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GUIDE ME, O THOU GREAT JEHOVAH

1. Guide me, O Thou Great Jehovah!
Pilgrim through this barren land;
I am weak, but Thou art mighty,
Hold me with Thy powerful hand:
Bread of heaven! Bread of heaven!
Feed me now and evermore,
Feed me now and evermore.

2. Open Thou the crystal fountain,
Whence the healing stream doth flow:
Let the fiery, cloudy pillar,
Lead me all my journey through:
Strong deliverer! Strong deliverer!
Be Thou still my strength and shield,
Be Thou still my strength and shield.

3. If I tread the verge of Jordan,
Bid my anxious fears subside:
Bear me through the swelling torrent,
Land me safe on Canaan's side:
Songs of praises! Song of praises!
I will ever give to Thee,
I will ever give to Thee.

4. Saviour, come! we long to see Thee,
Long to dwell with Thee above;
And to know in full communion,
All the sweetness of Thy love,
Come, Lord Jesus! Come Lord Jesus!
Take Thy waiting people home,
Take Thy waiting people home.

'Any that is good with the least content of alcohol.' Any where she went, she always showed that taking alcohol was not her passion.

He opened one of them with a plop as if there was need to make a toast. He then filled the glasses and handled one to her.

'To the flavour of a beautiful relationship.' He raised his glass up.

They clinked glasses. She took a sip to sample the taste. It was good. She looked at him with a smile. She had no doubt that the drinks were very expensive. Maybe he was a connoisseur. Damilola did not fancy exotic drinks, but would really not mind to have it moderately if the taste was good.

They drank and chatted on this and that.

'Don't you think we should retire to the bedroom? Let me show you one or two things there.' There was a suggestive grin on his face.

'No o. This place is better. No need to go to any other place.' Her soft protest was significant.

'You mean you won't mind having the action here?' He laughed over his bawdy comment.

'I'm not talking about anything like that. Let's just chat for today.'

'Maybe I should try to put you in the mood.' His right hand went to her chest suggestively as he wrapped his left one around her body.

'No. I didn't come for anything like that today. Don't even attempt to do that because the mood won't come.'

'What happens to the mood? Why is it always on flight?' He seemed to be discontent. 'We've done it only once, and that was about three weeks ago.'

'Yes. You should be satisfied, shouldn't you? It's not food, is it?'

Try as much as he did, he could not get her to do what he wanted.

They talked about other matters. She could see that he was not pleased with her refusal, but he should try to live with that, she thought.

When it was after one, she stood up to go. He forced a grin and accompanied her to her car.

'Thanks for the warm reception. You treated me like a queen.' She gave him a peck.

'You're welcome.'

He waved at her and she drove off. She joined the main road and drove towards Maryland. She could have driven straight to join Ipaja road, but she wanted to do a little shopping at the shopping complex in Maryland.

It was the same complex he had met Josh. She bought the laundry items she wanted to buy and realized that her phone was not in her bag. She remembered that she had put it on the armrest of the chair she sat on in his sitting-room. She paid for the items she bought and drove back to Josh's place.

Instead of driving inside the house, she parked by the gate and got down from the car. The security man was surprised to see her again.

'Sorry, I forgot my phone. I've come back to pick it.' She smiled apologetically.

'Your phone?' The question came as if he had not heard her well.

'Yes.'

The man was a bit reluctant to open the gate.

'Make I go get am for you.' He scratched his head and awaited her nod.

'No, no.' Damilola would not want to bother him. 'Let me do it myself. Besides, I want to tell him something.'

He looked worried. 'This is serious. Mama will not like it if she hears that you can't cook.''Tell her the truth. Tell her I'm not your fiancée but one of your students.'

He shook his head vehemently. 'No. Let's not spoil the show.'

He suddenly smiled as an idea came to him. 'You know what? I will tell her the cooking gas has finished. Then, we'll go out to buy food not far away. Mama likes fufu and egusi soup. It won't be difficult to get that.'

Clara felt relieved. 'Okay.'

He took two food flasks, put them in a nylon bag and went back to the sitting-room. Mama was in the second bed-room where he had put her bag and where she would be sleeping.

'Mama, sorry, the cooking gas has just finished. Let us go out and buy the food for you.'

'Oh.' Mama looked disappointed. 'Just when I thought my daughter would be cooking delicious food to welcome me to Lagos.'

'Don't worry, ma. That will be another time.'

Clara took her handbag as she stepped out of the flat with Manu. Once they were on the road, she told him she had to return to her parents' home.

'What? Mama is still expecting you.'

'I don't like this prank we're playing. I'm going. Good night.'

He was reluctant to say goodnight, but he had no choice. Mama had really truncated his desire of sleeping with Clara that evening. But Manu would wait. There would be another time.



