₦airaland Forum

Quite on point.
In Nigeria, the situation remains tensed up. Economic quagmire and tribal, political differences remain acute.
Unless, the tension eases off, the situation may continue or escalate.

It has gone beyond defending Nigerian image.

Government should get down to work and stop further sectarian attacks on Christians.

Security of lives and property matters.

Really?
That is disloyalty.
He is kidding.

FFK should tread softly.

Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.

Too bad. It is amazing how people keep falling for these schemes.

I had smiled through the pain, told her I was happy for her, and watched her walk away from my life like she had never been part of it.

And now, here she was again.

With a nod that lacked enthusiasm, I stepped aside to let her in.

Funmi entered like she owned the space, her eyes scanning the room like an estate agent surveying a rental. She gave a faint chuckle as she took in the surroundings—simple walls, an aging ceiling fan, a bed that doubled as a dining area, and a small shelf of novels and unpaid bills.

“Hmm,” she said with a smirk. “More like a cosy love nest than a bachelor's pad. Not bad, though. Could use some curtains.”

I gestured toward the only sofa in the room, and she lowered herself onto it gracefully, crossing her legs. I remained on the bed, feeling like a schoolboy being visited by his secondary school crush.

“So... this is where you’ve been hiding?” she asked, sarcasm dripping off her words like syrup.

“Hiding?” I raised an eyebrow. “Let’s just say this is where I’m staying for now.”

She let out a small laugh, but I wasn’t really listening. My mind had drifted—Ms. Kay. She was expecting me. She had finally agreed to see the bra again, and I had promised to bring it over. And now, I had no bra, no explanation, and a surprise visitor who might blow everything up just by being there.

“Excuse me,” I said, standing. “Just a minute. I need to attend to something urgent.”

Funmi didn’t protest. She leaned back into the sofa, legs still crossed, and gave a little wave. “I’ll be right here.”

I stepped out of my room and gently shut the door behind me. The late afternoon heat pressed against me like a second skin. I made my way across the corridor, each step slow and heavy with dread. When I reached Ms. Kay’s door, I paused again. I had no idea what I was going to say. I hadn’t even rehearsed a lie. I knocked—softly.

Her voice rang out from inside. “Yes, open the door and come inside. The door’s not locked.”

I pushed the door open with the kind of reluctance that usually accompanies confession.

Ms. Kay was seated on the edge of her bed, a bottle of peanuts in her lap, eyes fixed on the TV. Some kind of reality show was on. A contestant was being evicted while dramatic music played in the background. She muted the volume and turned toward me, her expression curious, expectant.

I couldn’t look her in the eye. I took a slow breath and said, “I’m really sorry I took so long. You won’t believe what happened.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Try me.”

“I’ve been searching... for it,” I said quietly.

“For what?” she asked, though I could see she already knew.

“The bra,” I replied. “I... I had kept it in a white polythene bag. I placed it on the edge of my bed. I was sure that’s where I left it. But it’s gone. I turned the room upside down looking for it. I searched my wardrobe, my pots, even the fridge... but it’s nowhere to be found.”

Ms. Kay blinked, her expression unreadable.

“You lost it?” she asked slowly, as though testing the absurdity of her own words.

“I didn’t lose it,” I said quickly. “It vanished. Someone must have taken it, I—”

“Who would take a bra from your room?” she asked, genuinely baffled.

I looked down, cheeks burning. “I... I don’t know.”

There was silence for a few moments. She turned the sound on the TV back up briefly, then back down.

“Well,” she said, popping another peanut into her mouth, “that’s quite the twist.”

“I swear to you, Ms. Kay, I’m not playing games. I really wanted to clear this issue. I know how it looked when you first saw it. But now... now even I don’t understand what’s going on.”

Ms. Kay studied me, chewing slowly. Then she said, “You’re sweating.”

“I know.”

“You look like you just saw a ghost.”

I let out a tired breath. “Not a ghost. More like a shadow from the past.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn’t press further.

