₦airaland Forum

Finally. I started the next episode but couldn't finish it. You know this is a fresh story never written or published anywhere before. I always give una stories from the head. Each episode is written afresh every new day.

So, know that I don't have this story already written anywhere, I am not copying and pasting.

I will complete and post the next episode today.

If I have more time, I can an a bonus episode 😁

I also want to say a huge thank you to those who contacted my bookstore Bookpeddlers and pùrchased my books. I know because I always get purchase updates with names and locations.

You guys are really amazing. This is the best way to support an author and I am grateful.

I can't wait to read your reviews on any platform. God bless you all.

juninhouj:
Ghost mode deactivated...... Ive been following this story from the off, I had to come out from the shadows and comment coz it's a very interesting story and I love it. Pls keep doing what you're doing coz this is some lovely work you've got. Thanks for sharing it

thank you!

Ohibenemma:
Rosemary33, please, let's end the fast; our prayers have been answered. Can I hear an Amen of agreement? ...

🤣🤣 Forgive me for the long wait. I was editing a manuscript I'll be publishing by August. A romantic psychological thriller.

I will drop the next episode of Oghene and Ifenkili story later today, please.

****

It was mid-day when I showed up at the workshop.

Two customers had already come looking for me. One was now having his Hunda Accord 2020 serviced by Agu, the other—oga Marcus—was waiting with the old model, Nigerian used Nissan Altima I warned him not to buy.

From the look on his face, I knew that the motor don begin show insef. I no fit laugh abeg. My problem with the motor wasn’t the brand, but it was old model and also Nigerian used. I have been in this job long enough to know that immediately one got a Nigerian used Altima, Satan would leave them alone and focus on other people because him know say e don finish for both the moto and the buyer.

“Warri boy, I don dey wait for you since.” The man said, eating what remaining on the cob of corn in his hand and throwing the stick away. “I no know watin dey do this motor.”

Why you go know? When you were too greedy to listen to reasoning. The man saw the gwura-gwura by the roadside. With 400,000 as the asking price. My man thought it was a good deal. He didn’t know that the motor would be coming with a little Orpkorpise—evil spirit.

“Watin dey do am?” I asked, stifling laughter.
“My brother the thing tire me. Nothing dey work for this motor. I wan sell am.”

S-sell watin?

“Use am do give away,” Shukudi said while walking past. Laughter erupted around me, forcing the one I had been stifling to burst out.

“Ehe nau,” Shukudi continue, facing the man. “Oga, your conscience go gree you sell this thing to person after watin your eyes don see?”

Three hours later, after I dismissed oga Marcus with a promise that I would pieces the car and sell the parts, and we were having our lunch at the Elekahia Bole Joint—bills on me, I told Shukudi and Agu about my last night’s ordeal. Not the one with Ife—I didn’t think I was strong enough to discuss Ife’s rejection with anyone—but Sarima.

“You get luck say she no tie you rope in the name of BDSM. Ask Agu, he will tell you how one babe he met online brought a rope meant for tying dragon to his place. Before you know it, our guy was tied up like ram...”

“Hei, Chukwudi! Were you there? No be me tell you the story?” Agu defended with laughter.

“The babe tie you up abi she no tie you up? You beg am before she leave you abi you no beg am?”

At this point, the three of us were laughing so uncontrollably, drawing the attention of some other people having their meals.

“My brother...” Agu took over the story telling. “The more I begged her, the more she wanted me to beg. this babe thought I was in the mood when I was fighting for my life...”

It wasn’t just us laughing now, but almost all everyone within earshot.

“For the first time I didn’t get hard with a naked woman in my front because I was genuinely scared. I couldn’t even focus and try to go with the flow. After almost 30 minutes of begging and pleading. She figured I wasn’t actually in the mood and released me. My brother, I had to dismiss her immediately. I no go ever try that thing again.”

Another bout of laughter erupted in the joint as Agu concluded his story.

“BDSM is really for the rich in Nigeria,” a man eating only yam and barbecue fish at the table next to theirs said amidst laughter, slapping his chest while making a poor effort to sober up. “Can’t be sitting through Waterlines traffic inside bus and coming back to Chinenye flogging me because e de turn am on. Suffer no dey tire me?”

That thing is sweet in abroad o,” Another man chipped in. “There are opportunities to achieve your dreams after getting tied up and beaten. Not here in Nigeria where person no get job, nobody dey send me money, my bank don collect the remaining 60-naira way dey my account. I'm just getting home since morning and you're giving me koboko to whip you? If I remember how conductor kawa with my 100 naira change and made me trek home from the bus stop, I go flog you like wotowoto.”

“I still don’t understand the idea behind BDSM,” I said after a while, when all the laughter had died down and everyone had returned to eating. “Like I should lie down then someone will tie me up and start flogging me like goat.”

“When it’s not that stole something at MTN Artillery, part of my destiny is not to suffer and be beaten like a goat, and I was not caught shagging another man's wife.” Shukudi muttered, washing his hands. “Imagine trying to explore BDSM with your new partner, as a woman, and as they tie your hands and put blindfold on you, the next thing you hear is “how we go move am go Baba place?”

A few people responded with laughter now, others simply chuckled.

“Or after the guy tied the babe up, there will now be a fire outbreak. Won't the guy forget that he has some one’s daughter tied up and run for his life?” Shukudi added. “God will not let us jam agbako o.”

The day went by at a snail’s speed. Thankfully, I didn’t think about Ifenkili so much. Work kept me so busy. That and the joy that came with the knowledge that I’d finished making the payment for the space I wanted for my Workshop. I was now a landlord. Shukudi and my other guys were not yet aware. I would tell them by weekend when my reverend must have dedicated the place.

It was when I came back to the house, relaxing with a plate of rice and stew that the thought of Ifenkili crossed my mind again, bring with it images of her face, her body—though clothed, was the most beautiful thing. Thinking about it, the shape of her suddenly got me tensed, tightening my spine and nape.

The ringing of my phone didn’t allow that feeling to saturate me properly, Thank God.
I checked the caller ID and picked up immediately. It was my Reverend. He wasn’t calling to remind me of our appointment.

“I’d like to see you tomorrow in my office,” he said.

“I know sir. We will be going to the—”

“It’s not about that, Oghene. Sister Sarima—you know sister Sarima nau? The one that got Married some time ago and left with her husband…yes. She is in my house now… with my wife...”

My heart skipped a million bits and then sank into my stomach. I wasn’t sure what this was about, but I feared it wasn’t going t be good.

“She is accusing you of something very serious. It’s not what we can discuss on phone.”

Thirteen
Oghene

“Imo state and Yoruba men walked so that Anambra men could fly,” Sarima had said as she strolled into the kitchen where I was arranging small walensh wey She go chop.

I wasn’t supposed to be cooking for her since we agreed she would leave first thing this morning. Not because of what nearly happened last night, but because allowing her to stay any minute longer was a risk I wasn’t willing to take. Last night was already a mistake I would not be making again in a very, very long time. After all, lean on me no mean make you press my die.

Turning the chopped onions over on a plate, I picked four balls of pepper and began to chop those too, Ignoring her completely.

“The only reason we don’t read much about Anambra men’s slander on social media is because they leave their victims tongue-tied. Void of tears.” she continued, leaning on the fridge by the door, her eyes still swollen from last night’s drama. “Their victims are always happy they made it out alive.”

I didn’t want to hear it. This Okpata wey she dey yan, I no wan hear am. So, I concentrated on the task of making breakfast, setting aside the pepper to add oil in the heated pan on top of my electric cooker, and then I went back to the kitchen counter to crack three eggs and beat them.

I only turned when I sensed her move.

“Bro, Oghene...I’m sorry.”

I stared at her for a while, shook my head, and dropped the fork I was beating the egg with to turn the chopped vegetables into the oil before I added the salted egg mix, flipping it at intervals until I felt it was done. I placed it over the noodles I already prepared and was now on a plate, on top of the counter. I slipped a fork inside the dish and pushed it towards her.

“I’m so sorry,” she said again, moving closer to the food. “Last night was—”

“Never happened,” I interrupted. “It’s better we don’t talk about it.” Or think about it. But I couldn’t help the scenes playing in my head like disturbing movie clips. I had let her into the compound because it was late. She was upset, shaken. Her ex-husband found out where she was staying and came to make trouble. She said she barely escaped him in one piece. She had placed a call to Abraham who wouldn’t take her in because of his wife. It was AB that gave her my house address and told her I might be able to help.

“Just eat and leave,” I said and walked past her, heading towards the door.

Grabbing my hand, she said, “Bro Oghene, I didn’t mean all those things I did last night. I was...I wasn’t thinking. You...I was lonely and... It’s been a long time. I didn’t know what came over me. I only wanted you to...to hold me. But seeing you lying on the floor…you were hard and ..and it was so tempting. I wanted to have sex again.”

To have sex again...the way she said it, the thing she did while I was sleeping, reminded me of the way Ifenkili asked me to kiss her even after she rejected me. It reminded me again of how Eserovwe’s mama dragged me into her bathroom and did things to me even when she knew I was scared.

What was it about me that made women desire just to gbensh with me?

Abi person use Ogun swear for me for village say na only gbenshing material I go be to women? I no even sure say I sabi the thing, yet this has been a reoccurring problem—women jumping on me at every little closeness. The cultured ones asked politely.

But Sarima. Even if person tell me for dream say she go do this kain thing, I for swear for that person. But it happened. I woke up to a weight on my body. A weight, a scent, a tongue licking my face as if it wanted to scrape my skin off, and a squeeze on my penis.

I might have touched her too. I wasn’t sure now. I was dreaming. Only that it wasn’t her in the dream but Ife. It was her pleading whimper, urging me to keep touching her, that woke me up. At first, my brain couldn’t recollect who she was or how she got into my house. The only thing that registered was that I was rock hard, and a naked woman was standing a few feet away where she staggered to when I pushed her.

