Nostradamus:
stop quoting each and every updates,it makes things hard for other readers.

zubike01:

He stepped out, Princess Adeshola tried to call her father but she noticed her phone had fried out. She wanted to go out and buy a new one but she was too scared. She thought of the nice officer would he not come back as promised. She waited for hours scared lonely and troubled and finally she heard a knock.

“Who is there?” Her voice was a mixture of fear and expectation.

“Sorry, I came late duty called.” Oju replied.

She opened the door the inspector was no more dressed in uniform, instead he work a dashiki and baggy trouser.

“Inspector you look fantastic, come in please.”

“You look like you have not eaten all day, let’s go for dinner.” He demanded.

“No you can stay I would make you dinner.”

“No I insist after all you’ve gone through today I believe you need some fresh air.”

She was reluctant but she was scared of been alone, and she was hungry so she accepted his offer.

Princess Adeshola had, the most wonderful evening of her life: magical, perfect, entirely great. She could not stop smiling, not even when she thought of Ogunshola. The meal had been fabulous, Oju had taken her to Iya Basira’s place, a native Yoruba restaurant where food was served and presented just the way she liked it unlike Ogunshola who forced her to go to foreign fancy restaurants. After they had eaten Oju had taken her for a drink. It was in a bar where a life band played fuji music and dancers dressed in traditional attire bubbled across the stage. She felt as if she was still the Arugba. She didn’t want to dance but the officer had been far too kind so she found it difficult to say no when he had requested for a dance. She didn’t regret it she had always enjoyed dancing to fuji music but had never had anyone to dance with.

“Wow, I couldn’t tell you could dance,” he told her.

“I was just about to say the same thing,” she said.

When they were done dancing they walked through Tafawa Balewa Square, and Adeshola was amazed to see the giant size statues of the Eyo masquerades with the moon shining up above them. The statues were design with a metal frame of a man covered with flowing sheets and wearing a black bowler hat, it looked like the ghosts in cartoons and children stories. When the wind blew the sheet quivered making them appear more lifelike and enchanting.

She asked herself why things had never been like this with Ogunshola since they came to Lagos. While there were in Oshogbo everything was perfect. She doubted his love and wondered if his only attraction to her was because she was the princess or was he just pretending to be who he was not so he could get her to marry him. She felt Ogunshola had taken advantage of her naivety and her fear of not finding a husband because she was once the Arugba. Nothing made sense to her anymore.

Never the less she was lost in the moment captured in its perfection and in fact, she didn’t want the evening to end. She would have to go back lonely and alone to a house that reminds her of her rapist husband and cry herself to sleep.

“Can you sing the Eyo song?” Oju asked.

“Who can’t?”

Then they sat on a concrete bench and sang the Eyo song together like little children excited to see the glorious white masquerade pass.
Oju stood up then bent down and kissed her, gently, on her cold cheek, but she did not respond. Adeshola fought the gloomy feeling inside her, she had thought of Ogunshola and their first kiss. She had snuck out of the palace to meet him at Igbo Oya; a spot decided to the Goddess Oya in the heart of the Osun sacred grove. When she was about to live it was under the statue of Goddess Oya and Shango holding hands he had kissed her good night, and he had tasted like fresh coconuts, and from the moment henceforth her mind was made up that he would be the first and last person she would ever kiss.

“Let me take you home.”Oju offered.

When they had got to her place, he walked her to the door.

“Good night.”

“Please stay a bit,” She pleaded “I don’t want to stay alone what if he comes back.”

Once they got in he made himself comfortable seated on the couch and she had rushed to fix them each a glass of orange juice. They sipped from their glasses and an awkward silence came over them. Oju reached forward to her, and kissed her hard on the lips, pushing his mouth against hers for what felt to Adeshola like several minutes.

It was a strange kiss, Adeshola thought, as her lips pressed against his she had never kissed anyone apart from Ogunshola and it felt very awkward to be doing this but as a far as she was concerned Ogunshola was dead to her. So she closed her eyes, and put her heart into the kiss and experienced nothing but Oju’s lips and the ruggedness of his skin against hers, sweet as freshly squeezed oranges.

A splinter of reluctance popped up from somewhere in her mind: What if this had all been some big misunderstanding and Ogunshola was innocent she thought but she had seen the video and her mother would never lie to her.

Oju hands reached for her chest, and she felt the hard grip of him squeezing them like oranges, she closed her eyes, and felt him struggle to remove her cloths he wasn’t so smooth she chuckled and then assisted him.

She lay unclad on the couch, and his hands got busy again, they cupped her breast, and ran across her smooth satin skin. In the back of her mind she had compared his pre-intimacy with that of Ogunshola and Ogunshola came tops, then she felt it large hard and monstrous hovering around the tip of her honey pot in an attempt to get in. She moaned and pushed back.

“No!” a deep voice from with her cried out “Please let’s not do this.” She had a change of heart.

It was already too late his phallus pieced through the lubricated walls of her special place. It pushed into her deeply, it gave her such a pleasurable rush that she almost came. Adeshola moaned and her eyes opened and she sees a brimming smile plastered all over his face. It made her smile too. The thrust got rougher, wilder and faster and just like the waves of the sea splashes across its sandy beaches so did he. He vibrated, moaned and poured a thick load of cum into her.