“Alright,” she said finally. “If the bra shows up again, let me know.”

I nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

As I turned to leave, my thoughts spiraled. There was something unnatural about how the bra had gone missing. Too timely. Too precise. And Funmi showing up out of nowhere?

There were too many questions now, and not enough answers.


“Wait a minute,” Ms. Kay said slowly, narrowing her eyes. “Are you saying... that the bra is missing?”

I nodded, the weight of the absurdity hitting me all over again. “Exactly,” I said, my voice low and resigned. “It’s completely baffling. One moment it was there—right where I placed it—and the next, gone. Like it just... vanished into thin air.”

Ms. Kay tilted her head, studying me with that same piercing expression she used the first time we’d spoken. The weight of her silence unnerved me.

“I’ve turned my entire room upside down,” I continued, the words tumbling out of me, desperate to be believed. “I checked inside the wardrobe, under the bed, inside the cooking pots, the fridge—everywhere. Still nothing.”

I paused, swallowing hard. “I know how this must sound. And I’m really sorry I’ve put you through this kind of distress. I can’t even imagine how embarrassing and frustrating it must be for you.”

She didn’t speak immediately. Instead, she looked past me, as if trying to connect the pieces in her own mind. I could almost see the calculations behind her eyes, measuring my words against my behavior, against whatever conclusion she’d begun to form.

“Look,” I said, straightening my posture a bit. “If there’s a price to pay—if there’s compensation you want—just say the cost. I’ll pay it. Whatever it is.”

She sighed, a long, drawn-out breath, as though releasing a burden she hadn’t even meant to carry.

“Don’t bother,” she said finally.

Back in the car, I was quiet as I drove.

"Yes, concerning Sharon," madam started, "She refered to you as P.A because that first day we spoke on the phone, I told her I would like you to work for me even as part-time due to your respectful and dignified tone."

I could not believe my ears. "You mean right from day one, your intention was to make me work for you?"

I was angry but I must control my temper.

"But, why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you say from the onset that you needed me to work?"

She did not answer me. "It is deceptive to tell me you want friendship, whereas what you need is a P.A."

She held me gingerly by the right elbow. Now, what did this mean?

"I didn't deceive you," she said softly.

I shook my head. "If you don't call that deception, what will you call it?"

She stared at me but I couldn't stare back as I had to concentrate on driving.

"I did not deceive you," she repeated. "It's true I did not tell Sharon the real motive but I did not deceive you."

"Are you still saying friendship is the motive?"

"Yes," she answered emphatically.

"But why didn't you tell Sharon?"

She looked exasperated. "How could I? How could I tell her such a thing?"

"And why not?" I demanded.

"Come on, Seyi. A woman has to be discreet."

I shook my head. "This thing that ought to be simple is getting complicated. How do you expect me to fully believe you?"

I shook my head again as I angrily blared the horn of the car at an errant danfo driver.

"Oh Lord, help me," I muttered.

She removed her hand from my elbow."Are you angry with me?" she asked. I was ready to be down to earth with her.

"A little bit," I replied.

"You had better not be."

I glared at her briefly and she glared right back.

"You had better not be because you are the cause of all this."

I was aghast. Momentarily, I lost the control of the steering wheel. It was like I had been given a whip lash on the back. Thank God it was only momentarily.

I had to allow some seconds to calm down.

"How is it my fault?" I asked with gritted teeth.

She must be very bad and desperate to do that.’

‘That’s what she did, and I’m so miffed with her.’ He pulled her to the bed and they sat on it.

‘How was your flight to and from Lagos?’

‘It was beautiful. I thank God for journey mercies.’

Just then, Munirat knocked on the door. ‘What should I prepare for you for dinner, sir?’ she asked from outside the room.

He thought briefly. ‘Eh, make pounded yam.’

‘Okay, sir.’

He gave a pause of some seconds before he spoke. ‘You’re looking more and more beautiful, Juliet.’

