KUNLE

Kunle took a deep calming breath before walking through the black door.

“I’m home.”

“My kabiyesi! How I’ve missed you!”

Pleasant words tickled his ear, a warm body following suit. Stretching on her tippy toes she kissed his cheek. From her neck hung an apron with “#1 wife” boldly printed in bright colors. He’d bought it on a whim, spotting the apron in the display window of a boutique. The cashier had commented he was a lucky man, his answer a difficult smile as he paid. She had worn it ever since.

Hands wrapped around shapely hips, senses taking in the scent of her as she kissed his parted lips. A pleasant mixture of light perfume and kitchen aromas.

“Dinner is on the table.”

She whispered unnecessarily into his ear, the enticing fragrance of the spread all the evidence he needed. Skipping out of his arms, her figure disappeared through another door. He dropped a black nylon on a stool beside the door before proceeding to the table.

Taking a seat before the feast, he licked his lips and worked hard not to drool; the fabric of his trouser stretching. No dish was spared. Wiping the corners of his mouth with a linen cloth, he followed her. Behind him the dishes looked almost untouched. Each sporting nothing more than a single bite.

The room was dimly lit, a large bed flanked by two night stands taking up much of the space. On one was a mint, packet and a glass of water. Consuming both, he sat on the bed, enjoying the feel of silk sheets beneath his fingers.

“How was the meal?”

The apron clung to her, all other material between it and caramel skin no longer present.

“Almost as perfect as you are.”

She giggled, hands wrapping around herself, twin peaks becoming even more prominent.

“Was that too cheesy?”

“No. I like it.”

“Come here.”

Strong arms grabbed her waist, drawing her to him as he fell back onto a sea of rubies. Lips met, one firm the other soft and thin. Her fingers found the buttons of his work shirt revealing the lightly muscled torso beneath. Her palm rested against his chest, it’s firmness resisting her caress. Metal dug against her thigh, causing her to break off the kiss they shared. Sitting up, her naked bottom pressed against his lap. Quickly she removed his belt, sending it clattering to the floor. Heat rolled off him in waves, slight tremors rising. His hand reached up to grab her but she swatted it away, thin lips brushing light kisses below his navel, trousers meeting the tiled floor to a chorus of soft moans.

Boxers followed suit, his member a thick and throbbing tower now free of its restraints. Her apron remained the only article of clothing between the two. She reached behind her to undo the string holding it in place.

“Leave it on.”

His eyes were held prisoner by the words on the apron, the tips of her breasts pushing hard against the fabric. An unrestrained hunger grew deep within his core. A hand reached up, confining the small hardened knob between thumb and forefinger. He teased it, her sharp intake of breath his reward. Rising from the bed, he lifted her, thick fingers sinking into soft fleshy butt cheeks. Toned legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, her back banging against the wall. The pain was sharp, mouth parting to let out a whimper. He saw the divide as an invitation, mounting an invasion, tongue slipping past ivory white teeth. She struggled to catch her breath, suspended just above his erection now wet from vertical lips.

Needing a second to breathe she gathered her strength, open palms placed against his shoulders. Before she could act he pulled back, breaking the kiss. Willowy arms moved quickly to his neck, head shifting to the side of his head, preparing to whisper into his ear, her body trembling from the intensity of it, pain and pleasure becoming indistinguishable. His waist shifted, her body falling a few centimeters lower, petite chin finding his shoulder before inches tore through her wet flower. Teeth found his shoulder as she stiffened a moan, arms clinging harder with each ridge he brushed past in his plunge. Words lost meaning, communication reduced to moans, cries, shivers and spasms.

The alarm clock at the side of the bed began to ring. Kunle looked, seeing it was 8:30 p.m.

“How long did I sleep?”

“A few minutes. There’s a change of clothes in the bathroom.”

He looked at her, curled up like a cat, apron skewed. He gave her breast a squeeze before heading to the bathroom. Ten minutes later he was out.

“Let me run to the store to pick up a few things.”

Kunle said, leaving the room. He checked to make sure the black nylon was on the stool before leaving through the door he had come in. Slipping into his Jeep, Kunle quickly sped off. As he drove, he kept an eye on the clock. Half an hour later Kunle stood in front of a white door. Lifting his shirt to his nose, he gave a quick sniff. Satisfied, he fumbled with his keys till the door popped open.

“Mommy! Mommy! Daddy is home!”

Two little girls separated from the woman holding them and ran to Kunle. He bent down, catching them in his arms before lifting the two girls high in the air. They giggled, both holding on to his neck and refusing to let go.

“Why are you so late daddy?”

“Daddy has a mean boss.”

“Tell him to stop being mean.”

“I will. What’s for dinner my little ones.”

“Mom was tired so she made indomie again.”

A frown appeared on Kunle’s face but was quickly replaced with a muted sigh.

“Who wants to fly to the kitchen?”

“Me!” the two little girls shouted, squealing in delight as they flew in their father's arms.

Hearing the door close, the woman still wearing the apron with “#1 wife” printed on it counted to twenty, got up from the bed and went to the stool beside the door. Picking up the black nylon, she emptied the contents on the floor as she looked at the many dishes on the table. Stacks of thousand naira notes landed in a small pile. She didn’t bother counting them. Kunle had proven to Madame he was a loyal patron.

CHAPTER 3

Silent walls watched Asha. Paintings lined their surface, depictions following a single theme. She was lost, the twist and turns seeming endless. The thought of returning to Madame and asking for a guide surfaced and was quickly buried deep with a shiver. She stood before two paths. Neither looked promising. Her stomach growled, expressing its empty displeasure. Hunger was no stranger to her and was summarily ignored. The sound of something heavy falling caught her ears. It came from the right. Without a second thought she dashed forward, backpack beating a quick rhythm. She followed the sound, bursting into a room with its door ajar.

Two women stared at her, shock plastered all over their face at Asha’s sudden appearance. Between them was a large grey chest, it’s handles freshly broken.

“And who might you be?”

Asha spun, a tranquil voice coming from the door she had just entered. It was another woman. Unlike the first two standing by the chest with panic in their eyes, she gave off an unshakeable aura. The door closed as she spoke, hand reaching for a traditional jade hair pin holding up her brown locks. They tumbled down to rest on the tops of her breast and shoulders, obscuring the silver around her neck. A crimson dress gripped her form, its bottom spilling onto the floor in a circular lake of blood. A single slit allowed midnight skin of thigh and crus to go in and out of view with each step. Asha could not look away, drawn by the allure of her.

“Can I ever look like you?”

It slipped out of Asha’s lips as she remained wrapped in the spell of the woman in crimson.

“You should not be here.”

“I’m lost”

Said Asha, still unable to look away from the woman approaching her.

“What is your name?”

“Asha.”

“Who sent you?”

“Madame...”

The answer made her stop; a couple steps from Asha. Back into her hair the traditional pin disappeared. She did not miss the shiver in Asha’s voice when she said ‘Madame’. The two women beside the chest gasped, both taking a step back from it.

“I have to find Mistress Horaswa”

“Very well, I shall help you.”

“You will! Thank you miss...”

“Call me Mistress Sinsi”

“Thank you Mistress Sinsi!”

Her burden now slightly lighter

“But there is another problem Asha.”

“Mistress Sinsi?”

“This place is off limits for all but a few of us sisters. And since you aren’t a sister I have to report it to Madame.”

Asha froze, her relief cut to ribbons.

“I… I… I… Didn’t … know.”

“Maybe Madame will accept that.”

Asha thought of her meeting with Madame and paled.

“Unless…”

“Please Mistress Sinsi, is there anything you can do?”

“Very well. You must say nothing of what you saw here today and I will make sure no word gets to Madame.”

The gratitude in Asha’s eyes were not lost on Sinsi. With a crook of her finger, one of the women beside the box came over.

“This is Taiwo. She will take you to sister Horaswa.”

Asha’s hand was grabbed once again and whisked out of the room. Sinsi watched them leave, a smile revealing pearly white teeth in deep contrast to her ebony skin.

Mistress... Horaswa...

CHAPTER 2

It was a sound Asha was not accustomed to. A confusing mix of the contented purr of a cat and groan when taking a lashing on the palm. Unbeknown to her, she was watched by Madame. Asha stood there, finger a few breaths away from the statues back. Her eyes followed the curve of his spine, noting where the vertebrates poked the skin into blunt points. She looked for any sign of movement, straining to catch even the faintest twitch of a muscle. The sound she heard still spooked her, sapping her courage to breach the gap. The outstretched finger fell to her side.

“Why are you here child?”

Said Madame, giving away nothing of her thoughts on Asha’s actions.

“... I was taken… from the orphanage in…”

Tears began to slip from almond eyes, turning her speech into a halting mess.

“Hush child. Do not show your tears to others so easily.”

Asha wiped the streaks with a practiced motion. Madame remained in her chair, hand rummaging through a drawer. She came out with a thick brown cigar which found its way to the right corner of her mouth. There it remained, unlit.

“Continue child.”

“I was taken from the orphanage in…”

Madame cut her off.

“I asked why you are here child.”

Asha remained silent, unable to give an answer.

