The time must be about four a.m. I normally woke up about that time to ease myself in the toilet. This morning was no exception. I found my way out of the room I shared with Steve in the boys quarter. The toilet was adjoining the room, and it was just about five metres away.

I found my way to the place. I only wanted to urinate, but somehow, I felt some pressure from the bowel, so I sat on the toilet seat. I was on it for some minutes, but funny enough, no 'poo poo' came out. I was about to stand up and wear up my boxer when I felt I could hear a movement outside the toilet.

Then, there was a short knock. That must be Steve, I thought.

'Just a minute,' I said. I wore my boxer and flushed the toilet. I then opened the toilet door. The sight I saw shocked me.

Steve was not the one at the door. It was Joyce, a cousin to my uncle's wife. She had a room in the main building of the duplex house, so I wondered why she had come to the toilet in the bq.

But I didn't wonder for long. The way she looked said it all. Apart from the coqquettish smile on her face, the oversize t-shirt she was wearing clearly defined her voluptous boobs. She put her hand at akimbo and there was something daring about her look.

'What do you want here??' I asked in a voice scarcely above a whisper.

She put a finger to hush me and smiled. She then gently pushed me back inside the toilet and closed the door.

(to be continued)

Next pls

She locked the latch of the door and turned to face me, smiling.

'What do you think you're doing, Joyce?' I managed to ask.

She had never done anything close to this before. We were quite close, but everything had been platonic and within a boundary. I had helped her with some of the assignments given to her in her school. She was an HND student of Business Administration at Yaba College of Technology.

Many times, she had brought assigment on Buness Mathematics home and I had helped her to solve them, having studied mechanical engineering myself. I had even pointed out that the calculations were not difficult and she should be able to solve them.

'I don't like calculations,' she had declared. I had had no choice than to oblige her.

In spite of the seeming coziness, my relationship with Joyce did not go beyond that level. That explained why I was surprised by this her daring action.

She did not answer me. Rather, she smiled and closed her eyes. What did that mean?

It was not as if I was naive. I had asked her that to be sure that she very much knew what she was doing. Now, her silent answer was enough for me to hear her loud and clear.

I nodded and smiled to myself. 'Okay, Joyce,' I said under my breath. 'You'll get what you want.'

With that< I fell for the lust of flesh. Several minutes later, she wore her t-shirt and looked at me satisfactorily.

'Thank for coming, Joyce,' I said, not knowing what else to say.

She nodded and squeezed my hand. 'You're welcome.'

Carefully, as if somebody might be watching, she opened the door and left the place.

I sighed and went back to my room.

[color=#000099][/color]more grease to your elbow bro

Steve was still sleeping, probably dreaming. I picked up my phone to check the time. It was already quarter after five. I decided not to go back to bed again. I would soon have to start preparing for work and it was better I started now.

I put toothpaste on my brush and went to the bathroom. As I brushed my teeth, I thought over what I experienced in the last half hour. Joyce was indeed daring for doing what she had done, but was it right for me to fall for her antic hook, line and sinker?

It was true I had broken up with my girlfriend, Bisola. She had accused me of lack of commitment to the relationship and had given me the boot. I didn't really understand her. What lack of commitment was she talking about, when I had thought I was giving my best to it?

That was about a month ago. All my entreaties had fallen on deaf ears. I had decided to let the situation be, although I still believed that Bisola would change her mind and come back to me.

I took my bath and got dressed up. I was supposed to resume work at the bakery by eight a.m. I hated to get late to work,so I always set out on time.

Steve didn't need to wake up on time, and was still in dreamland when I left the room. He was just a boy who had recently written his WASSCE and would be writing UTME by next year.

As I opened our gate, the security man, Audu, greeted me in happiness.

"Ola, my man. Good morning.'

I reciprocated his greeting, waved at him and moved on.

