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There was a charge to the air now, a slow, simmering tension that wasn’t there a moment ago.

“I manage,” I said carefully. “The silence helps me to focus.”

She nodded slowly, as though absorbing something deeper in my words. Then she sat on the arm of the couch, her robe parting slightly at the knee. I tried not to stare, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t affected. There was something undeniably captivating about her. She wasn’t trying too hard—but she knew exactly what effect she had.

“I used to write,” she said, almost wistfully. “Poetry, mostly. Long time ago. Life got in the way.”

“I’d love to read some, if you still have them,” I offered, genuinely curious now.

“Maybe I will show you sometime,” she said, smiling faintly. “But tell me, Dayo… do you always stay cooped up in here, even when the weather’s nice?”

I hesitated. The question was simple enough on the surface, but there was a layer beneath it—something teasing, something suggestive. She noticed my pause and tilted her head.

“You should come down sometime,” she said, standing. “Have a glass of wine. I’ve got a little spare time. It’s peaceful. Could be good for the creative mind.”

I nodded, unsure of what to say. My thoughts were suddenly jumbled, tugging between politeness, curiosity, and something else entirely. Attraction, maybe. Temptation.

As she walked toward the door, she glanced over her shoulder.

“Nice talking with you, Dayo. Don’t work too hard.”

And with that, she was gone.

The door clicked softly behind her, but the moment lingered long after. I stood there for a while, heart just a little faster, head just a little fuzzier. Then I sat back down at my laptop, staring at the screen, the cursor blinking steadily again.

Only now, I wasn’t thinking about my proposal.

I was thinking about Madam Lara William. But then, I had stop to stop thinking about the old lady. I got work to do.


Two days later, just as the sun filtered softly through the curtains of my sitingroom, there came a gentle knock at the door. It was the landlady's housemaid, a quiet girl named Titi, carrying a tray with a simple but thoughtful breakfast— slices of golden-brown toast, neatly buttered, and a steaming cup of tea.

"Madam said I should give you this," Titi said.

Once upon a time, in a world full of expired dreams and decaying ambitions, there lived a fabulously immortal woman named Vivienne Vex. Not vampire, not goddess, just Vivienne, with a metabolism that defied time and a wardrobe that spanned centuries.

Everyone always asked, “But Vivienne, don’t you get bored living forever?”

Bored? Honey, boredom is a choice. Vivienne had front-row seats to the rise and fall of empires, and she never had to pay for season tickets. Rome? Overrated. The Renaissance? Chic. Disco? She invented it. She’d lived through 37 wars, 14 fashion revolutions, and three Kardashians. And she still had perfect skin.

Sure, the mortals whined. “But watching everyone you love die—”
She sipped her lavender martini. “New people are born every day, sweetheart. Get a hobby.”

Vivienne had collected hobbies like other people collect heartbreaks. She was a pirate in the 1600s, a Broadway diva in the 1920s, and a tech mogul in the early 2000s (you’re welcome for emojis). She never feared death because, well—she ghosted it.

The benefits? Let’s count.
Unlimited time to master any skill—she could play twenty instruments and seduce in seven languages. Investment wisdom? Her compound interest had compound interest. Long-term revenge? Oh, please. That 1800s aristocrat who scorned her? Let’s just say his great-great-great-grandson accidentally lost a billion-dollar company to her in a hostile takeover.

And beauty? Eternal. She didn’t age; she marinated.

Vivienne’s motto? “Why settle for YOLO when you can have YOL∞?”

Of course, people warned her about the “curse” of immortality. Curse? Sweetie, a curse is wearing Crocs to a gala. Immortality? That’s just playing life on God Mode—with better lighting.

So while mortals scrambled for meaning and moisturizers, Vivienne sashayed through the centuries, living proof that forever isn’t a punishment—it’s a perk.

And she always said with a wink, “Immortality isn’t for everyone. Just the fabulous ones.”

‘How many children will you like to have?’ she asked.‘

Two should be okay. Plus Jemima, making three.’She smiled.

‘Yes, that number is reasonable.’We chatted into the long hours of the night, until we slept off.

She was the one that woke me up Sunday morning with a kiss.

‘Good morning, darling,’ I greeted.‘Morning.’ She smiled.

‘How was your night?‘

'With you, it was wonderful.

I was delighted to hear that.‘Today is Sunday,’ I said. ‘I will look for a good church around here where I’ll be worshipping.’

‘Good idea,’ she said.