“Very well. Do you know where here is child?”

Asha began to shake her head then stopped.

“I saw a ‘This is Lagos’ sign from the window of the car”

“That is true, we are in Lagos but child…. here... is... House!”

As she uttered the word ‘house’ Madame bit hard on the cigar perched between her lips, hands gesturing around her, pride oozing from her large frame. Asha felt herself being swept in the grandeur of Madame, her confusion about what could be so special about a house lost to the moment.

“You may leave. Find Sister Horaswa and tell her I sent you child.”

“How will I find her.”

“Not my concern. We will speak again child.”

Behind her, the door swung open revealing Asha’s backpack. There was a sigh of relief when she saw the open door, having little confidence in being able to move it from inside. In the corridor, Asha picked up her bag with straw hat in hand, contemplating where to start to find Sister Horaswa. Behind her, the door shut once again leaving Madame alone with her statue.

Madame pondered before picking up the purple box. Light in her hands, it weighed heavy on her heart. A simple lock combination held the lid in place. Carefully she turned it. Each side held carvings, intricate and delicate in their design.

“You may continue… children”

The statue came to life, womans teeth sinking into the shoulder of the man as she felt his member finding its way deeper into pink nectar. Her tongue relished the metallic taste of blood and bronze paint, spasms rippling through her thighs and belly. Peach sized breasts pressed against him as she rode the stallion, gasping in-between thrusts. His muscles bulged, fingers digging into her ample bum as he increased the tempo, her scent driving his desire ever higher. They could both feel the eruption of their heavens was near.

“Enough!... children”

He stopped mid thrust, battering ram and gate both wet; each drip travelling more than four feet to hit the carpeted floor. She remained suspended, her heaving bosom unable to stay still as they both struggled to catch their breaths. Sweat tracked its way down their bodies, revealing dark skin beneath the bronze.

“I want you to be statues!... children”

Both held their breaths, lungs threatening to burst; hearts beating harder to a new emotion. Within they trembled, without they were sculptures. Seconds ticked, each one a lifetime for the figurines in the room.

“You may leave children.”

Her feet found the floor as she unwrapped herself from his waist. Together they scurried out, collapsing on top of each other as lungs greedily drew air once the door shut behind them. In the room, Madame held the purple box, long slim fingers toying with the closed lid unsure what to do. Was she brought here to save or doom House? she wondered, teeth grinding away at the cigar.

HOUSE.... LAGBAJA....

CHAPTER 1

The unrelenting African noon day sun showered its unwanted attention on a young lady in front of a darkened glass door. On her head a straw hat more holes than straw doing its best to block the heavy rays from above. Her hands hung tightly to a purple box lined with felt. On her back a dusty school bag. In the distance a luxury vehicle turned the corner nearly hitting a pole with the street name on it. If the pole had fallen it wouldn’t have been a significant event. No one who mattered called the street by the name printed on metal. Rather they knew it as Lagbaja. On Lagbaja street there was only one building. Those who knew Lagbaja street called the building House. House was large enough to be easily considered a mansion. Still, no one who mattered would accept changing the name.

The darkened glass door opened to reveal an inky blackness within. Whatever invading beams cast by the sun died at its fringes.

“Yes deary?”

A heavy voice came from within. The young lady looked around unsure what to do.

“There is no one else but you deary.”

She took a step back, talking to nothing but a voice coming from darkness a strange concept for her.

“Who are you looking for honey?”

“I have purple for Madame.”

The voice paused.

“Come, I’ll take you to her deary.”

A hand came out from the center of the darkness, its fingers covered with rings of varying colors. The young lady adjusted the grip on the purple box and tentatively held the outstretched hand. The strength it possessed shocked her as she was drawn into the building.

The darkness parted, swallowing her into its belly. The switch from bright noon day to the dimly lit interior of House left her blind. The ringed hand holding onto her didn’t give her a chance to get her bearings, dragging her through long corridors and winding staircases, her backpack jangling as she struggled to keep up. After what felt like an hour, they reached a purple door.

“Knock and wait till you are told to come in deary.”
“Thank you.”

“I’m not sure you should be deary.”

She turned and left, rings clicking with every movement. The young lady, eyes now adjusted to the dimly lit interior knocked and waited. It did not take long.

“Come.”

The door was heavy. Unwilling to set the purple box down, she dropped her bag and put her back to the door. It gave way little by little, her slim frame squeezing through with box in hand, strawhat falling to the carpeted floor. The door immediately shut behind her with a thud causing her to jump and turn to the sound. Her breath came out in short bursts as her eyes for a fleeting moment set on a motionless statue facing the wall.

“Look at me child!”

The voice dragged her gaze with an unrelenting draw, the statue momentarily driven from her mind. It was a spacious room, purple being the dominating color. A woman sat behind a mahogany desk, back ramrod straight, eyes a steely grey.

“Yes?”

Her tone more iron than cotton. The young lady felt smaller in her presence.

“I have purple for Madame.”

Madame paused, observing the young lady in front of her, gaze peeling away the loose clothing she wore.

“What is your name?”

Her voice had softened.

“Asha... Are you Madame?”

“Yes child.”

“This is for you.”

Asha set on the sweeping desk the purple box she had held onto so tightly. Madame looked at it, making no move to pick it up, lost in thought. Waiting quietly, unsure what to do, Asha’s eyes began to wander, mind returning to what she had initially forgotten. It was still there, the statue facing the wall. It was a man, toned bronze butt cheeks exposed to the room as he faced the wall. Asha’s cheeks colored a deeper red when she made out the form of a bronze woman, legs wrapped around his waist, back pressed against the wall

They look so life like… Asha thought, unwittingly approaching their bronze forms. A finger stretched out to touch the toned bronze butt cheeks curious what material could make them so human but her courage failed her, changing target to the small of his back. Her hand froze inches away as she heard a moan.

SENATOR III

More… I want more, body in tune with the mind. I could feel him peel away the cut stocking, tingle spreading from my neck coming to a halt as he walked away. He spoke with each step.

“Senator are you satisfied?”

We weren’t alone. A sense of dread crept in.

“I see you want to continue with this one.”

A woman’s voice. Neither young nor old. It was not Madame, yet the voice caused my fear to dissipate.

“Only if you wish it Senator.”

The reverence the man held for the woman could be heard clearly.

“The display was pleasing. More than the previous two. Very well. If she’s willing.”

“Are you?”

His words teased a response. I could only trust myself to nod as i sat up, parts of me stimulated to a point of no return. His hand landed on the collar and I instinctively grabbed. It was the first time our skin touched, my fingers unable to sink into the firm taut muscles of his forearm. I shook my head, wishing he’d leave the collar on, shame coloring my cheeks. He could not see my eyes hidden behind the blindfold but he must have seen the blush on my face. A finger traced the outline of my slightly parted lips, tongue darting out to have a taste of what was to come. My body yearned for the sensation from the collar and my mind understood this man had the power to grant it.

With a hand he cradled my head bringing his lips to mine. We kissed, a hunger growing inside of him. My expectation grew as I waited for the tingling sensation. It did not come. Thoughts of why he would deny me climbed to the surface. He wanted more. The more he got the more he would grant me. I broke from the kiss, hands searching till they connected with unyielding abs. Each muscle distinct, guiding me to my goal. With practiced ease his belt buckle fell away taking the trousers with it. A pulsing heat hung before me, free from its holster. And then it came, it’s intensity more than ever.

She fell back, firm supple breasts shooting for the heavens, body trembling from the sensations rippling from the collar round her neck. Each rub of her stiffened nipples against the camisole sent jolt after jolt. Fire raged beneath her skin. With a tug she was free of the wet silk covering her flooded valley peppered with short curly brown vines. A whimper escaped, back arching, gates to the divine parting and a craving for what would bring her pleasure to a climax driving all other thoughts from existence.

“Take me... please...”

SENATOR II

“Put your hands down.”

The voice was disarmingly gentle. Far from what I had envisioned. It sounded young, manly with barely a hint of command. Hands fell to the side, the motion sending my bosom into a rhythmic sway. He saw what I could only feel. The sharp intake of breath that wasn’t mine all the proof I needed.

The first touch sent a shiver up my spine, the door handle digging deeper into my back. It wasn’t human. Around my neck it looped, catching my shoulder length hair as it tightened, a tiny prick at my nape. A collar. It wouldn’t be the first time I wore one but the one sided darkness added an unexpected flavor. Where it made contact with skin I could feel a tingle I wished would spread to the rest of my body. The tips of my peaks hardened, pushing against the silk of the camisole, raising the lower end ever so slightly to expose more caramel skin. He was in front of me. I could feel his solid presence. How he had moved without me hearing I could only attribute to the thickly carpeted floor my heels rested on.

“Come”

A single syllable word, barely audible but caressing my ears like eager lips nibbling at my lobe. He did not give me the time to ponder, giving the leash a gentle tug, leading a lamb to slaughter. But I wasn’t a lamb. Even as I could see nothing, my steps were sure and measured, hands refusing to grope blindly in the dark. Madame had drilled me fervently to walk run dance in all footwear on any surface. We seemed to move in a set circle, giving me the impression I was being shown off. He stopped, his end of the leash dropping to hit my lower thigh. With his release came the end of the tingle at my neck. I wanted it back, wishing he would hold on to my leash once again.

