Do you believe in love spell?
Meet a desperate 33 year old lady. Her name is Kofoworola.

© The girl in glasses 2020.
All rights reserved.
This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part by any means at all without permission of the author.

ONE

My name is Kofoworola, I'm a thirty three year old Yoruba lady from Ogun State. At age nine I was orphaned, I lost my parents in road traffic accident along Akure-Ilesha expressway. That was how my journey into the life of an orphan begun.

I had no sponsor for the best part of six years, I was living from hand to mouth. Everyone who made a promise to me on the day my parents were buried at the Cemetery disappeared on me within a month. My dad's Carpenter's association visited me, and gave me six spaghettis, a packet of maggi, a packet of salt, five cups of rice, four satchel noodles, a tuber of yam with four thousand naira. Trust me, this was the most I have ever received from strangers. My mom's late friends who sold garri in Lagos, came with a polybag filed with garri. That was the last time I saw them all.

The neighbours took advantage of the fact that I had no living relatives who gave a damn about me and turned me into a messenger, every errand that needs to be ran was done by me even as late as ten in the night it was always Kofoworola while their own children are within the safety of the house or in school enjoying school life.
After the one year rent my parent's paid in advance expired, the landlord came to send me out of our one room apartment. I pleaded with him and gave him my inheritance (Freezer and generator) in exchange for another one year rent, that was how I fixed the problem of shelter at almost eleven years old. I had exchanged most of my parents clothing and plates for money which I spent on cooking food for myself.

I have always been smart as a child so I figured if I was going to be a messenger, I better make the most out of it. So I went in search of a sales girl job at the garage. Luckily, I found one closer to the house where I helped serve foods and drinks to customers, wash plates and assist with cooking. I earned two hundred and fifty naira daily and i ensured to save hundred naira with the daily contributors that comes to the garage everyday.

Madam Adun as she was fondly named by her customers cooked way better than most men's wives. As early as four in the morning we(her employees) will be at the shop peeling beans, making eko and preparing the ingredients for the rest of the meals. At six n the morning we are busy selling eko and moimoi to passengers and drivers. And when we are done with that, we switched to preparing ata dudu and egba rice with beans and dodo. People from everywhere (including Lagos) come down to Shagamu to buy the popular black stew. In the evening we are back to selling ebripo and egusi soup.

Madam Adun was a very strict woman, she hated liars and thieves and was quick to replace employees who misbehaved. Madam only allowed us to eat leftovers. You are either paying for your food or eat leftovers of customers, ruined foods and almost spoilt food. Madam Adun was a rich childless woman, she had been married two times and was kicked out from the unions because she had no child. I don't know if it bothered her when she was alone at night, but she was mostly happy during the day and never acted motherly towards anyone of us. Even my story as orphan did not move her. It was strictly business for her, and if you don't work to her satisfaction, you're fired.

I was the only one who worked for her for six years. Some of the employees were either fired or got pregnant or left to learn a trade. Eventually, I became the senior most staff and my money increased to four hundred naira per day. Although the money I made went into rent, I still had a large amount as savings left. So when Madam Adun remarried in her late fifties and sold her shop and moved to Ibadan with her new husband. I didn't feel extremely sad or devastated, I just knew I was going to miss her because she was major inspiration in my teen years. She was hard work itself. She told me the night she was travelling, that I should ensure I married early. That it was her late marriage that led to her childlessness. If she had married before age thirty three, rather than waiting for the love of her life, she would have at least five children. But she was unlucky to have entered menopause so early in her life.
So guys here's me on July 1st still single at thirty three and poor but luckily still menstruating. It was not like I didn't listen to Madam Adun's advice. But the last fifteen years flew by with little explanation from my own end. Shortly after Madam left Shagamu, I enrolled for Junior Waec at a private school, the result came out and I had Pass in nine subjects and four credits in the remaining four subjects. Do not blame me, the last time I was in school was when my parents were alive. And i had only four months to prepare for the exams.


I enrolled into a Government technical school at Ilara Remo where I studied Catering. I did exceptionally well both in practicals and theory. I was even the best in my class. I could say aside from my childhood experience with my parents, this was another memory I cherished a lot. Being in school made me feel like my dream was a complete one. My parents wanted me not to be an illiterate like them, even though they are no longer living on Earth I knew they would be proud of me. After three years of study, I graduated at age twenty two.

Catering as you know is wide and lucrative. I wanted to go to the university, but I was broke as hell by the time I left technical school. With no assistance from anyone, I was responsible for my feeding housing, transport and practical fees. It was during the four months I.T that I made some money which I used to for a room at Shagamu. I eventually got a job at an hotel where I was paid fifteen thousand naira monthly. This went on for the three years, the men I met were usually married male customers, insincere young men, yahoo boys, drug users. I eventually dated an older guy at age twenty six. He introduced me to God and for him I became a devout. We prayed together, he spoke in tongue, I fasted.

Eventually, he encouraged me to quit my job because it was an immoral place to work. I was virtually living in church and feeding from there too. Everything was worldly in his eyes; Movies, makeup, trousers, hair attachment. Within one year we dated, I had changed greatly, I always appeared in long boring skirts, long sleeves and beret on my head. As a girl who never dated before, everything he did in my eyes was amazing. He insisted I referred to him as "Brother Jide" God forbid he should be called his name without adding his favorite prefix; "brother or pastor Jide".