Jesus! Oghene bikor! I still shivered at that image.

She had begged. Not for me to forgive her and forget what happened, but for me to shine her congo—have sex with her. Just like Ife had begged for me to kiss her.
I had insisted she pick her clothes from the floor where she dumped them and cover herself up, but she approached me instead, reaching for my waist.

“See nau, ehn. Your thing is hard. Just this once, Bro Oghene.”

She dey mad? How she go dey put Bro for my name and dey still beg make I gbensh am?

“Please...it’s been long...Oghene please...”

She was literally crying, tears running down her face.

Was the story she told me about her ex-husband coming to abuse her really true? Was she even helpless or had she been planning this since that time we stumbled on each other at Oil Mill, choosing this night of all night, when Ife made me have an erection so hard it ached, a hard-on as mad as an angry dog pawing at the door, begging to be let out?

Sarima took my silence for acceptance. She became bolder, lying on my sitting-room floor, where I’d slept because I wanted her to have the room, and spreading her legs. But whatever else she might think of me, I wasn’t going to play that game with her. I’d left the house, only to return this morning with the intention of throwing her out. But here I was listening to her, pitying her.

Last night was a shock. I was angry at her, at myself, at Ife for being responsible for the hard-on that would have gotten me into trouble. But this morning, though I still didn’t want Sarima several inches close to me, I understood her.

She was lonely. But I wasn’t the man who would satisfy her craving.

“Bro Oghene—”

“Sarima I get. I no dey vex for you. Just eat up and leave.”

“But I don’t have anywhere to go to?” she lifted a helpless gaze to my face, a strand of noodle dangling from her mouth. “Let me stay here for a while, please,” she sucked in the single noodle and said.

Stay where—as how? Her head dey for her neck at all? “Sarima you can’t stay here. I am a single man. It’s not right. People would talk.”

She remained mute.

“You can return to your father’s house if you are concerned about your ex-husband coming after you again.”

Again, she didn’t respond. But she went back to her food, woofing it down like one who’d not eaten a good meal in days. “I’ll wait for you to come back from work, then I’ll go,” she said.

“No. You are leaving now."

...

Happy holidays, people. I posted this last one so you can use my hold body today.

Don't forget that my books are still sēlling on online bookish platforms and physical stores.

Akwaugo
Many Waters
God Michael and Me
Amongst a Thousand Stars (only on soft copy for now, unless you are buying from Amazon)
Paradise (print copies finished in bookstores, but I will restock soon.)

My major bookstore is Bookpeddlers Lagos. E-books platform: Sêlár, Bàmbōōks and Àmazōn.

Abeg, make una buy my books o

****
Ifenkili

Oghene, Oghene, Oghene.

Was there ever a more beautiful sound than his name? To speak it aloud made my heart ring like a bell. Strange to imagine that, wasn’t it – a heart ringing. But ever since something shifted inside me on seeing him yesterday at that house opening party, and again in the bank today, I realized that, recently, when I thought of him; the way he looked at me, the feeling of his touch, that was what it was like: as if my heart was ringing in my chest and the sound shivering down my veins and splintering my bones with a confusing joy.

Confusing yes! Because...how...why? When did he insidiously take over me so that I’d forgotten about my new man, Preye?

And why have I scribbled Oghene’s name on this paper I tore out from my diary to pen down a complaint letter to my HOD before I would type it? That was because I couldn’t stop thinking about tonight. How close I’d come to kissing the one man that, two years ago...last year...last month, I didn’t know I would be lusting after like an idiot even though I knew that lust was a dangerous thing. I felt this wasn't just lust or infatuation, this was a sudden intoxication, a craven’s craving I could not explain. A want of the flesh and of the soul. I wanted Oghene. I didn’t know when this wanting started but tonight had made it worse. I simply couldn’t not want him.

What was it he did that made me really see him? What word did he say that made it impossible for me to breathe freely? Tonight, I wanted him in a way that was so absolute I couldn’t care if he didn’t want me back the same way. Tonight, I was reminded of what it felt like to be consumed. I’d forgotten how good it could feel—so good that I didn't feel the pain of it until I was already long gone, reduced to a needy woman begging for a kiss. When I thought of it—how I’d done everything tonight for his eyes...for him to notice and crave like I was craving, and how he’d turn cold on me all of a sudden when all I wanted was just...only a simple...him. Just for a moment, I felt the most complete despair.

God! Rejection had never hurt this bad in a long while. Maybe because I was foolish enough to lose my head to the euphoria of the moment and had acted like a woman whose lady beat had been asleep for decades only to wake up with a desperate need for relief in its depth. How did that even happen? How did I go from, ‘Bro Oghene, my God will judge you,’ to wishing he had taken me in his arms and murmured into my mouth while his hands searched out my other craving parts?

I couldn’t count how many times I’d relived those moments we shared just before he ruined it...I ruined it. His eyes on me while I moved my body for him on that dance floor. Him! His shy smiles, his jokes, his stories. When his hands touched her skin, his thumb...fingers stroking my collarbones and my neck. It was like a heated blade glancing through my body, warming and cooling every part of me at the same time, making something dull and dark inside me to briefly light up with violence.

He ruined it, not me. I never asked him...wanted him to make up for my frustrating night. He offered. When he took my hand to help me into the Sienna, my heart had made a funny and frightening summersault that wasn’t just from the physical desire his physical presence had ignited but from some new and unfamiliar.

Respect yourself, Ifenkili, I had thought.

That didn’t work for all through the time we spent in each other’s company, he effortlessly hit my veins like a stiff drink on an empty stomach, carried me off like a beautiful dream, charming me, kicking out what was solid in my heart and seizing my attention sharply, breathlessly, like a coil around my throat. It wasn’t tonight it all started. This unholy and selfish desire for him. Selfish yes, because I was sure there would never be any long-lasting thing between us. Just friendship and that feeling of regret that we should have been an item if I wasn’t searching for something more solid, something permanent. I had asked for his kiss because he was in my head...my brain. Tonight, he was like a substance I was indulging in for the first time, and its effect got intense every subsequent hour, after the first sniff.

All I wanted was to sink into him and keep sinking. Just for the moment, for tonight. That was why I wanted him to kiss me, to touch me, or the whole of me would shatter to pieces. That would be enough, right?

But he didn’t want just a moment. He had never wanted just a moment with me, I knew. What I didn’t expect was his offer, his proposal. Hearing his voice like that while he pinned me to the chair with just a hand to my chest was like a rumble in the quietness of the van. It was a plea, a prayer, and a question, all wrapped into one. I had gone from being overfilled with cravings to getting drained in less than a second, then back to being overwhelmed with emotions when I saw the disappointment on his face immediately, I refused him. That look...it had aroused in me a fresh desire to touch him, touch every part of his face with my lips.

Maybe that was why the words, ‘Kiss me,’ erupted out of my mouth before I could stop it. I didn’t think I wanted to stop it because I asked him again, begged him even to kiss me.

My blatant plea shocked and shamed me. And when he pushed me away instead of taking pity on me, I had run without glancing back as I feared I might very well expire if I did.

He ruined the night for me...for us...for me. And though I wished I hated him now, I still could not concentrate on what I wanted to do with this piece of paper I tore out. Or on Preye who called a while ago to verbally apologize, my phone still buzzing with his messages after his call. I couldn’t even settle my mind enough to think about the real reason for my brother’s visit and his insistence on sleeping over. All I could think about was my time with Oghene. Everything I settle my eyes on now reminded me of those intimate...near erotic moments: the basket of fruits that was delivered to me while I was away—A peace offering from Preye, received by my brother and was now sitting on the dining table, the flowers by the TV stand, even the shape of the empty wine bottle lying carelessly on the floor reminded me so much of what he had aroused inside of me. How unaware I was of my emotional lacks until Oghene made me realize how much in need I was.

Jesus! I wasn’t just attracted to Oghene, I might actually have an itsy-bitsy love for him.

Stunned, I lost my ability to form words in my head as the room spun for a moment at the craziness. I hated this kind of craziness. Detested it. And in this case, I could hear the mockery laughter of the walls around me, and the soft nudge to book a ride that would drive me to the length and breadth of Port Harcourt until we got to Oghene’s place, then I would ask him how long he’d been planning this onslaught on me.

Ohibenemma:
Great job, Rosemary66... The action actually started at the end... Hope we won't be waiting for too long for the continuation? Receive grace to continue NOW!!! Can I hear an 'amen?'

Amen

...I should have just done it. I should have given her what she wanted.

“I mean... na just this once,” I said softly while pulling the van into my compound. “In the morning, I would forget it. E go hard but watin Waffi boy go do? I would pretend that I didn't care about her and the man she chose over me. But for tonight, I should have pretended she was mine.”

I unlocked my door and walked in. The place still smelt like jollof spaghetti, the chewings way I been arrange before I hurriedly comot to deliver Oga Emeka’s Sienna. Now, I didn’t feel like chowing anything. The fish I shared with Ife still sat heavy in my stomach. That and the rejection she served me later.

I was making a note out of recorded BUS 317 Layifa sent to me some minutes after I had my bath, while the soft sound of P-Square's Onyinye played from my Bluetooth that was connected to my other phone when fragments of tonight flickered into my head. It was the music, its lyrics, and the images it invoked in my head. Images of Ifenkili moving her body for my watching pleasure, she inside the van with me, my hand on her chest, my thumb stroking... her scent filling my senses, her rejection. My throat tightened with renewed anger at the thought of that rejection.

It wasn’t the feeling of not being enough for her that drove a dagger into my heart, but the knowledge of who she had chosen to love instead. A man who stood her up only to send a miserable apology text after a very long hour. Apart from that, there was something not just right about him. I saw it the first time I set my eyes on him, I did again when he walked into Shukudi’s party.