* * *


The following morning, Joe was at the branch of the bank where he had opened a current and savings account on the campus. He told them he was robbed at gun point and had lost his valuables including this phones and ATM card. He also requested to know his account balance and was glad that his hard-earned money had not been touched.

The bank promptly disabled all transactions on the ATM card. That was his first step. The next one would be to go to the service providers of the network he used so that he could block those sims and recover the lines. He decided that could wait until noon. It was his eagerness to go to the police station, report the previous night incident and take some policemen to arrest Wendy.

When he did that, he met only the shop owner at work.

'Good morning,' Joe, flanked on either side by two plain-clothed policemen, greeted him.

'Good morning, sir. Do you want to type documents or to make photocopies?'

'None. Where's your assistant?' Joe asked heatedly.

'You mean Wendy? I've not seen her this morning, and I wonder why she hasn't come.'

The policeman to Joe's right brought out his identity card from his breast pocket. 'I'm detective Sergeant Momoh, with my colleague here.'

He pointed at the other man., who nodded.

'That your assistant has committed a serious crime and we're here to arrest her,' Momoh continued.

'A crime? Wendy committed a crime?'

'Yes,' Joe said. 'That thieving bitch drugged me and stole everything in my possession.'

'What?' The man looked genuinely surprised. 'Wendy did that?'

'Yes,' Sergeant Momoh put in. 'So, you need to cooperate with us. Where does she live?'

'Hold on.' The man opened his drawer.

Now, Biyi had made a sudden and dramatic return and wanted to see her.

Some minutes to the appointed time, she was dressed up and ready to meet him. Her Honda Civic car, a gift from her hubby, was shining in the morning sun. she seldom used it and obviously, it still looked new. As a full house wife, Femi had restricted her movement, so to say.

You could work later, but not now, he had stated. Julie could not understand his misgivings about a working wife. After a hot argument on the propriety of what he desired, she had let him have his way.

He would open a supermarket for her, he had promised. Or a beauty saloon. Or a …. Femi was never short of making promises. She didn’t really doubt him, but his promises were too many. He was the sort that could promise a paradise right here on earth.

Some minutes after eleven, she parked the Honda Civic on the parking space of Accordia Hotel at Ikeja. The three-star hotel was quite conspicuous and she didn’t have much problem in locating the place.

Biyi was already waiting for her at the lobby. He stood up and smiled as she approached. He had changed a great deal, she could observe. He was now beefy and his chest seemed broader.

Could he be doing body-building? There was no single hair on his head while his right ear adorned a tiny gold ring.

‘My baby,’ he said, grinning from ear to ear.
Your babe? She asked in her mind. That was ancient history.

They exchanged short greetings and he invited her to the bar for drinks. She refused his offer of drinks, then he set the ball rolling.

‘Things have not been exactly easy over there as some guys want us believe over her,’ he said. ‘I mean there are hassles and you really have to work up your ass to live comfortably. Combining that with schooling is one of the hardest things in the world.

'Your schedules are tight, and you’re busy from morning till night. All those factors plus others which I cannot dwell on here are what are responsible for the long silence from me.’

Julie nodded, but said nothing. It wasn’t time to talk yet.

‘Four years ago,’ he continued after another sip from his beer, ‘I made a solemn promise. A vow, really. I’ve come home now to fulfil my promise.’

She felt like bursting into laughter, but instead kept a straight face. He must be out of his mind, she thought, to think that she would still be waiting for him and some goddamned promises.

He expected her to say something. When she did not, he continued: ‘I’m here in Nigeria because of you, and I’ve brought the good news that after settling down comfortably over there. You can now come and join me.’
She chuckled. ‘So, in your little mind, you still expect me to be waiting for you, right?’ ‘I made a promise and – ‘

‘You didn’t fulfill it,’ she interrupted heatedly. ‘Barely five months after you had gone, there wasn’t any communication from you. All my attempts at making a contact met with brick wall. Even the e-mails I sent to you were never replied. I neither had your telephone contact nor have any other means of contacting you. I didn’t know how to contact you, but you certainly knew how you could get in touch. You failed to make any contact. I asked your friends and relatives, but their answers were blank.

‘I waited for years. Solid years of apprehension and anxiety. It was like living the life of a nun. Well, all that is now history. Forget your pet dream about me. I’m now happily married.’
She showed him the wedding ring on her finger to drive home her point. He ought to have seen it, but in case he had not, here it was. His eyes only flickered to it and he shook his head. She didn’t know what that gesture meant.

‘Julie, I’ve come to fulfil my promises.’

‘Too late.’ She was cold and rather brusque. ‘It’s too late. I’m happily married.’

Biyi looked like he could not really understand the import of what she was saying.

YIELD NOT TO TEMPTATION

1. Yield not to temptation,
For yielding is sin;
Each victory will help you
Some other to win;
Fight manfully onward,
Dark passions subdue;
Look ever to Jesus,
He'll carry you through.