She smiled. ‘Thank you.’

‘I can see you’ve done your hair. It’s beautiful,’ he commented. ‘Thank you.’

He held her lovingly by the waist and she seemed very pleased by that.



On Monday, Ayo and Juliet both dressed for work. While he would be going to resume work at his office at the Ministry of Information and IT, she would be starting her primary assignment at the Ministry of Culture. After his driver had dropped him in front of his office complex, the driver was instructed to drive Juliet to the other Ministry.
He had a meeting with the Minister, his boss, about ten in the morning, during when he gave him some briefings. The Minister commended him for a job well done. During the break, his secretary came to inform him that a woman sent by the Perm. Sec. wanted to see him.

‘Tell her to come in right away,’ he instructed.

A middle-aged woman came in carrying a bag. ‘Madam said I should give this to you, sir,’ she said.

‘Madam?’

‘Yes, Ms. Popo.’

The basket bag contained two food flasks, two bottles of wine, two bottled water and two packs of fruit juice.

‘All these for me?’ he asked, surprised. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Thank you. I will call her to say thank you, right away.’ ‘Okay, sir.’

The woman left his office.

He picked up his phone to call Ms. Funke Popo, but she beat him to it as her call came in. ‘Hello, madam.’

‘Hello, Mr. Ariyo. I sent a woman to bring some food to you.’

‘Yes, madam. I was about to call you and thank you. You shouldn’t have gone through all these troubles, madam.’

‘It’s no trouble. I asked my domestic maid to prepare it. I just felt like giving you a decent meal.’

‘Oh, thank you, madam. I do really appreciate your kindness.’ ‘It’s okay. It’s a pleasure. Enjoy your meal.’

‘Thank you, madam.’

The line was disconnected. He whistled to himself. Just what was this woman trying to do? First, the previous day, she had sent a driver and a car to convey him from the airport to his residence. now, she sent a woman to bring meal for him. He opened the food flasks to know the contents. The first flask contained richly-cooked fried rice.

The second one was filled with fried chicken and fried turkey, with some beef and stew. The chicken could last for days. Why was Ms. Popo doing all this? He asked himself.
In addition, she also put two bottles of wine and some drinks. All these were more than what a man could finish at a time!

He called his personal secretary. ‘Please get me some plates and serve me some food. He was served the sumptuous meal, but even a lot of rice was still remaining in the flask. ‘Care for some?’ he asked his secretary. She declined, but when he asked his driver, he accepted to eat some rice. He had to take the remaining chicken and turkey home, plus the drinks.

On getting home later day, Munirat was asked to take care of the meats.

He could not even eat any other food that day. By eight p.m., when he and Juliet were watching television, Ms. Popo came visiting again.

‘Madam, the madam,’ he greeted. ‘Welcome to my humble residence.’
She smiled expansively. Juliet had to excuse Ayo and the important guest.

She tried.
She really deserved it.

I agree.

The effects of the reforms are yet to be felt by the masses.

Coldspice:
This is very good writing. Well done.

Thank you.

My thoughts spiraled slowly, thick and unwelcome. I felt the guilt rising in my chest—not sharp, not immediate, but slow-burning. A creeping tide.

Solape’s name hadn’t been spoken, but she was here now. Not in body, but in weight.

“I knew you’d stay,” Princess Betty said softly.

Her voice was calm, almost tender. She didn’t need to raise it. Everything about her operated beneath the surface—suggestion, gravity, pull. Her fingers moved across my chest with the grace of someone who knew the effect of her touch, but wasn’t trying to prove anything.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t—not yet.

She turned slightly, her face just above mine. “You understand what this is now?”

I looked at her then. Her eyes held mine, unflinching. Not cold, not manipulative—but clear. Certain. The kind of clarity most people search for in therapy or religion. She had it in her gaze like it had been there since birth.

“I do,” I said.

