We stared at each other for a while. He smiled, but I turned my face away. Why did he bother to come for my birthday party? He had on a black turtle neck, a blue jean, and a black sneaker. I could see the other girls throwing glances his way, and I wondered if they were attracted to his light skin. Else, what is there about Demola for girls to get their eyes employed? Anyways, mother once said that familiarity breeds contempt. I was not just familiar with Demola, he was a huge part of a fresh memory.
My cousin had invited some of her friends, and they were seated at the extreme of the museum hall, as well as Demola. A friend of hers slightly raised her dress as she made an attempt to get his attention. It was so irritating. I scanned the small hall with my eyes, in search of Ferdinand. He promised to be here for my party; he used to be my crush before I and Demola got into a relationship. I had wanted him to date me at that time, but there was this other girl he won't stop talking about whenever we were conversing. It broke my heart, until Demola came along.
We met at an event where well doing business men came to share their success stories with all those in business/those who wanted to venture into one. Demola sat beside me, but my eyes were glued to my phone and I said nothing to him after answering his question of “what time is this event scheduled for?” I told him it was meant to begin by 2pm but the host was waiting for more people to come. He hated that he was waiting for people who could not keep to time, and said he would not have considered them if he was the convener. I had nurtured the idea of leaving at first, but if I was ever going to be a successful entrepreneur, I had to learn patience.
And so I waited, It was quite a great event in the end. I was the first to leave the hall, as I was not in a mood for networking. Few steps to the gate, he called my name from behind. I slowly turned around as I wondered who it was, I didn’t expect to see any familiar face at all. He walked up to me and started up a conversation. I love intelligent individuals, I was soon carried away as he knew so much about all the things he spoke about. I wasn't used to getting male attention, especially not from handsome guys, so I enjoyed the moment while it lasted.
I didn’t get to see him again, until a month later in a mall. He had a strawberry jam in hand, and a worried look on his face. I walked up to him, he was excited to see me. He had not gotten my number the last time. He mentioned he wasn’t going to make that mistake again. His smile was broad and beautiful. I realized how I had not really paid attention to his physical features the last time. His eyes were grey, but of course, I knew those were contact lenses. I noticed how similar his lips were to the content of the strawberry jam. “Is this good enough?” he asked, referring to the strawberry jam. “Yes it is, I use that all the time.” I replied.
I smiled when he took the shopping basket from my hand. He said my dimples were lovely and he will love to see me more often, just to see how it deepened when I smiled. “What a funny way to ask me out on a date” I said. He laughed and said since I had mentioned it, he’ll appreciate that we go out on a date. We both decided the next Sunday will be a good day for that, considering the fact that there will be lectures for me to attend during the week.
That was the beginning of a romance. He asked me out on several occasions, and also asked me to be his girlfriend, when I asked him if he had one. I made him his favorite fish pepper soup whenever he came to visit. He said it will take me some time to know how much he loved me. I never bought the idea of premarital sex, but with Demola, I didn’t know if I wanted to remain celibate. Sex was good, and I got addicted. When I wasn’t on his bed, I was in my room, using my index finger to dip into my vagina. I would imagine he was there in my room, fondling my breast and making me moan out of pleasure.
I decided to introduce him to Becca, when he visited me in school. We all had a good time, they exchanged numbers and I was pleased that Becca liked him, she said all the other guys I had introduced her to, were no good. "You are so lucky to have him, I will do anything to have a man like that." Becca said, on our way back to the hostel. Becca was a friend right from my senior secondary school days, and even when we proceeded into the university, we still maintained our friendship.
I was to take Becca to the woman who had sewn me a black dress that she liked, I called to remind her some days later, but Becca apologized and asked that we make it another day because she wasn't feeling too well. Demola complained on how work was taking a toll on him, I would have gone to pay him a visit since I was all dressed up but I did not want to bother him.
It was on a Saturday, I had little provision and decided to go get some. I met both Demola and Becca at the mall where he had proposed our first date. They were holding hands and laughing, he drew her close to place a kiss on her lips. My small black bag fell to the ground, and then they saw me. I ran back the same way I came. The provision I had gone for, forgotten. He ran after me and called my name, but unlike the last time I had on a warm smile, this time it was different. My eyes stung with tears, my voice was going to be hoarse. So I just kept running. Becca was slim. Her skin was spotless and beautiful, unlike mine. Did he leave me for Becca because she was more beautiful, am I not good enough for him?