CHORUS:
Ask the Saviour to help you
Comfort, strengthen, and keep you;
He is willing to aid you,
He will carry you through.

2. Shun evil companions,
Bad language disdain;
God's name hold in reverence,
Nor take it in vain;
Be thoughtful and earnest,
Kindhearted and true;
Look ever to Jesus,
He'll carry you through.

3. To him that o'ercometh,
God giveth a crown;
Thro' faith we will conquer,
Though often cast down;
He who is our Saviour,
Our strength will renew;
Look ever to Jesus,
He'll carry you through.

She lifted her two hands for me to lift her up. I did and we stood close. I was much taller. I moved back to sit where I had sat before. She walked with a slight limp to one of the wardrobes.

"Maybe you should be careful next time," I suggested. "Don't ride too fast."

"Advice noted," she replied.

She opened the wardrobe and brought a bath robe out.

"Now, I will like to have a bath."

I stood up. "I'll be in the sitting-room."

Even as I sat in the sitting-room, my mind was busy. I had no doubt Madam Fransisca created the scene of what happened some minutes ago.

What would be her reason for doing that? Was she trying to enthral me or what? I picked the remote control and settled for a station showing a romantic comedy.

A young man, probably in his early thirties was dating a woman probably in her fifties. There was just a little challege.

The society understood them. If that should happen in Nigeria, the couple would be derided. It would be either the man used 'juju' on the woman or it was the woman that 'jazzed' the man.

Kubrat came to meet me. "What will you like for breakfast?" she asked.

I didn't think much. "Anything," I answered. I was left alone again.

In the movie, the guy knelt down to propose to his older partner. My mind went back to Madam Fransisca. If my fantasies ever materialized, I would have to do something like that.

But, my thoughts were just fantasies. If her intention was just to flirt, we would definitely have intimate relationship, but since she had repeatedly said sex was not on her mind, it meant the relationship could not go deeper than this.

Then, my mind faltered.

What if what she actually wanted was a steamy relationship? Well, time would tell. Some minutes later, she came to tell me that my breakfast was ready. It was bread, fried eggs and beverages.

I blessed the food and started to eat. I could see Kubrat taking another tray of food inside. That must be for madam. After the meal, I returmed to the sitting-room. Kubrat came to meet me again.

"Madam said you should come," she said. I nodded and stood up. In the bedroom, I met her having her own breakfast.

"Come and join me," she said.

"Thanks. I just had a breakfast." I sat again on the leather seat.

"There are some things I want to show you, after I have eaten."

I nodded and awaited what she wanted to do. The large televion was on. It was on the same channel where I had watched the romantic comedy.

Had Madam Fransisca watched it too? She took her
time in eating the meal. She had bathed and had changed into a t-shirt and a bum short.

Now, why should she wear that when I was the house?

Inwardly, I shrugged it off. What she wore should not be my business.

"You've not asked me what business I am into," she started.

“Hmn, I remember you told me you manage your late husband's estate."

She nodded. "I also told you I have my own small business."

It was my turn to nod.

"Yes. What business is that?"

She stood from the chair by the dressing table where she had sat. Then, she went to open a wardrobe. She brought a white shopping bag out and sat on the edge of the bed where she could face me.

She opened the bag and brought out the contents.

"These are body cream, hair cream, body lotion, perfums and so on. I sell whole sale and retail cosmetics."

I nodded again. "That should be cool business."

She left the perfumes on the floor but returned the other items.

"You can't use the perfums because they are women's own. But you can use all the rest."

With the bag in her hand, she stretched the hand towards me.

"Take, they are yours."

I graciously took the shopping bag from her, thanking her.

"I have three outlets: one at Ketu Road, one at Palm Groove and one at Opebi, Ikeja. Most of the runs are done by my immediate younger. I trust him to supervise the business."

I could only nod again. "My husband left some houses and shopping plazas which are under my care.

“He bought this house before he died. We were staying in a duplex before, but I had to move here last year as I felt that place was too big for me alone.

“While I use the whole of this floor, there are two tenants down stairs."

She paused to assess my attentiveness.

"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?

TO THE WORK! TO THE WORK! WE ARE SERVANTS OF GOD

1. To the work! to the work! we are servants of God,
Let us follow the path that our Master has trod;
With the balm of His counsel our strength to renew,
Let us do with our might what our hands find to do.

CHORUS:
Toiling on, toiling on,
Toiling on, toiling on,
Let us hope, let us watch,
And labour till the Master comes.

2. To the work! to the work! let the hungry be fed,
To the fountain of life let the weary be led!
In the cross and its banner our glory shall be,
While we herald the tidings, "Salvation is free!"

3. To the work! to the work! there is labour for all,
For the kingdom of darkness and error shall fall;
And the name of Jehovah exalted shall be,
In the loud-swelling chorus, "Salvation is free!"