No need for questions. No declarations of love. No illusions. This wasn’t romance. It wasn’t even, strictly speaking, desire. It was recognition. Mutual advantage. Two people seeing the world the same way for a moment—and deciding to share it, however briefly, from the same side of the line.

She smiled faintly and pressed her lips to my shoulder. The kiss wasn’t possessive or passionate. It was… affirming. A nod. A seal.

“You’re smarter than most men I’ve known,” she said.

Her words could have sounded like flattery. They didn’t. They sounded like observation. She wasn’t trying to seduce me. She already had.

I let out a slow breath. My body was still, but my mind wasn’t. Somewhere deep inside, a version of me was pacing. Restless. Regretful. Or maybe just afraid of what this moment might become—what I might become if I let it grow.

Princess Betty shifted, pulling the robe tighter around her waist. She sat up, her back straight, silhouetted against the soft spill of light from the window.

“This world eats men like you, Femi,” she said. “Not because you’re weak. But because you still believe in truth. In fairness. That’s dangerous in a place like this. That makes you visible.”

I watched her. Every word she spoke felt both like a warning and an invitation.

“I want to give you cover,” she said. “Not chains. Cover. So you can keep being you—only… protected.”

Protected. That word again. A promise. A threat.

Outside, somewhere distant, a car horn sounded. Life moved on, unaware of what had shifted inside Suite 202.

I sat up slowly, pulling the sheet across my lap. I didn’t want to seem vulnerable—not to her. But she had already seen the part of me I tried to keep out of reach.

“This isn’t going to be simple,” I said.

She turned her head slightly, a ghost of a smile on her lips. “Simple is for civilians.”

I met her gaze. There was something there. Not love. Not lust.

Respect.

And in its strange, careful way… maybe even trust.

I wasn’t sure if I was falling into something dangerous or stepping into the beginning of a second life.

“What do you want?” I asked, my voice firmer now.

She cocked her head, smile fading into something unreadable. “I came to talk,” she said. “That’s all.”

I swallowed. My mind was darting back to the timeline again. Could she have been in the room? Could Funmi have taken the bra? But that made no sense. How would she even get in?

Unless—

She still had a copy of my old key.

The one I never collected back after we broke things off.

I stared in wonderment.


There was a knock at my door—three firm, deliberate taps.

My pulse, already erratic from the chaotic events of the past hour, kicked into another gear. I paused, feeling the dampness on my forehead intensify. With a quick motion, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the handkerchief I always carried—a habit picked up during my broke, sweaty campus days.

I dabbed my face, hoping to steady myself. It was probably Ms. Kay, I thought. She must be wondering what was keeping me. After all, I had promised to be back “in a jiffy.”

But when I opened the door, a strong, sweet scent flooded my nostrils—an expensive perfume I hadn’t smelled in over two years. It was intoxicating, familiar, and instantly disorienting.

“Hello, Dave,” the woman said softly, her voice teasing the edges of memory.

My mouth fell open in pure disbelief.

“Funmi?!” I gasped, blinking as though she were some hallucination brought on by heatstroke and stress. “What are you doing here? How did you even find this place?”

She smiled, tilting her head slightly to the side in that way she always used to—when she knew she’d just done something completely unexpected.

“Are you not going to let me in before the interrogation begins?” she asked, one eyebrow raised with casual confidence.

I hesitated. My instincts screamed that this wasn’t the time for visitors—especially not this visitor. My mind was still tangled in the crisis with Ms. Kay, and now, standing in front of me, uninvited, was the one person from my past who had the ability to throw my entire emotional compass off course.

But I couldn’t refuse her.

Funmi wasn’t just an ex. She had been my lifeline in school—helping me pay for meals, books, and sometimes even rent when things were rough. She’d called it love. I called it grace. We were inseparable for a time. And then, just like that, it ended. She told me she had met someone else—an older, wealthier, American-based Nigerian who “understood what a woman like her deserved.”

I had smiled through the pain, told her I was happy for her, and watched her walk away from my life like she had never been part of it.