She no dey feel that guy bad vibe, abi eyes no dey her head?

‘She be fool,’ Oghene meh! I had never been so infuriated by a woman in my life. And never more aroused. I didn’t know whether to scream some sense into her head or kiss her. The urge to do the latter was so strong because all those times I took her hands in mine and my body accidentally brushed against hers while we enjoyed the night, had scorched my skin and lit a fire within me so intense that I thought I would burn. It was worse when I placed my hand on her chest—an act I didn’t plan and almost wanted to correct, and she froze, her gaze locked with mine. That was when I realized how much she wanted me, and how, in that moment, she feared that it might be hard for her to tamp down the desire burning inside her for me. When did that happen? That desire burning in her. It had given me hope and boldness. That was why I asked her to be mine.

But she’d refused. And had asked that I kiss her instead.

I scowled, remembering how I had suddenly thought of doing a lot more than kissing her. Tonight, she made me think of lovemaking. The kind that would be interrupted by conversation, and then the conversation by lovemaking. Maybe I just wanted strong intimacy, the tangible kind. The let’s-get-to-know-each-other-from-the-inside-out kind. The make-we-warm-eba-chop-at-one-in-the-morning-so-we-can-gbensh-some more-kind.

Maybe I wanted a union.

A forever.

It wasn't until she'd entered her compound and closed the gate after her that I released the breath I'd been holding all the while I waited for her to leave. I had refused her even though I wanted her so much. Not because the desire to do things to her and with her wasn’t overwhelming, but because I was afraid that if I acted on them, they would undo me. I could lose myself to her and would not be able to forget her.

I doubted that I would be able to forget someone I’d been in love with longer than I realized, but I had to live. So, I must erase every memory of her from my thoughts and purge her from my blood.

Ah, Oghene meh. This was impossible. Wishful thinking, not what was or could ever be.

The remedy to it might come in the form of me getting busier or acquiring a new thing. The latter sounded more appealing. I could use this time to finish up the payment for the property at Diobu where I would be relocating my mechanic Workshop. And the sooner I moved to that site the slimmer the chance of me running into Ifenkili except on Sundays during church services.

I fit change church sef.

But... what of my customers who’d known me at Elekahia Mechanic workshop? I might lose them as most of them seemed to be staying around that area. What this meant was that I would start scouting for customers afresh, proving my competence to maintain the ones who came by.

E go hard o. But it could yield great results too.

I might even get other mechanics who would want to rent some space and pay me yearly.

I could also send text messages to my old customers about this new place. After all, most of them had gotten so used to me taking care of their toys and wouldn’t want to have another mechanic working for them. Oga Emeka said my hands work wonders in cars. He and some others might follow me to this new place. Then I would recruit new boys to help out when we don dey get plenty customers.

I was rounding up the note when my phone rang.
It was an unknown number and the first thing that greeted me when I picked up the call was a sniffle followed by sobs.

“Hello?” I said.

“Bro Oghene...”

It was Sarima, the woman I met at the oil mill market earlier today. “Hello, Sarima. You dey cry?”

“Bro Oghene I’m tired...I don’t know what else to do. I-I don’t know who to call and... and.”

“Sarima. Calm down. Where you day?”

She was silent.

“Sarima?”

“I’m sorry bro Oghene, I didn’t mean to—”

“Where you dey?”

“For...in front of your house.”

Jesus. Lord! By this time of the night? How did she even know where he was staying?

Twelve
Oghene


“Kiss me,” she said as if she hadn't hit me right in the gut, first with her rejection, then with her demand that reduced me to a mere fantasy. The nerve endings of my penis were the first to weigh in on the request. My mouth went dry, my brain became totally messed up. All the restraint I had been holding in place since that evening, a restraint she stretched almost to an unbearable point when she made me watch her sway her body in the most alluring and graceful way at that club, came crumbling like loosely fitted wheel bolts.
Right in that van, with my hand on her chest, my thumb stroking her skin which felt so good, she felt too good, I had wanted to lean into her, to slip my hand on her back and draw her to me until her chest was pressed against mine.

It would make me feel better to speak of the hurt in my heart against her throat and end it with a stroke of my tongue on that soft skin—a lick that would make her rethink— and slowly trace a blissful line up her neck, to her ear. Then my teeth would nip her earlobe like the teeth of the men in those Layifa’s novels always did to their women. She would gasp like those women. I’d love her to gasp because the bite would be a little painful, as I would want to hold her and punish her, too.

But I noticed that coming so close to giving her what she asked for and yet denying her was already torture.

She wanted me to want her, even if I was so scared of my own wanting that I knew shock her, just like me freely speaking of a woman’s breast and the heaven between a woman’s thighs and taking her to a club did. While I wasn’t a pro when it came to intimacy, romance, and gbenshing, I no be virgin. My journey to sexual discovery started when I was fourteen. It was Eserovwe’s mama who did it to me when I came to look for her son. She had asked me to help her draw water from the well in their backyard since Ovwe wasn’t around. Then she took me inside, made me watch her have her bath, stripped me, and put her mouth on my penis, sucking it until I cum.

I didn’t recover from that experience many years later. I was a good boy, so having that happen to me left me disgusted filthy, and ashamed. I hated myself for not putting up a tougher fight even though she seemed bigger and stronger. I hated her husband for defending her and calling me a liar and a rapist when I finally told maleh and paleh who went over to their house with me to confront them. I hated Papa Ovwe even more for threatening to arrest my family. Even him wife wein molest me no talk anything. It was because of them that made paleh relocated us to a new town where it was difficult to make friends because I never go over that incident. Each time I remembered it—which was, then, almost every time, I felt filthy afresh.

It was Ezioma, Shukudi’s wife, then his girlfriend, who noticed my struggle. She'd always come around those days we were camping in that uncompleted building to bring food for us. At first, I didn’t want to talk to her about it, but soon, she got me opening up. Her constant visits and the time she spent talking to me helped a lot. She made Shukudi start dragging me with him to his local gym center. According to her, ‘It would help fasten my healing and rebuild self-esteem.’

It was she who took me to church after I’d stayed away for a while. Their’s wasn’t a very big church, but I found comfort and purpose, and I thought I also found rest until years later, when Papa Ovwe came to service one Nisan Morano at our mechanic workshop. My body had gone into an erratic mode and instantly, I remembered everything; his wife...what she did to me, how she kept quiet while her husband accused me of raping her, and how he went about telling everyone—my school principal, our pastor, every parent in the area—that I jazz into the zanga when him wife dey baff and raped her.

Shukudi wanted me to let my anger go. He suggested that I leave the workshop, but I couldn’t. I don already cut chain rush the man, landing punches on him. Kicking and slapping him all over while screaming out my pain. I would have smashed his head with the two-by-two spanner I grabbed from the ground had someone not held my hand and another pulled me away.

It was when I got home that I cried.

That was my release.

That was my rest.

That was the fight I told Ife about when we spoke in the van when I thought there was some possibility of her considering me as a man she could go out with. I’d had sex a few times after that incident. Temptations that I couldn’t overcome. That was what I called those moments of weakness that I regretted. But I had become stronger in my walking with the Lord. I could now say I had gotten to a point where I could now flee from all fleshly enticements. All but one. Ifenkili. I wanted her. Tonight, on that dance floor, inside the Sienna, in my arms.

It didn’t matter that I’d not been with a woman in years and that the law of the Lord was ringing loudly in my head, “Thou shalt not fornicate...flee from every appearance of evil...” I’d wanted my fingers that had reached out and was lightly tracing her exposed collarbone, to set every inch of her skin on fire. It did.
She could barely manage to keep breathing, so my hand moved to the hollow of her throat, careful and caressing. I had touched her before—earlier today, inside the banking hall, and in front of that communication center where I took her hand and led her into the Sienna, but she'd acted as if those times were simply normal. She hadn’t shown any hunger, longing, or curiosity.

Or maybe I was the one who was curious. I knew I shouldn't be. But hadn't I wondered what it would be like to be wanted with the intensity that she seemed to want me a few minutes ago?

“Kiss me. Here, now. Just this night. Please.”

Her voice was thick with something like sleep. When I looked up, her eyes were a pool of lust and I instantly felt like I was tumbling into them...

hotswagg12:
Thanks ma'am for this wonderful piece. Its always a pleasure looking forward to your works. Thanks for this update and do try to update your blog so we can bring traffic to there.

I will, still working on a better we site interface

Please I just realized that the scene was unevenly cut, so a part of the middle was left out. The part she was dancing and was lusting after him. I have edited it now. So if you have read before, you'll want to go and re-read the second part again

...their bodies like bets on hooks. That was because his eyes were on me. Just me. And I didn’t know why I suddenly felt like flirting, seducing him. The more he watched me, the more I wanted him to watch me. Goodness, I couldn’t think. Okay. Not true. I could think, but I was thinking things I really had no business thinking of. I was thinking about those full, slightly curved lips and how they must feel in places...other than my forehead or cheek. I was thinking about his hands and how strong they were, the oddly pleasant calluses on his palms, and how they would fit perfectly around my waist while I dance with him. I was thinking about...about a lot of things—things that didn’t feel so wrong since he was actually single. Yet I knew they were wrong because he wasn’t that kind of guy. And I also was a respecter of God’s commandment. That one about ‘do not fornicate,’ that Jesus amplified in the New Testament with the ‘If you look at someone lustfully, you have already committed fornication in your heart,’ teaching.

Also. I had a man now. I must remind myself of this over and over again so I wouldn’t be stupid. I was about to break our eye contact when he narrowed his gaze and ran his tongue over his upper lips. So innocently. Yet, heat exploded across my cheeks and in my lady beat, and I couldn’t look away.