4. To the work! to the work! in the strength of the Lord,
And a robe and a crown shall our labour reward,
When the home of the faithful our dwelling shall be,
And we shout with the ransomed, "Salvation is free!"

THE GREAT PHYSICIAN NOW IS NEAR

1. The great Physician now is near,
The sympathising Jesus;
He speaks the drooping heart to cheer,
Oh, hear the voice of Jesus.

CHORUS:
Sweetest note in seraph song,
Sweetest name on mortal tongue;
Sweetest carol ever sung,
Jesus, blessed Jesus.

2. Your many sins are all forgiven,
Oh, hear the voice of Jesus;
Go on your way in peace to heaven,
And wear a crown with Jesus.

3. All glory to the risen Lamb!
I now believe in Jesus;
I love the blessed Saviour's name,
I love the name of Jesus.

4. His name dispels my guilt and fear,
No other name but Jesus;
Oh! how my soul delights to hear
The charming name of Jesus.

Damilola smiled. 'Alright.' She dropped the phone on the bed.

'Your guy?' Funmi looked at her friend in what looked like envy.

Damilola nodded in the affirmative.

'I guess I should be on my way. Have a nice time, Damilola.'

With that, Funmi left the house.




Chapter Two

Damilola whistled softly to herself as she got up to dress up. Her large wardrobe had scores of clothes, some of which she had no worn from a long time. She checked them one after the other, wondering which one to pick. She finally settled for a designer t-shirt and jeans trousers.

She applied her designer make up and perfume. It was apparent Damilola liked designer wears. She liked to look and smell good. Since she could afford the good things, nothing stopped her from having them.

She put her sunglasses on as soon as she got to the porch.

'Happy weekend, small madam.'

Sule always addressed Damilola as madam despite the protest of the latter. He walked towards her with his trade mark grin.

'Good morning, Sule. How're you?'

'We dey fine o. We thank God.' He looked at her in expectation.

'Your car is ready.' He pointed at the car. It had been washed and it was glittering in the morning sun.

'I can see that.' She nodded in approval,
smiling at him. He had, as usual, helped her to wash her car. She dipped her right hand inside her clutch bag and brought some money out.

'Here, take this.'

'Ah, thank you so much, madam. This weekend will be very great.'

She entered her car and put the engine into life. He waved at her while Damilola honked the horn. The car was still quite new and she handled it carefully.

It was a gift from her father when she clocked twenty seven. She had complained that she was tired of jumping from one cab to another and he had gifted it to her.

The traffic was light. From Ota, she drove to Abule Egba on her way to Ikeja. Josh lived on a street off Shodipo Close at the GRA. By a few minutes after noon, she was at the front of the gate of his residence.

The man at the gate came to the side of her car to properly look at the person behind the wheel. 'Ah, good morning. You're welcome.'

Damilola smiled at him. She was no longer a stranger there. She drove into the compound.

Josh came to meet her as she was stepping out of the car.

'My baby.' He was obviously glad to see her. He came over to give a kiss.

Taking her right hand, he ushered her into the expansive sitting room downstairs. Bottles of wine and champagne were already set on the center glass table.

'I was already expecting you.' He felt there was need to explain the scene.

'I can see that.'

When she saw that the bottles of exotic drinks were indeed many, she became curious. 'Are you celebrating anything?'

'Yes.' He laughed. 'Having you around calls for celebration. Take your choice.' He pointed at the drinks.

'Any that is good with the least content of alcohol.' Any where she went, she always showed that taking alcohol was not her passion.

I didn’t waste time. “Were you in my house not too long ago?”

A brief pause.

“What are you saying? Of course I was there in the morning,” she replied flatly.

“No, no, I know about that,” I said quickly, already grimacing. “I mean after that. Did you come back to the house when I wasn’t there? Maybe when I went to the main building? Did you... did you take the bra?”

There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end of the line. Then her voice came back, sharp and loud.

“Bra?!” she shouted. “What nonsense! What nonsense bra are you talking about?!”

I winced, pulling the phone away from my ear briefly.

“Damilola, calm down, please,” I said, struggling to keep my voice level. “I’m talking about the bra you saw earlier in my room this morning. The one you asked about. I told you it wasn’t yours. I left it on the bed, and now it’s gone. I just need to return it to the owner, that’s all. I thought maybe you—”

“Are you high or something?” she cut in again, her tone bordering on disgust now. “How could you even imagine that I would take someone else’s bra?! As if I don’t have my own bras?! What kind of insulting rubbish is that, Dave? SMH!”

The words hit me like cold water.

“I didn’t mean it like that—” I started, but she didn’t let me finish.

The line went dead.

She had cut the call.