Minutes later, I went to have my bath. I then decided to iron the clothes I would wear to church.

‘You can bring your clothes for ironing too,’ I offered.She brought a well-designed Ankara wear for ironing. We took bread and fried eggs for breakfast before we left for the church which was a stone throw away.

Her Ankara wear was beautiful while I looked good in my well-starched, sky blue Guinea brocade kaftan. When we returned from the church, I brought my phone out.

‘Let me take your pictures, honey. You look so sweet,’ I said.

'You look sweet too,’ she said.I took her pictures in different postures, and she took mine. We also took many together.

'I’ll paste them on my Facebook and Instagram,’ she said.

When it was time for her to return to Surulere, I drove her there.

‘Thanks for coming around and making my weekend worthwhile,’ I told her as I drove the car.

'Thanks for giving me a warm welcome,’ she replied.

When we got to Ojuelegba, she asked if we could drive straight to Masha so that she could pick Jemima.

‘Why not,’ I replied.

She directed me to the place.‘You will know that my aunt today. I will have to introduce you to her, but we’ll still tell her that we’ll be coming to properly greet her on Saturday.'

‘With all pleasure,’ I answered.

The aunt turned out to be a sturdy woman in her late forties. She welcomed me jovially and kept smiling at me. She and Desire spoke in a mixture of English and Itshekiri, but I could still pick some words from the Itshekiri.

'Auntie, be expecting us on Saturday,’ Desire said.

I found myself glancing at Moyo, wondering if she’d noticed it too.

“We’ll be sure to do that,” I said quickly, eager to change the subject. “Do you have any recommendations for nearby shops or markets?”

She smiled wider, clearly pleased to share her knowledge. “Oh, yes. There’s a big super market just a five-minute walk from here down the street. There, you can get fresh vegetables, fruits, and all sorts of things you’ll need. And if you like food, there’s a small restaurant around the corner that makes the best jollof rice you’ll ever taste.”

Moyo laughed softly. “That sounds wonderful. We’ll check it out soon.”

She offered us seats, but Moyo politely declined, saying that we would soon be on our way. After a few more minutes of friendly conversation, we thanked her and made our way back upstairs, the sound of her heels fading as she closed her door behind us and we moved on.

Back in the quiet of our apartment, I took a deep breath and looked around once more. Despite the empty walls and bare floors, it already felt a little more like home. Moyo reached for my hand, and I squeezed it gently.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” she said quietly. "By the end of this month, the furniture and other things will be in place.

I nodded, hoping she was right.


---

A couple of weeks later. The house now had its furnitue and the place looked better. Our apartment was unusually quiet this morning. I had just finished my second cup of coffee and was settling into my work routine. The cursor of the laptop blinked steadily on the screen, waiting for my fingers to catch up with my thoughts and type.

Outside, the neighborhood was still waking up—buses growled down the road, and somewhere, a dog barked. Inside, all was still.

My wife, Moyo, had left for work earlier, just after 7:00 a.m., as she always did. She had kissed me lightly on the cheek, murmured something about dinner plans, and walked out the door in her usual composed rush. We had a rhythm, Moyo and I. She handled her career at the law firm in Ikeja, while I worked from home, writing freelance content for clients across the globe. It was a modest living, but it afforded us a certain flexibility. Most days, I was alone in the house, typing away on my laptop in silence.

Our apartment was always quiet in the morning, except on weekends. My mind went briefly to the other tenants and then to the landlady, Madam Lara William. She seemed to live without any relative, except the maid. I didn’t interact with her often—just the occasional greeting anytime I came across her, which rarely happened. For the other cotenants, it was just a polite hello.

But this morning was different, as it turned out to be.

I was deep in a proposal draft when I heard a knock. Not loud, but distinct—measured and deliberate. I got up, slightly puzzled. It wasn’t often anyone came by unannounced, and certainly not during working hours. I opened the door.

There she was.

“Good morning, Dayo,” Madam Lara William said, her voice warm but curious. “Hope I'm not disturbing you?”

It took me a couple of seconds to respond.

"Oh, no, madam. You're not disturbing in any way."

Ms. William looked, for lack of a better word, radiant. She stood in a silk robe—tastefully worn, but undeniably elegant. Her hair was pinned back in a loose bun, a few strands cascading down the side of her face. Despite being around 55 (my guess), she carried herself with the poised confidence of someone who understood her own allure. There was a spark in her eyes, something amusing, something deliberate.

