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TheBlessedMAN:
done my boss. I stayed all night cooking this. I hope it's worth it.

TheBlessedMAN:
if you want to save your favourite character, send 2 BTC to my wallet 😀😀😀 or I'll start killing them one by one... 😀😀😀

TheBlessedMAN:
Episode 1 – The Return of Darousmart

My name is Darous, short for Darousmart if you like full package, you know like you want to finish all your pronunciation subscription. Thirty-five years old according to my birth certificate, tall enough to pick things from the top of the shelve without anyone or anything aiding me, and dark, with a beard that some girls say make me look like I know what I’m doing in life. Truth is, I’m still hustling like every other Nigerian man with dreams bigger than his pocket.

I’m a building contractor — one of those guys you call when you want your house to look like Banana Island even though your budget is telling you to build in Mushin. I came from a poor background, and poverty taught me two things early: how to survive, and how to never forget a promise, whether good or bad.

That night, I was sitting in our usual joint — a rough but lively parlour down the street. The smell of suya mixed with cigarette smoke, and the fan overhead was spinning like it was tired of life. My friendship circle was already there.

Jude sat first, sharp guy, thirty-two, slim with restless eyes. He was the type that wore tight shirts and behaved like the whole world was owing him money. Beside him was Baba T, older, heavy, with a belly shaped like a drum. His Arsenal cap had faded, but he wore it with pride. He's the type of guy that can defend his point of view with his last breath. Kenny came next, short, stocky, head shining like freshly polished floor. He always wore bright colours that made you wonder if he was trying to start a carnival.

And then there was Bola our female friend.

Bola was thirty, tall, skin like caramel sugar. Her body was full in all the right places, hips that didn’t just move but announced themselves. She wore a black fitted dress that hugged her like it didn’t want to let go. Her gold earrings danced each time she laughed, and believe me, Bola loved to laugh. She laughs at literally anything that produces sound or motion.
If laughter has a subscription button, I'm sure Bola would have run out of laughs a long time ago.

“Contractor don land!” Jude shouted as I walked in. He slapped the table like he had just discovered oil. “Darousmart, the man that carry cement by day and women by night. How market?”

I dropped into a chair, shook my head. “Market no dey smile, Jude. I build for people, dem delay my money. I no build, dem insult me. Tell me, who go pay me for the insult and all these disgrace na?”

Kenny laughed so hard his belly shook. “Insult dey sweet for Lagos, my guy. Some people dey chop better with only insult.” he grabbed his half filled bottle and gulped it down.

Bola leaned closer, her perfume slipping into my nose like soft temptation. “Darous, you’re too gentle. If na me, nobody go owe me pass one week.”

Jude gave her a side look. “And how you go collect am? You go send your sweet smile or something stronger as a money collector?”

She smiled wide, her lips shining. “Sometimes smile works better than slap.”


Everybody laughed, but inside the laughter, I saw Jude’s eyes — sharp, watching Bola’s hand resting close to mine.

I cleared my throat. “Abeg, wetin una dey drink? This stress wey dey my body fit kill me if ah no quench am fast”

Baba T waved his hand. “Na beer dey here. If you want pepper soup join, just shout.”

“Bring the pepper soup,” I said, settling back. “But make sure e no be goat head wey dem cook yesterday o.”

The drinks came. Conversation flowed. But even with the noise, I felt Bola’s eyes on me. Heavy and at the same time searching.

She shifted her chair closer, her dress brushing my jeans. “Darous, I no go lie, you dey carry yourself different. I like am.”

I smiled but kept my voice calm. “You like wetin you see, abi?”

She held my gaze, her tongue wetting her lips slowly. “Maybe. But I like to confirm with my own eyes.”

Kenny broke the moment with his loud voice. “Abeg, na who dey pay today? Because if na me, make una no order anything again.”

Everybody laughed, but I wasn’t laughing. I was still looking at Bola, and Bola was still looking at me.

Later that night, when the drinks finished and one by one my friends left, Bola didn’t rush to go. She leaned in, whispering, “Darous, walk me home nau or you want make dem kidnap me.”

I pretend not to care "no be only Kidnap... Na Adultnap. You know say I don tire sha?"

She laughed softly and pleaded gently. "Please nau.. na beg I beg" she said with pity eyes.

Her house was just two streets away. The night air was cool, quiet, only the sound of distant generators humming. She walked slow, hips moving like rhythm, and I knew what was happening.

At her door, she didn’t fumble with her keys. She looked at me, eyes soft but daring. “You want to come in? Or you dey fear?”

I smiled. “Fear? Me? Bola, na house we dey talk about, no be prison.”

She pushed the door open. The small living room was neat, smelling of lavender. She dropped her bag, turned to me, and before I could say anything, her lips were on mine.

It was fire. Her mouth was soft but demanding. Her hands pulled me close, pressing that body against me. My head spun, but my hands had already found her waist, the curves warm and real.

She whispered against my ear, “I’ve been watching you, Darous. I know you’re not like the others.”

I chuckled, breathless. “And yet, here you are, kissing me like you’ve known me for years.”

Her laugh was low, dangerous. “Maybe I have.”

She pulled me towards the couch, her dress sliding as she moved. My eyes traced every line of her figure, and my heart pounded like I had just climbed three floors carrying cement. She kissed me again, deeper, and her hands…


I won’t describe the rest. But let’s just say Bola was not shy, and she knew exactly what she wanted.

When it was over, we lay there, catching our breath. Bola traced circles on my chest with her finger, smiling. “Darous, you have no idea what you just entered into.”

I turned to her. “What do you mean?”

She gave me that smile again — the kind that looked sweet but carried something dangerous. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

And right there, I knew this story wasn’t just about sex. It was about something bigger. Something that could make or break me.


To be continued.....