He kept staring.

I kept staring.

Soon, we were two people staring at each other knowingly, communicating mentally amidst an ocean of exhilarated, mindless crowd.

Slowly, I danced towards him while he watched every step I took to the table. He looked down when I stopped before him.

And I said, “You want to come and dance?”
He laughed and shook his head. “I no wan embarrass you. I dey dance in Fast-forward.”

That was the funniest way I’d had anyone describe their dance moves. I didn’t believe him though. I felt that he could dance. He was actually being careful. He either didn’t want to mix with the crowd because of his reservations or he was afraid of what rubbing bodies with me could do to him.

It was some minutes to eleven o’clock when we left the club, and he pulled over in front of my house. I ranted all through the ride home. I was excited about tonight; the club, the music, the dance, and him. I was so elated that it was him I was with. Him sitting here me with a hint of desire in his eye. I saw it, the desire. And it pleased me in the most wrong ways.

I had a man, I reminded myself again. Preye. He should have been here, it should have been him giving me these sidelong glances with eyes coated with subtle hunger while laughing at my rants.

But he wasn’t here. He’d only sent me a miserable text like I meant nothing...this date meant nothing.

“Bro Oghene?” I spoke after we allowed some moments of silent, “Have you ever felt like you are doing too much—”

He was looking at me with confusion creasing his forehead.

“I mean...like you are giving more than you are receiving and... and... it’s rubbing off as being desperate.”

He didn’t respond immediately. It was like he was weighing my question or rather, weighing his answer.

“If you are trying to ask me if I’d loved someone who seems not to be returning the energy, then the answer is yes.”

Having him reconstruct my question that way filled me with a lot of emotions. First, there was guilt. He was talking about me and how I’d treated him all the while, knowing what he wanted, knowing I would not be able to give him that because I wanted much more that the man he was offering. Then there was jealousy. What if he wasn’t talking about me but some other woman whom he had transferred what he once felt for me to?
I didn’t think he had found someone. The way he looked at me in that club while I was dancing, the way he was looking at me now. He even said it himself, he had no woman. But what if he had lied about not having a woman, and the look I saw on his face in that club might just be his male hormones reacting to my seduction. What if there was really someone new?

Suddenly, I was jealous of every minute he might have spent chatting with this new woman on phone like he had doing with me, of every concerned expression he sent her way, of every disappointment he felt when she didn’t return his interest, of every glance, every desire, and every thought. I want to rip him to pieces and purge her from his mind and from his heart because he was a great guy who didn’t deserve to be treated so disregardful. But I couldn’t. Because I also didn’t deserve him as I hadn’t treated him any better.

“Does it...this feeling, does it make you feel like a fool?”
I was asking for myself. I was also asking for him. I want to know how he ached, and if he dared to dream of one day getting his heart's longing.

“Can I... I fit ask you one thing?” he said rather.

“Yes,” I said.

“The guy you were supposed to meet, is he the same one I saw you with in that wedding and at Shukudi’s house party?”

Who was Shukudi? What part—Oh, the party! “Yes,” I said a little uncomfortably. I shouldn’t be feeling this way. Uncomfortable. But here I was, hopefully promised to another man, while battling to remain sane before another because just a few moments spent with him had disintegrated me so much that my brain had dug up the fact that it’d been long I felt the arms of a man around me.

“Are you...is he your—”

“He asked for my hand in a serious relationship, and I said yes.” The words rushed out of my mouth even as my heart kept repeating the last three words; ‘I said yes...I said yes...I said yes...’ “Why do you want to know anyway?”

He didn’t speak for a while, rather, he leaned back, shut his eyes and tightened his lips, his palm grabbing the break handle like he was fighting something, an emotion. Then he leaned forward and took my hand, pressing it between his. The touch was like white fire through my veins. The softness of his palm, and the scent of his perfume now mixed with the smell of the night’s excitement became an allure I had no power to resist.

My eyes made the mistake of going to his lips. His lips...Oh God, if only I could be so oblivious again, to just see the beauty without desiring to taste it.

“I like you, Ifenkili. I want you to be mine.” His voice was thick with plea, and lust, and...and anger, frustration?

He was shaking. His voice. His hands. It must be torturous saying those words to me in person even though he’d written them in that WhatsApp he sent to me. Unfortunately, I couldn’t help him. I wouldn’t be able to ease his ache because I had made a choice already. Preye might not be present here, right now, but he seemed more ready to make me a wife than Oghene was.

Yet, I didn’t stop Oghene from laying his trembling hand on my chest. Or voice a displeasure when he pushed against that chest, backing me into the chair rest. I just stared and stared at him, curious and shocked and thirsty.

Kiss me, my mind whispered to him. Please, kiss me just for tonight and that would be all. I didn’t know where the thought came from. I hadn’t taken any booze in the club so I wasn’t under any influence. But I was crazily aware of how suddenly my body was yearning for this shy, plain, simple guy who, for the first time since I knew him, was making me sweetly uneasy.

He watched me struggle to keep my eyes on him for a while, then he said, following the flick of my tongue over my bottom lip, “Ifenkili. I look at you and feel like I'm dying. Like I can't breathe. I'm thinking that I want you so badly I can't concentrate half the time I'm around you, and this night didn’t help me. I wanted to pretend that I didn’t feel heated jealousy over you coming out to meet another man.”

My heart stumbled a beat. I didn't know what to do with my arms, my legs, my face. I gulped spittle that had clogged my throat, steeling my spine as I said, “Bro Oghene—this is...I think you are...You and I...”

“I can't stop thinking about you,” he interrupted. “It's been that way for a long while. Even when you have refused to realize how much my heart wants you—”

He stopped talking, his thumb stroking my thumping heart. I closed my eyes at the whisper of a touch, at the hunger that ravaged me in its wake, that might also be ravaging him.

“Ife, I wan make you be my girl,” he said, his face solemn. “Make you leave this guy. Him no fit do you well. I know I may not be the man you have always wanted but I’ll make you bless the day you said yes to me.”

I let out a strangled whimper. “I can't. I can't. Oghene. I have agreed for another man, and I think his is the future for me.” Something cracked inside him immediately those words left my lips even though his eyes did not leave mine; nor did mine leave him. However, there was no warmth on his face. Only that concern, and pity, that blend of hurt and understanding and refused desire.

He pulled his hands away from me, leaned back on his chair and I suddenly knew that he was gone. The man who had all these times pleaded, desperate to do good for my approval, to be accepted by me. That man had gone. Would he ever find his way back to...at least any other woman? God, I felt like a piece of trash this moment, but I think it was for the best. This was for the best.

I liked him

After tonight, I felt strongly attracted to him.

But was he going to be That man for me?

“Kiss me,” I blurted.

“What?”

My heart had picked up pace again, and it was now my turn to tremble. I didn’t know why I suddenly wanted this. Perhaps, I wanted a parting gift. One that would remain in my vein for a very long time.

“K-kiss me. Here, now. Just this night. Please.”

He sighed heavily. Then, “You should go now, Ife,” he murmured.

His rejection hurt more than Preye’s text. So badly. So terribly. I hated him immediately. And hated me too for setting myself up like this. Unlocking my side of the door, I opened the van and raced to the house, into my flat. And as I flopped back on my sofa and stared at the wall that had a huge, framed picture of me, I finally confronted the awful, alarming, dreadful, and entirely horrifying possibility that I had been rejecting all day. Though I could hardly accept it, I could no longer deny it. I was pretty sure I wanted Bro Oghene as badly as he wanted me. Even much more.

Eleven
Ifenkili

You could talk with someone for years, every day, and still, it won't mean as much as what you could have when you sit by the side of one fascinating guy, not saying a word, yet feeling that person with your heart like you’d known him for forever. In this comforting silence, while I munched these cheese balls, I now realized what it meant when someone said that connections were made with the heart, not the tongue.

Oghene hadn’t said a word after he let out that laughter that was still ringing like a song that could be replayed over and over without it getting stale. The sound of it rounding off the missing notes in my soul. Missing notes? I didn’t know about those until now. I gave him a sidelong glance and shut my eyes again, dipping my fingers inside the snack pack and caught nothing. I crumbled the empty pack in my palm and was going to shove throw it out from the window, but he grabbed my hand and took it from me.

“I go throway am when I reach house,” he said, handing me another pack which was already opened.

He was relaxing on his seat again like he never leaned so close to me and made me smell his scent. It was cheap—the scent. Like a generic body spray or those perfumes we used in secondary school. But there was something nostalgic about it that made me smile mentally. It was like there was magic in it, like there was magic in this moment, exuding from him, a presence within him that dwelt in joy that had no cause.

“Watin you wan do now?” he asked.

There was something beautiful about his tone. Very lazy and dreamlike. quite different from when it was sharp and busy.

“I really don’t know,” I sighed. And I also didn’t want to keep him from wherever he was set out for before he saw me. “I can get down and find my way home. I don’t want to keep you from where you wanted to go to.”

“I was only going to drop this van at Oga Emeka’s house. But I can call to tell him that I’ll be bringing it tomorrow instead.”

“No. Please, don’t do that.”

“Don’t worry. Oga Emeka na my man.”

“But—”

He had already dialed the man and was speaking to him. Feeling terrible that he would defer his plans because of me, I sank into the chair and waited for him to finish.

“Really, Bro Oghene. You shouldn’t have done that.” I said when he was done with the call, licking the cheese off my fingers. “This is so delicious. I guess, like you said, I’d been missing a lot.”

“Before?” he gave a satisfying laughter. “Na una dey think say some snacks should be left for kids. Me? I am a kid when it comes to Cheese balls and chocolate o, even Bobo juice sef...”

I almost choked with laughter and the soft crunchy balls melting in my mouth, “Wh-what? You eat chocolates?”