I cleared my throat. “No, no problem at all," I went on. "I happen to work at home.”

Her eyes flicked to the laptop behind me. “Working from home, right? I’ve been meaning to ask—what kind of work do you do, exactly?”

I stepped aside and gestured for her to enter. “I do freelance writing—mostly web content, marketing material, articles. A bit of ghostwriting here and there.”

She smiled, stepping inside. “Ah. That explains the long hours and quiet presence. It must be nice, being able to work in the comfort of your home.”

I chuckled. “Yes. One of the perks.”

She looked around my living room—minimalistic, tidy. “Don't you ever get lonely? Being here all day by yourself?”

There was something in the way she asked the question that made me pause. I studied her face—those keen brown eyes, the soft smile playing on her lips. It wasn’t just casual small talk. There was a charge to the air now, a slow, simmering tension that wasn’t there a moment ago.

I knew she was the one.

Now, here we were.

No longer lovers figuring it out.

Now, we were husband and wife. Legally, spiritually, and emotionally bound.

I watched her move through our new space like she already owned it—opening drawers, peeking into the closets, testing the taps in the bathroom.

She turned and caught me staring.

“What?” she asked, smiling. “You look like someone in a trance.”

“I’m just thinking,” I said.

“About what?”

“About how far we’ve come.”

She walked over, wrapped her arms around my waist, and rested her head on my chest. “We’ve only just begun,” she whispered.

She was right.

This apartment wasn't just new walls and fancy tiles. It was the setting of our next chapter. A place where we would build memories, fight and make up, maybe raise children, host friends, celebrate birthdays, and face storms together.

As I looked down at her, my wife, I felt a surge of gratitude.

She had once been the bright, bold law graduate who argued me into a corner at a party.

Now, she was the woman I would share a lifetime with.

And as we stood there in our new home, arms around each other, hearts aligned, I knew one thing with absolute certainty:

“We will still have a lot of interior decoration to do,” Moyo said softly, her voice filled with both excitement and a hint of overwhelm as she looked around the almost empty living room. Her eyes moved from the bare walls to the plain window frames, and then to the tiled floor that stretched across the space.

I nodded in agreement, feeling the weight of the moment. It was our first day in the new apartment—a modest two-bedroom flat tucked away in the bustling neighborhood of Ojodu, Lagos. The walls were painted a neutral cream, and the rooms felt spacious but bare, echoing slightly in the quiet afternoon light filtering through the windows.

Moyo turned toward me with a hopeful smile. “Just imagine how it’ll look once we add some wallpapers, furniture, and maybe that wooden bookshelf you’ve always wanted.”

I smiled back, feeling a surge of pride. “Yeah, it’s going to be a new beginning for us. Our first home as a married couple.”

We had only recently tied the knot, after years of dating and dreaming about this day. The wedding had been a simple but joyous celebration, with close family and friends.

Now, here we were, standing together in a space that symbolized the life we were about to build. So far, everything was going well—no major problems, just hope and promise.

“I think we should go and see the landlady,” I said suddenly, breaking the silence as I started reaching for my shoes by the door. “It’s only right to let her know we’ve moved in.”

Moyo nodded, grabbing her small handbag. We stepped out of the apartment, locking the door behind us, and walked down the passage. The apartment complex was quiet at this time of day, with a faint hum of distant traffic mixing with birdsong. The walls along the staircase were painted in soft pastels, chipped in places but still cheerful.

The landlady, Madam Lara William, lived on the ground floor, close to the main entrance. Her apartment stood out among the others because it was meticulously clean and decorated with bright flowers and colorful cushions at the entrance.

As we approached, she opened the door before we could even knock. She was a woman who must have been in her mid-fifties, but there was something striking about her presence—her style was bold and unapologetic. Today, she wore a fitted blouse that revealed her toned arms and a skirt that hugged her hips, paired with footwears that clicked confidently as she moved. Her makeup was expertly done, with smoky eyes and glossy lips that contrasted with her warm smile.

“Ah, here come the new tenants,” she greeted us with a voice that was both welcoming and tinged with a playful edge. “Welcome to your new home.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Moyo said politely, returning the smile. “We just moved in not long ago, and we decided to come and greet you.”

The landlady’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as she looked us over. “Good, good. It’s always nice to have fresh faces around here. If you need anything, just let me know. I’m just downstairs.”

Her words were kind, but there was a subtle undertone in her manner—confident, a little provocative, that left a strange feeling lingering in the air. I found myself glancing at Moyo, wondering if she’d noticed it too.

