Thank you”, he said and ended the call before I could respond

I was amazed at how the powers that be had conspired to take me to the North once again and this time on Valentine’s Day. I called Aisha in excitement and told that I had a pre-wedding photo shoot for Valentine’s Day in Abuja and would be in Zaria later that day to spend our first Valentine together. She sounded enthusiastic and told me she couldn’t wait to see me.

Valentine’s Day was a Saturday and I showed up at the location for the pre-wedding shoot an hour before the agreed meeting time of 10 am. I walked around the park for a bit and found a stone bench that I thought would be good for the shoot. I set about unpacking my equipment after which I called Abba to tell him exactly where I was in the park.

I texted Aisha to let her know I was already at the location and waiting for the couple to show up. She told me to wrap up the shoot as quickly as possible and not keep her waiting. My blood boiled with need, my 4pm flight seemed like a life-time away. This woman would be the death of me, I thought

I looked up to see a silver-coloured Porsche Cayenne driving towards me. The driver killed the engine and got out. He looked in his early thirties, slightly built and averagely tall. When he spoke he had that unmistakable accent that Northern aristocrats boast of.

“George, nice to finally meet you”, he said

“Same here”, I returned.

“Aisha literally arm-wrestled me into hiring you and having this photo shoot, you know women” he winked conspiratorially.

I smiled

And that was when she got out of the car

There was ‘my’ Aisha. Abba’s fiancée

My smile froze.

Photo credit: http://www.wedvo.com

 

 

 

 