“Bed is behind you”

It was the bed we were circling. In my dark world there were two doors a man and a bed. I sank back into whatever was behind with all the confidence I could muster. It would either be the bed or the floor that would greet my sparsely clad bum. If I showed I had complete faith in him maybe I would feel that tingle in my neck once again. Luxurious sheets clung to my half moon cheeks, back arching to show my pleasure from victory, thighs spreading as fingers slid from knee to the edges of the valley. With an unhurried motion, one stockinged leg lifted to cross over the other as I let my back fall to the bed, hair a cascading waterfall of black.

The sight bore a reaction from him who watched from a distance, the bed taking the weight of another. I couldn’t help but breathe a little faster, body tensing, waiting for where he would begin.

“Don’t move”

He whispered, breath f-ondling my senses. I waited to be handled by hands, wondering if his palms would be coarse. It did not come. The straps of my heels came undone, falling to the carpeted floor, leaving me with thigh high stockings as thin as the camisole I still wore. It touched my ankle, cold hard and sharp. Before I could shirk away the tingle at my neck came again, stronger, spreading. My lower lip found their way between pearly white teeth to stiffen a moan. It travelled, a sharp blade, splitting open the stocking with ease, working its way up my inner thigh to the valley beyond. In its wake it left a thin faint line of red. Staying still became a burden, fear pain and pleasure growing and mixing in an unholy union as the knife went ever higher. Lips parted to plead him to stop but all that escaped was a moan. The tingle intensified, nipples painfully stiff, wishing for some form of release. The blade reached the end of the stocking and stopped, a short stretch of skin separating it from a field of pink silk, now a darker shade.

SENATOR

They called him Senator. I can't say why. It was hard to believe he would allow such information to slip if he truly was. Then again secrets are harder to keep in the company of pillows and sheets. The veterans knew he’d be coming when Madame closed the house early. Our bodies followed the curves of the winding staircase, covered in the finest pieces we owned. Madame promised to reimburse any damages. Those words scared me. In the house, anything could be termed ‘damages’.

I had chosen a soft pink camisole, its lower end stopping just short of my navel. Matching silk started again from the waist to afford me some modesty. It had been a gift from Madame my first day in the house. She’d given me a choice between a camisole, babydoll, teddy bear and chemise. My nervousness coupled with inexperience left me confused as I wondered what kind of toy a chemise was. Madame was not surprised as she had seen all sorts come through her door. She chose for me, smiling as she said ‘You will learn.’

To my left and right were my sisters. We did not share blood; the twins and a couple others being the exception. In the house we were sisters, a mandate set by Madame. The staircase was softly lit, everywhere else around us left darkened. Our attires differed in color, style and material but one thing cut across. We all wore sheer thigh high stockings. It wasn’t one of Madame’s rules so it had to be a request of the Senator. A couple heavy set sisters did not much enjoy it, the tops of their stocking hidden away much like their discomfort.

The sense of every inch of me being watched and scrutinized had grown in the house. Though I could not see it, there were eyes watching us from the darkness. Minutes ticked as we remained on the staircase oozing the seduction Madame expected of us. I struggled to keep the fear in me from showing. Madame materialized from the void onto the staircase. With each sister she passed my heart hammered a little faster.

A finger tapped my bare shoulder accompanied with a whisper to follow. No one disobeyed Madame. At least not without repercussions. Together we climbed the stairs to an audience of mixed reactions. I would be the third to be chosen by Senator. The two before were adamant nothing happened during the time they spent with him. No one believed them once packages came in the day after they were chosen.

Madame stopped in front of thick double doors with golden handles. It was a room reserved for the most prestigious of clients. I’d never seen it opened. Then again I hadn’t been in the house long. ‘I will be blindfolding you’ Madame said, a black cloth covering my eyes. ‘Don’t take it off unless you are told’. I could only nod, afraid my voice would betray me. With a click the door opened, her hand guiding me in before shutting it once again.

A combination of the fear I had of Madame and seeing what awaited me kept my fingers from ripping the blindfold off my face. Darkness can be your friend. Unbidden my hands crossed over my chest, the act giving some form of unexplained comfort. It was quiet, chest pounding out the passing seconds. The creak of a door to my far left put my senses that weren’t deprived in overdrive. Questions flooded as my mind raced to paint a picture. I hadn’t moved since she guided me in, the double door handles cool against my lower back. My ears strained to hear footsteps approaching. Nothing, merely silence once again. But I was certain I wasn’t alone.

This is a work of fiction and does not relate to any event in the past and present or any person dead or living . Any similarities to real life living/dead people or events are merely coincidences brought about by the immensity of the cosmos.

The stories to follow contain mature content

Enjoy or...

LEARN TO KEEP PEOPLE DEPENDANT ON YOU

CHAPTER 31

What he currently felt, he couldn’t describe or maybe his sluggish mind did not want to. The bed he lay in was large and round, situated at the center of the master bedroom. Sliding out of the covers he searched the floor in darkness. He grabbed what he thought were his boxers, quickly putting them on. They did not feel right, the texture and fit being all wrong. As he tried to take it off, he bumped into a piece of furniture, sending whatever was on top to the floor. It did not land quietly. A sharp clap resounded in the large room, the lights coming on, revealing a woman on the bed with her hands together.

“Leave it on.”

The sudden change from dark to light blinded Ekiuwa for a few seconds. Looking down he saw lacy underwear half way up his thigh.

“Please…”

With a quiver in his lips, he beseeched the woman on the bed, an elbow propping her head up. Her face sported slight wrinkles, betraying her age. Much of her body currently lay hidden under sheets of purple, a landscape Ekiuwa had inexpertly explored the night before.

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

Her hand reached beneath a pillow, coming out with a riding crop. Ekiuwa’s head shook, his bottom tensing at the sight of the riding crop, its taste still freshly displayed on his skin. It had been a night fraught with lashings, her displeasure conveyed through pain rather than voice. The article of clothing returned, his waist just wide enough for the elastic to hold it in place.

“Good... good... now walk for me.”

Ekiuwa devolved to a baby taking its first step, each one unsure as he worried over how she wanted him to walk for her. He tripped, a pair of black trousers the culprit. As he fell his thoughts returned to the day before when he first met this woman.

Pulling up to a large house in the heart of Ikoyi, he could not hide his nervousness. Mr. Sokoto had called him up that morning. As his brand new phone rang he couldn’t believe the sleek state of the art device was his, the night before alternating between dream and nightmare accompanied with a faint soreness. A thought surfaced, his hand lifting the edge of his mattress revealing an envelope overflowing with thousand naira notes. His shoulders shook, unable to stay calm. He had never seen so much money in one place. It wasn’t even all of it; the rest to be deposited in his account once he opened one. “It is enough” he thought, cutting the call. There was no need for him to mix with those people again. With this he could afford to bring his mother to Lagos. He looked around his room, noting the 5 other bunk beds in the school housing they all shared. Dirty clothes lay scattered around, a few snoring up a storm. The stench of ten guys living in the same space hung heavy in the air. ‘Can’t have mother staying here’ he thought, not that the school would allow it. It was then he realized having the money to bring her to Lagos wasn’t enough. There was a need to find a place for them to stay. The envelope no longer looked as plentiful as it once did. The phone buzzed again, his body snatching it before the first ring ended.

“Don’t ever let this phone’s ring end without you picking it up.”

“Yes mam, I mean sir?”

He’d been expecting the voice of the bleached hair, midnight skinned woman who broke his phone and replaced it with this one as he left. Instead it was Mr. Sokoto.

“You have an appointment this evening. A delivery will be arriving at your door. Don’t screw it up.”

“I have class at…”

The call ended before he could get out even one of his complaints or questions. Mr. Sokoto had given him too little information, leaving him with an avalanche of questions. His fingers tapped the screen to call back but a knock at the door interrupted him. None of the four beds filled with snoring University students stirred.

Opening the door, he saw a boy a little more than half his height. In his hands was what amounted to someone's laundry. Clutched above his head so it wouldn’t drag on the ground was a black suit in a transparent dry cleaning poly bag.

“Sorry kid, no one here owns something that expensive. Try Dangote hall.”

The dorm’s official name wasn’t Dangote hall but due to the students who lived there being made of money, the name grew naturally. From their parking lot alone, one could see they weren’t average students. Toyota’s and Hondas made to park far away from the hall in an unwritten rule.

“I was told to give it to an Ekiuwa.”

His hand lowered an inch, the hem of the trouser getting closer to the dirty floors of Maduka hall. Ekiuwa relieved him of his burden, seeing the boys struggle.

“Are you sure?”

“You also have to take these.”

In his outstretched hand was a car key and a folded piece of paper. Ekiuwa didn’t take them, hesitating.

“Could it be another Ekiuwa?”

“I was told to come here.”

He stretched his hand further for Ekiuwa to take the key and paper.

“How did they know where I live?”