Five good years brother Jide was still courting me while almost everyone was married in the church. Even new members.

In the end, brother Jide got married to an Ekiti lady that joined our church less than six months. His excuse was, his parents were against him marrying from ijebu. This was a grown ass man, who acted like Jesus in all things but couldn't rise above trivial thing like tribalism. Without so much as a " sorry", I was dumped by him. And this set tongues wagging. I felt cheated, the last five years I dedicated my life to him. I prayed and fasted along with him as he worked toward his advancement. Now a pastor, and the one thing he rewarded me with was dumping me. I left my job, catered for free in the church at every festival. I wished I had remained at the hotel maybe I would have been married or working in a good restaurant or owned a business. Or go to the university like I dreamed of. I felt cheated of everything; dignity, time, everything.

We were never intimate but he stole my youth and time. He made me look like an abandoned goods. No gentleman in the church would date his leftover, and if there was ever a newcomer that was interested in me, I was sure the gossipers will tell my story to him . Everyone views about me shifted, they spun a tale about my past as a worker at the hotel, how I slept around before pastor Jide found me. Like that wasn't enough, eight months later after his marriage, his wife lost their pregnancy. And everyone pointed their dirty fingers at me as the witch that drank the pregnancy, the same members that begged me not to stop coming to church because he got married to someone else almost burnt me at the stake. I left the church. But I had no peace in Shagamu, everywhere I go people whispered behind me. No one wanted to rent their house to me. I went back to Ilara Remo and started all over again. I sold puff puff and buns in front of the school and slept in the mosque at night. This went on for months and before I knew it, I was thirty two and dead broke.

There was this old baba at the mosque that was very nice to me, he was above eightty and made me laugh real good that most times I forgot about my wasted five years. Baba was curious about my story, why I was unmarried and I told him everything. He felt sorry for me and praised me for being responsible and strong.

It was one of those days we laughed together that he gave me a charm. It was a black soap and a locally made mirror. He told to me to wash my face with the soap and look into the mirror for three days while reciting a chant that went thus:
"the day a child looks into the mirror, that's the day she meets her creator. I Kofoworola the daughter of Folake should meet my creator today"
He said after I meet my target I will recite another chant looking in the same local mirror that went thus:
"Olushalala(3x) take my image to (the name of the person) let him see me in his dreams, let him be restless with the thoughts of me, let his mind be filled with love for me"

It was a potent love charm he got from his forefathers. He warned me against using it in Ilara because it was a small town filled with illiterates. He believed I deserved a rich man who would give me the world. I told him I didn't believe in a charm or anything anymore. Baba encouraged me to use it, he said looking into the mirror for the first three days would made by face shine beautifully and he said the last chant would sealed the man's fate with mine. He said it would be the best thing that had ever happened to me. I asked him if the charm had a repercussion and he asked me in return if there was one thing on Earth whether good or bad that has no repercussion. He was right. For all the goods I have done, what has been my reward? For all the day evils that happened to me, what has been my rewards? There were colleagues of mine at the hotel that slept with married men their lives are better than mine who spent years in church. But I didn't accept the charm from him that day, it was six months after he came back from Lagos where he had protastectomy done that he insisted I have it. He said;
"Kofo, you're a good child. Whle I was at the hospital with my kids, it was your thoughts that filled my mind. I have no property to give you except a room in this house my children built for me. If my sons are not married, I would gladly match make you. But they already have grown up kids" he pulled out the charm from under his bed and gave it to me.
"This is best thing you can ever have from me. It was only made from plants not human body parts" .
Few months after, baba died and I was still stuck in poverty, selling puff puff.

Today at thirty three, I realized the truth of life "whether your actions on Earth are all good, it wouldn't stop you from experiencing misfortunes. And whether all your actions are all evils, it wouldn't stop you from enjoying some fortunes".


Thirty three and poor. No husband. No children. And my ex was enjoying his marriage, after the witch left the church, his wife gave birth to a healthy baby boy.
So guys I have had enough. True to Baba's word he gave me his room, his children didn't mind me having it. I rented it out and collected two year rent that amounted to eighty six thousand naira with agreement fee. Thirty three year old and what I had in my account was a little over hundred thousand naira. It was time I moved to Lagos and meet that rich man.

Don't you guys want to know what I look like? I'm over five feet, chocolate like Ini Edo, face like Tiwa Savage and a gorgeous body like Yemi Alade. With this physical features and a potent love charm, I knew I would land a man soon.

If you're a man living in Lagos and don't want to be charmed, kindly stay away from Sheraton hotel, and all those big hotels in Lekki because Kofoworola is out to hunt.

You're back. More plzz

Two

Two weeks in Lagos and I had less than thirty thousand naira in my account. I was fuking desperate, it just have to happen because I am not returning to Remo. I have done the first stage of the charm, I lodged in a low budget hotel and I visited Sheraton by day, using the pool, lurking in the hallways and the men avoided me like plague as if they knew I was on a mission.