How the Geek got her groove back

The small fast food outlet on the campus was crammed full with students that Saturday afternoon looking to grab a quick lunch. I walked up to the counter to place my order after which, tray in hand, I scanned the floor of the shop looking to find an empty seat. Viola! I’d found one. And that was when I noticed her; she was sitting in a corner by herself hunched over her blackberry. She was wearing a pink T-shirt, a pair of blue jeans and grey running shoes. Her face was devoid of make-up and her hair was arranged in a neat ponytail. I walked the entire length of the room and settled into the only empty seat. It was directly in front of her. She looked up and smiled at me, I smiled back. Geeky undergraduate was definitely not my type. I proceeded to do justice to my meal.
I noticed she was staring at me while I ate; it made me a tad uncomfortable. Then she asked, “Do you mind taking off your sunglasses so I can see your eyes?”
I looked up from my plate ready to tell her off in no uncertain terms. What was her business with my eyes? She was smiling. I smiled back and found myself taking off my pair of sunglasses placing it on the table beside me.
“My name is Itohan. I’m a Masters student”
I did a double take; did I hear her say Masters Student? With the way she was dressed? She wasn’t ugly, far from it. Her cherubic face was scrubbed clean and she had this quizzical half smile that seemed to play at the corners of her lips. She’d somehow managed to hide whatever feminine curves she was endowed with beneath those unflattering clothes.
“Banjo”, I replied
“Masters student too”, I added
Strangely, I found myself asking her if she cared for anything and she said she’d just had lunch herself.
I had one hour of break before another round of back to back lectures. I discovered she also had an hour of break even though we were running part time Masters Programs in different departments. By the time I was done with my meal, we were discussing like old friends. We talked about movies, books, music, and politics. I discovered we had similar interests too and all too soon our one hour break was up. As we walked out of the fast food outlet, I noticed her checking me out. I am a conscientious dresser and I’m definitely not bad looking either. I am 5’9” and dark in complexion. Though not exactly handsome, I was definitely eye catching. We exchanged numbers and went back to our separate classes.
I would love to tell you that I left her alone because I was way out of her league. Itohan was a twenty nine year old woman trapped in the body of a teenager. Without trying to be snobbish, I can comfortably say that I come from a privileged background, not to mention the fact that I worked in a multinational firm. I’d previously concluded a Master’s degree program at the Robert Gordon University, Aberdeen and enjoyed a whirlwind romance with the very delectable daughter of one of the Senators from the South-South. I meet sophisticated and classy woman every day, in fact it’s one of the hazards (in a good way) of my job. But I just couldn’t get Itohan out of my mind after that Saturday afternoon we spent together. Discounting her dress sense, she was a sweet, funny and smart young woman. I started to chase her, really chase her. Believe me when I tell you that when I want a woman, I pull out all the stops. No half measures.
I sent flowers; I took her out to dinner, sent her presents. I went the whole nine yards. She seemed to be taking my attention in her stride, though she complained a few times that I was spoiling her rotten. It didn’t matter as long as she was happy. The only problem was that I couldn’t take her out. I couldn’t show her off. I’d dated models, ex-beauty queens; nobody would understand my fascination with plain-looking Itohan. Looking back now, I guess I was too afraid of their censure, and felt too timid to convince my friends and family that beneath the geeky exterior, Itohan was all woman; pure and sensual.
Which reminds me of the first time we got intimate; I was at her tiny one bedroom apartment off campus that Sunday afternoon and she was making lunch. (did I mention that she’s a good cook?) I strode into her kitchenette determined to lend a helping hand but ended up kissing her. Somehow we found ourselves back in the living area/room, on the bed. Her citrus fragrance was heady, I felt a bit guilty like I was taking advantage of her but my body had simply betrayed my mind. The feel of her going down on me sent my guilt crashing like a pack of cards, my common sense careening out the door. Gosh!!!!!! This was some B.J.!!!!!! When I touched her down there she was soft and wet and welcoming. I sheathed myself in her warm folds and was rewarded with a satisfied purr. The release when it finally came was earth shattering.
Six months sped by with Itohan. She’d somehow come to terms with my inability to show her off. It even seemed she was content to have us meet mostly at her place and occasionally at mine. If she was sad about it, she never let it show. Since I spent so much time at her apartment, I ensured that the place though tiny, lacked no single comfort so we could enjoy our trysts. We spent many nights and many weekends after school, cooped up in that small space, with nothing but ourselves and our imagination.
Then it happened.
It was my mom’s 60th birthday party. My dad had retired as a director from the Ministry of International affairs and had gone into business after that. As expected all the big wigs in politics were in attendance. In the cheerfulness of the celebration, I saw my mom signaling for my attention, I moved close to her. She was standing with a young woman who by my estimates couldn’t be more than twenty five. I was thirty five at the time.
“Banjo, I want you to meet Senator Kolade’s daughter”, I heard my mom say
I mentally rolled my eyes in exasperation. I thought to myself, “not another senator’s daughter”
“Funke here just conclude her Masters in Canada, I hope you can make her welcome”, my mom continued, letting her statement cum question hang in the air. The tall beauty standing beside her smiled shyly at something. In her heels, she was as tall as I was.
“Sure thing mom”, I returned.
My mom gestured that I take her hand and winked conspiratorially. We’d acted this scene so many times, I’d practically lost count
As we walked away hand in hand I asked her, “So what brings you to Nigeria?”
“I’m here to stay”, she replied.
I would love to tell you that nothing happened between Funke and me. I would love to tell you that like with all the other senators daughters, we had a whirlwind romance and that was all. My mom seemed to have taken Funke under her wing and anointed her “The One”.
Itohan knew something was wrong when I stopped showing up frequently at her place. I told her I was under a lot of pressure at work, that we were working on a gas project that was taking my sleeping and waking moments. I knew she knew I was lying but she somehow accepted it and acquiesced to seeing me less and less often.
My mom kept nudging me to ask Funke to marry me. She was a bad choice for a wife either. She was intelligent and I found her attractive. And very much unlike the other daughters of senators I’d been with, she was pretty domesticated. She didn’t to hesitate to get her hands wet in the kitchen. Even the sex was good. Itohan remained my secret life.
Six months after I met Funke, I asked her to marry me. My mom went into over-drive planning the wedding. Her dreams were finally coming true.
I just had one small matter to contend with. To tell Itohan that I was getting married, well not against my wish but not exactly by my own making. For the first time I understood what it meant to be between a rock and a very hard place.
Exactly one year after meeting Funke at my mom’s birthday party, I walked down the aisle with Funke as man and wife. And as society weddings go, it was attended by the crème de la crème of society, from business moguls to top government functionaries to entertainment icons. Nosa, my best friend and roommate in graduate school at R.G.U had flown in from the U.K for my wedding. After the church service, family and friends flocked to congratulate us. That was when I sighted them. The man and woman were walking towards Funke and I, arm in arm, that quizzical half smile playing on the woman’s cheeks as she half turned to plant a kiss on the man’s cheek.
“Congrats mate” Nosa cheered
“Thanks man”, I replied without taking my eyes off the voluptuous beauty beside him. She was wearing a peach coloured number that hugged her curves in all the right places, leaving a man with ideas that his Sunday school teacher would definitely disapprove of. Her eyes were the softest colour of honey made so by her clever use of contact lenses. Funke noticed the more than cursory glance I directed at the lady and nudged me in the side with her elbow. I turned to look at her and smile.
“B.J. my man”, Nosa hailed again. I want you to meet my fianceé
I swallowed hard. He continued, “She was my kid sister’s classmate in primary school. She was the quintessential tomboy and a real pain in the neck too, especially when she insisted on tagging along with us older boys and I had to protect her from her silliness”, he jibed playfully, to which the lady rewarded him with an ineffectual swipe on the shoulder with a rolled up wedding program.
Nosa didn’t stop, “I was thrilled to find her on Facebook and all I can say is she’s the love of my life. I’m going to be in the country for a couple of months and I’m hoping that when you get back from your honeymoon, you guys can be guests of Itohan and me. She’s a really great cook.
Once again he congratulated me as he clapped me on the shoulder. He took her hand in his and they strode away. My eyes followed them as they left.