I thought he loved me, I thought he wanted me. I thought I was everything he had ever dreamt of. He said he was sorry, that Becca told him secrets I hid from him. Becca said I was a terrible person and he deserved someone better. I cried all I could, and called him all sort of names. Becca never called after that day, I hardly ever saw her in school. My birthday party was over, I had spent the best part of it on memories. From where I stood, I could see his empty seat. He had gone to be with the one that I once called a best friend. Why did he show up, if he was still going to leave? From behind me, I heard my cousin say to me; be careful you don’t make friends with another girl who would choose your man over her conscience. I almost wouldn't have heard her, I was thinking of when I will be alone in my room. I smiled down at my index finger, and breathed a sigh of relief.
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by Shitoto.com, published 9 months, 3 weeks ago
I was still spread out for his viewing pleasure when a thought crossed my mind. We had talked before about the things we would like to do when we eventually meet. Of course at that time I didn't think our meeting was ever going to happen so I painted quite the picture of an explorer, to match him. Even though he was miles a way and there was no chance of us meeting, what he thought of me somehow mattered to me. I closed my legs, did my best pirouette and walked to the door. His eyes followed me. First with surprise and as what I was about to do dawned on him, a sly smile crossed his face.
Here we were in their family compound in Ikeja Lagos state. His great grand mother on his father's side, a princess and last surviving matriarch at 93 had died. It was celebration of life and every member of the family was mandated to come and pay their last respects. There was more celebration than mourning but it was still death that brought everyone together.
I flew in from Kano the night he arrived Nigeria. He came to the airport to carry me himself. When I approached where he was he looked me over as if to to confirm if the pictures we had shared over time was indeed mine. He was also checking to make sure I had complied with his directives. Wear a black Burqa with nothing underneath. "When I see you, I want your nipples straining through the fabric. " I had protested that because of the heavy nature of the garment there is no way my nipples would show even if they were granite. He consented and said I should wear a gold laced black kaftan instead before cutting the call. That shit is transparent ! How can I walk about the airport like that, and in Kano no less ??? You see these Americanas eh ! It's like as soon as the leave the shores of this country and their innit and yo'mehn enters they forget what happens back home. I had watched all three parts of fifty shades of grey so I didn't argue before he would use me to learn work.
I decided to fly the 6:30 PM flight and hoped that it would be dark in Lagos. My prayers were answered. The flight didn't depart Kano until 8 PM and on arrival I quickly went to the bathroom and changed used a shawl to wrap myself until I walked to where he was. So when he looked me over I could see satisfaction. In the car, he ordered me to spread my legs which I did. He brought out a small satchel, like the type men use to keep clippers and all. Inside he brought out a bullet looking thing. It was purple and felt cold to the touch. He placed it on my clitoris and it began to vibrate. He moved it up and down... Up and down.... Up and down. I swallowed hard and closed my eyes. "open your eyes. We are in traffic, act normal." I looked at him in wonder. "do you care what people think or what ? " " I don't give a rats ass what they think, this is about me and you. If you make any sound, or close your eyes I'll stop, and you will pay for denying me my pleasure. And trust me, you don't want to make me mad. " I swallowed again. The words were said casually but I'd be a fool if I didn't believe every single word he spoke. I was tempted to tell him to stop there and then but I truly didn't want to get him mad. So I nodded and gestured for him to continue. The slight buzzing began and stimulation followed. I licked my lips and forced my eyes to stay open. I looked out at the other commuters, their faces partly obscured in the growing darkness. I tried to focus on the noise. Lagos go-slow is famous for the drama that always seems to happen. Yet somehow I didn't hear the blasting of horns and the expletives that always followed in Yoruba or pidgin. I didn't even feel the car's movements as his driver tried to maneuver through the chaos. He stopped and put back the gadget into his satchel and smiled at me. we are going to have so much fun you and me he beamed. We rode the rest of the journey in silence me in a puddle of my own making. That was yesterday night.