When they didn't come to me, I walked up to them striking up a conversation, some of these men are married so I cancelled them. I didn't have the energy for polygyny dramas. What if the wife 'went out' and got a better charm to destroy mine? With Baba dead, I had no one who knew how to mix plants together for a potent charm. And I do not intend to start moving from one native doctor house to the other. I just want to meet that problem-free rich man and enjoy my loot in peace.

It seemed like nothing would happen at Sheraton. It was filled with old married men, so I restrategize. Going to a beach or night clubs was out of the question because both the rich and( the poor that's living a fake life) frequented the place and there was no way I could distinguished between the two in a single night plus I am running out of cash. With my browsing phone, I googled eligible rich Nigerian men. I found several on the lists, from Don'jazzy and the likes of him in entertainment industry to Adenuga's son and businessmen sons like him. I focused on the businessmen sons, the only one who seems reachable and does not live in Obodo oyinbo like the rest of them was Qasim Akinronbi. His father was a four times Senator before he retired into oblivion. His son owned the popular five star hotels in mega cities called "Sima". The family was into selling cars. In short, they had plenty businesses across Nigeria. Qasim had made it to Forbes twice before he was thirty. Presently, he was thirty five and he had live the life I could only dream of. He had his university education at Oxford University, Masters at Harvard University and I only had a technical certificate in Catering. This life like they say is not balance at all. I knew we are world apart, I already envisaged the problems I was likely to face. They include his parents going against the marriage, his friends looking down on me. But I honestly I do not care, my eyes have tear. If I married a poor man, I could face something similar, so I believed if I wanted to suffer why not inside a Ferrari instead of Keke napep. I settled my mind on Qasim, the next plan was to see face to face with him.

One of his hotels was located in Magodo, dressed in black short chiffon gown with black heels, small earrings and long wine colored braids, I went to Magodo. I met the gateman who was kind to me, and told me Oga only come to Magodo on Thursday around ten in the morning. I was overjoyed, I spun around, danced makosa with shaku shaku. Thursday was going to be my lucky day.

The Yorubas said if humans knew the day they would become wealthy, they wouldn't run helter skelter. I knew Thursday was the so I spent my days lazing around, dreaming of the possible things I could do with his money; like getting a proper education, giving birth to beautiful kids, owning chains of restaurants, travelling to different countries, having my own husband. I was just so happy about the possibility of me having a very happy life. No more selling puff Puff at the roadside.

I literally danced to Thursday, dressed in another dope white short gown with open toes sandal. My painted toenails was peeking out beautifully in their green color. I felt great, I felt fabulous in my cheap wears. All I needed from Qasim was five minutes, before I cast love spell on him and bind him to me forever. I was at Magodo before ten, I watched several cars entered the hotel but I didn't see Qasim in any of those cars. I had stared at his pictures for days that if I had seen him in the dark I would recognized him. When it was twelve pm, I went to the gateman, luckily he was on duty. He told me Oga was late today, but he would still show up before evening. My shoulders sagged with disappointment, I had reapplied my make up twice and it was all for nothing. I sat down under the shade with the gateman, for a man he was good with gossip. He told me about the employees character, especially those ones that walked by. He kept me entertained with his talk and even offered me coke with sausage which I accepted with gratitude. I was hungry already.

At exactly four pm, another car came in, the gateman saluted many times and told me that was Oga Qasim. I looked into the car and asked him again
"Who did you say he is?"
"That's Oga Qasim na, the former senator" he answered
"What the Bleep?" I screamed in my mind. Sitting in the car was a seventy year old man with potbelly.
"I want to see his son, Qasim. Not him"
He looked at me like I was crazy or yearning rubbish. I eventually calm down, he went to the man and answered some few questions before heading back to me.
"You should have talk say you wan see Qasim junior. They share the same first name. Oga senator na Akinronbi Qasim Akinyemi. His son na Akinronbi Qasim Akinpelu.

At that moment, I almost went literally mad. Over hundred thousand naira spent on foolishness. Now I am left with seven thousand naira. I can't even close my eyes and imagined what my life would be in two weeks time. I had practically nothing, all that was left was me returning to nought. In few days time, I would have no choice but to return Ilara Remo, start sleeping in the mosque and selling puff puff with less than three thousand naira. No, that was not a life I desired for myself. I couldn't stay in Lagos, I had no one that would house me.
" I'm sorry, I didn't know that. How can I find Qasim junior " I said

"Why you dey look for am? I been dey think say you be one of those girls bringing Oga some goodies" he said with his glassy eyes over raking my body.

"No sir. I want to seek for his assistance" I said and he looked me over again.

"Hmm, I hope say you no be hired assassin. Anyway Qasim junior dey move around with his own security. I don't know why I even dey help you, but with that your shining face, I cannot say no" he said smiling

With the mention of my shining face, I strengthened my resolve, I must meet Qasim junior no matter the cost.

"He dey always come here every Friday night. Tomorrow na big night o, Kachi go play inside the big hall wey we get. Because tomorrow na Qasim junior birthday"

I almost hugged him for that information.
I will meet my creator tomorrow.
I knew it was going to be an exclusive party, but I am going to give it whatever it takes.