The question was shrugged off by the boy who quickly scampered away after handing the key and folded piece of paper over. Returning to his bed, he lay the suit on the thin mattress. Even to his untrained eye, the material looked luxurious. On the folded piece of paper was an address and time.

“47 willow Lane Ikoyi 4p.m.”

He read while staring at the key. It didn’t have the thin metal protrusion that were present on the few car keys he’d seen. It did have the electronic lock and unlock buttons.

“What is happening in Ikoyi at 4?”

The voice startled Ekiuwa. On one of the upper bunks, its occupant was no longer snoring.

“Go back to bed Kola.”

“Stingy. Golden boy get party, skipping class, no wan carry boys.”

“It’s not a party.”

“Where you steal suit from?”

“I didn’t steal anything.”

“With your one pair of jeans how can you buy suit.”

“Someone gave me.”

“If police come here no expect me join your matta.”

“I said I didn’t steal it.”

“I hear. Bring something com for boys sha.”

With that he buried his head underneath his pillow, his snores soon joining the others. Relieved, Ekiuwa folded the suit as carefully as he could and put it in his pillowcase to avoid any more questions from his other roommates.

With a pillowcase in one hand and a key in the other, Ekiuwa exited Maduka hall. There were very few cars parked here. Not a surprise considering the financial situation of those who ended up living in Maduka. Their few parking spots were usually filled by those whose halls ran out of space. Scanning the parking lot, he saw a couple Toyotas, a few Kias, one expensive Audi that looked out of place and a Honda City that was very similar to the one he had driven on that fateful night.

Standing in front of the Honda City door, he tried to slide the key into the lock unsuccessfully. Only then did he remember the key had no blade to stick in. Glancing at the symbols he spotted the electronic button that should unlock the door. Pressing it, he tried the handle with no success. After a few more tries he pressed the other buttons till there was only one he hadn’t tried. It was red, much different from the other three that were black in color. With nothing left to lose he tapped it hard. Behind him an alarm came to life. Over and over it blared, a grating sound that spread for miles, a few students attention pulled to it. Staring at the Audi, its lights flashing, Taking a step back, Ekiuwa pointed the key at it and pressed the unlock button. Its tantrum ended, doors unlocking with a click.

The large iron gate swung open letting him in. The size of the compound was nowhere near that of the mansion he had previously been to. Also different was the Absence of the ruthless gun toting personnel, a point he was grateful for. He parked in front of the main door, his arrival time a few minutes before 4 p.m. The note he found within the car had stressed punctuality as well as a few other points. One was for him to obey and to speak sparingly. He had found it a strange requirement. “How much is sparingly…” he thought.

Getting out the car he waited. At exactly 4 the house door opened revealing a woman in a long blue dress. It shimmered, ripples in a flowing river with two large rounded waterfalls. Around her neck, white pearls crested her exposed collar bone, matching those on her ears. Ekiuwa was unable to appreciate the tasteful combination, his eyes drawn to her facial appearance. Even with the heavy makeup she wore, he could tell she was more than twice his age, three times being an estimate he might bet on. Old enough to be his mother, was an understatement. He had the urge to call her grandma, one he wisely kept to himself.

“This is when you open the door.”

Her voice brought him out of his daze. It did not adopt the tone of a sweet old granny, instead it was full of zest, life and kindness.

“I’m sorry gra… mam.”

He caught himself, running to the passenger side to open the door.

“I’ll be sitting beside you and call me Miss. Mam makes me feel old.”

He wanted to shout ‘you are old!’, but the kind way she talked to him helped with resisting the temptation.

“Yes Miss. I’ll be glad to.”


“That is more like it. The suit looks good. You could use more muscle.”

Ekiuwa looked at his physique. He’d never thought much of his lean build. His village had been full of men who took pride in their protruding bellies. This was an idea he was reassessing as his experience in this multifaceted city reached greater heights. Racing back to the driver seat, he put the car in gear, pulling out of the compound.

Holding the door open for her felt more natural the second time around. They were parked in front of an over decorated hall in a part of Lagos he had never been in. Then again most of Lagos remained unvisited to Ekiuwa.

“Your hand.”

It was a strange request but he held his hand out to her.

“Thumb and index finger up.”

With her hand she patiently maneuvered his into the proper position before grasping it; stepping out of the car.

“I’m sorry Miss.”

“It’s fine. I was already told this is your first time.”

She smiled, a disarming action that put Ekiuwa at ease.

“Thank you Miss. What now?”

“You give me your arm and walk me in. Don’t forget to hold doors and pull out my chair.”

“Yes Miss.”

His nervousness dropped a level as Miss treated him with surprising kindness. They found their way to their seats without a hitch, his chair pull unnecessary thanks to a waiter who seemed to be there to solely attend to Miss’s needs. The hall’s interior was expensively decorated; chandeliers, ice sculptures and exotic flowers everywhere he looked. That was nothing compared to the food. The aromas floating by his nose reminded him he’d had nothing to eat all day. Platters of delicacies were presented to him and each time Ekiuwa declined. He didn’t want to but the note within the car had written it out in bold letters ‘NO EATING’. Keeping his salivating mouth in check was becoming a chore, stomach quietly growling. Hunger wasn’t a new experience so he had plenty of practice keeping his stomach growls to a quiet rumble. His eyes though were not trained to look away from such deliciousness.

“It’s alright for you to eat something.”

Miss had been watching him and couldn’t help but admire his resolve. The look in his eye was a dead giveaway he was hungry. Having to say ‘no’ each time food was brought to him must have been torture. The gratitude in Ekiuwa’s eyes shone brightly as he nodded his head to the next waiter who offered him food. He didn’t even bother looking at what it was, digging in almost immediately after the plate was set down.

“Here drink this.”

He took the champagne glass from her hand, tipping it down his gullet before he remembered what happened last time he drank something handed to him by a woman. Noticing the change in Ekiuwa’s expression, Miss laughed, grabbing a flute as well, drinking from it. Her actions calmed him down a little, the bubbly doing the rest. He quite liked the taste, his hand grabbing another glass. There were plenty on the table only he and Miss shared. The note had said nothing about drinks.

As the hours flew by, many came to the table to meet with Miss. Each treated differently by her but all without fail, entered her presence with humility. Ekiuwa wasn’t given a second glance, relegated to a position much like the flowers on the table. He didn’t mind, knowing he would have nothing to say anyway.

“I’m ready to leave.”

“Yes Miss.”

The drive home was quiet, the glasses of champagne warming Ekiuwa’s stomach. Unknown to him, he was developing a relationship with that particular drink.

“Did you have fun?”

“Yes Miss. Thank you for letting me eat.”

“Nonsense. I always thought that was a silly rule. What is your name?”

“Ekiuwa… Miss.”

“That name won’t do.”

“Won’t do?”

They had reached the front of her home.

“From now on you’ll be called Boy Karu. Or maybe just Karu.

“Yes miss.”

He wasn't sure he could say anything else. Could she really just change the name his mother gave him. It sounded ridiculous.

“My door.”

He got out the car and held the door open for her as well as his hand.

“Well done, there is hope for you yet Karu.”

Helping Miss make her way to the house door, he couldn’t help but think the day had not gone as expected. He hadn’t been sure what would happen considering his first ordeal but it turned out to be quite pleasant. Or it could be the glasses of champagne giving him a fuzzy feeling.

“What are you doing standing there, come in.”

Ekiuwa couldn’t help but turn, looking for who she was talking to. There was no one else but him.

“This Misstress is telling you to come in!”

Evaporated, the kindness in her tone. Replaced with iron, brittle and unyielding. Her eyes locked onto Karu, a beast about to eat its young. His heart beat an uneven tempo, the nervousness that had been on the decrease exploding.

“Miss, I think it is time for me to go home.”

“This mistress will tell you when you go home. Or do you want to continue your sorry existence unable to afford to bring your loved one to a better life.”

Her words shook him. ‘How does she know.’ he thought, his mind filled with images of his mother enduring the harshness of a life as the foreign youngest wife.

“Yes Miss.”

“Call me Mistress.”

The last words heard before the door closed behind him.

Twitter - @just2days

E-mail - just2day@yahoo.com

Thanks for reading

Not sure if it's intentional but your poster says 'price'. Do you per chance mean 'prize'?

queenitee:
This story is just wow... we've almost forgotten about them

Top level commenter. Your enthusiasm is cherished.

lotta books lotta characters to keep track of

VincenzoZhuxu:
[color=#990000][/color] shei bro you really get me focus you are a great write indeed more inspiration to you from where this come from

Appreciate the kind words. Working hard to live up to them.

Make others come to you. Use bait if necessary

TANGENT :- As Duhu's path takes on new meaning I want to take the next few chapters to touch on the hopefully not forgotten side characters.