I walked over to his satchel and opened it. There were things I couldn't even describe inside, so I picked the one I was more familiar with. I have watched too many movies where handcuffs were used and since he is a fan of bondage I figured I could excite him enough to give me an orgasm. He was right behind me. Took the handcuffs and kissed my fingers. His eyes where ablaze. He led me to the closet and handcuffed my hands to one of the high cabinet handles. The feel of cold steel stole some of the warmth from my heart. He gently spread my legs, caressing my thighs, soothing me like a cat about to be put down. His satchel produced ropes he used to tie my legs each to a lower drawer on either side. I was spread wide and he stared in satisfaction.
Then he knelt under me.
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by Shitoto.com, published 10 months, 3 weeks ago
"Why won't you look into me when we fuck?"
I was buckling my shoes when I heard him from the bed. I heard the slight shake in his voice. He was trying to pass this off as casual talk after a very thoroughly satisfying session but I knew better. I wanted to tell him the truth. He was just a random dick I enjoyed now and then, nothing more.
Instead, I climbed into the bed, still wet from our latest session and kissed him deep in the mouth. I teased the insides of his mouth, while giving him soft bites on his full, soft-like-marshmallows lips. He sighed as if in resignation, and matched me tease for tease. I came up for air. Kunle, knew the assignment. When it came to my body's needs, he understood the assignment.
"You make it so. How can I control myself when you get me fucked up. Literally!"
His lips parted in a full smile and I mirrored his. No need hurting his feelings. I needed him to be happy. A happy dick is a more than capable dick. I made a mental note to send him extra money as my driver drove me out of his premises.
Kunle and I met at a Christmas food drive. I had sponsored the drive for 70 widows. On the 20th of December, I got a call from my assistant that some of the volunteers were a no show. That was how I drove to the venue in my jeans and Tees to lend a hand.
He looked at me and I guess he tried to asses my level of importance and judged I was just another volunteer in the ranks. I played along while he tried to school me on the art of volunteering. "you see this gig? Don't stress too much. Just show up and smile. You already have your looks and body working in your favor. After the whole event make an endearing post on social media. This one has been paid for by an annoynmous person which means you can take credit. You sha have to do it codedly, that way you don't get into trouble.
He was a pro. He made sure everybody was coordinated. He took pictures, gave lectures, cracked jokes, pep talks, the whole works. By the time we arrived the point of departure, I was worn out, but fond of him. He collected my number and promised to call. I didn't think much of it, but was happy when he did call.
I was going through a messy divorce that had me flying to and fro the US and Nigeria. His calls always served as salve to my frayed nerves. I knew I was a mark but I didn't care. I allowed myself to feel wanted again. To feel young and desirable.
After a truly nerve wrecking week, I called him. His number was switch off. I couldn't get a hold of him. I asked my assistant to find him and when she couldn't, I fired her. I entered my car by 11 pm and drove round town. I went to all his hangout spots - the ones he had told me about. He wasn't there either. It was like he had vanished. I finally summed up courage to drive to his place. He didn't know I had gotten someone to find out information about him. Since I was sure I was a mark, I needed to know who I was dealing with. Looking back at that faithful night as I headed for my 4pm appointment at the state secretariat building, it was sheer madness. Madness I tell you. I was behind the wheel looking like Cruella Davil with my hair disheveled and smudged makeup. I arrived his home and was grateful there was still lights on inside. I was at the door knocking. It was like I was being propelled beyond my will. Like a lightly puppet strung to a mad puppeteer. He opened the door and the look on his face should have sent me back into my car, to my house, into the earth and stay there. But the puppeteer wasn't quite finished with me. In a rush of words, tumbling over each other I told him to fuck me untill I lost my mind. "I don't think you need me for that. The loosing your mind part. Margaret, what are you doing here?" He looked up and down the street, I guess trying to make sense of what was going on. "Kunle, I need you to do all the things you said you would do to me when you catch me. And I need you to do it to me now." He led me into his apartment but the look of biwildment mixed with panic stuck on his rough face.
Even in the madness of the moment, I noticed the fresh breakouts and wondered what could have caused the violent redness scattered accros his face. Kunle at 26 had a smooth face like that of a teen pre puberty. I asked him for something hot and he got me coffee.
"Margaret, what is going on?"