The Little Things in Love are the Sweetest

I saw this on a friend’s page and just knew I had
to share it since it seems we had been talking
about cheating and marriages gone bad for the
past few days. Some of us indeed, like the guy
in the story below, continue to get it wrong.
Enjoy reading this and do have a splendid time
with that special one in your life this Friday and
Forever…
My name is Dayo. I’m a typical Nigerian guy
and I cherish my Fridays a lot; I get to hang
out with the sickest guys every Friday night
and secondly, It’s another escape from my
nagging and boring wife. I get confused
sometimes on whether she’s my mother or
my wife. Don’t get it twisted; I love her
pieces. It just gets complicated; like I wish
we never got married…marriage has turned
her into something that doesn’t amuse me. I
wish she was still the adventurous,
charming, high spirited lady I dated for five
years.
A lot of people say its unethical for married
guys to be found in a club, but I wish
everyone won’t be too quick to judge and
understand that people look for fun to run
away from their problems; they just want to
breathe, like me.
I forgot to say that I work in Guarantee Trust
Bank along Lekki, I love my job and my job
loves me, maybe its because I’m the senior
banking officer. Lol. This particular
morning, a lady breezed into my office. My
heart raced faster because I had not sighted
anything this beautiful in a long while. She
wasn’t the typical slender Barbie, in fact, she
was a bit chubby but her smile, cuteness
and…I was tripped.
“Hi Good morning! Your ATM has swallowed
my card!” She laughed, unlike a typical
customer that would ram you.
I just tried to form Boss laughter…
“Good morning, You know what? I’d
personally make sure they get it out for you,
but not today. Can you wait till Monday?” I
smiled
“GTB shaaa! OK, can I just drop my number
so you could call me up or just text when its
ready so I don’t come twice? Please? My
name is Nancy” She blinked her eyes in a
funny way.
“Sure” I smiled
We exchanged numbers. What a lucky
Friday!
So it was 10:00pm and I headed to the club…
as usual my friends were chilling for me. My
wife had called a couple of times, I just
ignored it. She knows I’m never home
Friday nights.
“Look at you!” I heard someone say. I raised
my head and it was the Look at you!” I heard
someone say. I raised my head and it was the
ATM lady-Nancy.
“Wow, look at you too!” I was surprised to
see her but I was happy I didn’t have to wait
till Monday to see her again.
“Happy Friday!” She screamed because of
the noise, “Wanna dance?”
I didn’t even have the chance to answer, she
already pulled me to dance floor. I really
suck at dancing but she helped me; she was
a great dancer! I had fun! At some point we
decided to go to a private area and we
talked, ranging from work, business to
personal life. I tried to hide my ring as much
as possible, I certainly didn’t want this to end
now.
“You are a really wonderful lady. You are so
interesting…any guy would want to be with
you all day” I said.
“I wasn’t always like this but I have learned
the hard way that life is just too short to be
sad” she sang
Then her phone rang…
“Hey baby! Yeah I’m at the private lounge,
I’d like you to meet someone…alright boo”
she talked excitedly as usual.
I was in shock until this tall handsome man
walks up to her and kisses her.
“You were late. Meet Dayo; I met him this
morning, he’s helping with your ATM I told
you got swallowed and Dayo this is my B to
the O-O,” she laughed “Meet my husband
Kolade, we only come here to dance every
fortnight Friday; away from work, stress and
kids.”
“Wow, a pleasure” I managed to shake him
Then she stood now excitedly holding her
husband’s arms.
“Why don’t we invite Dayo for Mimi’s 16th
birthday tomorrow?” Her husband said
They have kids too? How long have they
been married and they look like a couple
just dating!
“Silly me, please come for my second
daughter’s 16th tomorrow. It would be an
honor” She brought out an I.V from her
purse. I began to feel so ashamed of myself…
this was another guy like me, getting it right
with one woman.
I collected the I.V and promised to be there.
“See you tomorrow! Have you had
something to eat Kolade?” she talked and
dragged her husband along.
They left and I kept staring atat the thin air
like I had seen a ghost. They come just to
dance together every fortnight Fridays? Why
didn’t I think of that! Temi loves to dance…
she also likes long walks, she loves to talk…
she loves jazz music, there’s this vivid
picture I have of me putting her hand on my
chest when we danced at a jazz club on our
first year anniversary…I found myself typing
all the things I knew Temi loved to do on my
Ipad and I realized I had denied her of all…I
had made her the old woman she acts.
What the hell was I doing here! I didn’t even
tell my friends goodbye, I walked out of the
club into my Jaguar. Temi’s call came
through and I picked at first ring.
“Temi?” My heart raced
“I know you are not coming home…”
“I am, stay up so we can gist. Been a while” I
decided to do everything on that list and to
even add many more for the rest of my
lifetime with her.
“Are you alright?” She was shocked I
suppose
“And I’d like us to go for a birthday party
tomorrow. I want you to meet this amazing
couple”
“You sound different Dayo”
“Maybe I’m different”
“Don’t say it! don’t say it! when you come we
will gist very well” she laughed
She laughed!!! In just that laughter that I
hadn’t heard in a while, she sounded like the
lady I married six years ago…
Dear reader,
I wrote this natural piece just to remind us
that creating memorable moments with our
partner matters. Do you know that little
things are the sweetest things? Just creating
time to gist and laugh with your partner,
having a day in the week that’s exclusively
for you both-No friends or kids allowed.
Lady, when last have you told your partner
he is so darn hot? Guy! When last have you
told your lady she is the sweetest thing?
When last have whispered ‘Thank you’?
When last have you been quick to say ‘I’m
sorry’?
Do you even have a clue on what your
partner loves to do?
When you ignore little things, they are the
little pieces of rocks that build up to become
a mountain you can’t easily break down.
Pay attention to little things, believe that
they work and experience new bliss!
Yours Truly, Lowla Dee.[Source]
I just had to share this with u guys…..wish u
luck!