I went back to my hotel and offered to clean the rooms, luckily the manager agreed to my request. They were short staffed and needed more hands. I cleaned more than fifteen rooms, washed dirty bed spreads. By one in the morning I was done and exhausted, the manager gave me a sum of seven thousand naira, I paid another #3500 for a room with one window and a fan. I looked around me, and asked myself "Is this one life".
But I knew tomorrow, my fortune would change.

Following!!!

Following

Three

I got to Sima hotel as early as 8am. All night I had formulated a lie that would get me into the exclusive hall for Qasim's birthday celebration. I had packed a sexy peach sleeveless jumpsuit and another of my cheap heels. I found out during my Christian days that I look the best version of me in my styled natural hair. I loose the braid, washed my hair with toilet soap, styled it Afro like and I knew I look great. The best I have ever looked. Today again, I met the gateman at his duty post.

After exchanging pleasantries, I asked if he doesn't run shift.
" Oga Qasim allow me to do morning only. I have been working for him for over two decades. There are other security officers everywhere. This place is big o. If you are not careful, you can get lost" he said smiling.

The animated conversation went on for hours. Till he was ready to leave for his house. It was five in the evening, with only doughnuts, coke and roasted groundnuts in my stomach all day, I felt weak from hunger but this had to be done. I discovered where I sat was the main gate and Kachi was likely to come in through this singular gate. He was my ticket to the party and he did not know it yet.

When it was 7pm I couldn't bear the hunger, my mouth was extremely dry and I was sure I had a bad breath. With only two thousand naira in my bag, I was damn sure I was never going to buy a #500 coke from it. I went to the female restroom, changed into my jumpsuit. My look was completed with a nude pink lipstick. I brought out the local mirror and stared into it.

I moved to the lounge looking for an empty seat. Different men in suit sat at the lounge with men like them or females. I eventually found an empty seat with a half bottle water. I guessed the owner drank some and left. And most likely not coming back. I quickly positioned it to look like I was the owner. I didn't want to appear like a lady who couldn't buy herself a drink. I knew me seated alone would make it easier for a guy to approach me and buy me food and drink. I was badly expecting it to happen so I kept a smile on my hungry face. After thirty minutes that felt like thirty hours, the waiter came to me and gestured at a man in a grey suit..

"What would you like to have ma?" he asked politely
"Fried rice, coleslaw and chicken. Add fruit juice please and a table water"

He wrote them down and left. I smiled appreciatively towards the man. But he looked uninterested and continued his conversation with his group. I actually cared less. All I needed was food and I got it.

After I was done with my meals, I went back to my hunting spot. I hardly waited for five minutes when I saw Kachi's crew. I walked up to the man I assumed to be his manager, with a dazzling smile I approached him and told him I was one of the models that was invited to lighten the atmosphere. He asked me who recommended me, with a feigned surprise, I mentioned a random name. After a thought, he shrugged and asked me to join the girls. I almost danced shaku shaku. The ladies seemed to belong to a groupie and were not so receptive of me. Except for one of them who was staring at her friends as if to ask for permission before she could say a word to me. I looked at them one after the other, they were in their twenties. I knew I could do without their fake friendship.

"My name is Tara, what's yours?" she asked me, ignoring her friends angry stares

I thought about my name, it was an ancient one but with a powerful meaning. Only women of substance had that name in the past. It was different from the new generation names. So I shortened it and told her I was Rola.

She became chatty, she told me about the eligible men that would be at the party tonight and how she hoped to land a maga boyfriend.
"I know they can't marry our type o. They usually have one snobbish, haughty daughter of a politician they will end up with. But before they tied that knot, I want to get my own benefit. I just need some millions of naira to boost my fashion school. With that, I'm set up for life"

"But luck could smile on us" I said, at this point the other ladies stood up and left us. They were busy snapping pictures.

"Luck?" she laughed hysterically.

"Sis, that only happens in Mills and Boons o. Hmm, except you have something to offer like fame. Imagine Adesua was a broke girl living in Surulere would Banky have married her? Where would she even meet Banky? My dear let's grab whatever cash we can get from them. I know if I get the chance to sleep with at least five of them. I know I would be rich like some actresses with only two movies to their names" she said and I sighed. She was damn right.

Even I, I have never met the king of my town not to talk of rich and wealthy people. Low budget ladies are meant for low budget guys. Except you go extra miles, like me.

We stepped into the party and like every rich men party, everything was done to taste. From the decorations to the buffet to the massive cake that has Qasim's picture in it. I was sure every type of food and drinks was available.
The girls scattered and went hunting. Some hooked up with men they knew previously. Every table had a light-skinned lady. I was the odd one out. Tara drew me to a table of some guys whom she whispered were quiet rich.I looked around for the celebrant, he was seated with his father and friends. I knew I had to find my way to that particular table.

"Tell me about Qasim" I whispered

Tara looked at me like I was nut.

"Babe don't even dare. He doesn't keep his fuckmate for more than two days. If you're lucky a week. He only do contract sex, no attachment. He will only pay you for whatever session you had with him. He's bad news babe, bad news" she said shaking her head.

I stared at our subject of conversation. He looked tall even while sitting, muscled too. His expression was focused and analytic. Like his every emotion was calculated with precision. He looked the type that has rehearsed his every emotion in a mirror. If the media wanted a smile, he would give them. He was ready to give any emotions people wanted from him. With this realization, I didn't know what to do. But I had come this far.