And now, here she was again.

The man nodded. "Good afternoon."

I could see that he eyed me somehow.

"O ya, let's check the goods, David. Seyi, you can sit down. We'll be back in a minute."

They left the office. I could see them going to the wholesale side. Five minutes later, they had not come back. One of the sales girls came with a bottle of cold malt.

"I was asked to give you this,"

She served the drinks.

"Thanks."

Several minutes later, I could see madam walk to the cubicle. Then, she stopped to talk to one of the sales girl. A minute later, she came to meet me.

"Seyi, let's go."

We were soon back in the car. "We'll be going to Opebi."

I nodded. "Okay."

I could have taken Ojota/ Oregun road but I decided otherwise. I drove to the toll gate/ Seven Up area.

"Were you embarrassed I called you my P.A?" she asked.

I smiled. "Oh, not at all. If not that I'm currently employed, I will gladly be your P.A."

She smiled too. "Really?"

"Yes, really."

“If that's the case, then you can be my part time P.A."

I considered that as a joke. "With all pleasure, Big Aunty."

Several minutes later, we were at the Opebi outlet. It was much bigger than the first one, but it was purely whole sale.

Once again, the person in charge of the place took madam to inspect some goods. After some time, we left the place.

"That will be all for today. But, before we return home, don't you think we should stop at an eatery for food?"

"I'll stop where you want me to stop, but I don't really need food."

“Okay, let's take ice cream or something."

I nodded. "Alright."

I stopped at a popular eatery.

The hall definitely had tantalizing aroma, but I would not take food. Madam ordered for fried plantain chips and two jars of ice cream. We sat at isolated table and chatted idly.

Now, who says this woman could not be my lover? Her phone rang.

"Hello, Sharon," she said.

"Good afternoon, Big Aunty. I'm around in the house o."

I could faintly hear what Sharon was saying.

"You have to wait a bit. I'm at Opebi right now."

"Are you with your new P.A?" Sharon asked.

"Yes," madam answered.

"I hope he's doing a good job."

Madam smiled. "Yes, he is."

"Okay, I'm still in the house. Alright, see you."

“We'll soon be coming back."

Madam cut the line. "That was Sharon," she said.

I nodded, my mind busy. Sharon just referred to me as P.A. How could she do that? To think that not long ago, madam had introduced me as her P.A. It could not be mere coincidence that Sharon called and refered to me as P.A. too.

There must be something to this that I did not understand.

"How did Sharon get to know so fast that I'm your P.A?" I asked.

Madam paused for a long time.

"We will talk on the way home," she answered. "For now, let's enjoy our refreshment."

We took the chips and our ice cream, but my mind remained agitated. After about ten minutes, we left with our remaing ice cream.

Back in the car, I was quiet as I drove.

I didn’t speak. My hands were at my sides, fists slightly clenched. My heartbeat had climbed into my ears.

And then—like a flash—I saw it all:

Solape, at home in the kitchen. Her fingers stained with tomato, humming to a gospel song. Her softness, her steadiness. The way she laughed without trying to impress anyone. The prayers she whispered each night for me, for us. Our small but honest life. Rent paid on time. Love without leverage.

But lately, even with her, something had dimmed. The conversations shorter. The space between us wider. I’d blamed work. Fatigue. The world.

Now I wondered if I’d simply been waiting for something… other.

And here it was. In silk. Barefoot. Unblinking.

This wasn’t about seduction.

This was about power. About invitation. A rewriting of rules.

Princess Betty stood then, walked past me without touching me, and paused at the threshold to the inner room.

“If you stay,” she said softly, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Then she disappeared into the bedroom. The door remained open.

And I stood in the middle of Suite 202, every instinct at war.


---

I didn’t move. Not at first.
The silence grew legs. Walked up my spine. The smell of her perfume—oud and something honeyed—drifted in the air. My phone buzzed once in my pocket. I didn’t check.