DON’T GET MARRIED IF….

If you’re not ready to delay gratification when your are angry, to hold your tongue, lower your voice and sometimes wait till the appropriate time, day or even month before you can deal with an issue thoroughly…. don’t get married. Immaturity is the inability to delay gratification. Marriage is
for the mature.

If you’re not ready to leave centre-stage and allow someone else to become your focus, your study, your muse… don’t get married. Selfish people make very bad spouses. In marriage you don’t lose yourself but your heart has to be big enough to gain someone else. And soon, with God’s blessing: crying, diaper soiling, demanding little ones will start coming!

If you are not ready, to stand up
and calmly deal with meddling in-laws as a united front: The opinionated sister, the insensitive uncle, the domineering father, the manner less brother, the nosy aunt….. don’t get married. Boundaries do not exist automatically, they must be created. A good spouse is committed to respectfully standing up for and protecting their marriage from meddling relatives. Don’t abandon your spouse before your relatives. It’s
betrayal.

If you are not ready to pay bills….don’t get married. Love does not pay bills. PHCN will not give a
waiver because your love is “Oh so strong and your gazes at each other, Oh so romantic”.

If you are not ready to let go of your opposite sex “best friends” and invest that into your spouse to like, to laugh, to play, to be silly and to enjoy life with them, above anyone else… don’t get married.
Affairs happen because people do not marry their best friends. Someone else holds their heart. Someone else gets them better. Someone else
inspires them more. Marry your best friend and cultivate your friendship so that you remain best
friends.

If you are not ready to stop competing with the Joneses…. don’t get married. Let the Joneses buy their yatch when you are still walking, and enjoy the walk. Your journeys are different. They may have to cross the oceans but you may be going through the road route. A boat might not do you any good on your journey. You must be ready to pace yourselves: stop competing, stop spending your future before you get there, stop the debt, stop trying to impress people. You must be content to enjoy your journey without defining your happiness simply by measuring your progress against other people.

If you are not ready to be an open book. To tell the whole story of your past, deal with the memories, expose the failures and risk rejection….don’t
get married. It is fraud to have someone sign off their life to you without the full details. The past is a
touchy and demanding friend. It always shows up in the marriage. It doesn’t enjoy being ignored and the more you snob, the bolder it becomes and the more tantrums it throws. It will mess up the “neat” and “all together lovely” image that you are struggling to maintain.

If you are not ready to let go of your philandering and wild oats sowing…. don’t get married.
Don’t take somebody’s son or daughter and subject them to your germs and your indiscretions. It never ends well. It’s romanticised in the movies, it’s being fronted as the only “realistic” way to stay married and keep the fire burning. But truth be told, the only thing that the fire will burn will be you, your spouse and your children. That family will
burn for generations in bitterness, disease, fear, failure, hatred, broken hearts, broken dreams and
conniving.

Finally, if you are not ready to let
go of the adrenalin rush of a risque life and to settle down….don’t get married. The great Colombus who
we are told “discovered” America, had a diary that was long sought after. People wanted to read about the wild journeys, the tempestuous seas, the reckless pirates they fought, the death and the danger they must have encountered. When it was found, there was great disappointment. Majority of the pages simply had 5 words: “This day, we sailed on.” Marriage, like life in general, has many “we sail on” days. You have to learn to find the thrill in the normal ‘everydayness’ of it. If you depend on wild romance, all night sex [ha], romantic cruises, wild parties, impulsive moves across continents, tempestuous fights and make up sessions to be happy, you may be disappointed. You have to learn to thrill in gentle smiles, loving hugs, knowing looks, cozy moments, shared chores, cute babies,
everyday work, dreaming together, praying together and simply living together. If these things are not thrilling, exciting and satisfying, you will look for a way out. The “boom twaff” moments are still there, but they are normally punctuations to the ‘usualness’ of living. They cannot be your reason for getting married. They are unsustainable on an everyday basis. The one you choose must be thrilling to you even in the most mundane of moments.