CHAPTER 30

Prey stirred from their refuge, boldness coming with the rays of a morning sun. Birds sang their approval of a new dawn, the fresh scent of morning dew sifting through the air. Two, dwarfed by the immensity of the world, lay underneath a canopy of broad leafed trees, foreigners to the Oyo forest’s morning routine. Hastily gathered banana leaves and palm fronds lay strewn on the floor, keeping the dirt off their backs. They clung to each other as one would the last of what is held precious, tendrils of smoke from a smoldering fire nearby framing them. Pale with exhaustion, the boy’s fingers ran through the dada hair of the girl nestled against his chest. Arm sore, he paused, letting it fall to the side and land on a black bag. He waited, breath held. A little over a minute went by and there was no change in the one he held. With a sigh of relief he carefully laid her to rest on the palm fronds and banana leaves.

Reaching into the black bag, he brought out a Gideon bible, its edges frayed from use. A tear fell, splashing on the green cover. He wiped it as best he could with a crumbled up bank note, his own clothes too dirty to do much good. Opening the cover, he began to read a written note. “To my dear Emeka…” Eyes wet again, he could read no further. Within its pages he brought out an aged picture, a corner of it singed. Those were the only two items he thought to grab when they made a hasty return to the village. It had been deathly quiet. Gone were the sounds of running children, and gossiping women preparing the mid day meal. He could not hear the rolling hacking laughter of the old who spent their days drinking the fermented nectar of the palm tree while exaggerating exploits of the past. Soulless, the village had become, bodies displayed in their last acts of life.

Knowing they would need supplies, he walked to the nearest hut. The trail of blood leading into the interior sapped his courage. To rob the dead, he could not bring himself to do so. A voice in the distance further ate away at his resolve. They were coming. He wasn’t sure who but he knew it was unlikely they would be friendly. Quickly he returned to where he had left the girl. She had awoken, her eyes dim. Having no time to think, he grabbed her hand and pulled her deeper into the forest. Together they had created as much distance as they could from the village, the fear of being discovered giving them strength to push on.

“Mom... mom… mom…”

The voice of the girl drew him back to the present. Shivers began to ravage her body, her nightmare vivid. Emeka lifted her, nestling her head against his chest once again as he stroked her hair.

“Tope it’s only a dream…”

He cooed, her body calming down to his touch. It had been like this all night leaving no chance for Emeka to sleep. The few times he had drifted off, he would wake minutes later as the nightmares plagued Tope. He saw one advantage, there was no chance for him to dream. With darkness had come a chill, the fire being their only weapon against it. At the base of the pit, bits of charred naira notes could be seen. They could not stay here long, but he couldn't bear to wake her so soon after all that had happened the day before. As he agonized over his decision, clear eyes opened up to watch him.

“Brother Emeka, I had a… a… a....”

Fingers tightened their hold on his shirt.

“It’s just a dream, don’t think too much about it.”

“But it felt so real!”

“I know... they can be like that sometimes.”

“Don’t leave me brother Emeka like you did in the dream.”

Missing from her deep browns was a wide eyed innocence he was used to seeing. Her simple request settled on his shoulders with the weight of a thousand boulders. In answer, he hugged her tightly.

“Are you ready to go?”

She nodded, rising to her feet, clothes as stained as his.

“Are you hungry?”

Tope’s head shook but her stomach chose that time to betray her. They both hadn’t eaten since the previous morning, the thought of food being far from their minds.

“We’ll head towards the road and find someone to take us to town.”

Hand in hand they walked, the black bag slung over his shoulder, hunger and fatigue dictating their pace. It was not long before the black and grey strip of interstate highway came into view.

“Brother Emeka, look. A car.”

Not to far from where they exited the forest, an old blue Nissan was parked at the side of the road with its hood raised. A man’s head was currently buried in the engine compartment, tools scattered around him. It seemed their luck had changed. As they got closer, vulgar words could be heard with the consistency of a machine gun. Emeka began to think twice about approaching the man. Before he could turn, the vulgar words stopped, the man noticing he wasn’t alone. Grabbing a large wrench close by, he whipped around raising it high in the air only to see two young, hungry, dirty children.

“Wait!”

He could tell they were about to run, his hairy arms held high not the ideal sign of peace.

“I thought you were thieves. What are you doing here alone?”

Tope hid behind Emeka, grabbing firmly to his shirt. The man let the wrench fall to the floor, palms held out in front of him as a wide smile split his face. Emeka felt a strong urge to leave.

“We didn’t have money to pay the conductor so he dropped us in the middle of nowhere.”

The lie came smoothly. It would not be wise to let anyone know the truth behind their predicament.

“Such a cruel world. Where are you going to?”

“To see our uncle in the next town.”

“Ejigbo?”

“Yes.”

Emeka wasn’t sure if that truly was the next town but he couldn’t think of any other answer.

“Both of you shall be my good deed for today. Ejigbo is on the way to Ogbomosho. I’ll happily drop you.”

“But your car isn’t working sir. We will find our own way.”

“Nonsense. It is almost fixed. Just wait under the shade. Here, take some plantain chips.”

From his pocket three bags of plantain chips flew through the air, deftly caught by Emeka. At first he was about to toss them back to the man but a gentle rumble from behind him showed a drooling Tope, all thoughts of leaving promptly dissipating from his mind.

“Thank you sir.”

Tope tore into the chips as soon as Emeka placed it in her hands. It did not take long for her bag to be empty. He quickly opened another.

“What kind of man would I be to watch children go hungry. What is in the bag?”

“Our clothes.”

Emeka’s answer was quick. He had no delusions, an explanation long prepared for the man’s curiosity.

“Good, good, then you two should change while I finish repairing the car.

“It is the clothes we are to wear for our uncles anniversary. We can’t let it get dirty.”

“Very dutiful kids. Well then, the car should be fixed in less than an hour.”

True to his word, the car came rumbling back to life in a little over half an hour, spewing thick black smoke into the air.

“The heavens are smiling on us. Let’s go.”

The man opened the front passenger door for Emeka and Tope to enter. Emeka ignored it, guiding Tope to the back seat.

“We like the back seat sir. So we can stretch well.”

“No problem. I don’t have passengers anyway.”

Getting into the driver's seat, the car slid back onto the interstate highway, its passengers in tow. From his rearview mirror the driver could see Emeka, his arm tightly clutching the black bag he carried. He licked his lips as heavy lidded eyes grew cold.



Twitter - @just2days

Email - just2day@yahoo.com

Thanks for Reading

nastynic:


Thanks for the Update bruh..

Ion even know... dope!
...rare privilege ...to your account

Your words are gold. Appreciate the feedback, it truly is motivating when doubt comes a knocking.

CHAPTER 30 OUT ON 24TH OCTOBER

GET OTHERS TO DO THE WORK FOR YOU


CHAPTER 28 ON PREVIOUS PAGE

STORY SO FAR : After a series of life threatening adventures, Malaozi manages to complete her mission and get Ola over to the reading of his father's will. The powerful residing within the city of Lagos attend to witness who among the 3 children of Ogiuwu will rise to becoming the leader of the most powerful family in Lagos. The reading of the will takes unexpected paths leading to Ola being slapped with a shocking revelation.

CHAPTER 29

Lights came on, turning the darkish room into one of shadows. Exhaustion had finally silenced Ola, a timely chair appearing for him to collapse into. Malaozi tore a strip from her pure white blouse, wrapping it around Ola’s hand to stop the trickle. She faced him but he was blind to her, eyes blank, transparent, unable to see Malaozi’s burst of short lived empathy.

Quick, open palmed and without mercy she struck his cheek; the slap whiplashing his face to trace the shape of a crescent moon. It was the pull cord of a ‘beta pass my neighbor’ generator. Ola sprang to life with a roar, leaping off the chair with outstretched hands aimed at Malaozi’s throat. He didn’t get far. Pointed at his head was a nine millimeter glock, stopping his momentum dead. The speed at which she whipped it out still left him surprised.

“Why do I have a feeling of deja-vu.”

“It is similar to how we met.”

“Right... in the Range. Seems like a lifetime ago. Fierce beast, are you going to hit me with the butt of the gun again?”

She smiled, her hand tightening on the grip.

“Don’t tempt me. What now?”

“Now… I need to find some rocks and a body.”

Malaozi’s eyelids grew close as she tried to make sense of what Ola just said, gun disappearing back into her burgundy jacket. The doors behind opened, the Secretary making her way to them.

“I believe young master finds I was right and you do not regret accepting.”

“How much of what was in that recording are you privy to Secretary?”

“I’m sorry young master, I am not at liberty to say.”

“Then what are you at liberty to say?”

“At this time, nothing. Once certain ‘goals’ are accomplished this might change”

There was a faint but recognizable lilt in the way she uttered ‘goals’. It was not lost on Ola. His arm shot out, grabbing the Secretaries waist and drawing her close.

“You aren’t so simple are you...”

It wasn’t a question. In his arms he could feel there wasn’t even a wisp of a shiver or break in her composure.

“Does young master wish to have me?”

She accompanied the question with a coy smile, a finger reaching up to trace his jaw line.

“What of it?”

Ola said, his arm tightening round her waist. She gave off a scent that calmed his heart and soothed his soul, lulling him into a peace that seemed to be intent on sending him into a zen like state. He shook his head, forcefully beating down that urge to surrender himself to this woman. Being unable to unnerve her irked him. He could tell she knew much more than she was letting on. None but Sir Ogiuwu was privy to her real name. Everyone else knew her as the Secretary. It was more than a title and instead had become a name of sorts. Though never before laying eyes on her, Ola knew of her existence. At least he knew the existence of the Secretary. There was a rumor over the years the title had changed hands many times and the previous holders had become much like their real name.