I worked in the bakery owned by my uncle as Assistant Production Supervisor. It was a big bakery with branches in Ikeja and Ota. The pay was modest but okay for me. Besides, we enjoyed some benefits like a free big loaf every day, weekend bonus and hazard allowance. Since I was still a bachelor and I was still staying with my uncle, I had all my earnings to myself. All the same, I was prudent and had been able to have some substantial savings.

The place of work was at Agric, Ikorodu. I got there few minutes to eight. I went to change to my overall and started working. I actually enjoyed the work, although the heat from the industrial oven could be suffocating. I worked conscientiously, not minding the fact that my uncle owned the place.

We had many customers – whole sale distributors - who came from far and near places. We were always busy and hardly had time for frivolities. I must say that I always took my loaf home and would hand it to my uncle’s wife for the family. There was no way I would be eating bread every day!

By six p.m, my duty was over. I went to the shower room to wash off the sweats and dirt my body had accumulated. I then changed back into my clothes. Those who would do the night shift had already come. I bade the workers goodnight and stepped out of the company premises. As I worked towards Agric bus stop, I noticed that a Lexus jeep was parked by the road. The door of the driver’s side was open and a petite but pretty woman was talking on the phone, sounding agitated.

I overheard her expressing apprehension that the mechanic she had called to come and fix the car had not come.

I paused briefly, and moved to her. She finished her conversation and looked on.

‘Excuse me, madam. Are you having problem with the car?’ I asked.

‘Yes. Do you know any mechanic around?’

I shook my head. ‘Perhaps, I can be of help. Perhaps, I should ask what exactly is the problem with the car?’

‘It stopped working and will not start,’ she said. To demonstrate this, she tried to start the car.

The engine whirled but failed to start.

‘Can you please open the bonnet?’ I said. ‘I work with engines.’

She became hopeful and smiled.

The bonnet was unlocked. I opened it wide and checked the carburetors and the plugs. I unplugged the plugs, blew air to remove dusts or any particles and plugged them back. I then checked the battery wire connection and tapped on the heads.

‘Can you start the car again?’ I suggested.

She did and was pleasantly surprised that the engine roared into life. I was pleased with myself too.

‘Wow, that was good. You’re good at that.’

‘It’s okay,’ I replied modestly. ‘It’s only a minor problem.’

‘Oh, thanks so much,’ she replied. ‘You’ve saved me a lot of hassles.’

I closed the bonnet. ‘Alright, madam. Good night.’

‘Wait.’ She dipped her right hand into her hand bag and brought some folded currency notes. ‘Come and have this for your trouble.’

‘Oh, no, ma’am. Don’t worry.’

‘Oh, come on. It’s just a token.’

I shook my head. ‘No, ma’am. Thank you.’

She seemed a bit surprised. ‘Alright.’ She returned the money inside her purse and brought something else out.

‘Here, this is my complimentary card. Can you have this?’

I paused only briefly. ‘Okay, ma’am.’

‘Make sure you call me,’ she said and closed the door of her car.

I thanked her, put the card in my breast pocket and moved on. I crossed the main road to the side where I would take a bus going to Ikorodu. From there, I would take another bus to Ibeshe, where I lived.

As soon as I got to the house, I went to the kitchen so I could take a bottle of cold water from the fridge. There Was a pot on the gas cooker. Cooking was already going on. I was about to pick a glass cup when Joyce entered.

Nice one Bruh




Just Explicit!
Following ASAP!

Following

Nice one dear

'Hello, Joyce.’

‘How was work?’

‘Fine. How was school?’

‘Not bad.’

I opened the bottle and poured some water inside the glass cup. She was staring at me.

‘What did you bring for me?’ she asked.

I pointed at the nylon bag I placed on the kitchen table. ‘A loaf of bread for the family.’

‘That one is for the family. I’m talking about what you brought for me.’ She had emphasized the word, ‘me.’

‘Oh, well…maybe some other time.’

‘Ola, you don’t think much about me,’ she pointed out.