Qasim

I was bored out of my mind at my own party, thirty five years on Earth with a messed up mind. My life was a living hell. Right from when I was a child, every aspect of my life was controlled by my parents. I had no freedom of my own and when I became rebellious as a teen, I was shown the brutality of life. My father had his men beat me within an inch of my life, that night I was ready to die. I didn't beg for my life. The life I had was miserable, I just wanted to be out of my messed up mind. It was few weeks to my thirteenth birthday, like the previous birthdays before that I was paraded in front of strangers; which made me feel extremely uncomfortable. I told my father I do not want another birthday party. I just wanted my own peace. I wanted to be on my own. He didn't agree, and he had me beaten.

Today, I didn't want this birthday celebration but here I am with numerous people celebrating my day. I had no choice at thirteen and at thirty five, it was still the same thing.

I like people but I just hated being around too many people, it exhaust me. But year in year out with a planned calendar full of functions I needed to attend, there was no escaping. Everytime I had to deal with anxiety, fear of strangers getting a glimpse into my inner turmoil but I was forced to pretend for the sake of media to enjoy every social events. I had to live that way to beat the suspicion of people that I wasn't normal. Well, I do not care about what normal was, I just want to enjoy my space with few people that doesn't include my parents. The first eight years of my life,
I was extremely quite because of the criticism my father melt out. He doesn't approve of me, he hated it that I stutter badly.Whenever I attempted to talk, he either shut me up with a slap or verbal abuse. I started having conversations in my head, where I don't stutter. I became my own playmate and became totally self-absorbed, so much so that when my father brought his illegitimate son-Hamza I wasn't curious about the uproar my mother caused. The boy was sent to live with the maid's family that stayed at the boy's quarter.

Hamza thought I had it good, but I would gladly have exchanged position with him. He saw me as a competitor and strived to be better than me in everything. He didn't succeed though, he wasn't as influential or as wealthy as me else my father would have denounced me in favour of him.

I knew I could put a stop to my father excessive control in my life, but like every victim of abuse I still lingered around hoping for what was never there, what I was never given. I have been stripped off everything affection. I couldn't give out things I never had, all I knew how to do was use money to acquire the things I needed. I live a distrustful life, I knew every kindness I was shown required a price; in monetary form. Everyone who gathered here today did so for their own selfish reason not because they gave a damn about me or my corrupt father who stole their wealth and wasted it on frivolous things. By the time I was sixteen, dad had sold most of the properties he acquired with stolen fund. I was extremely happy, I knew with little riches he would be left with nothing but bruised ego, and lesser control on people especially me. But unfortunately, the stupid voters voted him again in less than two years of his emergence as the senator, he was back to exercising his control on us all. I was lucky to have left the country on scholarship, where I had my BSC and Masters degree. I spent my remaining years building my craft, partnering with individuals with similar business interests. At age thirty one, I finally came back to Nigeria after many years of threat from my father to give my inheritance to Hamza. I knew he wouldn't, he enjoyed pitting us against each other. The so called inheritance was almost ruined, and he was living off laundering money for his political friends. I came back, put everything in order while giving Hamza his own portion. I knew father has no plan for him. Hamza was still the illegitimate child of a prostitute he most likely raped. And he hated him; because Hamza was the source of the public low opinion of him It was when Hamza was six and had no mother, his mother's colleagues decided to dump him on our father after selling the story to the press.

My opinion of him(my father) had plummeted when I came of age and discovered the truth of what he did and had buried. There were documents of his felonies hidden safely in my apartment, waiting for the day I would lose the only remaining screw in my brain and either send him to prison with it or unleash full terror on him. I guess the day would soon be upon us. Three months ago, my father contacted another of his corrupt, immoral friend, suggesting a possible union between our families. He wanted me to marry his second daughter. That air-head whose major achievement was being beautiful, spoiled and with many followers on Instagram. But I was having none of that bullshit, I made myself scarce from the family house and warned my secretary never to divulge any information regarding my day to him. I instructed her to tell my father whenever he called the office, that I was not available. He had been fuming since then but I cared less about the tantrums of an old man.

The said lady had slid into my Dms many times, with stupid videos of her scantily dressed. I had to block her. My dad had insisted that with or without my presence there would be a birthday party in my honor where he would announce my impeding nuptials. And there was also the fact that Hamza and the lady were busy parading themselves on social media. I knew it was my father's doing; which had little effect on me anyway. I had made up my mind a long time ago never to get married or sire children. There was no way a wife or child could worm their way into my heart. Affection never came easily to me, it always evade me and remained elusive. I had no source of love to draw from, there was no way I could love a wife or a child. I cannot bestow them with love. I don't have it in me. It was one thing I knew I could never excel in, and I hated to be a failure. Hence, I'm contented to be that money making machine.

My intended approached with a full smile on her face, every male attention was on her but then it was impossible to miss her with the see-through gown she had on. There was also the way she was walking in an arousing way. I knew the red-blooded males around had one or two thought about her. I wasn't immune to her but my determination superceded whatever she thought she could offer me. It would be subpar to everything and more I had acheived and planned to acheive. So I didn't look at her for a second longer after the introduction was made by my father.