“Ehen nau?”

Maybe that was the icebreaker we were waiting for; the jokes and laughter. Soon, he was sharing stories with me. It was cute, amazing, even unbelievable stories as well as embarrassing ones like the day he and his team were watching Spiderman in the Church’s tech room, unaware that it was showing on the main church’s monitors. And the day he and his friends decided to cook one full carton of Indomie noodles, shared it between the four of them, betting fifty thousand naira each, which the first person to finish his would go home with.

“As I turn my own over in a bowl, lo and behold, Indomie full everywhere,” he said, maintaining a straight face while I was dying of laughter. “I look my friends, them look me and we all silently agreed on one thing; ‘kasala don burst.’ I was finished because they all knew I wasn’t a heavy eater.’”

The long and short of the story was that he lost the bet and never tried that joke again. Then there was also another story of him going with the same friends to celebrate the birthday of one of them, and being approached by a middle-aged Italian man who first complimented his corporate fit before asking if he’d love to come over to his table and eventually follow him home, pointing at his Porsche.

At first, he was so grateful to the person who must have recommended his services to the white man even though he was going to politely explain to the man that he wasn’t a Porsche mechanic. Then it dawned on him what the white guy was asking for. To confirm his suspicion, he had asked the guy if he was trying to ask him for a gay hookup service and the guy had winked.

Imagining Oghene as a gay hookup service provider was so hilarious that I couldn’t control my laughter. I was laughing and snorting while he feigned shock that I wasn’t taking his ordeal seriously.

“Oghene bikor,” he shouted. “Oyibo man wan to turn a gentle guy like me into a karashika. A bad bitch. I understand that people have their preferences when it comes to sex but for some of us, till God calls us home - we'll always prefer soft breasts and chingumy derriere. Our Bethlehem will forever be between the heavenly paths of a woman's legs.”

Chingumy what? Jesus, this guy was hopelessly hilarious and fun and shockingly free with words. A side of him I never knew existed. Was he always like this or did he only allow himself to loosen up because he was comfortable and relaxed around me? How was it even possible that he would have such words like soft breasts and women’s legs coming out of his mouth! Or was it not the sanctimonious Bro Oghene again?

He also told me of the first and last time he stepped into the Mimi bar. He had traced a man to the place and for a fight. There was something unsettling about that last story. The fight. It made him sober and a little uncomfortable.

“Who is he?” I asked.

“The man?”

“Yes.”

It took him a while to respond, but when he did, his voice was low and distant, as if he was speaking from a different time than the moment we were. And at that moment I wanted to know more. This man, what happened between them?

“So, now that your date is not here, what do you want to do with the rest of the night?” He quickly changed the topic. And though I would have wanted him to let me into his deepest discomfort, I didn’t press further.

“I don’t know,” I said, looking down at my phone.
Preye’s message came some seconds after I settled inside the van. He never showed up. He never waited for me at the bar. But he was sorry. There was an urgent issue he needed to take care of. It was such an emergency that he didn’t remember to call and cancel the date. But he would make it up to me.

Understanding Preye’s excuse shouldn't be hard for me. After all, I’d once been an understanding girlfriend so it should come naturally. But this...right now, I felt a little unvalued and worthless.

“I can take you home,” Oghene cut into my thought.

I didn’t want to go home. Not yet. Not until I was sure my brother was gone as I wasn’t in the mood to hear his story of how business hadn’t been looking up while the truth was that he had lost all his business money in betting. I knew he’d gone back to his betting addiction even though he tried to hide it. And from what I gathered, his had gotten worse. That was the reason I no longer allowed him to drive my car. I feared he would gamble it away since he had gotten so bad that he now sold possessions to fund this monster. My informant told me he had sublet part of his electronic shop and had played bet with the money he realized.

“Or we can go chop fish at Boom Town, GRA.”

“You go to Boom... come, bro Oghene of the Lord, how did you get to know about that place?” I thought I knew this guy.

He was laughing shyly.

“I’m serious, guy. Watin you find go Boom Town?”

“I’ve got friends that enjoy dragging me to places like that nau, so what else can the righteous do but sit there, sipping my smoothie and observing them do their thing with their women and shepe.”

“So... you want me to believe it’s not a woman you’ve been taking there, ehn?” Why was I having this feeling again? Jealousy. Of the woman or women, he’d taken to this place when I was right here beside him?

Beside him? How...since when...really Ife, what is wrong with you?

His answer took a long time. “Ife. I have no woman.”
“Mm,” I swallowed the taste of relief in my throat. Not that it would bother me if he had a lover he went on dates with. He was a man, wasn’t he? Okay. Yes. It would bother me. I was nothing to him, but it would still bother me. But I wouldn’t let him know, for jealousy disliked the world to know it. “Smoothie. You don’t drink alcohol?”

He shook his head. “Only water. Softs. Wines, non-alcoholics. Smoothie. Boomtown makes great smoothies.”

“Hmm. No women. No alcohol. And I doubt if you can dance. Really, you must be such fun at parties.” That was sarcasm, and he got the drift and laughed.

“But I’m not that bad. If I am, my guys will not be dragging me along with them.”

“Hm. Okay o. Oya make we go chop fish and bore each other.”

Cocking his head backward, he observed me with humor on his face. “E go shock you.”

The ride to GRA wasn’t a long one, and as the name implied, the place was booming with music when we got there. He wasn’t lying when he said the fish and smoothie was good. But there was something else, or rather someone, that was so good that I couldn’t resist the urge to get up and get loose; the DJ. Only on a few occasions had I ever been comfortable dancing publicly. Even in church, I had always been in ‘team clap your hands and dance in your head.’ But here I was, moving so recklessly on the dance floor where boobs and ass ran free.

And Oghene... He was looking at me to pieces … I knew I’d been looked at, glimpsed and corner-of-the-eyed before. But never like this. Our gazes locked and a slow grin appeared on his face. He didn’t look like he was having any discomfort sitting and watching me while dozens of women wiggle

Bukenke86:
Abi o


And dem don suspend strike ooo

IkeIgboNiile:
Rosemary33
Please, where is your location. The bo*oks can be delivered anywhere in Nigeria.

042. Enugu

okay. Bookpedllers can deliver to your door step when you order from them. Let me know the one you are interested in. Contact them on IG. I would have also drop there number here, but I dont know if it will warrant a ban

If that will be rigorous, then you can go through me. I can send you your choiced copy (s) directly.

...
He offered me his hand. I stared at it, then at him, and back at the outstretched hand before placing mine on it, stifling a gasp when our skin touched and looking into his eyes in a kind of shocked wonder. His hand was smooth and warm, a few degrees warmer than it should be, and that heat sank into me, but it was not his heat that made sent a gasp rolling up my throat but the storm resided within his skin that went raging through my veins the moment our hands met, leaving my skin tingling and my heart picking up pace.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said.

I nodded and allowed him to pull me to my feet and lead me to the vehicle, ignoring this senseless thing going on inside me. The inside of the Sienna was warm and smelt like...cheese balls.

He’d grabbed an already opened pack from the back seat, popped a few balls into his mouth, crushed them, and nodded.

“Care for one?” he asked, giving me that shy, unsure look. “I have a few more packs.”

“Cheese balls? No.” I couldn’t remember the last time I ate that snack. That was because it was meant for kids. Like Caparison and Bobo. What kind of adult eats Cheese balls with childish excitement?

Oghene Kind of Adult of course.

“Okay,” he said, turning the ignition. “You dey miss o.”

We didn’t speak as he drove. When he slowed in front of the bar, I thanked him, got down, and hurried towards the entrance without looking back.

The place was swimming with people. Men watching the premier league match. Couples, chatting over bottles of beer, plates of Suya, or barbecued fish. I scanned faces and checked tables, but there was no sign of Preye.

Of course, he must have gotten tired of waiting and had angrily left. To be double sure, I described him to a few waiters, asking if they’d seen him there that evening. But none admitted to noticing someone with that description.

“Why don’t you give him a call?” they all suggested.

I did. His number wasn’t connected.

He was angry.

Ifenkili, you’ve made your prospective husband angry. What was I going to do now?
I stood there for a while, then left.

To my surprise, the Sienna hadn’t moved from where I left it. This meant one thing; Oghene was waiting. But why? Did he know? No. There was no way.

I walked to the car, knocked at the window and he wound down.

“W-why are you still here?” I asked.

He didn’t reply immediately like he was trying to choose his words.

“You knew about this, didn’t you?”

“About what?” he asked, a genuine confusion coloring his face.

He didn’t know. Maybe he was only here waiting for someone. “Preye is gone,” I said, observing his face for any hint, any reaction. There was none.

“Didn’t he call to inform you about him leaving?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“Then you...call am nau.”

“His number is not connecting.”

We didn’t say any more things to each other. Then he spoke first.

“You wan enter moto?” he asked, unlocking the van.

Nodding, I pulled on the handle and sat down inside, leaned back, sighed, and shut my eyes. By the time I opened my eyes, there was a pack of cheese balls thrust to my face.

“Sure say you no wan chop this thing?”

I looked at him for a while, trying so hard to feel angry...at him. But all I could summon was laughter that bubbled out of my throat and came like a single crack before exploding into several sputters.

He liked me. Me laughing. He liked it so much that his face shone with delight. And as I snatched the pack from him and tore it open, a few balls scattering on the floor, he let out his own laughter.

Ten
Ifenkili


My heart was constricting with pain right now. And please, this iron inside brassieres, was it meant to hold our babies up or kill us slowly by puncturing our lungs? Someone should answer me fast before I do something irrational.

Anyway, back to why pain and anger were competing for prominence inside me. I told you about today’s date with Preye, right? The one I agreed to fund as an atonement for my sin of sleeping off while he was speaking to me over the phone. See ehn, I had planned to go all out for this date. In my mind, I had matched my clothes and accessories, picked out the shoes to go with them. But my brethren my sistren, that date no work.