Never let anyone pressure you into marriage. You are either ready or you’re not: You decide!. But please don’t marry somebody and then punish them to live with your childish ways for the rest of their lives.
A childish baby is cute but a childish adult is extremely frustrating.

Completely finished

This is the story of how i went from COMPLETE to FINISHED to COMPLETELY FINISHED.

Thursday 20th December. 5:45am
It was a cold harmattan morning. I was driving out of the estate where i lived. With me in the car was Rukky, my girlfriend of three years, fiancé, live-in lover, woman of my dreams and mother of my unborn children. I was on my way to work. I was also taking Rukky to the park to board a vehicle to Port Harcourt. She was travelling for the yuletide. We rode together in silence. At the park, i offloaded Rukky’s stuff from d trunk of the car. She drew me into a vice-like hug and clung to me like a wispy willow. I placed a kiss on her right cheek and carefully extricated myself from her grip.
“Traffic is building, i have to go”, i said. She nodded sadly.
I swallowed nervously and walked back to the car. She stood watching till i drove off in a haze of dust and smoke

Friday December 7th. 11:50pm
I was dog tired. It had been a very long day and a last minute hitch at work had sent all my TGIF plans into a tailspin. All i wanted to do now was crawl into bed and cuddle with Rukky. I was alone with my thoughts on the expressway. No traffic! As i approached the estate gate i noticed a figure in the semi-darkness flagging my car. I slowed down. Nothing wey person no go see for this Lagos. Who is this one now on the road? I shrugged and drove past while trying to catch a glance of the figure in my rear view mirror. The figure i saw was decidedly female. She looked distressed. There i was thinking she was one of those “ladies of the night.” But what i saw suggested otherwise. I applied my brakes. She ran towards my car
“Please…a..are you going into the estate?” she asked breathlessly
“Yes i am” i replied hesitantly giving her a thorough once over.
First i noticed her hair was cut in a mohawk. I also noticed the wide set innocent looking eyes and full lips set in a heart shaped face. And the perky breasts that i couldn’t take my eyes off. I suspected she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath the dark coloured tank top she was putting on.
“Are you going into the estate” she asked again, bringing me back to the present
“Oh yes! Come in” i responded brightly
The almost tearful face broke into the cutest smile i’d ever seen on a woman. Even in the semi-darkness, her even white teeth gleamed in perfection.
“I’m really sorry about this”, she tried to apologise.
“I know you don’t know me, but we live on the same street. She continued when i didn’t respond
” I got here only to discover the estate shuttle has closed for the day. I’ve been standing here for about half an hour hoping someone would give me a ride home. Then you came”
“Oh no, it’s nothing”, i heard myself say
Her scent permeated my car. It was a heady scent. I wanted to ask her where she was coming from at this time of the night. I wanted to ask her why she was out so late knowing she didn’t have any means of personal transportation. I started getting angry. I didn’t know why but a kind of anger just welled up inside me so much that when she tried to make small talk i promptly cut her off.
I turned into my street.
“My house is the next one”
No way! What? This girl who managed to stir feelings of anger and desire in me at the same time lived just two houses away from me? I stopped the car and let her off.
I said a silent prayer of thanks that i’d scaled through this one successfully.
As expected, Rukky was in bed. She looked beautiful even as she slept, clad in nothing but the blood red silk nightie i’d bought for her last valentine. The hem had ridden up such that the pale flesh of her thighs was exposed. I slipped into bed and slid my hands under the hem of her nightie letting my palm brush her intimately. She purred in acquiescence