She sat down beside me and had her hand on my thigh moving upward. With our eyes colliding, I made a stabbing demonstration with my fork. By the time I was done, the cake before me was completely ruined and her hand on my thigh had disappeared. She got the message; which was good for her.

Comments/ Criticisms are welcome

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FortunateB
Alennsar, smilingB1, susiivy, yorhmienerd, Queening, horlah1, hadduni, Tuham, Evaberry, Queetener, Missmossy, ladySuperb, Charytea, pncessadeola, Michelle55, seunlly, bejeria101, Halyma, Diamondwriter, bitingcool, Williamsesco, Lordshola, ibawon, sharliz, richiearmany14, sammyendowed, Abbydammy1, prisiliveth, FelicityLucita, Tori46, harsol, speezyWears, eitsei, rachealfst, Toppzy001, Opeoluwa99, Maryclaire1, haleemwale, yusufIbrahim, pepperoni55, alarmednigerian, BlizxydoDo, TosinBecca, Bensoate1, Twinkle004, Nmaglit, divatolaz, Ansasan, opybycar1, granely, pweetyz, specter, Eniqurl, Precial419, lettruthprevail, Oyinda8100, joyce21, crislyn, swanky47, jasmine4, damlaz24, Aloedamz, michaelunique, Hadampson,lovelydaisy, Ukez15, Bollie29, Bossy512, heemah, ashatoda, Abefe99, PrettyMizQdot, Queenakande, Diamondamsel, Evajael, IRALIFE, àkejujoe, hannie20, Shakyroh320, sulips, MissTega, shugaoftouch, Hashtagmoniker, Gynah33, ifecoded, rayos, BlissfulJeff, hammedroyabat, Queenitee, muzzafar, WHOcarex, iamozipatrick, Stevenbright, darwinbrown, Elpoche, Adefiery,tylesh,Olabantu, Ireneblush , Bibi294, dafil22, Nofuckgiven, namedonfinish, Lankyannie, jazmiynne,
Oyinda1242, OluwabuqqYOLO, xaviercasmier, Ellagold35, Eniolaewa, smomeydrinkey

y'all are invited

you called i landed.

Thanks for the update

Boom! Another update

present Sir

That feeling you get when you perceive the aroma of a sumptuous meal and you are hungry and your stomach churns in anticipation...

Please Sir we await more updates. Thanks for the mention

I'm here brother, you have a nice write up here bruh. Keep the good work coming boss!

Lemme sit down well with my popcorn and a bottle of blue cocktail, abeg no disturb me make I watch how the story unfolds. .

Four

Kachi and his crew stepped into the stage and everywhere went crazy. His popular song "Bahamas" was on the lips of everyone. One of the guys approached me for a dance, we did whole shaku shaku things while I kept my eyes on my target. Tara eventually unentangle herself from her partner to whisper in my ears "Don't let them know you've been in Lagos for years else they would think you are an olosho that sleeps with Lagos big boys. Everyone wants their own new ride"

I was beginning to tire of her lectures, our struggle was kinda similar regarding money but it got a big clause. I only want to hook a man. Not five of them. I exchanged numbers with her and left to get a drink from the servers. Before I moved to my next plan.

I was lurking in the corner imagining how to strip off one of these waitresses off their uniforms. I had different crazy thoughts like luring one of the waitresses to the female restroom where I will bring out a sharp knife and instruct her to strip while I take over her uniform.
In that uniform I could wield power. You know moving to the Senator's table, serving them drinks, ensuring that Qasim junior saw my smile many times and have it etched in his brain. I dipped my hand inside my bag and felt the local mirror. After I ensured he has seen me, I will go to the bathroom and do my magic. So I would appear in his next sleep.

I wondered how he was going to contact me since all the plans I had centered around seeing him. There it was again; the unending problems. After solving one problem another one is already pending. Where would he find me? No one knew me in this party. I have to do more than serving him drinks, I need to do more; like giving him my full names, where to contact me which means I have to have a proper conversation with him.
Would he even give me the chance? Would I even be able to reach that senator's table, with all the security men abound? This task was becoming difficult every seconds. I was still brooding when the man in grey suit who bought me food earlier appeared n my vision.

"Hi again" Hamza said smiling at the lady from the evening with "gold digging" written bodily on her.

He knew she had something suspicious about her but he couldn't lay his finger on it. He was sure it centered around sleeping with the senator. That's all they wanted to do; sleep with a money bag. This particular lady even though she looks a bit older had a real beauty on her that had nothing to do with artificial enhancement. She was naturally endowed and still had her natural complexion. And he was a bit attracted to her.

"Hi. Thanks for the food" she said shyly.
"It's nothing. Sorry I couldn't keep your company. I had a meeting with friends" he apologized
"Its fine" I told him

I had not miss the judgement in his eyes before he masked it but I cared less. He said his name was Hamza and the good part was I had my eyes on a Qazeem, so Hamza can judge all he want.

"Can we dance?" he asked me
"Where?" I asked looking around the dark corner.