Before you shine your teeth in laughter, let it be known by all and sundry that Oghene was to be held responsible. Tell me why I had everything planned out only for him to call and tell me, “Don’t go.”

I was shocked. Then it became funny, and finally I was angry. Make una follow me see case o, somebody I hadn’t considered, just because he gave me a touch that made my head spin for a dizzying second, he now thought he could control my life. What did he mean by ‘don’t go,’?

Ah, chai. Anyway sha, he didn’t know me.
Or rather, I didn’t know this lady called frustration.

The first thing that went wrong was my makeup. I had sat on my dressing table making up for twenty minutes straight, but when I neared the mirror to appraise my handiwork, I realized that my face wasn’t in focus—whatever that meant. But una know me na, I no dey hear word, I washed off that one and started all over. Another twenty minutes straight. When I checked, what was looking back at me was a clown instead of fine geh.

Hmm. I sat down to redo it again. See ehn, those that had known for a long while knew that no matter how many times things turn bad, I would try it again. I no dey hear word.
I was on my way back from the bathroom where I went to wash off the second face makeup trial when my brother called to tell me that he was on his way to my house to pick up the laptop he left behind the last time he visited. I was almost getting agitated when I remembered I didn’t need to stay back and wait for him to arrive. I could leave my keys with my neighbor and tell my brother to pick it up from her.

With that wahala settled, I proceeded to go another round with the makeup. This time it was perfect, I was looking on fleek, everything was puuurrrr—on periodt! I ate with no crumbs left.

But lady frustration wasn’t done with me. My car refused to kick start. No matter how many times I tried, no matter what my kind neighbors did; tightening and loosening wires, screwing and unscrewing nuts and bolts to bring down my battery so they could try starting the car with theirs, the old lady refused to bulge.

In the end, I decided to take a taxi. I would have ordered a ride, but I was worried it might arrive late. I was already a little behind time.
My frustration didn’t end there. As I stepped outside the gate, walked the little distance from my house to the road, it started raining. Hahaaaaa! I laughed. It was like heaven and earth were against me today. Unfortunately for them, they didn’t know how stubborn I could be. They didn’t know that when I’d made up my mind about something, even if an earthquake struck the road and broke it into two, I must find a plank and cross it.

I located a shelter and waited. Soon, a taxi came by and I entered, feeling like a winner as the taxi continued along the Eliozu/Rukpokwu road, thinking that the storm was over.

My brethren my sistren, it was the beginning of shege. Mmalite ihe mgbu. The taxi parked up at Airforce flyover. At that point, the level of anger in my heart could roast a corn . I was fuming inside, swearing for Oghene and whatever spirit he had sent my way.

And to show them that they had not won yet, I ordered a bolt ride there. In less than fifteen minutes, the ride arrived. Pheww...I heaved a sigh of relief; but lady frustration wasn’t done yet. The bold driver turned out to be the most aggressive human being I’d ever met. The man was fighting me as if I was the rat that ate his hairlines. When we got to BenJack, the stupid man killed his engine and insisted I transfer his money that he wasn’t going any further. I pleaded, threatened, cried. This wicked man threw me out of his car even without finally collecting his money and drove away. I had to run into the communication center to avoid being totally soaked by the downpour.

Oghene and his village people, una weldone o.

The rain must really have a score to settle with me because what was this mockery? It would reduce to a drizzle, only to pick up again when I was about to step out to track down a little distance to where I would get another taxi to the Mimi Bar. Hei, ohhhh God, it was already 7 p.m., Preye must be angry by now. He hated being kept waiting.

Shuffling through my bag, I brought out my phone and checked for his missed call or an SMS. Nothing.

Yap. He was. Definitely angry.

I put back my phone inside my bag, got a tissue paper out and dapped my face with it, hoping that the rain had not ruined my makeup. Oh, that was a hope a little too late because multiple colors came off with the tissue paper. I have to clean the whole thing.

Again, Oghene, you did this one o.

I must have stayed for quite a while in front of that center when a Toyota Sianna slowly drove past, then reversed and stopped.

I only had to glance at the driver who stepped down and was hurrying towards the store like any more drop of that rain on his skin would turn him into a wet bread, before I returned my eyes on the screen my phone where I was typing an apology message to Preye and asking him to wait a little while for me, or better still come and pick me up.

“Ifenkili?”

Oghene...Oghene?

My eyes caught his feet first. Clean, slipped into a rich looking pair of leather slippers. His legs...why was he in a pair of blue shorts instead of the usual trousers? My goodness, his legs were so sexy that for a moment, my stupid head imagined me running my fingers on them. Then his yellow Tee shirt, I’d seen it on him before...once or twice. He had an earpiece hanging across his neck.

“Ife watin you dey do here?”

Principality and power, I said in my mind, reminding myself that he was the architect of my frustration. He should be looking like a gloating wizard and not like the next best thing after Genesis freshly baked banana bread. I should hate him. But here I was wondering when he went home to freshen up and why was he out here...driving a Sienna I didn’t know he owed. Where was he headed to...a date with a girl? I never thought of him having a girlfriend. Did he have one?

Okay, I hated him right now because this grin on his face made him look so cute. And I heard from somewhere that the cuter the boy the mushier a lady’s brain.

God, was my brain getting spooned? It was disgusting, noticing this cuteness and slightly having this stupid pain gripping my chest. Was that envy? Jesus, I should be shouting his head off not thinking about the girl he had plans with. I couldn’t even stop. He still wasn’t perfect, still looking soft and fragile, like a material that could disintegrate when wrongly touched. But he gave the best impression of it I’ve ever seen.

“How did your date go?” he asked, wiping drops of rain from his face with the back of his hand. “Are you guys already done with it?”

“No.” And all thanks to you. “I am caught up in the rain. My car is bad, so...” I shrugged, returning my attention to my phone that just beeped. It wasn’t Preye replying to my message, but my brother telling me he would be waiting until I got home because he wanted to discuss our mother’s upkeep with me. It was his turn to send her something, but he had run out of money.

Chai, God. What kind of life was this biko nu? The last time I checked, my main motivation for wanting to be an adult was so I could eat more than one piece of meat and go to bed whenever I wanted. What was all this unplanned responsibility nonsense for goodness' sake?

“Ife, are you okay?” Oghene asked.

“Mm-hm.” I nodded. But I wasn’t anywhere near okay. Everything about tonight was getting me frustrated; the rain, the taxi, the bolt driver, my brother. Oghene. Seriously, I couldn’t even think when he looked at me like that. And there was this peace, a kind of calmness he was exuding was also getting me at edge. It was mocking me, this calmness. Yet I liked it, I wanted to keep feeling it.

What was even wrong with me?

“Preye must think that I stood him up,” I murmured, feeling the closeness of tears, and desiring to fly into someone’s arms to drown my worries in his embrace. I want him to say something to me. Just...anything.

“Where is the venue?”
“Ehn?”

“The venue for your date, where is it?”

“Eh...the Mimi Bar.”

He was silent again. “Is, is your man...waiting for you there?”

I didn’t answer immediately because...I suddenly became uncomfortable that he should ask that.

“I can drive you down there if he is waiting.”

He must think I doubted him. Of course I did. I knew he was nice to a fault, even to the detriment of his sanity but, this? Offering to drive me to my date with another man when I knew he had something for me?

“It’s not far,” he added. “And since I am here with Oga Emeka’s Sianna—”

Oh, the van. It wasn’t his. “Okay, I said. Thank you so much.”

He offered me his hand. I stared at it, then at him and back at the outstretched hand before placing mine on it, stifling a gasped when our skin touched and looking into his eyes in a kind of shocked wonder. His hand was smooth and warm, a few degrees warmer than it should be, and that heat sank into me, but it was not his heat that made sent a gasp rolling

IkeIgboNiile:
How can i get a printed copy in my location?

Please, where is your location. The bo*oks can be delivered anywhere in Nigeria.

do4luv14:
You have printed copies too,

woah!!!

Yes 😁😁

sterlingD:
Which site can one access and buy?

I'm afraid if I post anything pr*omotion, I would be banned again. So I'll have to misspell some words.

Am^azon
B^ambooks.
Sèlâr
And prints c^pies can be pûchased from Bòòkpeddlers Lagos.

I hope they don't ban me again

Abeg make una bvy my books o
Many Waters
Akwaugo
God Michael and Me
Paradise
My latest is Amongst A Thousand Stars

Help my ministry by supporting this author o

IkeIgboNiile:
Thank you for this update. Bro Oghene is getter bolder i like that. Rosemary33 please i hope this isn't the last update for the week. Biko i hope it's not.

Oliver twist.

...

“No problem. We need to talk.” I took her phone, typed my number, gave it back to her, and walked off.

O’boy, which kain kasala Sarima enter so? Sarima! Sister in the Lord. How was it that she knew who this guy was and still ended up with him? Tell me about; “Though he drinks and chases women around, I know he will change when we finally settle down.” What kain agbasa bridge be that?

Then, for some disturbing reason, I thought of Ifenkili and the man she met at the wedding, the same man she left Shukudi’s party with.

Based on base, e clear say the guy na correct junki way person suppose change am for am.
Were they still together? After that slight connection at the bank today, I doubt if she was serious with him. Or she hadn’t made up her mind about him yet.

Still, she had followed him yesterday.

Maybe they parted ways somewhere...nothing really happened.

What if something actually happened between them?

What if so—why would that cause me pain?

Because I wanted to be the only one touching her. I fear I would even be envious of every dress she ever wears, the tops, the trousers going soft where they rub her inner thighs. Every rain that ever falls upon her lips, every piece of bread upon her tongue. I wanted to breathe her, let her fill up my chest until my ribs strained and I broke open like ripe fruit beneath a paring knife. I might get wounded in the process, but I would teach my body to regrow my heart each time I gave it to her, over and over and over again.