Good day dear friends.

Welcome to another roller coaster of exciting story.

You will certainly enjoy this one. Happy reading.


The Naughty Spinster





Titoo










Dayo recently got married to Moyo and the young couple is just settling down to marital life when an alluring and seductive spinster in the form of their landlady sweeps him off his feet. Dayo is never the same again.











Moyo, my wife, and I inspected our new apartment as we moved from the sitting room to the other rooms. There were two bedrooms, a toilet cum bathroom, and a modest kitchen.

I still remember the day I met Moyo like it happened just yesterday.

It was at a mutual friend’s graduation party—one of those chaotic gatherings filled with loud music, sweaty dancing, and too many red cups. I had only gone there to show face and sneak away quietly. I wasn’t in the mood for conversation, let alone love. But then I saw her.

She had just graduated from the Nigerian Law School, and you could practically see the fire in her eyes. She was dressed in a simple yet elegant gown, minimal makeup, natural hair in a high puff, and a confident smile that disarmed me instantly. Not just beauty—intelligence radiated from her. The way she carried herself, the way she spoke… sharp, deliberate, no-nonsense. She had beauty and brains in equal measure, and she didn’t need to prove it to anyone.

Our first conversation started with a debate about whether Nigeria needed more lawyers or more farmers. She had strong opinions. So did I. We argued. We laughed. And by the end of the night, I found myself offering to drop her off at home.

She agreed.

From that moment, things moved fast—but never felt rushed.

Dates turned into long night calls. Weekend hangouts became extended stays. And before I knew it, Moyo had become my live-in partner. She moved in with just two boxes and a suitcase, but somehow, she filled every corner of the apartment with her presence. My once dull bachelor’s pad began to feel like a home. There were throw pillows with bold quotes, reed diffusers in every room, and jars of healthy snacks replacing my stash of garri and instant noodles.

She brought light. Laughter. Order. Love.

We had our fights, no doubt—she had a temper, I had pride. But our fights never lasted long. Apologies were exchanged over suya and Chapman. Hugs replaced harsh words. And every time I saw her asleep beside me, with her hand resting gently on her belly as if protecting her dreams, I knew she was the one.

‘But we’ll soon be married,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry, Desire baby. I’m going to be a wonderful husband to you.’

She smiled slightly.

‘You’ll see,’ I said.

We later left the bed and had breakfast of bread and tea. We were behaving as if we were already married. From the experience, I could project the kind of wife Desire would be.

Despite the fact that she was some years older than me, coupled with the fact that she earned much more, I could see respect in the way she treated me. I could see real love, affection and submission. All these I saw, except she was just pretending.

To kill boredom, I brought a game of scrabble out. We were still playing the scrabble in the sitting-room when the house girl came to inform that Madam Aleshi would like to see us.

‘Alright, tell her we’re coming,’ Desire answered.

We suspended the game.

'That Madam Aleshi can talk,’ I said.

Desire smiled. ‘She’s very friendly and nice.’We went to meet the woman.

'Ah, ah, Desire, this love dey shark you o,’ Madam Aleshi said as soon as we got to her sitting room. ‘You and your man just stay put in your apartment without bothering to come and relax with Madam Aleshi.'

‘We were still planning to come together, mummy,’ Desire explained.

'Oya, two of you, sit down. Relax with me.’

We sat next to each other.‘You’re going to make a wonderful couple,’ she said. ‘Yes, I can see that. God must have designed Richard for you, Desire. That’s why you’ve been waiting all this while.’

We smiled. ‘I pray God will make everything to work out well,’ Desire said.

'Things will work out well,’ Madam Aleshi said, as if she was a prophetess. ‘There may be some challenges, but things would work out well.’

'Amen,’ Desire said.Madam Aleshi regaled us with the tale of how she met her husband many years ago in England and how they had married and had three children over there.

Later, they had relocated to Nigeria. According to her, up till the  time her husband died about three years ago, the love between them was as strong as ever.

Not long after, the house maid served us lunch. We remained with Madam Aleshi until about seven p.m. when we returned to my apartment. I could not but agree that Madam Aleshi was nice and friendly.

Later that night, while we lay on bed, we held each other’s hands and stared into each other’s eyes.

‘How many children will you like to have?’ she asked.

‘At Masha. That’s where Jemima is.’

I nodded.

‘She wants to know you,’ Desire said.