I sat there, staring at the screen in disbelief. My heart was still racing. Damilola was angry. No—furious. And I couldn’t really blame her. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked so directly. But what else was I supposed to do? She was the only person, aside from me, with a key to my room. If she didn’t take it... then who the hell did?

I stood up and began pacing in my small room, rubbing my temples. This wasn’t just a small issue anymore—it was becoming something else entirely. My reputation, my relationships, and possibly my peace in this compound all hinged on solving this ridiculous, maddening mystery.

Then—a knock on my door.

Sharp. Measured.

I froze mid-step.

Wiping my forehead quickly with the handkerchief I kept in my pocket, I tried to gather myself. I had no idea what to expect—Ms. Kay, angry because I hadn’t returned with the bra as promised? Damilola, in person now, even angrier than she had been on the phone?

I took a breath and opened the door.

The scent hit me first—a familiar perfume, floral and almost intoxicating. It brought back memories I hadn’t revisited in months. And then came the voice.

“Hello, Dave.”

I blinked.

My mouth fell open.

Standing at my doorstep, dressed in a short olive-green gown and clutching a small leather purse to her chest, was Funmi.

“Funmi?” I echoed, dumbfounded. “What... what are you doing here? How did you even find this place?”

She smiled—softly, enigmatically. The kind of smile she used to wear when she wanted something but wasn’t ready to say what.

“I was in the area,” she said smoothly. “I asked around.”

My head was spinning now. This was too much. A missing bra, an angry girlfriend, and now an old flame—unannounced—on my doorstep?

Funmi looked past me into the room, her eyes scanning with a familiarity that unsettled me.

“I didn’t think your place would be so small,” she said, stepping forward slightly.

I instinctively blocked the doorway.

“Wait, Funmi. This really isn’t a good time.”

“Is it ever?” she replied, with a shrug that made her hair sway gently across her shoulders.

“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.”

TAKE MY LIFE, AND LET IT BE

1. Take my life, and let it be
Consecrated, Lord to Thee;
Take my moments and my days,
Let them flow in endless praise,
Let them flow in endless praise.

2. Take my hands, and let them move
At the impulse of Thy love;
Take my feet, and let them be
Swift and beautiful for Thee,
Swift and beautiful for Thee.

3. Take my voice and let me sing
Always, only, for my King;
Take my lips and let them be
Filled with messages from Thee,
Filled with messages from Thee.

4. Take my silver and my gold;
Not a mite would I withhold;
Take my intellect, and use
Every power as Thou shalt choose,
Every power as Thou shalt choose.

5. Take my will and make it Thine,
It shall be no longer mine:
Take my heart, it is Thine own;
It shall be Thy royal throne,
It shall be Thy royal throne.

6. Take my love, my Lord, I pour
At Thy feet its treasure store;
Take myself, and I will be
Ever, only, all for Thee,
Ever, only, all for Thee.

But all these would be if he kept to his words.

An idea flashed through her mind. She had an aunty married to a timber magnate in Lome. Sename remembered that the aunty once boasted that she had the key to retaining the attention and the affection (if you could call it that) of any man that crossed her path. Sename smiled to herself again. It was time she consulted the aunty.



Damilola woke up around six a.m. Then, she remembered that it was Saturday morning and she would not be going to work. She lazed on the bed for several minutes. She thought of what she would be doing with herself that weekend.

By noon, she would be visiting Josh. He had said he looked forward to seeing her again. Before she would leave, she would just relax and take things easy.

Still in her night wear, Damilola went to the kitchen. The big refrigeration there had assorted juices. She poured the drinks generously in a big mug and returned to her room.

She played music on her i-phone as she sipped her drinks. Some minutes later, she decided to have her bath. She was still in the bathroom when Zizi came to inform that breakfast was ready.

After creaming her body, she chose to wear a white t-shirt and a short jeans skirt for now. Her parents were already eating by the time she got to the dining table.

'Good morning, dad, good morning, mum.'

"My baby girl, how are you?' Her father smiled up at her. It was the way he used to address her. At almost twenty-eight, her father still called her baby girl.

Her mother too smiled at her. Julie was a reticent woman. If anyone talked a lot in that house and raised so much fuss, it was daddy.

'Why is Helen not here?' The man looked at the chair on which Helen normally sat. 'Don't tell me she's still mourning that her boyfriend.'

'I think she'll soon be here.' Julie nodded and looked at her husband reassuringly.

The breakfast was toasted bread and beverages. It was one of Damilola's favorites. She enjoyed the food and ate to her satisfaction. Truly, just as her mother said, Helen soon came to join them.

'Helen, baby. How 're you?' LaVos expressed delight that she had finally come.

'Fine, dad. Morning, mum.'

'How're you, my dear?' Julie looked at him briefly in I-told-you-so manner. She patted her daughter.

'Life goes on.' LaVos lifted the tea cup to his mouth. 'I don't understand why you should be brooding over him. You're still young, enjoy your life.'