He pointed to the dance floor that few exclusive people were dancing, and it was closer to my goal. With the brightest smile, I nodded and followed him. My eyes were on the Senator's table, it was there I saw a light skinned lady in a backless red gown and visible red bra smiling at Qazeem. I still cared less.

On the dance floor, I danced like a celebrant with Hamza's hands on my waist we moved slowly to the beat. He was an elegant dancer and handsome with his bottom pink lip that was contrasted to his dark skin. We chatted animatedly, he asked my name which I told him and he required about what I do. I told him I was a cook.

"You mean a chef? Like a Chef de Cuisine?" he asked

Whatever that meant I had know idea. And I know he knew I'm not a trained Chef with the proper educational qualification. But I nodded. I knew he was just raising my status in his own eyes. That lie soon became my saviour. It gave me an identity. Made me feel like I was someone important. You know that sense of belonging? I finally had it after Hamza packaged me as a Chef de Cuisine.

After we were done dancing, he pulled me to the table, I was nervous seeing everyone's eyes on us. I took a seat directly beside the almost naked lady and Hamza sat beside me.

"Who is this?" the Senator's voice boomed
Hamza feigned surprise "Miss Kofoworola. She is a popular chef in Kenya. She's Nigerian tho'
I watched how the lies flowed perfectly from his tongue. What could he be playing at?

Everyone's head swivelled in my direction, and they pasted on smiles that had fake written on it. No one said anything for a very long moment, even a chef wasn't worthy of their company.
One of the younger ladies said " How lovely! I was in SA few months ago. I guess I will see what's in Kenya. Which hotel do you work with in Kenya?"

This look like a trap. With cold sweat forming on my face I felt comfortable as they all stared at me expectantly

"I-"

I looked at Hamza, and he was also staring at me expectantly

"I don't work with a particular hotel. I work with different chains of restaurant"

"And we met at Olarro Lodge" Hamza added

They still had disingenuous looks in their eyes, I knew it wasn't my imagination that they found me lacking. Maybe it was the cheap dress and lack of jewelry. Or my hair.
"Hi, my name Febisola Adams. You can call me Sola" the almost naked lady beside me said sweetly, extending her hand which I shook.
Suddenly, I'm here dining with all these rich people. The atmosphere was furthest from friendly, just polite civilization and I was uncomfortable with the Senator's gaze that raked over my body with thoroughness. It made my skin crawl, I unconsciously leaned back into my chair and folded my arms around me just to protect myself from his lascivious stare. His wife looked absentminded like she was use to his misbehavior.

I turned my head slightly staring at Qasim, he had a ruined cake in his presence. He signaled at the waitress who rushed forward to carter away the half empty plates. Another set of food was served. I had a plate of smoked catfish facing me with lemon juice. I wasn't really hungry but when everyone picked their cutleries I had no choice but to follow suit.

The conversation that had been absent picked up again when Senator Akinronbi faced an equally older man whom I hadn't noticed because I had avoided looking around the table..

"The next big party after tonight would be the wedding ceremony of our children. Qasim and Sola"

I was shocked, there was nothing on the internet that pointed towards an upcoming marriage. And I had gobbled all the news about him. If there was anything of such I would have read it on Stella Dimokokus's page. Maybe they had kept a secret. I didn't know what to do about this unwanted piece of news. My moral conscience reared its ugly head, asking me if I would go ahead and steal another woman's man. But the grim reality of my life stared me in the face; I will be at Ilara Remo selling puff puff to students. The town had little prospect, everyone was married and the thriving business amongst the women was selling garri which reminded me too much of my late mother.

Another possible alternative option was hunting for another man, begging Tara to allow me stay with her. Even that was against my simple plan; which was to trap a rich husband. I remembered the amount and time it cost me to be here, the luck I had so far; from the gateman to Hamza. I don't think I wanted to redo the process again.
I watched Febisola beamead happily at the announcement but her moment of joy was cut short by Hamza's response.

"Sima here looks like a poor unhappy groom"

The only expression I saw on Qasim's face was a mildly raised eyebrow. He seemed unbothered and continue devouring his meal. It was Senator Akinronbi that levelled his angry gaze on Hamza and said

"Son, learn to keep your tongue in your mouth. You're in the midst of authority show respect and politeness. That's why Qasim will always be better than you"

I almost choked on the catfish at the realization that they were brothers. I didn't find anything about Hamza on the news I read. Or maybe the Senator did not mean that literally. I stared at Hamza, he was visibly angry, the senator's words had hit a nerve. That was all the answer I needed.

Hamza Akinronbi was nothing like his brother. I did a quick comparison; where Qasim look darkly threatening, unapproachable and complex, his brother, Hamza look approachable and kind. They had nothing in common even in physical appearance; Hamza look younger and less than thirty, slim and not as large as the brother. The only thing they had remotely in common was their height. Even Qasim was still inches taller than him. Qasim had some of his mother's facial features; eyes and nose. But Hamza had none of those.