The house maid entered the kitchen. That ended any further intimate conversation. I left the kitchen for my room.

Later, the house maid brought my meal. I took it, decided to relax for a while and then took my lap top to the reading room. The room was next to my room and I usually went there to read and study. I was browsing the internet that evening when Joyce brought some books and came to join me.

It was in that same room I had taught her in the past, so there was nothing unusual about her coming. She pulled a chair close to me and sat down.

‘How’re you?’ she asked.

I smiled briefly. ‘Fine.’

She moved closer to have a peep at the computer screen. I could smell her skin. ‘What’re you doing?’

‘Just browsing,’ I replied.

She placed her hands on my lap.

‘Joyce, I think we’ve made a terrible mistake.’

She frowned slightly. ‘What mistake?’

‘We shouldn’t have done what we did the other time.’

‘What did we do?’

I chuckled. ‘That thing we did in the toilet.’

A teasing smile took over her face. ‘What did we do in the toilet?’

I shook my head but said nothing. She continued to stare at me.

‘Does that mean you don’t even like me?’ she asked.

‘It’s not like that,’ I quickly said. ’But, I feel it’s not right. We’re supposed to be related by marriage.’

She sighed. ‘That shouldn’t stop anything. It shouldn’t stop us from having feelings for each other.’

She rubbed her hands on my thigh.

‘And this place should be the last place for anyone to see us like this,’ I said.

‘No one will see us,’ she muttered.

I asked her a question nagging at my mind. ‘How did you know I was in the toilet?

She smiled and ran her hand on my face. ‘I had woken up about four o ‘clock. You came to my mind. I kept thinking about you. Then I heard the sound of a door opening from the bq. I peeped through the window and saw you made your way to the toilet. After some moments, I decided to come around.’

‘You’re a naughty girl,’ I said.

‘You’re a naughty boy too,’ she replied.
I nodded.

She was right. ‘But we have to stop it. Let’s take it that it was a mistake.’

She made a face but said nothing.

She soon opened one of the books she had brought. But it was obvious she was not there to read. Her toes moved over my legs in teasing way. Despite all her distractions, I managed to maintain calmness.

Two days later, I was at work and it was break time. I sent Sarah, one of our health officers to buy fried rice and chicken for me. When I searched through my wallet to give Sarah money, I saw the complimentary card from the woman I had helped to start her car. I had kept it there that evening when I got home and promptly forgot about it.

I looked closely at the card. Her name read Naomi Dodo, and she worked in the corporate affairs division of national petroleum company. She must be making cool money there, I thought. I remembered her figure vividly: slim, light in complexion, average height, pretty and petite. That
figure and her name certainly reminded me of Naomi Campbell, the ex-super model.

Naomi Dodo couldn’t be less than thirty five and she was most likely married. Should I give her a call?
Well, there should be no harm in that, should there? After all, she asked me to give her a call and she willingly gave me her card. I brought out my phone and dialed her number. Her phone rang but no response. She was probably busy, I thought. I decided I would have to call again at another time and saved her number as Sister Naomi.

Sarah brought my food. ‘Thank you, Sarah,’ I told her.
She smiled and went away. The food was delicious. I always ate rice and chicken with relish. I was midway in my eating when my phone rang. It was ‘Sister Naomi’ calling back.

‘Hello, madam. Good afternoon.’

‘Good afternoon. I saw your missed call. Please, who is this?’

‘I’m Ola,’ I replied. ‘The guy who assisted in getting your car started a couple of days ago.’

‘O-Okay. How’re you?’

‘I’m fine, ma’am.’

‘Thank you for that day. Is this your number?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m kind of busy now. I’ll still call you, Ola.’

‘Alright, ma’am.’