The others did not say anything. Damilola sometimes wondered how her father was able to take things as calmly as he did. For instance, the way he reacted to the death of Helen's fiancé was rather too cool, almost as if he was expecting the news.

Damilola glanced at her mother. She was sitting calmly beside her husband. As far as Damilola could remember, there was no time her mother had any serious argument with her husband, or raised her voice against him. She always seemed to agree with him - both in words and in silence. Mummy was too cool and pliant for Damilola's liking.

Later that morning, she was in her room, watching the satellite television. Daddy and mummy had gone out. She suspected that Helen had gone out too. By eleven in the morning, she was watching Channel O, when Funmi, her friend came to visit.

Funmi had been her friend since their secondary school days. As a matter of fact, they went to the same federal government girls college. Funmi was the only daughter of the Lawsons and they dotted on her. She was an almost spoilt child.

Funmi was still with Damilola when Josh called her line.

'When are you coming, baby?' There was a sense of anticipation about him.

'By mid-day, I should be there.'

'Have you left home?'

'Not yet, but I'll soon leave.'

'How was your night?' The question was an afterthought.

'It was fine. How was yours?'

'Fine too. I'll be expecting you, baby.'
Damilola smiled. 'Alright.' She dropped the phone on the bed.

TO THE WORK! TO THE WORK! WE ARE SERVANTS OF GOD

1. To the work! to the work! we are servants of God,
Let us follow the path that our Master has trod;
With the balm of His counsel our strength to renew,
Let us do with our might what our hands find to do.

CHORUS:
Toiling on, toiling on,
Toiling on, toiling on,
Let us hope, let us watch,
And labour till the Master comes.

2. To the work! to the work! let the hungry be fed,
To the fountain of life let the weary be led!
In the cross and its banner our glory shall be,
While we herald the tidings, "Salvation is free!"

3. To the work! to the work! there is labour for all,
For the kingdom of darkness and error shall fall;
And the name of Jehovah exalted shall be,
In the loud-swelling chorus, "Salvation is free!"

4. To the work! to the work! in the strength of the Lord,
And a robe and a crown shall our labour reward,
When the home of the faithful our dwelling shall be,
And we shout with the ransomed, "Salvation is free!"

Good development. I don't believe in homosexuality too.

*Jesus, My Refuge*

In the midst of life's storms, I have found solace in the person of Jesus Christ. He is my refuge, my shelter from the tempests that rage around me. When the world seems uncertain and fearful, I turn to Him, and in His presence, I find peace.

The Bible reminds us that Jesus is our rock, our salvation, and our strong tower (Psalm 61:3). In His arms, I find comfort and security. When the weight of my worries and fears becomes overwhelming, I remember that He bore the weight of my sins on the cross. His sacrifice reminds me of the depth of His love for me.

In Jesus, I find refuge from the guilt and shame that can haunt me. His forgiveness is complete, and His mercy is new every morning (Lamentations 3:23). When I stumble and fall, He lifts me up, reminding me that I am not defined by my mistakes but by His grace.

Moreover, Jesus is my refuge in times of uncertainty and doubt. When the path ahead seems unclear, and I am unsure of what the future holds, I trust in His sovereignty and goodness. He is the Good Shepherd who guides me through the darkest valleys (Psalm 23:4).

In a world filled with challenges and uncertainties, Jesus stands as a constant source of hope and strength. He is my refuge, and in Him, I find the courage to face each day with faith and confidence. His presence in my life transforms my fears into faith, my doubts into trust, and my worries into peace.

Ultimately, Jesus is not just a refuge; He is a relationship. Through Him, I experience the love of God, which casts out fear (1 John 4:18). In His refuge, I am not alone; I am loved, I am valued, and I am cherished.

As I navigate the complexities of life, I am grateful for the refuge I find in Jesus. He is my rock, my salvation, and my strong tower. In His presence, I am home, and in His love, I am free.

BLESSED ASSURANCE

1. Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!
Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God,
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.

CHORUS:
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Saviour all the day long;
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Saviour all the day long.

2. Perfect submission, perfect delight,
Visions of rapture now burst on my sight,
Angels descending, bring from above;
Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.

3. Perfect submission, all is at rest,
I in my Saviour am happy and blessed,
Watching and waiting, looking above,
Filled with His goodness, lost in His love.

Nice one.

I had seen many ladies in sports and yoga wears before, but this one struck me as captivating. I nodded as if in approval.

"A good morning exercise is good for the body," I said.

"Sure," she replied and pedalled the bike.

She had purposely brought me there to see what she was doing. Okay. Now, I could see the outline of her boobs, which were neither big nor small but were firm - probably, courtesy of the firm, sports bra.

I could see the tummy with slight signs of fat at the waist line. I could also see the smooth, robust thighs that tappered down to the legs. I had variously seen things like these before. I had seen ladies in skimpy wears at close range.