Monday 24th December. 4:35pm
It was Christmas Eve. Most offices were working half day. I closed at 2pm, made a quick stop at Shoprite for drinks and groceries and decided to head home to a quiet christmas. I didn’t have to bother about food, Rukky had made sure to stock the fridge with soups and stew before travelling. All i had to do was microwave and eat. I wondered to myself how i would survive without Rukky. Already i’d told my best friend Seun that this coming year would see me getting married. “The sooner, the better”, he had said
I turned into my street, gbam! There she was. The mohawk girl. She was standing in front of her gate. I wanted to reverse the car and put as much distance between myself and her but i knew i couldn’t do that. I was inching closer to her gate now, she was smiling. I slowed down out of courtesy and honked. She waved at me. I suddenly realised i’d stopped in front of her gate and that i had wound the glass down. I felt cornered.
“Merry christmas, stranger”, i heard myself say
“Merry christmas”, she replied, eyes brimming with laughter.
“How’s the holiday going for you?” she enquired
“Boring”
“Why now? With all the parties and shows everywhere?” she asked incredulously
“Well”, i said throwing my hands up in surrender. She stared at me
“Why don’t you hop in so we can go grab a drink?”
I knew i had just messed up my plans of a quiet evening of Rukky’s dinner and TV. I knew i shouldn’t be doing what i was about to do. But i consoled myself that i wasn’t hurting anybody just yet. Besides what evil could come out of a harmless drink? So i reversed the car and we drove off.
Over drinks she told me her name is Tracy. She is a student of Uniben and was in Lagos to see her mom who lives in the estate with her step-father. I found her exciting, almost intriguing. She was drinking so much i wondered if i should stop her in her tracks. She asked me if i smoke and i shook my head in the negative. She stepped out and came back with a pack of cigarettes. She moved to light a stick and blew smoke rings in my face. I snatched the cigarette from her lips. She laughed in mock surprise and lit another one. Hour after hour sped by, and by the time i checked my wristwatch, it was 8:00pm.
I told her it was time to leave. She looked sad but obliged. She tried to stand up and swayed from side to side in the process. I moved in to support her so she wouldn’t fall. Her heady scent was all over me. Citrus and something i couldn’t quite place my finger on. She hung on to me as if for dear life. I felt the stirrings of an erection as i half carried, half dragged her to the car.
Though slightly tipsy myself, i managed to drive us home in one piece. I congratulated myself that it all went well. Or didn’t it go well?

Tuesday 25th December
I woke up to a knock on the gate. I was hoping that the visitor would get tired and leave but the banging continued loud and insistent. It appeared whoever it was knew i was at home and would not leave as i’d hoped. I sat up groggily and dragged myself into the sitting room wondering who it was that had the brazing effrontery to disturb my sleep on christmas morning. I opened the gate to find Tracy with a cooler of food in one hand smiling impishly.
“Merry christmas, i hope you slept well” she said bubbling past me into the compound.
I was still standing there as she walked into the living room. I locked the gate and quickly moved after her
I got in to discover she was in the kitchen. She was dishing portions of sweet smelling jollof rice and chicken from the cooler into two plates. I swallowed hungrily remembering how i’d fallen into bed immediately i got home in my semi-drunk state last night. I also remembered that my groceries were still in the car. I went out to get them. When i came back, she was not in the living room, neither was she in the kitchen. I checked the visitor’s toilet off the living room and she wasn’t there too. I made for my bedroom and there i found her sitting on my bed holding a framed picture of Rukky and I in her hands. I took the picture from her and set it back on the night stand
“She’s beautiful”
“Hmm” i grunted for want of a better reply
She stood up from the bed, she barely reached up to my chin but she stretched up on tiptoe to plant a kiss on my chin. She turned to walk away. I grabbed her shoulders and spun her around to face me and kissed her hard, punishing her with my tongue. But she welcomed the pain and matched me thrust for thrust. I slid my hands from her shoulders to her chest and my palms brushed past her breasts. She shuddered in delight. She quickly drew out of my embrace so she could take off her top and the pair of jeans she was putting on. Just as i had suspected the other night, there was no bra. Clad in nothing but a lace G-string she matched me stare for stare. I dragged her into an embrace, crushing her perky breasts against my chest. I found her soft lips again and kissed her, this time with all the longing in my veins. I quickly shrugged out of my boxers and tees and we fell on the bed together.
She got on top of me, trailing kisses down my chin, my nipples, one, then the other. She went down to my belly button and further still. When her warm mouth closed down on me it was like a jolt of electricity. I grabbed her mohawk and pushed myself further down her throat. She somehow managed to accommodate my girth in that mouth of hers. She went down on me like nobody’s business and just when i was about shooting it up to heaven, she stopped.
“Oh no no no no no”, i moaned in protest.
“Don’t stop”
She straddled me and guided me into her warm, moist receptacle. The world stopped for a fraction of a second. Then she started bouncing up and down. I grabbed her waist as she continued in that timeless rhythm. She guided my hands to her nipples, i squeezed them hard. She moaned, throwing her head back in delight. My release came sooner than i’d anticipated. Sweeter and more satisfying than any i’d ever experienced. I opened my eyes to find Rukky staring back at me from the picture on the night stand. I reached for the picture and turned it face down. Tracy looked at me but said nothing. She quietly got off and moved to wear her clothes.
I got to the kitchen, the two plates of food were still sitting on the counter. I suddenly remembered that i was hungry. I grabbed one of the plates as well as a drink from the fridge. I settled myself on the couch in front of the TV in the living room. She also took her food and came to sit beside me on the couch. We barely made it through the meal before we went at each other again.