The line was disconnected. I continued with my food. About twenty minutes later, a text message came to my phone. Somebody had

transferred two thousand naira worth of airtime to my number. It was from Naomi. That meant it was 2K she wanted to give me that day. Why did she do this when I had told her not to bother? I shrugged. The airtime would be useful. I decided to send a text message to her to thank her for the gesture. Few minutes later, she replied the text with the simple message: You deserved it.

I continued to do my work conscientiously. Later in the evening, I was in the study room surfing the internet. Joyce had temporarily moved to the campus as they would soon be writing the semester examination. I received a WhatsApp message from Sister Naomi. ‘Good evening, how was your day?’ she asked.

‘Fine. What about yours?’ I promptly replied.

‘Great. Where d’you work, and as what?’

I smiled to myself. ‘I work at Glorious bakery as assistant supervisor.’

‘What did you study?’

‘Mechanical Engineering. B.Sc.’

‘Interesting.’

‘Thank you.’

There was no reply from her after this. The phone rang. She was the one on the line.

‘Hello, Ola.’

‘Good evening madam.’

‘Perhaps, you can bring your c.v and other photocopies of your credentials. Perhaps, something can come up from where I work.’

I smiled. ‘I will be grateful, madam.’

‘Find time to bring it to the office at Kofo Abayomi, Victoria Island.’

‘I’ll do that, ma’am.’

‘My office is on the fifth floor. Just tell them you want to see Naomi.’

I smiled again. ‘Thank you very much, madam.’

‘Good night’

‘Good night, ma’am.’

She had cut off the line. Phew, what a call. I hoped the offer at the national oil company would jell through. It was a place many Nigerians desired to work, including myself. I definitely had to find time to take my credentials there. Fortunately, I was on night shift the following day. I would have to visit that office the following morning.

Thanks for the update

I was at the reception of the National oil company by ten thirty in the morning. I had filled the visitor’s book and was told to wait a while. The receptionist called Naomi to inform her that a guy called Ola was around to see her. The lady listened briefly and turned to me.

‘Come and wear the visitor’s tag. Go to floor five, room 007.’

I attached the tag to my well-ironed and smart looking shirt and joined the short queue waiting for the elevator. When I got to the floor, the first thing I noticed was the very cool atmosphere of the place. It was in contrast with the bakery, which was always very warm.

I knocked on the door of room 007, opened the door and stepped in. A secretary asked me to sit down. Few minutes later, sister Naomi came out with another lady.

‘Good morning, madam,’ I greeted zealously.
‘Good morning, Ola. Just a minute.’

She and the woman left the office. About ten minutes later, she was back.

‘O ya, Ola, come,’ she said as she led me to her office. ‘I hope you’re not angry that you were kept waiting.’

‘Oh no, ma’am. I can understand.’

She sat on her seat and motioned me to a chair.

She stretched her hands out. ‘Can I have the credentials?’

I had carefully stapled them and put them in an envelope inside my black folder. I handed them to her.

She put on her glasses and carefully went through the papers. She seemed to be studying them. I studied her in return. The glasses, perched on the tip of her nose fitted her well. Her white shirt was new and crisp. I thought I would see the wedding ring on her finger, but it was not there. Maybe she forgot to wear it. Her hair was stylishly parked to the back. She looked delectable.

‘Okay, Ola,’ she finally said. ‘I’ll talk to my boss and see what can be done on this. I’m not really promising, but let’s be positive about it.’

‘Thank you, ma’am.’

She looked at me critically and smiled.
‘That means you’ll have to be giving me call from time to time to find out how far.’

I smiled too. ‘That will be no problem, ma’am.’

‘If I may ask, how much do you earn now?’

I told her.

‘Hmn, that’s just like allowances,’ she said.

I nodded.

She stood up. ‘Give me one minute.’

I was left alone in the office. It was a very comfortable office. Surely working in an office like this was not a bad idea. But the bakery too was helping me out, I told myself. I thanked God for what I had already.

Five minutes later, sister Naomi was back.