But then I thought, this was useless. The vexation of heart like the bible called it. I should stop getting so worked up over Ife before it would begin to give a negative vibe and scare her away from me. Though I was so much attracted to her, she was a grown woman capable of making decisions and taking responsibility. However...I thought of Smira and frowned. I didn’t want the same thing to happen to Ife.

It would not happen to her because she was mine. I’d end up with her.

What if that never happened?

God forbid. I brought out my phone as I crossed to the other side of the road. My intention was to dial Oga Emeka and ask him where he was, but I dialed Ife instead, and she picked at first ring.

Hei, Jesus!

“Bro, Oghene,” she said distractingly.

“You must be busy,” I said, sounding stupid to my ears.

“Mm.”

“What are you doing this evening?” What? Why was I asking her that? I definitely didn’t have any plans for her.

She paused for a while, then. “I have a date.”
With a guy? I wanted to ask but I dared not.

“Don’t go,” I said, shocking myself.

“What?” She was surprised too.

“I said, you shouldn’t go.”

I cut the call before she replied, my heart beating gbim-gbim. My hands trembling.

Oghenevowede, what have you done?

Nine
Oghene


I could still smell her like a memory of another world. I was drunk with it, with the scent of her like one would the scent of dawn, the half-recalled cadence of her voice, the feeling of her skin against my fingers. Every bit of me sang with the memory of her closeness.

“Thank you for the message last night,” she had said.

My chest ached, my body speaking a language my head didn't quite understand.

While she walked off, I waited. Until the customer care lady tapped my hand and announced that she was done with me. I ran a wanting finger over the hard surface of the woman’s desk, and walked out of the bank while thinking, 'She was there, right within reach.'

“Thank you for the message last night...”

Sandwiching my lips between my teeth to stifle a grin, I waved down a Keke, negotiated the price, and stepped in. Two more passengers joined me after the driver had run a short distance.

“Thank you for the message last night...”

Na in be say she confam the message. She read am. I nibbled on my lower lip and allowed my mind to analyze what this confirmation meant. I dey feel say she even liked my yarn for that message. She had looked at me with...interest—something more? I wasn’t sure. I had dropped my eyes but, in glancing away from her, I caught sight of my reflection in the opaque glass of the man-trap door of the bank’s entrance, and saw myself, suddenly, as she might have seen me, my rough face, the way the muscles in my neck stuck out like thin wire. The way the baggie coverall hung loose on my slim body. And, for the first time in my innocent and confined life, I wished I was more put together the same way I was at Shukudi’s party.

She still had her eyes on me when I returned my attention to her. Maybe she was as afraid as I was that there was something being passed between us. Or she was breathing me in just as I was letting her come into my lungs, my eyes, my heart. I pushed my feelings of not being good enough to the back of my mind. After all, na hustle I dey, na shedas I dey find make I follow my mates them clean. And for person to clean up na money dey baff am. Nobody dey wear Prada for mechanic workshop.

It was that look, the confusing thing I saw on her face that made me touch her, but I had to withdraw my hand immediately because there was a subtle bolt shot through that contact to the rest of me. It was almost like it didn’t happen, but I knew it did. Iink she knew too.
I still remembered that feeling of watching her walk away, of me turning to leave too while I imagined that she might turn to watch me. I had placed one leg before the other just fine… but also felt like I was going to stumble.

As I stood outside, I finally registered what she was wearing. It was a beautiful skinny black suit with a shiny sheen. The skirt was short, exposing the lower part of her thighs.

I didn’t believe I would one day say this but...I loved it. That short shirt on her, I would totally want her to wear it every time, to show her legs. In my mind, I dared to explore her skin, thinking of how nice it would be to run my fingers from her legs up her thighs. I knew it was wrong to think of her in such a manner but for a while, I had been possessed by the imagination of her. She had been distant and closed away, and my imagination’s work had been all to make her present, all of her, to my mind and senses, the quickness of her and the mystery, the smoothness of her beauty, which was part of her extreme magnetism, and the warm look of those beautiful eyes.

The more I thought about it, the more I wanted her, the more my desire rose and swelled into something unholy and not expected of a child of God like me. I closed his eyes and imagined the sweet disturbing way with which she had stared at me when my hand touched her arm before she walked away. I felt a little proud that she could feel something at that touch. I wasn’t sure about the intensity, but I knew it was there, and it made me happy the same way it made the thread pulling me to her, tug, tug at my heart—so hard, it hurt me. It was crazy to say that I had never been able to not think about her.

From the moment I really took notice of her in church, I developed a keen awareness of her presence in any space, any room. I hadn't been able to stop it, to block it out, no matter how much our situation suggested otherwise. That hurt too.

“Oil Mill,” the Keke driver announced, reminding me that I’d reached my destination.

I got down, paid for the ride. Oga Emeka said he would be waiting in front of the Bank by the Bus stop. Glancing around, there was no trace of him or the said vehicle, so I decided to give him a call.

“Nna eh, something came up o. One of the boys at my shop stole from me. Na police station we dey since. But I’ll be there soon. You don reach?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oya give me five...no, ten minutes.”

I had this feeling that the ten minutes would eventually turn to twenty or even thirty, as per say under normal levels na. Oga Emeke na kpoko for late coming, an unrepentant African timer. If the phrase ‘African Time’ had a face, it would be him. Him and his family. They always came late to church and functions. I wouldn’t be surprised if they missed the heavenly bus when the saints would be called.

Pushing my phone back into my pocket, I decided to stroll along the market and shop for fruits; Cucumber and watermelon way I wan use do smoothie. I blended the remaining ones and drank last night before sleeping and had woken up with the thought of Ife together with one kain cold and fever wain be like say I wan faint. I concluded it was malaria because e don teh since I treated malaria. But as I rush kitchen cabinet make I grab paracetamol, it occurred to me that I mustn’t take drugs on an empty stomach, and as I didn't like tea, I decided to warm Shukudi's wife's soup and eat small eba. O’boy eh, it was hunger o. Na hunger been hook me for neck like an undersized bowtie. As I dey swallow the eba, I begin dey breathe well. Come dey even reason Ife matter wela. See ehn, anybody that told you that being in love makes one lose appetite, my brother, no reason that person. Chop. Chop o, make your eyes clear so you fit plan your next strategy.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned.

“Sarima!” The lady that served Bro Abraham of the sanitation department breakfast because ‘God told her to end the relationship,’ and got married two Saturdays later. Indeed, Jehovah Ebenezer dey quick arrange marriage partners for some special people. “What are you doing here?”

“Shopping,” she said, raising the sack bag in her hand for me to see. “You?”

“I’m supposed to meet with Sir Emeka here, but he is running late,” I hoped she still remembered Oga Emeka though, it’d been almost two years since she left St Andrews after her wedding to this man who had appeared from nowhere, joined the youth fellowship, attended for a while and then approached her with a marriage offer.

“Sir Emeka...Oh, the one in the church’s council? How is he and everyone?”

“He is fine, and we are all good.”

We allowed a short silence. A man hurried past me, roughly brushing my shoulder and sputtering profanity as he walked by.

“You decided to get yourself some things while you wait,” she asked.

There was a sad smile on her lips, and that look on her face, like person wey life don dash several slaps come barb am bololo join.

“But bro Oghene is it not a woman that is supposed to be doing this for you?”

“I told you I just want to get a few things for myself instead of standing by the road. But no, I am not married yet, I know that is what you want to hear.”

She laughed. There...that sadness she was trying to hide. And as I looked deeper, I saw how much she’d changed, her skin looked shrunken like a plant lacking water, and her cropped hair had more strands of gray than my maleh own.

“Samira, are you okay?”

She didn’t reply, I felt she was struggling inside. But that smile was still on her lips.

“How is your family, your husband and children?”

“Husband?” she shook her head and lowered her gaze, then looked up again. “We are not together again.”

The confession shocked me to my bones that when a load carrier brushed my leg with the Jaggard rim of his wheelbarrow, giving my coverall a little tear, I didn’t make a fuss. “I-I am so sorry, Sarima.”

“Hm-Mm.” she shook her head. “No, Bro Oghene, don’t do that. I saw this day coming. He was an alcoholic like you warned me—”

I did warn her. Not because I suspected that there was something off about that guy even though he was doing pass himself, trying to be everywhere in church when, looking closely, he was covering up for his rot. I knew about his secret like I always knew about things I was privileged to know, I dreamt of filthiness and couldn’t hold my disapproval when Samira was insisting that it was God who told her to leave Abraham.

“He cheated on me too. On several occasions before marriage.”

“But why did you go ahead with the marriage still?”

“My family. He was very generous to them. He bought a Camry for my brother which he is using for bolt rides now. He renovated our house and also opened a business for my father. I saw how happy they were and didn’t want to take that away.”

“Eiy, Samira...”

“I thought I could change him—”

“Which kain figure of speech be that? Sarima?”

She hissed, “Bro Oghene it’s a long story.”

And I would have loved to hear every bit of it and probably know what was going on in her life now, but my phone rang. Oga Emeka had arrived, and I had to leave.

“How is bro Abraham?” she asked as I made to leave.

“He is fine. Married now.”

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Can I... Can I have your number again? I lost my former phone so I...I...”

“No problem. We need to talk.”

IkeIgboNiile:
Please Where's Rosemary33?? Please tell her to post update abeg.

I done come back o

do4luv14:
Ahhh3, you go children's day leave us for here, it is not fair oooo

Nwiboko26:
Aunty Rosy do children's day for us na 😊😊😊

. Eweeehhhh. Me that is here eating children's day Chin-chin and drinking Yogurt

...He called my name, “Ife.”