In the corner, a clock ticked.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Choices. Every life is a series of them. Most are small. But some?

Some shape the version of you that wakes up years later—older, wiser, maybe wealthier—but still wondering about the version that walked away.

I looked down at my wristwatch. I didn’t remember taking it off, but there it was on the table, beside a folded napkin and untouched butter.

I picked it up. Held it in my palm.

Then placed it back down.

And walked toward the bedroom door.



---

Later

She lay beside me, one leg draped over mine like a claim written in silk and warmth. Her robe had fallen open slightly at the thigh, the cream fabric catching the soft light filtering through the blinds. Her skin, smooth and perfumed, was warm against mine—but not clingy. She wasn’t the type to cling. She existed beside you like a force of nature—present, inevitable, unmoved by your hesitation.

I stared at the ceiling. The silence had changed. It was no longer filled with mystery, but with consequence. My thoughts spiraled slowly, thick and unwelcome. I felt the guilt rising in my chest—not sharp, not immediate, but slow-burning. A creeping tide.

I NEED THEE EVERY HOUR

1. I need Thee every hour,
Most gracious Lord;
No tender voice like Thine
Can peace afford.

CHORUS:
I need Thee, Oh, I need Thee;
Ev'ry hour I need Thee!
Oh, bless me now, my Saviour,
I come to Thee!

2. I need Thee every hour,
Stay Thou nearby;
Temptations lose their power
When Thou art nigh.

3. I need Thee every hour,
In joy or pain;
Come quickly and abide
Or life is vain.

4. I need Thee every hour,
Teach me Thy will;
And Thy rich promises
In me fulfill.

5. I need Thee every hour,
Most Holy one;
Oh, make me Thine indeed,
Thou blessed Son!

I WANT TO BE LIKE JESUS

1. I want to be like Jesus,
So lowly and so meek;
For no one mark'd an angry word,
That ever heard Him speak.

2. I want to be like Jesus,
So frequently in prayer;
Alone upon the mountain top,
He met his Father there.

3. I want to be like Jesus,
I never, never find
That He, though persecuted was
To any one unkind.

4. I want to be like Jesus,
Engaged in doing good;
So that of me it may be said
"He hath done what he could."

5. I want to be like Jesus,
Who sweetly said to all,
"Let little children come to Me;"
I would obey the call.

6. But oh I'm not like Jesus,
As any one may see;
O gentle Saviour, send Thy grace,
And make me like to Thee.

Good one. We pray for more productivity of the Nigeria's economy

"It is interesting to hear all these, madam." I briefly looked at the bag she had given to me. Why did she keep giving me this and that?

"In about an hour's time, I'll be going to the Ketu outlet. You can follow me there. I won't stay long."

I nodded. "That will be a pleasure."

I could see the way her skin glowed. Was it cosmetics that made it so? But, looking at her, I could see that she hardly used make-up.

Her beauty was more of natural.

"Meanwhile, there's one little task I have for you," she said as she opened one of the drawers of the dressing table.

She brought out what looked like a log book and opened some pages.

"You see these figures on these pages, calculate them. On each page, write the total here."

She showed me where to calculate and where to write the total.

"Then, at the bottom of this last page, write the grand total. Let me get you calculator and a pen."

She opened the drawer again and brought out a calculator and a pen.

"Have them. Please, be careful with the calculation."

"No qualms."

As I started the task, she left the bedroom. Within few minutes, I was through with the task, but she had not returned.

This woman would not stop amazing me. How could she leave me alone in her bedroom for several minutes?

A new movie was played on the television channel. I concentrated on watching it. It took another fifteen minutes before she finally came.

"Sorry, I took time," she said half to herself. "How far with the calculation?"

I showed her what I had done.

"Good. I will go through it later."

She took the book, the calculator and the pen, and returned them inside the drawer. I noticed she had changed clothes.

The t-shirts and the bum shorts were gone. She was now wearing another t-shirt and stretch jeans trousers. Where had she gone to change?