‘Sorry again for keeping you waiting. I guess I’m going to be very busy today.
’
I got the hint and stood up.

‘You must keep on calling me to remind me of this,’ she said.

‘Sure, madam. Thank you.’

I moved to the door. ‘Have a nice day, Ola.’

‘And you too ma’am.’

I left the office and took the elevator to the ground floor. The warmth of the outside hit me as soon as I left the grand building.

Welcome back to the world, I told myself.

FrankAkowe:
I was at the reception of the National oil company by ten thirty in the morning. I had filled the visitor’s book and was told to wait a while. The receptionist called Naomi to inform her that a guy called Ola was around to see her. The lady listened briefly and turned to me.

‘Come and wear the visitor’s tag. Go to floor five, room 007.’

I attached the tag to my well-ironed and smart looking shirt and joined the short queue waiting for the elevator. When I got to the floor, the first thing I noticed was the very cool atmosphere of the place. It was in contrast with the bakery, which was always very warm.

I knocked on the door of room 007, opened the door and stepped in. A secretary asked me to sit down. Few minutes later, sister Naomi came out with another lady.

‘Good morning, madam,’ I greeted zealously.
‘Good morning, Ola. Just a minute.’

She and the woman left the office. About ten minutes later, she was back.

‘O ya, Ola, come,’ she said as she led me to her office. ‘I hope you’re not angry that you were kept waiting.’

‘Oh no, ma’am. I can understand.’

She sat on her seat and motioned me to a chair.

She stretched her hands out. ‘Can I have the credentials?’

I had carefully stapled them and put them in an envelope inside my black folder. I handed them to her.

She put on her glasses and carefully went through the papers. She seemed to be studying them. I studied her in return. The glasses, perched on the tip of her nose fitted her well. Her white shirt was new and crisp. I thought I would see the wedding ring on her finger, but it was not there. Maybe she forgot to wear it. Her hair was stylishly parked to the back. She looked delectable.

‘Okay, Ola,’ she finally said. ‘I’ll talk to my boss and see what can be done on this. I’m not really promising, but let’s be positive about it.’

‘Thank you, ma’am.’

She looked at me critically and smiled.
‘That means you’ll have to be giving me call from time to time to find out how far.’

I smiled too. ‘That will be no problem, ma’am.’

‘If I may ask, how much do you earn now?’

I told her.

‘Hmn, that’s just like allowances,’ she said.

I nodded.

She stood up. ‘Give me one minute.’

I was left alone in the office. It was a very comfortable office. Surely working in an office like this was not a bad idea. But the bakery too was helping me out, I told myself. I thanked God for what I had already.

Five minutes later, sister Naomi was back.

‘Sorry again for keeping you waiting. I guess I’m going to be very busy today.
’
I got the hint and stood up.

‘You must keep on calling me to remind me of this,’ she said.

‘Sure, madam. Thank you.’

I moved to the door. ‘Have a nice day, Ola.’

‘And you too ma’am.’

I left the office and took the elevator to the ground floor. The warmth of the outside hit me as soon as I left the grand building.

Welcome back to the world, I told myself.

deserving of a Pulitzer

frbona:
deserving of a Pulitzer

Wow! Thanks for the mighty compliment.

The following morning, I left the bakery about eight. I had just completed my night duty and I needed to get home and take a well-deserved sleep and rest. I was about to have some sleep when Audu came to tell me that I had a visitor.

‘Who?’ I asked him.

‘He say him name be David.’.

‘David?’ I didn’t have any friend that bore the name. ‘Alright.’ I followed him to the gate to see who the visitor was. A man I had never seen before was there. He had come in a car that had the sticker of national oil company.

‘Good morning,’ I greeted him.

‘Good morning. Are you Ola?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘My oga said I should give you this.’ He handed a letter to me.

‘Sorry, who is your oga?’

‘Madam Naomi.’

I nodded. ‘Thank you.’

The man returned to the car and drove off.