And I held on to that name instead of his face that was…as if it wasn't any more his than it is mine, as if he knew something about me that I didn’t know myself, like he saw a fragments of my inner life that were deeply repressed. Terrifying thing, you know? I couldn't say I'd felt that sort of intimacy with anyone. And I’d not been this close, keenly staring beyond those brown eyes. Now I understood why people felt themselves drawn to him even before they realized. His eyes made a person think that he heard things that no one else had ever heard, that he knew things no one had ever guessed before, and he had answers and comfort at the tip off his tongue.

But I must push this new discovery out of my head. If I could achieve that, I would be okay.

“Ife, you dey work here?”

I was shivering. I never shiver before any man. I Never thought I would no matter how much I was into the man. And definitely no when standing under the scrutiny of a simple nice guy like Oghene.

“I no know o.” He lowered his head and stoked his nape, then lifted his head again. That smile was there.

My bones squeezed, pinched, pressed against my muscles.

“I had a debit alert that I didn’t initiate. I am here to ratify it,” he said is perfect English, placing his hand on my arm and Jesus... Who was this man and what had he done to the bro Oghene I knew?
He withdrew his hand almost immediately, as if something reminded him that touching me was a wrong thing to do.

“Oghene," I said after he thanked Manuchi and turned to leave. "Thank you for the message last night.”

And… that was the last thing I wanted to say to him.

Hanging my embarrassment like a badge of honor, I left him gaping at me and walked straight to the bathroom to weep for my foolery.

...to make me late today was bad enough. I didn’t need a grown-ass man going from ‘Bridgeton’ last night to ‘marketed and distributed in Alaba international market’ on me this morning.

“Preye, please. I’ve said I’m so sorry. I was tired.”

“You think I wasn’t tired myself? But I had to call you because that is what relationships are about. Care.”

“Okay, I’ve heard. I won’t do it again, Daddy.”

“Better. When are you closing from work?”

The conversation ended with me promising to meet him up at the Mimi’s Bar, Rumuobiokani, after work. I would be buying dinner. That was my punishment for messing up at the talking stage.

My head of department wasn’t on sit when I arrived at work, thank goodness. I exchanged pleasantries with the ladies and gentlemen at the counter, and asked Manuchi, one of our customer service personnel about her upcoming wedding, diplomatically declining her offer of me being one of her bride’s maids. “Not again, devil.” Besides, I was two years older than she was. While a lot of people would feel it didn’t matter, me...I no dey do aso-ebi for a girl I was older than.

In fact, I no dey do aso-ebi for anybody again.

I settled on my desk, at the pension corner of the bank, and started my day by sending reports. When that was done, I moved to putting some calls across to both old and potential customers. Some were agreeable, others cursed the daylight out of me. As soon as I got that part of the day’s job done, I moved on to the next one; processing pension forms in fund fusion and retrieving payment schedules. Now and then, a customer would walk to my desk to demand my help in banking issues; online banking, unconfirmed debit alerts, ATM card retrieval, as if they didn’t see the ‘Zenith Pensions Custodian Limited’ boldly written on the flex banner by my desk.

My sisteren my brethren, my job was under pension. Pension o. Not to count money or solve banking problems. Yet these people won’t leave me the hell alone to face my work.

“Excuse me ma—”

Hah, Jesus.

“Ma, I need help with—"

I lifted my head and was about to snap, ‘Go to customer care,’ when the realization hit me. The short man standing in front of me, looking like a rickety bicycle, was the last person I ever expected I would come across after many years of parting.

Chidi Emos. Our NCCF pastor during my NYSC at Nonwa. The idiot that asked for my hand in a godly relationship and ended the thing even before it stood on its feet.

First date, “Where do you see yourself in the next five years.”

Second date, “How many motivational messages and books do you read in a month? Me I read at least four books in a week.”

Third date, “List the causes of bradycardia.”

Fourth date, the one that broke Carmel's back, “If we eventually get married, you’ll be giving me 60% of your salary to plan with.”

I had asked him, “If you’ll be planning with my 60%, what then will you be doing with your own 60%?”

“You mustn't question a man’s decision, Ife. In a godly marriage, the man is the head and must not be questioned. Your duty as the wife is to submit. Go and read about the Proverb 31 woman,” he said.

That was the day I decided I wasn’t doing again ooooo. And Chidi Emos didn’t take my rejection lightly. The NCCF papa in the Lord made sure he used his position to rain disgrace on me by deciding to conduct an impromptu deliverance section on a typical bible study program.

I had just walked into the auditorium and took a seat at the back because I was late, only for this Shekelekebangoshe to announce from the altar that he had a revelation in broad daylight.

“One of our sisters had made herself a weapon fashioned against men. She allowed the devil into her life, and she is now breaking the hearts of men who love God.”

Descending from the elevated platform, he had walked down to the back while I was busy gazing around, wondering who he was referring to. It was when I felt a heavy hand on my head that I knew I was the sister he was referring to.

Chidi Emos had called me a devil’s tool and wanted to clothe me with shame because I refused the stupidity he tagged as a godly relationship. As he burst into tongues, asserting pressure on the hand he had on my head so I would lose my balance and fall, I thought of the disgrace, the shame. I remembered that girl that was made to admit that she was a serpent sent to disrupt the service last month, and how everybody had avoided her since then even though she later confessed that she said that because she wanted to be left alone. I quickly began to fight o. No be me this idiot go push for ground like this.

While he screamed, “Out Satan, out!” I was beating the hell out of him, Tearing his face and his neck with my newly fixed nails.

I must have really looked like a demon-possessed Jezebel, but I didn’t care. Like that serpentine girl, I was avoided by brethren after that incident. Thanks to Chidi Emos.

Now, After...how many years? He stood before me looking like a sorry case of Cholera?

“Ife...Ifenkili from NYSC Nonwa?” he asked.
Of course, Bunkum. It is I, Ife. “Chidi Emos?” I replied with a forced smile.

“My God! What are you doing here?”

“Working, as you can see.” He was battling with the right thing to say, I noticed. He should start with an apology. But of course, I didn’t need his apology. Seeing him this sickly was enough appeasement offering for me. He wanted to catch up on those years after the program, but ain’t got no time for that. “What can we do for you?” I asked.

“Ehm...I... I mean—”

“Money transfer problem?” Typical.

“Yes, I made a transfer to some—”

“That’s not my Job. Go and meet Manuchi, the lady at customer care,” I directed and returned my eyes to my system.

He stood there for a while, then, “It’s a long line there. Can you...you know...help me?”

No. I wasn’t going to lift a single finger to help Chidi Emos. Oh shut up conscience, he played me dirty so don’t play that ‘forgive and forget,’ card on me now. Yeah, I know...I know. I’m a child of God. A daughter of Zion even though I was among the heavenly backbenchers, the crazy ones among the saints of God, the one stubborn sheep he came after while leaving the other 99 behind.

“Ife, please—”

Would I be tagged a terrible person if I told this guy to go to hell?

“This is not my Job, Chidi. But—leave your details with me and go. I’ll make sure Manuchi sorts it out before the end of the day.”

“Thank you,” he enthused, scrambling something on a paper and handing it to me. “I am so grateful, Ife. Can I, eh, have your number—to call you sometime later?”

Hei, Chineke God. I don give this one my hand, now him wan grab elbow. “It’s not—”

“I don’t mean anything o. Just...At least I can call to ask you if your friend has looked into my matter.”

He had a point. I handed him my card instead and watched him exit the bank before I lowered my head to my work again.

I was so lost in my work and didn’t notice when my colleague pushed her chair backward and got up. It was when she mentioned she was going for lunch and asked if I’d like her to get me something at the canteen that I lifted my head.

“A plate of chicken salad and a medium-sized cup of yogurt,” I said with appreciation.

I checked my phone when she left. Ale sent me some hair samples, she wanted to know if I’d be interested before she sold them all off. I missed a call from my brother and an SMS from my AYF prayer group leader. The group would be visiting the motherless baby’s home and needed support. I was about to go back to my work when I saw someone that made my heart skip a beat. Forget about a skipped beat, my heart skipped a whole song. Ignoring the stupid organ, I trained my eyes on the figure.

Bro Oghene.

He was standing in front of the customer care desk. With both arms balancing on Manuchi’s table, he was leaning close to the soon-to-be-married lady and smiling up her face so innocently but intimately that one would think he was the supposed groom-to-be.

He was in a gray coverall, with patches of grease here and there. His hair was unkempt. His feet that were slipped in a pair of old slippers were dirty. But unlike other times, before last night, I noticed that his disarray work look fitted together like a stained glass window. A hundred little pieces of different color and mood that, when combined, created a complete picture.

I watched him interact with Manuchi for a while, wondering why the other customers in the line weren’t making fusses about his maneuvering because he had jumped the line. Then I saw him look back and mutter something that made them laugh.

Bastard.

He was using his innocence and softness as a charm on them. And it seemed to be working. It had always worked on a lot of people anyway. He accepted a piece of paper and a pen from Manuchi, scrambled something down, and handed the items back to the lady who had her eyes on his face all the while.

He was seducing Munachi without even trying, and the fool-headed girl had fallen flat for his smiles. Not just her, but almost everyone there. They were all grinning and nodding at whatever he was saying.

Without thinking, I got up, straightened my dress, left my corner, and walked towards customer care. I didn’t realize how awkward my decision was until I got to Munachi’s desk, bent over the girl’s system as if I wanted to check something while I had no idea what I was looking for, straightened up and my eyes landed on his. Right there, at that moment, I couldn´t remember what a stressful and bad day felt like.

Instantly, he caught me in his sweet snare.
Like he did the other customers in line, like he did Manuchi, he made me get lost in his bright demeanor.

He called my