“Young master flatters me.”

“Spare me your banality. Where is his body?”

In his arms, her weight shifted ever so slightly. It was the first time she had given off anything other than a still lake in a valley untouched by human hands. You are human after all. His arm slacked, releasing her to take a step back from him. Fingers pressed against her white blouse, smoothing out wrinkles that weren't there.

“Young master has relinquished his 15% of the family stake therefore I cannot answer any questions he may wish answered.”

“When can I have you then?”

“What do you mean ‘have her’ you sick fiend.”

Malaozi could no longer keep quiet at what boiled down to buying a woman’s body. Expecting to see a disgusted look in the Secretaries face she was perturbed to find no change in expression, the silver hair pin giving off a muted shine in the dim light.

“When you manage to control more than 50% of the family stake.”

“Is that open to negotiation?”

“Even a saint would become a woman of the night if one can offer the proper incentives.”

“Malaozi let’s go.”
“Just like that? Shouldn’t we try negotiating now?”

“Right now we have nothing to tempt her. But that is only a matter of time.”

“So where to now then?”

“As I said before, to find some rocks and a body.”

Ola looked to the darkened floor to ceiling windows of the room where so much had occurred. Though blocked, his mind could still envision the city beneath them, teeming with the souls of millions struggling for meaning, in buildings of block, cement, wood, tin and sack; on roads of asphalt, gravel, interlocking blocks and dirt. Out of those millions there were a minute few who held the answers he sought. They did not know it but a fiend had tied their destinies to him. This was his city. He had tried to leave it once again but as fate would have it, he would be drawn back into its depths. His back turned, he strode for the exit as he muttered to himself.

“Lagos, are you ready for me…”

Twitter - @just2days

Email - just2day@yahoo.com

Thanks for reading

VincenzoZhuxu:
i do really like the way you twist this story it always keep me in suspense tumb up for you this is good piece

Appreciate the validation, means a lot. Suspense can be difficult to handle and so easy to get wrong. Nice I got lucky this time.

COURT ATTENTION AT ALL COST

TANGENT : Seems a few people have sent me emails through nairaland. I see the notification on nairaland but the email doesn't reach my box. Just a heads up.

Madame Agwo - Agwo is an Igbo word meaning snake. Do with the info as you will. lol


CHAPTER 28

Even projected on a screen, Sir Ogiuwu rippled with authority, his very being weighing on one's soul. There was an aura of domination pressing down on the weak forcing them to revere. He was not a young man, yet there was not the slightest evidence of frailty. If one had been told he slaughtered the beast himself there would be no doubt nurtured.

“I had the last laugh old man.”

Ola spoke to the pre recorded message of a dead man whose body he still had not witnessed. Beside him, Malaozi was unable to suppress the longing she felt deep down; a hand stretching out toward the display.

“Son.”

He paused, hesitation evident and foreign on his chiseled face strewn with contours. Ola had known the man as one who spoke sparingly but never had he seen him struggle as he did now. There’s nothing you can say to make me join your game.

“She is alive…”

On the screen, he grew visibly older, the sentence uttered seeming to sap his vitality, pain discernable in iron grey eyes. It was too vague, the world containing billions of ‘she’ but for some reason watching his father struggle to say such a mundane line sent Ola’s heart racing. The blood in his veins pounded to the rhythm of Ekiti women making ‘iyan’ for dinner; steady, precise and relentless. From where he stood he could see the man in the recording was about to speak again. What was about to be born into Ola’s world, he wasn’t sure he was ready for. Wait… From the depths of his soul the thought came, wishing for time to prepare. Time to ready himself for the earthquake that would shake his very foundation. Ola’s lips parted but nothing came out.

“Your mother... she is alive.”

To his knees he fell, the physical shock unable to come anywhere near the psychological. Eyes glazed over, unable to withstand the impact. Not once did he think to doubt his father’s words. Alive… He had dreamt of it. During the darkest of nights in boarding school; when a child’s imagination ran at its most wild. A visiting day where he would see her coming through the gates like all the other mothers, arms laden with treats and a smile that would dazzle the sun. Then he would take his time laughing at those who dared mock his loneliness during such days. The dream could not last forever, the end of night bringing with it the reality of his life; isolation. That nurtured hope died one day. He couldn’t pinpoint when, merely woke one morning realizing the dream no longer came. Questions flooded Ola’s heart, each one bursting to be the first asked.

“I cannot answer the questions dear to you. If you want the truth to it all, there is but one way.”

A tightly closed fist struck the marble floor, fingernails digging and breaking skin. Ola felt none of it. From where he knelt he could see the old man gather strength through sheer stubbornness, a familiar trait.

“Power!”

With a thunderclap, the sound came through, possessing the magnificence of a king. It burnt its way to Ola, igniting a hunger in him he had long since let smolder. A furnace sprung to life, flames of desire raging to untold heights. From his knees he stood, red running through the gaps between fingers, finding its way to the floor in slow steady drips. The hate for this man who spoke to him from the past had not lessened but for now he set it aside.

“Where is she?”

Ola talked to the screen as if he could be heard; a futile gesture.

“Control the governorship of this state and you will glimpse the true hidden darkness of this country.”

“Tell me where she is?”

Sir Ogiuwu rose to his feet, a towering figure.

“There are tigers and leopards hidden within the forest. You must become the lion... without weakness.”

“I need to know where she is...”

Ola’s speech cracked, drowning, dripping with a desperation Malaozi was unable to attribute to the man she had spent over a day with.

“Your mother is within this hidden darkness. Governorship won’t be enough to find her but it will be the foundation you will need.”

An answer that only brought more questions, driving Ola to the brink as he drowned further.

“Only with the Presidency in your grasp will you be able to pierce it all and find your mother.”

Sir Ogiuwu’s eyes closed as he allowed himself a moment to caress tightly guarded and treasured memories.

“Trust no one OluwaDuhu... except for her.”

Malaozi felt her temperature rise, mouth dry from the heat as two men’s gaze fell on her. One broken and another with a hint of tenderness. ‘How did he know i’d be standing to his right?’. An unnecessary question, unimportant to her current situation. ‘Trust…’ a complicated expression on her face as she glanced at Ola who had returned to staring at the screen with life and death eyes.

“Little one, I can only ask you to watch over him. Your debt to me has been more than repaid with your loyalty. In his quest, I promise you too will find what you seek.”

She was at a loss. Swept up by the moment she nodded her head, a weight settling on her heart as heavy as a mountain; duty.

“I look to you to succeed where I have failed… son. Travel whatever road you must to gain the pinnacle.”

“Where is she… where is she… where is she…”

Over and over he asked the now black screen, unable to look away even as the man within had faded to nothingness. Malaozi could do not but watch and listen to Ola as the minutes ticked away.

Twitter - @just2days

Email - just2day@yahoo.com

Thanks for Reading

queenitee:
What? He isn't dead?

Hmmm... Though tempting, can't be having too many people pulling a back to life.

CHAPTER 28 ON OCT 20TH

nastynic:


It's Hologram

Good catch, though maybe a bit too advanced a tech. Sticking to more available 2d sources. Thanks for commenting

donkelz:
Welldone Bro! This is a terrific suspense filled story. More Grace and Mb for You!

Those mb run out quick lol. Great looking out. Thanks

SO MUCH DEPENDS ON REPUTATION. GUARD IT WITH YOUR LIFE

CHAPTER 27

With a crash one hand struck the sturdy wooden table, waking all from their stupor, the blood now dry. Ola’s fingers dug in, steadying himself with a stubbornness born of will. The Secretary’s arms stopped inches away, her brow furrowing as her expectation was circumvented.

“Are we done?”

It was a dead tone Ola used while addressing the Secretary. She still thinks I'm going to fall. A lacquered finger reached up, tapping a steady rhythm on plump lips, unable to hide her growing interest. Without a word she picked up the contract, lips sensual, blowing gently on the coppery stain before folding the paper and placing it beside the silver pin in the box. Picking up what was hers, she left the limelight to stand beside Malaozi who still remained at the door.

Many unblinking stares landed on Ola. From agitated gulps to shivers, the fear they felt was expressed in a variety of ways. It was a difficult concept to accept, voluntarily relinquishing power. If given a choice to sell their mothers for even half of that 15%, they would in a heartbeat. A couple had already done it for much less. Greed was the foundation of the edifice they lived in. What Ola had done shook this core and they could not accept it. ‘There must be some agenda we are not aware of…’ some thought, returning his actions to a realm they could understand. Their experience soon kicked in, composure returning as more ideas in line with their world trickled.

“Fool and a coward. You know you have no chance and try to use this farce to gracefully exit.”

Gaddo spat.

“I have no more time to waste here, let's go!”

His shoulder nudged Ola’s as he swept past.

“I still owe you for the little party you prepared for me at the border.”

“Party? What party? The loss of blood has addled your brain.”