He was probably a driver, I thought. I examined the letter and returned to my room. The handwritten, cursive name and address couldn’t be an official letter; not the kind of letter, national oil company would issue. This must be sister Naomi’s handwriting. What could be her message?

I got to my room and sat on the plastic chair beside a small desk, where I sometimes did my reading. I opened the envelope and brought out a small letter. It read:

Hello, Ola. Happy weekend.
From Naomi

Thanks for the update OP

bro, I love ur write up, it z nice n straightforward, more wisdom bro

good work keep it up

I checked the back of the letter as if there would be more messages there. None. I couldn’t believe this. Would sister Naomi want to wish me a happy weekend and she would send a driver to convey the message? She had my number. Why didn’t she simply call?

And then, she was wishing my happy weekend. Why would she do that? I thought over it for some minutes. This sister was showing interest in me. But she should be married. I knew she should be in her mid or late thirties, what friendship could possibly be between us? I was just twenty-eight. She must have seen that on the c.v I submitted.

Why would she send a message like this? Why would she go through the trouble?

I got up from the chair and lay on my bed, thinking. After some minutes, I decided I should call her and thank her for the note she sent. I would also wish her happy weekend. I dialed her number. She picked it at the fourth ring.

‘Good morning, madam.’

‘Good morning. This is Ella.’

I was surprised. I quickly checked the number I called. It was the number I had stored as ‘Sister Naomi.’

‘Er, can I be on to Mrs. Naomi? I’m Ola.’

I heard something that sounded like a chuckle. ‘She’s taking her bath. You can call back in ten minutes.’

I heaved a sigh. ‘Alright. Thank you.’

The voice I had heard was most likely a mature girl’s own. She was probably a niece or so living with her. I waited for twelve minutes to elapse. Then, I called her number again.

‘She still hasn’t come out.’ The girl I had spoken to said.

‘Please, as soon as you see her, tell her Ola called.’

‘Alright.’

‘Sorry, what’s your name again?’

‘Ella,’ she said. ‘I’m her daughter.’

What? I had not seen Ella physically, but I had no doubt that she must be a grown up girl. That meant Sister Naomi had a grown up daughterl! So, why did she send that note to me? What did she want?

I waited for another thirty minutes before I called her again. This time around, she picked it.

‘Is that you, madam?’ I asked.

‘Yes. Good morning, Ola.’

‘Good morning, ma’am. I saw your note and called to say thank you. Happy weekend too, ma’am.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I really appreciate, ma’am, although I wondered why you should go through all the trouble. Thank you, madam.’

‘Thank you too. Bye for now.’ She disconnected the line.

I sighed to myself and did some wondering. Maybe she was having marital challenges and she wanted to ease the tension, my mind told me. Another mind said she might be a divorcee. Well, whichever she was, why pick interest in a young man like me? With her beautiful face and good figure, surely many men would desire her!

I adjusted my pillow. Maybe I should just get some sleep and forget about sister Naomi. I closed my eyes. My phone beeped. A message had come in. It was on my WhatsApp and it was from Sister Naomi.

‘Why is it that our society stigmatizes single mothers?’ she wrote.

My mind was busy. Could she be a single mother?

‘It is because our society is ultra conservative,’ I wrote back.

‘What’s your feeling towards single mothers?’ she asked.

‘I do not have any ill feelings towards them,’ I replied. ‘If I may ask, are you a single mother, ma’am?’

Her reply: ‘Yes. I have an eleven year old daughter. You spoke with her the other time.’

Wow! I paused for several seconds before I wrote my response. ‘I’m twenty eight years old, ma’am. If I may ask, how old are you?’

‘I’m about to clock thirty-three,’ she wrote.

I wasn’t surprised. I had all along suspected that she should be about thirty-five.

‘It’s a pleasure meeting you, ma’am,’ I wrote.

‘Drop the “ma’am”. Call me Naomi.’

