His thoughts, pervading her senses, she thought it right to pay him a surprise visit. She snatched her phone, punched out his number and sent a message which read: Where are you? I'm at your house o.

Minutes later, she got his reply -- Ah! So, where are you now? Just sitting outside? I'm somewhere around Ikeja. You just take a bus to 95, Opebi road.

She got there only to find out he was almost rounding up with what he went there for. Soon, he reached for his car. Zoom! Off they went.

"Tell me where you'll alight, I took your lane."

"No, take me to your house. I left my bag there and I need to get it before going home."

"Why should I do that?", he questioned.

"It's because I want you to. Please, just do this for me."

"Why didn't you come with your bag? Weren't you at my apartment earlier today? Why did you even come today without my invite? Don't you know what privacy is? What the heck's wrong with you? Didn't we see yesterday? Did I give you a love portion or something?" He laughed, then continued, "Look, you need to get down here. I'll give you some money to get a bus, if you don't have any. But, have it in mind you won't get to my apartment seated in this car tonight."

Wow. He was determined. Why such decision? Insulted, she came down. Why doesn't he want to take me to his apartment, even? Am I that money oriented? Of course, I have just 100 naira which
isn't enough to take me to my 'humble' home but I can't collect the money he offered. No way!

Thoughts streaming, stunned, perplexed, she got herself a bus worth 100 Naira to his apartment,
took her hand bag and headed home STRANDED.

The night was dark, warm and secretive, she thought as the stood at the bus-stop. She took great, heaving gulps of honeysuckle-scented air, but didn't help alleviate the unnecessary terrible treatment she just experienced with her Man.

Amina, tall in a willowy but graceful way; her skin, brown like a fresh West African anthill, and she has the features of a typical Fulani girl, was sure she'd be given a lift pretty soon. Her hair is
always in cornrows, but in burnished jet black that gave the
impression of a girl who knows orderliness and personal grooming. She perpetually wears a shy smile, allowing you just a
glimpse of her teeth.

"Hellos! Come in." A voice echoed. A tiny one at that. She swivelled only to find a dark obviously short man in the car. "I can love to give you a ride to where ever your deathination is."

'Hellos' could probably be the plural of Hello. But he wishing me death, that I can't take. His offer, even.

"No, thanks. I'll be here, waiting, for my Man.", she lied.

"Eh! 8:30pm? I wouldn't hesitate a split second when another stops by." She soliloquized.

"Hello there! Mind if I give you a lift?" A husky voice calmly questioned. His body mass will definitely impress women and scare men. Wow!

" Yes! Yes, please. Thanks." Half way down, he twirled her hair and tucked it behind her ear down to her gracious breasts. Her face, bumped together in a scowl, she asked, "What's the meaning of this?"

"You don't know? Are you a kid? Get down if you aren't ready for this."

"Stop the car, then. That.." She pointed "...is where I'll get a bus." She came down, STRANDED still. This time around, it was at Oshodi market. A bus to Ikeja was all she wanted then.

Minutes passed. Hours, too. Hungry. STRANDED. Angry. Crying. What a situation! Am I going to spend the night on the streets? Oh God! Come to my rescue, please!

"Four Four Hundred! Four Four Hundred! No more Two Two thousand!" voices from the background just won't allow her think!

"Wetin be this na? Una too shout jor."

"Comot for there na. Who be you sef? Ah! Sister, na you be this?"

"So?", I questioned. Hei! Isn't this the same young man I yelled at the last time I was here. He likes me, no doubt. Will he help me out now? I'd better treat him in a sweet manner tonight if I really want to go home.

"Wetin you dey do for here by this time na?"

"Sweety, how na?"

"Eh! My name na Uche na." He said looking down at his hands, which he clenched and unclenched nervoursly. Surely his face was red hot. After a moment, he looked up at her again, but slightly amused at his own ponderings.

"Omo, I dey STRANDED. Abeg, buy my card na. Make I transfer
am to you, abeg? Na Glo o."

"True? No wahala. Send am"

Amina, done with the transfer, her joy knew no bounds.

"Oya, collect", he said, handling her the money, while the coners of his mouth quirked upward. Then, he said, "Chai. I don help you o. Okay na. Safe journey. I like you small."

"Thank you, darling! God go bless you plenty. I like you pass sef. You just dey know?"

"Chai. Sister...!!".
Pls click the link below to vote for me on the ongoing st remy contest,just click the link+comment if you have the time,thanks nd Godbless.watch out for the part 2 of the story

https://m.facebook.com/StRemyNigeria/photos/a.574073942694638.1073741830.250513685050667/574074089361290/?type=1&comment_id=574630775972288&offset=0&total_comments=87&_rdr

My Friend Darlington Nnamani , lately, have found companionship through means of intoxication - it makes him sociable.

I, however cannot force myself to use St.Remy to cheat on my loneliness - it is all that I have - and when the drugs and alcohol dissipate,will be all that my good pal have as well..

Pls vote for him.Click the link and just like his pix (vote) him....

https://m.facebook.com/StRemyNigeria/photos/a.574073942694638.1073741830.250513685050667/574074089361290/?type=1&comment_id=574325292669503&offset=0&total_comments=54&_rdr&refid=12