There was a trace of confusion in Gaddo’s answer; enough for Ola to catch while still sounding genuine. Has he gotten better at lying? For Ola, Gaddo had never been difficult to read. Could someone else have orchestrated the ambush on my way from Osun… His head turned to his half sister who had a reassuring hand on the Governors shoulder. It was a hard pill to swallow but not a surprising one. Still he was not sold on the idea. That boys description of the man who came to the village was definitely Gaddo’s dog. Highly unlikely he would be lying after the death of that little girls mother. I wonder what path he chose. Ola was pulled out of his thoughts when he saw his half brother had made a detour.

Reaching the doors, Gaddo flashed a wide smile at Malaozi, ignoring the Secretary.

“You are too pretty to serve that waste Duhu. Come and I'll shower you with splendor well beyond that burgundy jacket you wear.”

Cold eyes greeted him in answer. Displeasure turned the corners of his mouth.

“I will have you. It's up to you if it will be easy or hard but I will have you.”

Swinging open, he stormed through the doors, the morning far from what he had envisioned would be his glorious moment. Two men followed close behind, one fat with sweat springing from every pore as folds of skin ebbed and flowed with the pull of his gait. Ola was unable to hide his disappointment as his half brother left unscathed. She is never that gentle with me. Gaddo’s departure opened the floodgates, the room emptying till only the Secretary, Malaozi, Ola and his half sister remained.

Lottanna faced the floor to ceiling windows, lips close enough to smudge the glass if she tried. With a wave of her gloved hand, the darkened windows became clear, the muted morning sun streaming in.

“How did you know I wanted to talk to you Ola?”

“Does it matter?”

“No, no it doesn’t.”

There was a gulf between, spanning beyond the physical distance created with her at the windows and him at the large table fixed in the center of the room.

“Won’t you come to my side?”

The question swept over him in waves, each crashing on his sandy beach revealing more and more layers. Ola remained where he was, his mind in overdrive.

“You read too much into things Ola.”

His thoughts came to a halt. She’s in my head. Her back was to him, stance straight and strong. Side by side they now stood, both gazing out the large windows to the city beneath their feet. Grey clouds floated nearby, their destination a mystery. Ola could see the Union Bank building below them, and farther away the Necom House skyscraper whose tower's tip struggled to grasp the height he currently stood. A slew of toy cars remained motionless on a bridge, their drivers a speck going nowhere. Further still, the ocean, a beast of blue and green and white refusing to be tamed.

“Remember when we use to bathe together…”

“No I don’t.”

The question would be a strange one to those who did not know his half sister.

“Ola dear, we both know you are unable to lie convincingly to me.”

“...”

“You were so cute with your little…”

“Yes I remember.”

Ola quickly cut in, not allowing her finish what he suspected would be...

“I was young.”

“You were six Ola.”

“I was clueless.”

“You were innocent Ola.”

“It was against my will.”

“You were laughing Ola.”

“...”

“I haven’t seen your laugh in a long time.”

As they talked their faces did not leave the sight of the city behind those translucent windows.

“Threaten me like that again Lottanna and…”

“There is no need for you to finish that sentence; our father can only die once.”

“Then tell me, why send a hit squad to kill me on my way to Lagos.”

As he spoke he turned, keeping every bit of her covered state in his line of sight.

“I did no such thing.”

Her answer didn’t surprise him. Making things easy would not be in line with who his half sister was. I still can’t tell when she’s lying. He ran a hand through his hair.

“I leave no favors unanswered Lottanna.”

“There is no one that knows that better than I.”

He could tell there was a hint of a smile behind those dark curtains.

“When will you cast the Lagos Governor aside?”

“So you are interested in father’s game; what makes you think I'll cast him aside.”

“No, I’m leaving this forsaken city as soon as I escape this building.”

"Are you really done with this world Ola?"

"Yes, I think I am."

“Fate has a strange way of toying with us.”

“Do you know something I don’t?”

Silence met his question, body turning away from her to gaze out into the city once more before speaking.

“Lawal has too much scandal around him. With the family united re-election is still assured but with a divided house…”

“What would you have me do Ola?”

“Considering his four year term is in its infancy it leaves a lot of room for you to…”

He caught himself, stopping mid sentence. Now he was sure she was smiling behind that infernal veil. He turned to leave.

“No, I’ll leave. I suspect you aren’t done here Ola.”

While he mulled over her words she left his side, a wave of her gloved hand ending Ola's view of the city. Juvenile. He turned to chew her out and was gifted a scene of his half sister’s lips pressed to Malaozi’s ear. Seeing this, Ola rushed over. This can’t be good. By the time he reached them his half sister was gone.

“What did she say? Don’t believe her.”

“You have something to hide? Doesn’t matter. We are done. I think you know your way back to Osun, ‘Pastor’.”

Never had he heard the word 'pastor' said with such disdain. Leaving those words behind, Malaozi followed the path of the others out the door. Ola felt a slight thump in his chest with each step she took. An inexplicable urgency to shout 'wait' welled up in him. His lips parted to emptiness. It had been a little over a day since they met. Surviving two life and death battles doesn’t mean our paths are to be linked forever... maybe it does....

“Wait.”

Malaozi’s foot hung in the air, an action that surprised her. ‘I’m done with him’ was her thought. Why her body obeyed this call her mind could not fathom. She did not dare think with her heart. While Malaozi struggled to bury her possible truths, Ola confronted a new variable; the utterance had not come from his mouth.

The Secretary watched them both, the corners of her plump lips curved upwards. How she had made her voice sound exactly like his, Ola felt nothing but amazement for. A feeling that was immediately wiped by a Malaozi who was now marching back to him. If looks could kill I'd be on my fifth life or is it sixth.

“What now?”

It was the tone she used when she was an inch away from talking with her piece. Tell her it was the Secretary. The smile on the Secretary’s face made him scrap that plan. His lips parted to say anything to buy time, the Secretary cutting in before he could get it out.

“Your father left you something. If you and miss could kindly step back into the room.”

“Whatever it is you can keep it. Or toss it into the canal for all I care.”

“This, you won't regret accepting.”

“You don’t know me enough to say.”

“But your father does.”

“Talking is a waste. Malaozi let’s go.”

A hand on her shoulder he guided her out the door, half the time expecting her to break it.

“I’ll ensure no harm befalls the sister khadijat and that little one; Eduvie if I remember correctly.”

There was no hard line nor malice. Delivered much like she was negotiating the price of tomatoes at a Thursday market and not the lives of flesh and blood similar to hers.

“Lottanna wouldn’t go through with it. She has no reason to now.”

“True but what about Gaddo. He is bound to find out about them sooner or later. I have the power to make sure that does not happen.”

“Threatened twice in a day and its not even noon.”

“It is not a threat young master, merely a favor being granted to stave tomorrows misery.”

“Favors, I repay ten times. Very well, let’s get on with it. Where?”

“Here. If you’ll kindly take a seat.”

“I’d rather stand.”

“Miss how about you?”

Malaozi made no moves. Seeing they would not be seated, the Secretary waved her hand. The room dimmed even further, in front of them was a man sitting on an oversized armchair with a full head of white hair. Fingers caressed the head of a skinned beast draped over the chair, its face immortalized at its most ferocious, fangs bared. Steely eyes pierced the two dimensional into the world, crossing the divide and drilling into Ola.

“Son.”

Twitter - @just2days

Email - just2day@yahoo.com

Thanks for Reading

queenitee:
Wow, speechless

you are sweet. Your comments are encouraging. Thank you severely

donkelz:
Bros! The suspense too much! I doff my hat for you!

Appreciate the enthusiasm. Thanks for the commented validation and interest.

Vivid, your depiction of Jude's pain. Well done

OluwabuqqyYOLO:
I joined the party when it didn't matter. But, still, this is a masterpiece. And I love better and worse tragedies. Wow!

Lol it always matters. I'm guessing you found the forgotten story due to a recent comment from a recent joiner. Who knows som1 might find it due to your comment. Appreciate the positive feedback.

Better and worse tragedies do have a particular flavor to them. You might like 'To love a mami water' If I ever get to writing past the snippet I posted at the end of my chapter 50 upload.

Thanks for taking the time to comment

Pinkberry5:
WOW! This was a great read. Thank you, just2daay.

Almost forgot about this practice piece. It's a treat knowing it was enjoyed. Appreciate the comment

Mczigx:
Bro you're just too good

Kind words. Will continue to struggle to make it a reality. Thanks for taking the time to comment

queenitee:
Hmm, it's for ola. update today o

Sadly it was and wasn't for Ola. Update was dropped o lol Thanks for commenting

ALWAYS SAY LESS THAN NECESSARY

TANGENT - I’m not a saint, more of a sinner. We broke the 10,000 views threshold my DARKIES. Thanks for chipping in and I hope the story manages to remain entertaining for a little while longer. Here's a long chapter to that regard

CHAPTER 26

Each spoken word thrummed with an ethereal power rendering all within its influence spell bound. They hung on every letter, resounding note and refined inflection. It gripped their minds body and soul refusing to let go. For Ola, he was no less affected. Father. The thought was filled with a host of complex emotions. It had been years since he had heard the man's steadfast speech. Even his requests came off as commands. There was but one choice when Sir Ogiuwu voiced his will, the few who thought there was a second were no longer of this world. I am still here.