I smiled at myself. Ola, be careful.

Following

'Okay Naomi,’ I replied.

‘I caught you staring at me in my office yesterday,’ she wrote.

My heart beat increased. Oh God, so she saw me while I was staring at her!

‘I’m sorry about that,’ I wrote.

‘It’s alright.’

‘Thank you for your understanding.’

There was no further reply from her again.

This woman was teasing me, I thought. How would I handle this? A single mother. A successful career woman. A woman close to thirty-three. That meant there was about five years age difference between us. Five years!

But then, she was very pretty. She had a very nice figure, and if she hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t believe she had an eleven years old daughter.

I was still thinking about her when I slept off. When I woke up, I felt refreshed. Joyce was back in the house for the weekend. She soon came to my room.

‘I was here earlier but did not want to disturb your sleep,’ she said.

I smiled at her. ‘Joyce, how was school? How was exam, so far?’

‘Fine.’

Thankfully, Steve was in the room, so all we could have was normal conversation. Later, towards evening, Naomi sent another messenger to me.

‘Can you date an older partner?’ she asked.

To me, it was a million dollar question.
Before I answered her, I searched my heart and asked myself the question. The fact was I had asked myself that kind of question before.

My answer then was yes. It would not be because of the money I could make from it. It would not be because of any lucre. It would be because of true and genuine feelings. That was my belief.

‘Yes, I can,’ I wrote.

‘Will it be because she’s comfortable and can offer you something in return?’

‘No. It will be because I really have genuine feelings for her and want her.’

‘Want her for what?’

‘If she’s honest, frank and genuinely gives me affection, I will do the same in good measure.’

‘What about her age? What about the age difference?’

‘If the feelings are genuine, the age does not matter.’

She did not respond again.

Tanks for the update




Continue

Seems Naomi likes Ola already

Thanks for the update OP

Ann2012:
Seems Naomi likes Ola already

Sure, over like self don dey worry her fa

next update pls.

I would be having some days off from my place of work, so I could relax for the weekend.

Sunday morning, I was in the church with the rest of the family. I realized my mind was barely on what was going on. The odd thing was I was thinking about Naomi and could not get her pretty face from my mind. Oh Lord!

The only thing I really enjoyed in the church that day was the hymn:

There’s not a friend like the lonely Jesus,
No, not one
No, not one…

After the service, we went back home. I relaxed on my bed, trying hard not to think about Naomi. About two o’clock, her WhatsApp messenger came in.

‘How was the service?’ she asked.

‘Great,’ I replied. ‘What about yours?’

‘Wonderful. We sang wonderful story of love.’

I smiled. ‘We sang no friend like the lonely Jesus.’

‘So, how are you?’

‘I’m not sure I’m fine.’

‘Why?’

‘I’m kind of confused.’

‘Over what?’

That was a hard question. My mind was telling me two things. One said I should damn whatever would be the outcome and tell her I had feelings for her. Another one said no, I shouldn’t.

‘I don’t know.’ I wrote.

‘That’s funny. You don’t know why you’re confused?’

‘Something like that. Sometimes, what should be a simple expression becomes very complex.’

‘Perhaps, you made it complex.’

‘I think circumstance made it so.’

‘What circumstance?’

I grinned. ‘There are many odds. One, she is much older. Two, she earns much more than I do.’

‘Do you really have feelings for her? If yes, go ahead.’

‘She might laugh at me.’

‘Try first.’

‘She might insult me and tell me I should look for my mate.’

‘Perhaps, she will not.’

I hesitated. My heart was beating fast. What was wrong with me? Why was I becoming carried away? Maybe she was just teasing me. Why didn’t I just forget about her?
I soon got another message from her.

‘Be a man, Ola,' she wrote.

Ola man up jor

Well done OP

Ann2012:
Ola man up jor

Hmmmmm, that stuff no easy to do oooo
Uno see dat odd

..pple self go talk.