I had seen ladies' nudity and looked on as if it meant nothing. Why was I captivated by this? She increased the speed and suddenly let out a moan. She She removed her legs from the pedals and put them on the floor.

Then, she held the left leg.

"Oh gosh!"

I was on my feet and I was with her.

"Did you hurt yourself?" I asked in concern.

"Yep."

I held the leg and looked as if trying to determine which part.

"The muscle of the leg."

My hands quickly went to that part and I rubbed it. The way I did, it would soothe her if it was a muscle pull.

"Let me get down from the bike," she said.

"Okay."

She put her left arm round my neck while I used my right hand to support her by holding her waist. Gently, she dismounted the bike.

She pointed at the mat. I supported her to it and she lay down and turned on her belly.

“Is there any ointment I can use?"

She shook her head. I started rubbing and massaging the leg.

Whether it was real or fake, I was glad to do this. She closed her eyes.

After some minutes, I asked her if she felt better.

"Yes", she replied. "I feel better. Thanks a lot."

I stopped the massaging.

"You can do the same to the second leg."

I nodded and started working on the second leg. I felt this was all contrived, but there was no problem. I was enjoying this as much as she.

The act of rubbing and massaging the leg made her bum to jiggle when I did it fast. I was delighted to watch that. You are a bad boy, I told myself.

After several minutes, she opened her eyes.

"You've really done well, Seyi. Thank you."

I smiled at her. "It's a pleasure, Madam Fransisca. You're welcome."

She seemed quite surprised I addressed her that way. She turned to sit on the mat.

"Are you okay, now?" I asked as I stood up.

She lifted her two hands for me to lift her up. I did and we stood close. I was much taller. I moved back to sit where I had sat before. She walked with a slight limp to one of the wardrobes.

Laji was the first and only son of Leke LaVos, the business mogul from Nigeria. His siblings were Helen and Damilola LaVos.

At thirty-two, he had no plans about marrying and settling down. Some months back when his mother called him from Nigeria, she had asked him how far were his plans about having a better half. Laji had laughed it off as if it was the funniest question on earth.

He had come to the States since he was nineteen. That meant he had spent about thirteen years there. Over those years, he had acquired a Masters degree in Biotic Engineering from the State university. He worked for a computer firm and was quite doing well.

L.A was a young man of the world. He was a sociable man that loved clubbing and engaging in many social activities. He had many friends and followers on the social media. This early evening, the only reason why he was still at home was because Monica, his Latino girlfriend had called that she was on her way to his flat.

The door bell rang. Swiftly, Laji moved to it. Monica, the black-haired lady he was expecting was at the door.

'Hello, sweetheart.' There was complete delight in him to see her.

'Hello, honey.' She seemed very delighted too to be there.

They kissed passionately like lovers who had not seen each other for a long time.

'I'm so tired.' She yawned to show that she meant what she said.

'Don't worry. I'll help you.'

With that, he lifted her and took her straight to the bedroom.

'We didn't finish yesterday's game.' There was a lustful grin on his face as he flopped her on the bed.

'I know. Why the hurry? I'm gonna be here all night long.'

'The earlier the game starts the better.' The lustful grin was still on his face.

Before she could reply, his cell phone rang. It was a distant call from Nigeria.

Sename felt pain in the pelvic area of her body by the time Nonso was through with her. She was not a virgin, but she never found sexual intercourse anything pleasant. She found this particular one painful. It was the way he had handled her.

He was so forceful and so fierce, as if his life depended on it. She felt used and bruised. She wondered if he could really say he was delighted after the whole thing. Sename shook her head. She never understood men and their craving for sex. She had never really enjoyed engaging in the act and she wondered why some men acted as if it was indispensable and as if without it, they would die.

She went to the bathroom to clean herself up. There was a little bleeding coming from her private part. The man was not gentle at all, to say the least. He had handled her like a man with craze for sex.

She did what she could do to clean the mess up and returned to her work. Her mind was in a frenzy. She knew madam must never hear what she and oga just did. She had only spent two weeks in the house and this had happened.

So, oga had been nursing those lustful thoughts since she started working there! Men, she thought in disgusts. Why were they never satisfied with what they had? Madam, although no longer a young woman and was on the fat side, was still attractive.

Why couldn't oga be content with that? She knew the man was much older than her own father back in Togo. Why would a man like that stoop so low as to sleep with a house girl?

Maybe it was because you were still young, she told herself. Maybe as you grew older, you would understand things better. Then, her mind went to the promises oga made. Did he really mean those things, or was he just saying them just to have his way?

Sename wondered on the prospects of what she would do if the man should fulfill the promises he had made. She smiled to herself. That would mean she would be saying bye bye to poverty. But all these would be if he kept to his words.