‘That will be no problem,’ I replied. ‘Let’s fix a date and a time for that. My uncle wants to meet with you too.’

She washed the food flasks she had brought.

‘That my aunt has been on my neck that I should bring a husband home,’ she said.

I nodded again. ‘Maybe we should go there next Saturday.’

She agreed with me. ‘That will be great.’ She dried her hand on the hand towel. ‘Are you ready to eat now?’

‘No. Not yet.’ I smiled. ‘I’ll rather eat you.’

She frowned. ‘Eat me?’

I continued my smile. ‘Yes. Let me show you how.’

I brought my lips to hers and sucked them.
‘Is that food?’ she asked.

‘That’s the appetizer.’ I lifted her and took her to the bedroom where I had put my things. We stood face to face and breathed into each other’s nose.

‘I like your hair,’ I said

‘Thank you.’

I sniffed the air close to her nose. ‘And I like the perfume you’re wearing.’

‘Thank you.’

I looked at her all over. Her pink cotton shirt and the red skirt showed how chic she was.

‘I like your outfit. You look like somebody going for a fashion show.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Now, let me see if the inner wears are as fitting as the outer wears.’

She smiled but said nothing. I unbuttoned the pink shirt. Today, she was wearing a red bra. I always had special attraction for red bras, and now, seeing what she was wearing made me go crazy.

‘Maybe I should UnCloth myself,’ she suggested.

‘Oh, no. let me do it with all pleasure.’

She sighed and closed her eyes. I removed everything she was wearing and stripped myself too.

‘Now, food is ready,’ I announced.

‘Naughty boy,’ she said.

Naughty or not, it was one food the two of had until we could eat no more. Several minutes later, we lay under the bedspread, savoring our ‘meal.’

She still held on to me as if she expected more, but I would have to recuperate.

After the acts, we lay next to each other and cuddled like a couple crazily in love. My left held her right hand, while my right one drew imaginary image of love on her body.

‘When will you take me to the altar?’ she asked.
I rubbed the back of her neck and her back.

‘When d’you want me to take you there?’

She drew in a deep breath. ‘As soon as possible.’

‘That is ASAP,’ I said jokingly.

We laughed shortly.

‘I don’t want any lady to snatch you away from me,’ she said.

‘My dear Desire. No lady can snatch me away from you.’

‘We don’t have to make elaborate wedding,’ she said. ‘Once we do the traditional part, we can formalize the rest at the Registry.’

I nodded in agreement. I never fancied elaborate wedding too. ‘That will be okay.’

‘All these can be done in a matter of months,’ she said.

‘Yes. It will be wonderful, that you, Desire should become my lawfully wedded wife’

I touched her face. She closed her eyes.

‘Madam Aleshi warned me not to break your heart,’ I said.

She smiled. ‘Thank God for Madam Aleshi.’

‘She also said you’ll be a wonderful wife.’

She opened her eyes. ‘She said that?’

‘Yes.’

‘Thanks to her for her compliments.’

‘When is your birthday?’

‘August 10.’

‘Ah, Augustina. Mine is September 9.’

She sighed and closed her eyes again. ‘I wish we can be together like this forever,’ she said.

‘But we’ll soon be married,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry, Desire baby. I’m going to be a wonderful husband to you.’

She smiled slightly.




https://selar.co/28s117

Keep it coming.

In the vibrant heart of Lagos, there lived a young man named Tunde. Bold and spirited, Tunde was not only known for his infectious laughter but also for a profound decision he made during a moment of self-reflection. He vowed to remain chaste, determined to focus on his dreams and ambitions without the distractions of romance.

Tunde’s life was a colorful tapestry woven with the threads of friendship and adventure. Every day, he would stride through the bustling markets and lively streets, where the aroma of spicy jollof rice mingled with the sound of laughter and music. Tunde was beloved by many, and his radiant personality attracted the attention of numerous young ladies. Despite their flirtatious smiles and lingering glances, Tunde was unwavering in his commitment.

Among his admirers was a charming girl named Ifeoma. With her sparkling eyes and infectious laughter, she was the queen of the market stalls, attracting attention from everyone around her. Day by day, she tried to woo Tunde with playful banter and sweet treats, but Tunde remained resolute, always grateful but never enticed.

One evening, during the vibrant festival of Eyo, where the streets transformed into a kaleidoscope of colors, Ifeoma decided to challenge Tunde. She approached him with confidence, a gleam of mischief in her eyes. "Tunde, why do you persist in this vow? Life is meant to be enjoyed, and love is a part of that joy!"