Then that awkward moment of guilt filled her heart, she felt dirty, cheap but she rationalized that she needed it for her sanity.

Oju was over joyous his retribution was absolute; he couldn’t wait to see the look on Ogunshola’s face when he would break the news to him. But then again he joy was soon eclipsed and replaced with deep regret, he remembered the day he gave Ogunshola the bad juju that was used to kill his father. Ogunshola was preparing for a mission and had come to meet his father for charms that would help him succeed. The Babalawo Oju’s father had stepped out for a meeting.

He and Ogunshola were alone and they had nothing to talk about. A younger Oju eager to show knowledge broke the silence…

“There are two types of juju. One is good while the other is bad. Of the two, the bad one is stronger.” Oju lectured “My father teaches me both, but he warns me not to give the bad to anyone. I see no sense in that. Why teach it if you don’t want me to use it?” He sighed “I asked him several times and all he says is that it is important to have knowledge of both.”

“I agree with you,” Ogunshola said then he added: “Do you have anything that can make my quest easy?”

Oju giggled. “Ah! You want me to go against my father’s wishes? No oh!” Oju was been sarcastic nothing would give him greater pleasure.

“So you’re saying you won’t help me?”

Oju made a puppy dog face. “Did I say so? It’s just that… I will be disobeying my father, delving into stuff I shouldn’t, bringing dishonor to the Babalawo family." He gave an exaggerated sigh and added: “If I must suffer all that, it would only be fair to have something in return, don’t you think?”

A bemused Ogunshola, had five thousand naira out and in Oju’s hand inno time. Oju smiled and brought out a whip made of cow skin. It had red feathers stuck to it.

“Pàsẚn Wẚrẚpẚ, the whip of epilepsy. Anyone you flog with this will go into a fit. You would have to urinate on the person or else the person will die.”

“Does everything connected to the occult have to be so disgusting?” Ogunshola said making a face.

Oju ignored him and brought out another item, a leaf.

“This is Ewḗ Ỏtίtợ, the leaf of truth. Once a person’s tongue touches it, he will answer your next four questions truthfully.”

Ogunshola looked impressed, that was not gross at all, he could use that. Then Oju brought out a ring.

“This is OrukaῚkύ, the ring of death. Slap anyone, while wearing it, three consecutive times and he will die.”

Ogunshola reached for it and was about to take it, Oju withdrew it and added a stern tone to his voice. “But I must warn you, it doesn’t work on women. If you slap a woman with it, it will bounce, drain all your energy, render the ring useless, and leave you unconscious for twenty minutes. That’s easy enough, right?”

“I was scared when you said it would bounce. I thought you meant it would kill me.” Ogunshola laughed.

“Well it won’t, but try explaining to all your friends that you were knocked unconscious for twenty minutes by a woman."

That wiped the smirk off Ogunshola’s face.

“Good… now let’s proceed." Oju chanted some exoteric words and poured sand on the items, then asked Ogunshola to swallow the sand.

“Another disgusting trend, why do I have to swallow this?” Ogunshola rolled his eyes.

“Well, it won’t work as your curse if you swallow this.”

“Curse ke!” exclaimed Ogunshola.

“Don’t you know that anything you use to harm a person won’t be blamed for the setback but you who used it will be?”Oju warned “Swallow this sand and stop acting like a baby, for Ifa’s sake.”

Ogunshola took the sand and swallowed it. In no time, his stomach hurt. Oju laughed. Ogunshola was beginning to get sick, he retched, and blood spattered the floor.

“Bad Juju always demands a little blood sacrifice from its owner. This will also happen to you for several minutes after you use any of the other items.” Oju was sympathetic.

“And why wasn’t I told this sooner?” Ogunshola questioned.

“Hey, hey!” exclaimed Oju. “You wanted power, yes or no? You wanted your quest to be easier. Well, this makes it easier… get with it."

Ogunshola was seething, but there was nothing to be done.

“Pleasure doing business," Oju said in a thrill.

Oju’s mind fast forwarded to the day Ogunshola killed his father. Ogunshola had returned from his mission. He had failed and this had led to a confrontation between the King and the Babalawo.The Babalawo took a menacing step forward towards the king, Ogunshola like a flash stepped between them.

The Babalawo sneered.

“What do you think you are doing?” he quizzed.

“Move back!” Ogunshola commanded, whip in hand.

The Babalawo was filled with rage he would not let a pup King and a dishonored cretin challenge him with everyone watching.

“And what if I did not? What do you know? This is your fault; your failure has led us here. If you had recovered the artifact, we would not be in this position.” He hissed “After all the powers I gave you, after everything I did for you to succeed, here you stand in your foolish self-righteous stance and you dare challenge me? Step away before you get hurt.”

The Babalawo moved towards the King again, but again Ogunshola blocked his path … his jaw set, his face stony.

“I … said … step … away.” He blasted like a raging bull.

Despite Ogunshola’s barks and obvious anger, the Babalawo made a quick move towards his pouch. He was planning to spray juju to kill him, but Ogunshola was faster. He flogged the Babalawo with the whip Oju had given him. The effect was instantaneous; he fell down and convulsed, vanquished by his own son’s juju.

Oju had cried that day before leaving town, he held himself responsible but he blamed Ogunshola more. Now he was sure Ogunshola pain would be closed to what he felt but he was not satisfied it was time for Ogunshola to DIE.

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