She went to one of the wardrobes to bring a small hand bag.

"Alright," she said. "It's time to go to Ketu."

She switched off the airconditoner system and the television. Then she locked the bedroom.

As we moved to the sitting-room, she called out to Kubrat. "Kubrat, come and lock the main entrance door. Uncle Seyi and I are going out."

We took the stair case downstairs. There were four cars in the car park. She unlocked the Honda CRV.

"Can you drive?" she asked.

I answered in the affirmative.

"Good. Come and drive."

I took over the driving and drove out of the compound. With her directive, I drove to Aladenola Street where the store was located.

The place was a beehive of activities. It had a retail and wholesale sections, just as Madam Fransisca said. There were sales girls attending to customers.

By a side was a cubicle that served as office of the manager. The sales girls greeted madam as we went to the glass office. A man was sitting behind the small desk.

"My sister, good afternoon," he greeted as soon as we entered the cubicle.

"David, how are you? How's everything going?"

The man smiled. "Everything is going well."

He stared at me.

"Ah, this is Seyi," madam introduced. "He's like my Personal Assistant."

I was bemused by the introduction.

"Good afternoon, sir," I greeted.

The man nodded. "Good afternoon."

I could see that he eyed me somehow.

But this?

This was something else.

I reached Suite 202 and knocked once.

The door opened almost immediately.

She stood there barefoot, in a long silk robe the color of cream and candlelight. Her hair was pinned in that effortless way women in power seemed to master. No jewelry, no visible makeup. And yet… she looked even more commanding than she had at the birthday dinner. Stripped of artifice, she was somehow more royal.

“Femi,” she said. No title. No pleasantries. Just my name, spoken low, like a note held on a piano.

I stepped inside.

The suite smelled faintly of jasmine and warm vanilla. Daylight filtered through half-drawn blinds, casting soft gold across the floor. A breakfast tray sat untouched on a glass table—fruit, croissants, fresh orange juice. But there was no one else. No movement. No sound but the subtle hush of classical music in the background—strings, mournful and slow.

She closed the door behind me. The soft click might as well have been a lock.

“You’re wondering what this is,” she said, watching me with that stillness she wore like a weapon. “I asked you here alone because I didn’t want distractions.”

I swallowed. My throat felt dry. “You mentioned a retreat. For selected personnel…”

She gave the faintest smile. “I lied.”

No flinch. No apology. Just the truth, handed over like a gift.

“There is no retreat. No agenda. Just you and me.”

She moved across the room, sat on the edge of the bed, legs crossed at the ankle. Her robe slipped slightly, revealing a length of thigh she didn’t bother to adjust. Her calm was disarming. Practiced. Almost dangerous.

“I’m not here to confuse you,” she said. “I know what I want. I’ve spent years surrounded by men who wear ambition like armor. Men who bark and grovel and believe that makes them lions. But you… you observe. You listen before you speak. You still believe in truth. That’s rare.”

She leaned forward slightly, elbows on her knees, her voice dropping into something softer.

“And I want something rare.”

I stayed where I was, unsure whether to sit or run. The floor beneath me felt both solid and shifting.

“This city,” she continued, “grinds people like you down until you forget who you were. But I can shield you from that. I can give you air. Space. Power—quiet power. No one ever has to know. It would be just us. Discreet. Respectful. Mutually rewarding.”

I heard the offer behind her words—the doors it could open, the noise it could silence.

“You’d still be yourself, Femi,” she said. “You wouldn’t lose your integrity. You’d simply gain protection. And access. Your words could reach further. You’d move differently.”

Then, a pause.

“I don’t want a boy toy. I’m not interested in play. I want a partner. A confidant. A fire no one else sees.”

The room was very still now. The music slowed. Outside the window, a bird sang once, then was silent.

I didn’t speak. My hands were at my sides, fists slightly clenched. My heartbeat had climbed into my ears.