I dropped the mug on the carpet and walked over to where he sat opposite me. I tried to remember how to be sexy. It felt like many lifetimes ago I was this way. Iman, my soon to be ex husband had been more than generous with his criticism of my body. I unzipped the bubu I was wearing and let it fall to the ground. "Kunle, I said I'm here to get fucked till I lose my mind."
That was four months ago.
The 4pm appointment would drag on till 10 pm. I had sent the driver home by 8pm together with the car. I hated to overstretch my workers and Fabian, my driver who had stuck with me even after his Oga, my now ex husband had left - had a 6 week old baby at home and needed to be with his wife.
By 10: 16 pm I stepped out of No 7 Tonga drive, adjacent to the state secretariat building, to a chill night. I adjusted my coat to ward off the cold and began walking down the streets. It was a beautiful night and I opted to walk instead of the offers to drop me off. Kunle said he was 12 minutes out. I figured that by the time I'd reached the intersection, by the overhead bridge, he'd be there. My heels as the hit the newly laid asphalt echoed in the quiet, causing a certain lull as I walked on.
"Kin kawo mana mai"
I spun at the voice so close behind me. It was dark, so I couldn't make out the face, but I saw four forms. I nodded to an inaudible greeting and continued walking down. I've experienced fear and intimidation most of my adult life. Growing up in a place like Jenta Adamu prepares you for the scum of the earth. I've faced intimidation in South Africa and the US. In business, in relationships, in life. I've always been a fighter.
"Na che kin kawo mana mai "? This voice belonged to a different speaker. His voice sounded hoarse and had a bite to it, unlike the first one. They had kept up the pace with me. I closed my eyes as the unwanted bubble rose to my throat. Fear. Living in Jenta felt so otherworldly, like a distant dream. A terribly bad dream. I kept walking, willing Kunle to appear. The cynical side of me still purred, hands akinbo to question "What are you expecting Kunle to do? He's only good for fuck. How is he going to help you now?"
"Ke" his hand touched my shoulder and I took off. I began to run but it was futile. In my new Guiseppe Zanotti sandals, it was difficult to run. And I couldn't fling them because of the buckles. One of the boys tackled me to the ground. He was over me, punching the back of my head, hard. The rest surrounded me. The one who tackled me, called Ahmed, used my newly installed wig to pull me back towards where I was coming from. The pain seared through me, as my face burned, and my hair ripped. Ahmed, taunted and cursed me in Hausa while the others laughed on.
"shegiya kowai. Kin fi ni gudu ko ? Ina kudi'n da su mazan chan sun baki da an gama chin ki?" "Za ki chi Ubanki, shegiya har kin sani gudu." He kept at it. Cursing me while pulling me down the road. Eventually, the wig ripped off and they all laughed as if on queue. He commanded me to stand. I couldn't. So I lay still. That earned me a kick in the ribs. I was incapable of wailing anymore. My tears, mingled with blood and sand flowed down my torn face. He commanded I stand again while one of them busied himself removing my jewelry, shoes, and other valuables. I braced myself for the assault I was sure was coming. It didn't come. I heard a thud, like a heavy sack falling, then footsteps receding. I didn't dare raise my head. I couldn't even if I wanted to. So I lay there expecting the worst.
"Margerate". It was Kunle. Relief washed over me and I suddenly found my voice. He lifted me like a rag doll, over his shoulder, in the dark and took me to his car. He dropped me gingerly in the back seat and made to close the door. I didn't mean to, but my fingers dug into him as I reached out to him. "don't leave me here" I managed to say through my sobbing. I was badly shaking. He needed to get the rest of my items he said. "Please don't go" I said over and over again untill he entered the car with me. He made a cryptic call then put the car into gear.
He took me to a private clinic inside Dong, away from scrutiny. I was examined, cleaned and stitched up. I had lost some blood and he was given a list of drugs and food items to place me on immidiately. No questions asked, no answers offered. On our way back, he stopped at around wild life park and turned off the engine. I'd been given a cocktail of drugs that had began to kick in, but somehow I could hear his phone conversation. There was a sentence that stuck. It was as loud as if he shouted it into my brain. "Leave that one, na me go kill am". I fought the blackness. What did he mean by that? Kunle... How ? Who do you want to kill Kunle?
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