For the next one week, our lives, Tracy and mine fell into a routine of sorts. Through out the holidays we were practically together. She would come as early as 7am and not leave until midnight. After all she lived just two houses away. By the time work resumed after christmas, it was just natural to give her a key to my place so she could let herself in while i was at work. It was a thrill to come home every evening to a clean house and freshly cooked dinner. After dinner we would smoke a joint together and “swing from the chandeliers”. After she’d encouraged me to try it a few times, i finally gave in and totally enjoyed the high i got from smoking pot.
Somewhere in the back of my mind i felt we had a tacit understanding that this thing we had was a temporary affair. A fleeting madness. We never talked about it. We just went with the flow.

Monday 31st December. 8:35pm
I hadn’t seen Tracy since last night. I couldn’t reach her through her phone number. I walked up to her gate but i was unable to muster the courage to knock. I walked back to my place dejected.

Saturday 5th January. 3:50pm
I hadn’t seen Tracy all week. I still couldn’t reach her on her mobile because it was switched off. I drove past her house, willing the gate open so i could see Tracy’s smiling face again. I shook my head at myself and continued on. I was on my way to the park to pick Rukky up.
Rukky hugged me in delight when she saw me. My conscience was eating me alive

Monday 7th January. 5:32am
We were getting ready for work, Rukky and I. I still couldn’t believe Tracy just left like that. Without a word. I was angry at her, at myself. I barely went through the motions this weekend with Rukky. She sensed something was not right but i brushed it off as nothing. My performance in bed was even worse. I couldn’t even concentrate.

“Mena, have you seen my jewellery box?”
I was brought back to the present by Rukky’s quizzing voice
“Its in the wardrobe now”
“No its not”
“Where did you leave it before you travelled?”
“In the wardrobe of course”
We were running late. I didn’t understand why Rukky chose to lose her jewellery box on a monday morning.
“Please let’s go. You’ll search for it in the evening”
She obliged me grudgingly and we left for work…

Monday,7th January. 7:50pm
I was trying to watch the news when Rukky stormed into the living room:
“Mena, i’m still looking for my jewellery box oh”
“You mean you haven’t seen it?”
“No, i haven’t ”
I followed her to the room to find all our clothes on the floor. She had practically turned the wardrobe inside out in search of the jewellery box. She was sitting on the floor rifling through the things she had deposited there still searching for the elusive box
She stood up straight and looked me in the face.
“Mena, where is my jewellery box”
I stared back in confusion and then it hit me. She noticed the moment the switch flicked on in my head and she seized it.
“Yes….tell me. I’m waiting”
I feigned anger.
“What do you mean by tell me? Are you saying i stole my girlfriend’s jewellery? I said, raising my voice
“I’m not saying anything” she replied calmly. Just tell me where my jewellery box is
I stormed out of the house and got into the car. I drove to Tracy’s house and anger fuelled my courage to knock the gate.
A woman in her mid forties appeared at the gate. I asked to see Tracy and she replied that Tracy had gone.
“To where?” I enquired
“I don’t know and i don’t care” came her reply.
“That good for nothing daughter of mine tried to sleep with my husband. Sometimes i wonder if she’s really mine”, she fumed
At this point my hands were on my head, i was close to tears
“Madam, my entire relationship depends on Tracy’s whereabouts”
“If i don’t see Tracy, i am finished”
She peered at me as if seeing me for the first time.
“Maybe you can call this number”. She went into the house and came back with the number written on a piece of paper. She moved to close the gate, i had been dismissed.
I called the number, Tracy picked up. I asked her if she took my Rukky’s jewellery box and she replied in the affirmative. I was speechless. I asked her why, she said she didn’t know why. She hung up. I called her back, she refused to pick up.

Monday 7th January, 2013. 10:50pm
I sat in the car for two hours. I couldn’t bring myself to knock the gate. I could see my well planned future of marrying Rukky falling apart right before my eyes. I finally let myself in. The house was quiet. Rukky had fallen asleep on the pile of clothes on the floor. I quickly grabbed a pillow and made for the couch in the living room. I would face my demons tomorrow but for now i needed a good night’s sleep.
Sleep eluded me. I tossed and turned all night.
Please what should i do? Should i confess my sins and risk losing the woman i love or tell a lie that may come back to haunt me later? I need your help

Ciao

The Valentine

The Valentine.