"Ah Ifeoma," he replied with warmth sparkling in his voice, "my heart is set on greater things. I dream of traveling, of writing stories that inspire, and of building a life that echoes purpose. Chastity is my choice; it fuels my passion."

Her laughter rang out, "So you believe turning away from love suits your ambition? What if love is a part of that journey?"

Tunde pondered her words but stood firm in his decision. He admired Ifeoma’s spirit, yet his foothold on his path was stronger than the allure of love. Time went by, and despite their lively exchanges, Tunde continued to prioritize his dreams over romantic pursuits.

Seasons changed, and soon word spread about a grand competition hosted by a renowned publishing house, searching for immense talents in storytelling. Tunde seized this golden opportunity, spending countless nights penning tales inspired by his vibrant city, its people, and the stories he cherished.

When the day of the competition arrived, excitement coursed through him. As he presented his work, Tunde stood tall, heart racing, but deeply focused. Each word he spoke was laced with his dreams and aspirations. The judges were captivated, and at that moment, Tunde felt a surge of fulfillment that few romances could offer.

Months later, the moment of truth came; Tunde was announced as the winner! A wave of joy washed over him as he thought of the countless possibilities ahead—the chance to travel, to inspire others, and to tell the stories he held dear. The spark of achievement he felt was unmatched, but he couldn’t help but notice Ifeoma in the crowd, clapping fervently. Her pride in him radiated behind her bright smile, and Tunde realized that perhaps love wasn’t just distraction but a source of immense support.

Recognizing their bond—a friendship built on respect and shared laughter—he approached her after the ceremony. "Ifeoma, you always believed in my dreams. Thank you for being a part of this journey," he said, his heart swelling.

"Every story needs its muse, Tunde! I’ll always cheer you on, no matter where life takes you,” she replied, her eyes glowing.

Though the spark of romance was not ignited, a beautiful friendship bloomed between them. Tunde realized that his vow had not shielded him from love but merely transformed it into a different, profound connection with those around him. He continued on his path of ambition, empowered by the support and respect he found in the relationships he nurtured.

In the end, Tunde learned that his vow wasn’t a rejection of love but a choice to cultivate a deeper appreciation for it. He danced through life, vibrant and full of purpose, knowing that love could be expressed in myriad ways, each just as enriching as the other. And with that spirit, he embraced the adventure that lay ahead! 🌟

Every morning, I step into the bustling world of my advertising firm, where creativity flutters in the air like colorful confetti. I have to admit, it’s a bit surreal being the most admired guy in the office. My colleagues often compliment my looks—sometimes it feels like I’m in a rom-com instead of real life! But despite all the attention and the flirtatious glances from the female staff, there’s one thing I hold close to my heart: my decision to maintain sexual abstinence.

It’s not that I don't appreciate the affection; in fact, it feels amazing to be adored! I’ve gotten love notes slipped under my desk, coy smiles sent my way during meetings, and even a few invitations to after-work “get-togethers.” But somewhere deep down, I know my focus needs to be elsewhere. The ads we create, the campaigns we launch—they’re my passion. I adore the thrill of crafting a narrative that connects with people, and I want to pour my energy into that completely.

Sometimes, I catch myself in a whimsical daydream about how it could be to explore those irresistible overtures. A part of me wonders if I'm missing out on experiences that many would consider essential to life. But as those thoughts pass, I remind myself of the immense respect I hold for both myself and my values. My resolve feels like a sturdy anchor amidst the waves of flirtation.

I remember one particular instance when Julia, a creative director in our team, playfully cornered me during lunch. With a teasing smile and a twinkle in her eye, she leaned closer and whispered about an “upcoming project” she wanted to discuss—wink, wink. I laughed it off lightly, steering the conversation back to brainstorming ideas for our next ad campaign. We ended up laughing and collaborating, a partnership built on camaraderie rather than anything romantic.

For me, it’s all about knowing what I want. Right now, it’s about honing my skills, growing in my career, and keeping my relationships genuine and platonic. I cherish the sweet friendships that blossom in the office and the respect I’ve earned from my peers. It’s refreshing to know there’s more to connection than just physical attraction, and it’s a joy to celebrate that with others.