The senator face Qasim and said "your playboy days is over. You have to face the future and start welcoming the next generation. Let me make the announcement"

Whatever the senator saw on his son's face had him sitting back too quickly for his age. That dark ominous face looked in my direction, I saw the way he clenched his jaw before saying in a lethal voice

"Hamza, another word on this table and you will find yourself escorted out of the premises. I have been extremely tolerant of you long enough"

"Wow" Hamza said clapping dramatically before he continued "That long speech and the entitled heir didn't stutter"

The Senator smirked but I knew they would come to blows if no one try and diffuse the situation before it got completely out of hand. I turned to Febisola, who in turn faced Qasim and said "please". I pleaded with my eyes, but Hamza was too angry to make any sense of it.

Qasim had this twisted smile on his face
"You bastard, you bloody mistake"

Everything happened within a second with Hamza shoving at his brother's chest while the other grabbed at his lapel pummeling him with one fist, his face became battered and bloody still the senator didn't move a muscle. The security men were busy controlling the uproar and stopping people from recording the moment.

Febisola ran to her father's side crying, I was left to attempt to pry Qasim off

"Let him go" I tugged but he jerked his arm back and shoved me so hard I fell. I crashed first into my chair before falling to the tiled floor from the impact. I heard another broken sound; I knew what it could be. My mind raced

"Let it be my leg not the mirror" I chanted

man pikin prefer make her leg break instead of mirror truly this life no balance at all...

After many years of following famous writers[b] on nairaland with lots of unfinished stories. I lot interest totally.
Saw the first episode of the story in my following thread and am hooked not by the title but by the first paragraph.
Reading through I saw you capturing the life of an average Nigerian girl in her mid thirties. Not a life of make believe.


In wande coal's voice
[b] i am following bumper to bumper

kinah:
After many years of following famous writers[b] on nairaland with lots of unfinished stories. I lot interest totally.
Saw the first episode of the story in my following thread and am hooked not by the title but by the first paragraph.
Reading through I saw you capturing the life of an average Nigerian girl in her mid thirties. Not a life of make believe.


In wande coal's voice
[b] i am following bumper to bumper

can you relate?

Odoogu:


can you relate?

My brother. It is all around us.

kinah:


My brother. It is all around us.

my sister it is well oo.

Rola you can't kill me.. so make your leg break, make mirror survive.. lol.

mirror mirror on the wall(in this case, mirror in the bag or purse), whose the finest of them all? I can't believe she's want her legs broken instead of the mirror

Millieademi, ann2012, mhizv, damselposh, harbiedeen, adesina12, ujunwa14, prudysara, preshbeauty, oya come o.

Khriztarl:
Millieademi, ann2012, mhizv, damselposh, harbiedeen, adesina12, ujunwa14, prudysara, preshbeauty, oya come o.

Thank you, love.

I can always count on you.

millieademi:

Thank you, love.
I can always count on you.

anytime dear.

Khriztarl:
Millieademi, ann2012, mhizv, damselposh, harbiedeen, adesina12, ujunwa14, prudysara, preshbeauty, oya come o.

Awwwnnn thanks

Khriztarl:
Millieademi, ann2012, mhizv, damselposh, harbiedeen, adesina12, ujunwa14, prudysara, preshbeauty, oya come o.

Thanks sugarplum

Update please

degelinglacis:
okikioluwafemi, Embellished: skubido ukaface Lawsaite Ujunwa aprilwise Ven97 eyezik3 Khriztarl Herbiedeen enirock
Janet96 FairCrituc WueaSerano M7even apiski
FortunateB
Alennsar, smilingB1, susiivy, yorhmienerd, Queening, horlah1, hadduni, Tuham, Evaberry, Queetener, Missmossy, ladySuperb, Charytea, pncessadeola, Michelle55, seunlly, bejeria101, Halyma, Diamondwriter, bitingcool, Williamsesco, Lordshola, ibawon, sharliz, richiearmany14, sammyendowed, Abbydammy1, prisiliveth, FelicityLucita, Tori46, harsol, speezyWears, eitsei, rachealfst, Toppzy001, Opeoluwa99, Maryclaire1, haleemwale, yusufIbrahim, pepperoni55, alarmednigerian, BlizxydoDo, TosinBecca, Bensoate1, Twinkle004, Nmaglit, divatolaz, Ansasan, opybycar1, granely, pweetyz, specter, Eniqurl, Precial419, lettruthprevail, Oyinda8100, joyce21, crislyn, swanky47, jasmine4, damlaz24, Aloedamz, michaelunique, Hadampson,lovelydaisy, Ukez15, Bollie29, Bossy512, heemah, ashatoda, Abefe99, PrettyMizQdot, Queenakande, Diamondamsel, Evajael, IRALIFE, àkejujoe, hannie20, Shakyroh320, sulips, MissTega, shugaoftouch, Hashtagmoniker, Gynah33, ifecoded, rayos, BlissfulJeff, hammedroyabat, Queenitee, muzzafar, WHOcarex, iamozipatrick, Stevenbright, darwinbrown, Elpoche, Adefiery,tylesh,Olabantu, Ireneblush , Bibi294, dafil22, Nofuckgiven, namedonfinish, Lankyannie, jazmiynne,
Oyinda1242, OluwabuqqYOLO, xaviercasmier, Ellagold35, Eniolaewa, smomeydrinkey

y'all are invited

Presented ma'am.. Thanks for the invitation

The last sentence cracked me up, but in her case, her leg is of less importance than the mirror, her leg can be healed, the mirror if broken, can't be repaired