Kci and Jojo in Yola

Did i accidentally walk into the Sahara desert? Or was the sun coming down in June? (Kci and Jojo’s lyrics) At 5am in this part of Nigeria, the sun is up and by 12 noon its a real terror. I’m talking about Yola. Here i am serving Nigeria, whatever that means. I’ve just spent the last three weeks being baked under the scorching sun in camp and i’m craving the coolness of the south-south. (Lord! Na so this one year wan be?)
I’ve been posted to Zenith bank for my primary assignment. And i’m not in a village (i’m on a roll baby). On this particular morning i am rushing headlong for the cool interior of a First Bank branch. My mission? To open a Corper account. I also need to escape the oppressive heat that’s beating down on my shoulders. Thankfully the interior of the bank offers the much needed succour.
I head straight for the customer service desk and plop in the seat like a rag doll. The guy on the other side of the desk is staring at me like i’m something the cat dragged in. Well I’m too tired to care. He can sit in this air conditioned haven all day and stare all he likes. I reach into my handbag to retrieve my handkerchief and mop my face. My feminine consciousness finally gets the better of me.
Ahem, “so how may i help you?”
“Oh!” I’ve all but forgotten i’m here to do something. The AC must be blowing my brain cold i muse.
“I’m here to open a Corper account”, i say
He’s leaning forwards, elbows resting on his desk but now he pushes his seat backwards and stands up to get the forms from the drawer nearby. I get a good look at him. Average height, dark, broad shoulders, generally presentable. (I’m not good at describing how men look joo, just let me finish the story)
He returns to the desk with the forms and smiles as he hands them to me. I notice his gap-tooth. My heart skips a beat.
I fill the forms and hand them back to him. He looks at the form
“Jerha! What a name! Where are you from?”
“Delta state”, I reply.
“Welcome to Yola, he says. “I see you’re new”
“Yes i am”
“By the way I’m Kelechukwu but my friends call me KC”
“Nice to meet you, KC”
He goes to work on my forms and i am left to savour the comfort of the AC in silence. (Who say oyinbo nor dey try?)
“So here’s your account number and atm card” he’s saying
“And your withdrawal booklet”
“Thank you. That was fast” I say incredulously. I was kinda hoping the process would drag a bit longer
He smiles in return.
“Welcome”
He flicks his wrist to check the time on his TISSOT wristwatch.
“It’s 12:59pm and its my lunch hour” he says
“Really?”
“Yeah, wanna join me?” “It’s just next door”
“Ok then”
So we walk out the branch into the scorching sun and find our way to the Mr. Biggs outlet next door. (It’s Yola, no KFC, TFC, or sweet sensation)
Over lunch he tells me he’s been here for a little over a year. He was sent here right after his recruitment. I kind of pity him. Imagine being stuck here because of a job. I so wanted this year to be over so i could leave this place and go someplace else. Anywhere but here.
Lunch is pretty much uneventful but he does ask for my number at the end. I’m excited as i board a taxi for the Corpers’ Lodge where i live. There’s something about his gap-toothed smile that stirs my blood. And boy does he ever stop smiling? I tell myself its part of his customer service training to smile. (Who are you kidding, Jerha?)
I resume work at Zenith bank the following week. My life has fallen pretty much into a routine. KC calls me every morning, noon and night now. Not to mention the slew of romantic text messages in between. We have lunch together anytime i can get away from work and even when i can’t he comes to see me at the Corpers’ Lodge when he closes from work. I’m enjoying the attention. Who wouldn’t?
It takes him a full month to invite me to his house; a really spacious bachelor pad somewhere in GRA. In fact i’d all but concluded that he’s either married or has a live-in lover. And i didn’t want to pry.
Our weekends follow a particular pattern. I come over on saturday morning, we do our laundry together, (need i mention that Corpers’ Lodges were not made to be comfortable or convenient especially for washing?), I make breakfast or lunch depending on what time we finish washing and we watch The Game (yeah football). By evening he drops me off at C.L with a hug and a kiss on my cheek.
And so our lives continue for the next four months. Four whole months and KC has not made a move to pop the cherry. I start worrying if he is gay and is just using me as a cover so people would think he’s straight. It’s saturday afternoon again and we’re watching “The Game.” We’re sitting side by side on the sofa. Its half time and he turns to me with this queer look on his face
“Can i kiss you?”
“Sorry?”
“I said, can i kiss you?”
“Yes” i reply but i’m thinking, “of course you can you dummy! What took you so long?”
His lips are soft against mine and kissing him is like a tall drink on a hot day in Yola. Refreshing!
We’re both breathing hard now. He’s touching me everywhere. I’m tugging at his shirt. We definitely ain’t gonna make it to the room. The second half of the game has commenced but we’re too “busy” to care. I welcome KC’s weight on me, his hardness against my softness. Every thrust is well worth the wait…
I’m practically floating on Cloud Nine when KC drops me off that evening at the Corpers’ Lodge.
Service year speeds by. Why won’t it? Time flies when you’re having fun. Here i am, in love with the most wonderful, caring, generous man on planet earth.
On the morning of my Passing Out I wake up to see KC staring at me with a smile on his face. I smile back.
“I’ve got a little passing out present for you”
“Yay!!!!!!” I shriek with delight
He reaches under the bed and pulls out a wrapped box. I open it to find a Samsung SIII.
I throw my arms around him and start kissing him. He kisses me back while his fingers find other ways to be useful.
That evening we go to C.L to pack my stuff. I move in with KC. Yola is where my heart is!
A gift