So every day, I approach my work with enthusiasm and a grateful heart, maintaining my priorities while enjoying the ride. Tayo might be the handsome dude everyone adores, but I’m proud to be the guy who’s focused, driven, and ready to conquer the advertising world—one fantastic idea at a time! ✨

Thumb up

Sexual harassment refers to unwanted and inappropriate behavior of a sexual nature that creates a hostile or intimidating environment. It can occur in various contexts, including workplaces, educational institutions, or public spaces. This behavior can be verbal, physical, or even visual and can happen between individuals of the same or different genders.

Here are some troubles that sexual harassment can bring:

1. **Emotional Distress**: Victims may experience anxiety, depression, and feelings of shame or fear, impacting their mental health.

2. **Decreased Productivity**: In a workplace setting, sexual harassment can lead to decreased job performance and lower morale among employees.

3. **Career Consequences**: Victims may feel forced to change jobs or even leave their careers altogether due to a toxic environment.

4. **Legal Repercussions**: Organizations may face lawsuits or legal action if they fail to address sexual harassment complaints effectively.

5. **Toxic Work Culture**: Persistent harassment can create a culture of silence and fear, leading to a lack of trust among employees.

6. **Physical Safety Concerns**: Victims may feel unsafe or threatened, leading to potential physical confrontations.

7. **Social Isolation**: Those who experience harassment might withdraw from their social circles, as they feel ashamed or fear retaliation.

8. **Financial Impact**: Victims might incur costs related to counseling, legal fees, or job loss, which can lead to financial strain.

Addressing sexual harassment is crucial for fostering a respectful and safe environment for everyone! 🌟 If you want more insights or specific examples, feel free to ask!

Even my uncle was impressed with what he saw.

‘You’re surely lucky, Richard. This is a big place,’ he said.

‘Thank you, sir. Let me quickly go qnd inform the madam of the house that I’ve come.’

‘Sure. Go ahead.’

I went to the main building to see Madam Aleshi.

‘She dey bath,’ the house girl informed.

‘Alright. I’ll come back to greet her.'

I went back to my new apartment. My uncle prayed for me. He prayed that the place would turn out to be of comfort and not of sorrow. He also prayed that very soon, a good and wonderful wife chosen by God Himself would become my wife. I said enthusiastic Amen to his prayers.

‘Alright, Richard. See you again.’

‘Thank you so much, uncle.’

I saw him off at the gate. I returned to the apartment and surveyed the place. It was a paradox of life that while some people were desperate about securing accommodation, some people would want some others to come and occupy their empty space. I thanked God for my good luck.

After sitting in the sitting-room for a while, I decided to go back to the main building to greet Madam Aleshi. This time around, I met her.

‘Good morning, mummy,’ I greeted with a deep bow. ‘I’ve been here earlier to greet you. I want to thank you for everything, ma. God bless, ma.’

‘You’re welcome. Where’s Desire?’

‘She’ll soon be coming ma.’

‘Sit down, Richard,’ she offered.

‘Thank you, ma.’

She studied my face. ‘Are you just playing with Desire, or do you really intend to marry her?’ she asked.

‘Oh, I intend to marry her, ma.’

‘You’re a fine, young man. I hope you’ll not be distracted by Lagos ladies.’

‘Oh, no, ma. Not at all.’

‘Where do you work?’

‘Glorious Bakery. I’m the assistant production supervisor.’

‘You studied Food Technology?’

‘No. I studied Mechanical Engineering.’

‘Where is that your bakery?’

I told her.

‘Are you the people that produce Amazing Loaf?’

I smiled. ‘Yes, ma.’

‘That’s good. I like their bread.’

‘Thank you, ma.’

She nodded, then looked at me seriously.

‘Listen, Desire is like a daughter to me. You must treat her well. I know her very well, she deserves the best.’

‘I love Desire well, ma and I’ll treat her right.’

‘Yes, you must. Be faithful to her. Don’t break her heart.’

‘Yes, ma.’

‘She’s a good lady. She’s going to be a wonderful wife.’

‘Yes, ma.’

‘And that her daughter, take her like your own.’

'Yes, ma. Thank you, ma.’

‘You’re welcome.’ She stood. It was the end of the ‘interrogation.’

I returned to the apartment without having a doubt that Madam Aleshi talked a lot. I rested on one of the sofas, then it dawned on me that there was no television set in the house. I would have to get that as soon as possible so that I would ease off boredom. For now, I played some music on my phone. About an hour after arriving the house, I could hear the sound of a car being driven in. from the sitting room window, I could see the gate.it was Desire’s car that was driven in.