The eyes of the powerful gleamed with religious fervor as they waited for destiny to show them the way. It wouldn’t be long now. For those who had remained uncommitted, their thoughts spun as plans were revised on how to gain favor once Lottanna or Gaddo’s name was announced. The hearts of the few who had already sworn allegiance to one of the children beat harder than those who had remained neutral. They, be it through courage, incentives, coercion or downright threats had joined a ship to sail into a bountiful harvest or sink in utter despair. Even now that Ola’s hand had orchestrated the opening of the box, none believed there was even a glimmer of a chance he would be the one to inherit.

“I, Sir Ogiuwu of sound mind and body hereby leave all…”

“...control of the Ogiuwu family business to my seed…“

“... whose submitted candidate is able to win the next Lagos governor election.”

The moment held suspended for longer than it should, no one daring to breathe as the implications came crashing down. The first to react was the man who sat beside Lottanna, current governor of Lagos, Ndubuisi Lawal. Lips quivering, his ‘Abeti aja’ fell from his head revealing a U-shape baldness. He was barely a month into his first of what he was sure would be an easy two term appointment with the Ogiuwu’s backing. But now… In his climb to the governorship he had made more than a few enemies, actions that he willingly took with the thought he would have eight years to neutralize their existence. He turned to the woman beside him, his adoration now tinged with fear. There was nothing to see, Lottanna’s face hidden behind the veil, her body motionless, giving no hint to her thoughts. The voice was not done.

“Each given 15% of the family stake to aid their candidate to victory and the attainment of POWER.”

The last few letters swam in the darkened room, stirring and igniting the spirit of every person sitting at that table. Their insatiable hunger to attain greater heights grew beyond its previous borders, schemes and thoughts flowing as the river Niger at its apex. They gauged Gaddo and Lottanna, divining who would reign supreme.

“Is this a joke!”


The roar came from the floor where Gaddo’s butt still kissed.

“I won’t accept this!” It is mine! No one will take my inheritance from me! I don’t know what trick you are trying to pull Lottanna but you won’t get away with it.”

“Gaddo, would you like to repeat what you just said.”

She turned to her brother who was rising from the floor. Her words made him pause, hand faltering from the steady gaze from behind the veil.

“I can do whatever I want.”

Gaddo snapped back, his face a storm. In his hand was the Abeti aja that had previously fallen.

“Your dog seems to have forgotten his ears.”

With more force than needed he tugged the hat back unto a speechless Lawal’s head. ‘I am a governor’ he thought, his body doing nothing as his head was manhandled by this boy half his age. ‘I decide the fate of millions...’ another thought by the governor as Gaddo patted his head giving the arrangement of the hat a satisfied once over.

“When she throws you away for someone more palatable you can come to me. I’ll have a place for you. My sister tires quickly of ugly things.”

He did not bother to gauge the reaction of Lawal, turning instead to those seated at the table.

“For those seated who are yet to pledge to me, don’t wait too long. I am not know for my patience.”

A few averted Gaddo’s gaze when it swept over them while some met it evenly. When his scan reached Madam Agwo a strange scene occurred. It was born and died in an instant, none but Ola catching the exchange. Gaddo had dodged her expectant gaze much like a sheep would dodge a wolf. Why Gaddo was playing the role of sheep, Ola did not understand. Seeing he did not have the support of the majority in the room Gaddo turned to his sister.

“Will you truly fight me for this sister?”

“This will not be a fight between us two.”

“Are you saying I am not worthy to be your opponent!”

Gaddo was rabid now. First his half brother humiliated him, now this woman chose to see him as less than.

“You chose to see my words that way.”

“Then tell me sister, what do your words mean?”

She could tell he was reaching the point where reason would be thrown shot and buried without a funeral. It was self evident he was itching for a fight after the day had not gone as he expected. ‘Mother had spoilt him beyond reason’ she thought, an audible sigh escaping her lips.

“Ola can shed light on it as a third party.”

With one line she deftly shifted Gaddo’s building sea of resentment unto the shoulders of another, a tactic that was not lost on Ola. ‘Up nepa’, went the bulbs in the heads of many, illuminating a forgotten fact; there was a third seed. A wrench was thrown into previously concocted schemes and machinations. The idea of completely disregarding the bastard child was toyed with and summarily discarded. 15% of the family stake was enough to make even a fool from the street who knew nothing an instant major player. Duhu was no fool and more than a few in that room knew it. A number of undecided who had been toying with immediately throwing their weight behind Lottanna or Gaddo began to reassess their decisions. Among them was a tall, skinny man sitting opposite Lottanna. In his early forties, putting aside the Ogiuwu children, he was the youngest in the room. Large dark sunglasses hid his eyes and quite a bit of his face but one could still see a faint resemblance to Gaddo and Ola. It would not be too much of a leap if one guessed they were related in some way. On bone like wrist were cowry shell bracelets that clinked a sorrowful rhythm when he moved. By his side a wooden staff rested against the table, every inch covered with ornate carvings. The space between him and those seated to his left and right were greater than the space between anyone else in the room. With the casual glance one would note the emptiness was intentional.

Once again Ola was remembered by all, the spotlight landing squarely on him with the aid of his half sister. Constantly the orchestrator of my headaches. It was not new to Ola, half the fights he had been in when in Secondary school having been cause and effect of his half sisters flippant conniving tongue working from the shadows. He had celebrated for a different reason from others when she skipped a class and graduated early. Surviving another year with her in the school would have been near impossible.

“You going to answer or have you forgotten how to speak.”

Gaddo couldn’t resist digging into Ola. He was left disappointed as Ola ignored him. Still he refused to let sleeping predators lie.

“So he has forgotten to talk. As one older and better let me help you.”


With a sneer he pointed at Ola with his left hand, his right moving in a sweeping gesture.

“Is there anyone who will support the bastard?”

A few were surprised at such a brazen question. These were people used to backroom dealings. Never showing one’s hand so publicly was one key to their achievements. To be asked to declare so openly for one in this setting was to make an enemy of the other two candidates.

“Will no one rise to declare for this discarded and unwanted trash?”

Gaddo was relishing his moment watching as none rose from their chairs.

“Trash will always be trash no matter how you dress it up. Remember that, impure blood.”

As he said those words, two at the table stirred within their seats, their legs filling with strength.

“I relinquish the 15% stake.”

The two who were stirring froze, Ola's declaration ringing heavily in their ears. Gaddo laughed. It filled the room, his face full of disbelief.

“Relinquish… Do you know what that word means? Do you dare!”

“My words are my truth. One that has not a sliver of courage cannot understand it.”

“Ola don’t do this.”

Lottanna’s words were surprising. Each time I think I understand her goals she manages to confuse me even more a second after.

“Fool that is what you are. Truth? Who will believe you. Words as empty as a newly hollowed out calabash.”

“I know his Secretary is watching this. Bring me something to sign.”

Ola said, his hand only now leaving the fingerprint pad. Beneath the loose dress she wore, Lottanna’s body shook.

“Quit with this farce Duhu. Once you climb the back of a tiger, falling off means death.” Gaddo said, whichever outcome being one he would be ecstatic with.

Less than a minute later the double doors opened once again, a woman strolling in with a leather bound folder in one hand and a small box in the other. Coming off her was a fragrance that calmed the heart and mind of those who breathed it in. White stiletto heels left an arch in her lower back adding grace to her walk, the men following her every sway. Brown hair piled atop her head, ending in a chignon bun held together by a solid silver chinese hair pin about a foot in length. A simple white blouse and black knee length skirt completed the ensemble. In front of Ola she opened the leather bound folder, inside a contract relinquishing his 15% stake. There were puzzled looks. The speed at which all this had been arranged made it difficult for one to believe these items had not already been prepared beforehand. Lottanna’s hand lifted as if to say something only for it to fall back to her side in silence.

Next to see the dim light of the world was the contents of the box. Inside, there were no pens, ink or blotter. A single silver pin about the length of a finger rested beside a pure white cloth. The point of the pin gave off a foreboding gleam. There were no words between the woman and Ola, his left palm merely extending to her. With a practiced motion, the silver pin was grasped by her, breaking Ola's flesh, a globule of blood taking its time to form at the tip of his finger. The pain was instant and fleeting. Without wasting time he held the tip over the bottom of the parchment and squeezed. A single drop felt the pull of gravity, flying through the air, watched by all, to land on the contract. The paper drank it greedily, staining the off white color a coppery red, a weakness flooding over him.

Twitter - @just2days

E-mail - just2day@yahoo.com

Thanks for reading

queenitee:
Hmm, you are really good

High praise. Blush worthy. I'll strive to live up to it. Appreciate the comment

CHAPTER 26 OCTOBER 11

donkelz:
Well done...but the update too small after so long a break...more! more!!

lol yeah, i'll increase word count after this week. Focusing on being consistent in updating first. Thanks for taking time to comment and your enthusisasm

pacifust058:
Thanks for the update

Thanks for sticking around