A truth that hadn’t yet revealed itself.
And a woman who had just opened a door.
The only question was—what waited on the other side?


“I’ll be in touch,” she said.

And as I stepped out into the cool Lagos night, I knew without a doubt—this wasn’t just a party.

It was the beginning of something.

And whatever it was… I wasn’t ready for it.


---


A week had passed since the birthday dinner, yet the evening lingered in my mind like perfume on skin—faint but unforgettable. Princess Betty’s gaze, her words, that last pause before she said goodbye—it all haunted the quiet moments between deadlines and editorial meetings.

It was Friday morning when the message came.

A text.

Princess Betty:
Hello, Femi. I’m hosting a retreat for selected personnel tomorrow. Thrills Guest House, Lekki. 10 a.m. sharp. Would love for you to be there. Don’t mention this to anyone.
—B



No explanation. No RSVP request. Just an address, a time, and that signature closeness she had mastered—equal parts command and seduction.

I stared at the message for a long time.

Was this another story? A lead? Or was I already inside the story, unknowingly playing a role?

Still, I replied simply:

I’ll be there.


---

Saturday – Suite 202

Thrills Guest House, Lekki.

Tucked behind flowering bougainvillea and tall, whispering palms, the guest house didn’t shout luxury—it murmured it, discreetly. The kind of place you never noticed until you were told to. A place for people with secrets, and the resources to keep them.

The valet took my car without saying a word. Not even a look. He moved with the practiced indifference of someone used to politicians and CEOs pretending they weren’t afraid.

Inside, the lobby gleamed with marble floors and hushed air-conditioning. The front desk manager greeted me with a nod that felt rehearsed.

“Suite 202,” he said, sliding a key card across the desk. “Top of the stairs. She’s waiting.”

She?

No sign-in sheet. No questions. Just those words—She’s waiting—spoken like a secret passed under the table.

I climbed the stairs slowly. My nerves weren’t loud, not yet. But they were stirring, like something waking in the dark.

I’d expected a conference room, maybe a breakfast buffet with name tags and filtered coffee. A gathering of staffers, NGO reps, maybe a panel on sustainable policy or press ethics.

But this?

This was something else.

I reached Suite 202 and knocked once.

The door opened almost immediately.

She was in a serious quandary but her mind urged her to play along. The hammer finally fell on him when he was rusticated from the university.

It was a bitter aftermath of a bloody clash some belligerent factions of the group had been causing. The school had been forced to close down and after some inquiry had been made into the cause of the hullabaloo, the authority had taken some drastic steps.

Biyi and some crazy hard-nuts had been thrown out of the university system. Some of them had made threats of vengeance and reprisals, but they had to go. Biyi had dismissed the whole episode as farcical, while Julie was terribly let down. Nothing to worry about, he had told her.

Despite all his assurances, she remained perturbed. What would he do? Would he start his university education all over again, or what?

Worse still, he didn’t seem to be perturbed. Unknown to her, he had been making a grand plan about travelling abroad. He had made connections and had decided to execute his plans.

Therefore, when he told her of his imminent departure from Nigeria to South Africa, she had expressed surprise. He would go to S.A, he had said and would settle there.

Then, after some time, he would send for her, or come and ‘pick’ her. Julie had been amazed. She wanted to know if he was making a kind of joke or whatever, but he had said he was dead serious.

He went on to swear that his love for her would remain as fresh as the lily of the valley forever. Julie felt like laughing. He had sworn more. He would love her forever, he asserted. He would travel but would definitely come or send for her. She nodded as if she understood and believe him perfectly.

Tears were in her eyes when she saw him go. She had seen him off at the Murtala Muhammed International airport, Ikeja, and was so sorry about his exit, in addition to the feeling of helplessness. She wasn’t really consoled with his promises. Hadn’t some men made such promises before without fulfilling them?

Her fears were confirmed when she only heard from him twice. The first was when he had landed in Jo’burg and the second was some months later when he called to tell her that he was combining schooling with some jobs. He never disclosed the nature of job he was involved in. Since then, there had been no further communication. Until now.

She had tried as much as she could to hear or read from him, but it appeared the communication chain had been broken. As for the social media, he was elusive. That was six years ago.

She had waited, still believing that he hadn’t forgotten her; that in a matter of time, he would contact her again or perhaps make a sudden return. Two years after being in the limbo, she was beginning to believe in the futility of his words. He had failed her terribly, she realized.

Then, she had met Femi at a friend’s party. He was the charming, young lawyer who diffused magnificent aura. He wasn’t slow in showing serious interest in her, and she wasn’t lethargic in embracing his gesture. Hadn’t she played the fool for over two years, waiting for a fugitive lover? Must she continue to hope against hope?

Femi had been given the chance of proving his passionate mettle. He succeeded, without doubts, and she was swept off her feet. Now, Biyi had made a sudden and dramatic return and wanted to see her.