It took her some time before she came to my apartment. She must have gone to the main building to greet Madam Aleshi. Desire finally came around and I could see her carrying a polythene bag.

‘Desire, my baby,’ I greeted her.

‘Hello, dear.’ She put the nylon on the center table while I kissed her.

‘I had to prepare some food. That’s why I came quite late,’ she explained.

‘It’s okay, my dear. Thanks for everything.’
‘Let me take this to the kitchen.’

I followed to the place and we chatted as she washed pots and poured jollof rice and some stew she had brought. She also brought a loaf of big slice bread out.

‘We’ll be together till Sunday evening when I’ll return to Surulere,’ she said.

‘Oh, that’s marvelous.’

‘I told my aunty about you.’

I nodded. ‘Where does she stay?

‘At Masha. That’s where Jemima is.’

I nodded.









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‘Very well.’ She slowed the car down and stopped. I moved across to her and kissed her.

‘Hmn,’ she muttered.

‘Let me take over the wheel,’ I suggested. ‘I’ll drive you to your house as a compensation for all your troubles.’

‘You can drive?’

‘Sure.’

‘Okay.’

Her petite figure made it easy for her to move to the passenger’s side while I took over the wheel without us getting out of the car.

I drove the car with ease, while she was glued to my side.

Thankfully, we were moving against the traffic. After about an hour, we were at her Abina residence.

We entered her flat. Jemima opened the door for us. She was reading in the sitting room when we got there.

‘Sorry I came late,’ Desire told her. ‘I took Richard somewhere.’

‘Okay,’ Jemima said softly.

‘Now, what food can I quickly prepare that you can eat before you go?’ Desire asked.

‘Food? Don’t worry. Go ahead and prepare your dinner, but I won’t be able to wait. It’s already few minutes to eight o’clock.’

‘Can I get your snacks? They sell egg roll and dough nuts in the neighborhood.’

I shook my head. ‘No, don’t worry. Let me one more time thank you for all you’ve done. I appreciate you, Desire.’

She smiled. ‘You’re welcome.’

I kissed her again without minding that her daughter was there.

‘Good night, Desire. Good night, Jemima.’

‘Good night,’ the girl said.

Desire accompanied me briefly before I insisted that she should return to the house.
Wow! What an exciting day. I didn’t get home until ten thirty in the night. The following morning, I decided to tell my uncle all about Desire, my attempt to rent a place and how she came to be of help. He listened very well to all that I said. The conclusion was that by Saturday morning, I would be leaving the house.

‘I wish you luck,’ he said. ‘But be careful with this Desire lady. She looks too good.’

I smiled. ‘There’s no problem, uncle. I’m on top of the situation.

‘You and I will go there on Saturday,’ he said further. ‘I’ll like to know the place.’

‘No problem, uncle.’

Later, I told Desire about what I discussed with my uncle.

‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘Jemima will be going to my aunty’s place that same Saturday morning at Masha. I’ll be coming to meet you there later on Saturday. What d’you say to that?’

‘Perfect.’ I said.

On Saturday, I moved my packed bags to my uncle’s car. I bade everyone farewell. Thank God that Bimbo had not returned from school.

She would come in to learn that I had relocated. What a big surprise that would be for her. My uncle drove and we chatted along.

‘This your new lady had finally replaced your former lady, I suppose,’ he started.

‘Yes, sir. I begged Farida, but she would not listen. Now, Desire has come to the scene. I thank God for her.’

‘Are you serious with her or are you just frolicking about?’

‘Ah, I’m serious with her, uncle.’

‘So, when are you introducing her to us?’

‘Soon, sir. Very soon.’

He nodded. ‘From what you have said, she seems to be a nice lady.’

I nodded. ‘Yes, sir. But there’s something I’ll like you to know.’

He stared at me briefly. ‘What’s that?’
I paused to weigh my words. ‘She’s slightly older than me and she already has a daughter.’

‘Really?’ he seemed totally surprised.

‘Yes, uncle.’

He was lost in thoughts. After a long while, he sighed.

‘Do you really love her?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I do.’

He nodded. ‘Are you ready for the jibes of some of your friends who may mock you for marrying someone older than you?’
No friend would dare mock me for my choice, but I nodded. ‘Yes, uncle.’

‘Alright. Follow your heart.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

I directed him to the place. We drove inside the compound and since I had the keys, I went straight to the apartment. Even my uncle was impressed with what he saw.







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