Toto Series: MY LANDLADY

Toto Series - That's your problem

Do you have a girlfriend?

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. If you are going to be living under my roof, you must abide by my rules and that includes no girlfriends.”

“In 2021? I can’t have a girlfriend come to visit me in the house that I am paying for.?”

“Those are my rules, you can either take it or leave it.”

This is 2021. I always thought it was women who had a hard time finding an apartment if they were not attached to a man. Here I was, after roaming through several locations closer to campus and finally finding the one apartment that fits my needs and my landlady abi would be landlady is telling me that part of her rules is not having girls visiting me and lights out is by 10:00pm.

“I leave it ma. I have a girlfriend. Maybe I should move in with her and save this money for better things.

“Ehen? Until she reminds you who’s house it is, then you would understand the value of having your own house.’

"I know that. But what value is the house if she can't come and cook a pot of soup for me or keep me warm now that this weather don gets as e be? Mama, you sef check am out. You be family woman. You suppose know-how e dey be.

“Hmmmmmm. Okay. If you promise say na one girl only. I be family woman and I get small children na why I dey put all these rules. I no want make una come spoil my children for me biko.”

“Mama, I be your boy. Take me as one of your children too. As you see me so, na one babe I get. One babe pere.”

And that was how I began living in Madam Gladys’ house. She was a tall well-built woman with bleached out features. I believe she used to be a fine young woman. I guess running a beer parlour and having a retired soldier who serves as the area drunk as a husband does wonders to the beauty of old. What she lacked in physical beauty she more than made up in attitude. Madam Gladys’ was kind and welcoming and never missed an opportunity to gift. It did not matter if she had 10,0000 naira or a stick of carrots. If you met her on the highway or in her tavern, she always had something to give away.

The first time Halima- my girlfriend came to visit, Madam Gladys brought a pot of Banga soup she had just finished preparing. We had exchanged pleasantries and I introduced Halima to her as my girlfriend.

“Ah! Awwal, you have brought a woman to this house?”

“Mama, She is the one I told you about. This is my Halima.”

"Wow. And she is so beautiful. Halima, welcome fa. Awwal has told me so much about you that I feel like we are sisters. If you don't mind, I brought this soup for him. I made enough so that the single people here can have some homemade meals." Of course, Halima did not object even though I knew there was hell to pay when Gladys left. I had told her of my first encounter with my landlady but did not furnish her with the details of how we had gotten close. I did not mention that I now tutored her children in Chemistry and Math. I did not also mention that she allowed me a free beer and a plate of pepper soup every Friday evening. Halima can read meaning into everything and I did not want a situation where if I told her she would tell me to stop.

“Awwal, I know when a woman wants something and she clearly does. How come men are so blind to the obvious.”

Halima had waited until late in the evening. When I had carefully undressed her. She was in my bed with my mouth over her breasts when she decided now was the time to talk about my landlady. I ignored her and tried to salvage the mood but she was hell-bent on ruining it.

“Awwal, ina maka magana ama don nema’n gindi baka ansa ni bako?

“Hmmmmmmmm. Kin san kowai in na kale ki pharpadia na ka ma ni. Tabas ke maiya chi.”

“I am serious. What does she want from you?”

“I am serious about the way your skin feels tonight. Please Halima, I have missed you, did you not miss me too?”

I recaptured her knob sized nipples with my lips. Halima was like those girls who did not want foreplay too much less they showed pleasure. She also did not show pleasure even when she orgasmed. She would then wake up in the morning and act like I had condemned her soul to hell. It was a routine I was used to, but I still went out of my way to see her squirm. To have her hold on to the bedsheets or in some cases, latch on to my back so tight, it left welts. I remember the first day I convinced her to give her head. We had spoken about it for close to a month. I had given her enough time to talk about it with her friends and to read about it. I came over after classes and we hung out with her friends until six PM. I excused myself and bid her friends' goodnight. By 9pm she called me to come back. Even though it was 202certain things remained the same. Even though we had sex, and spent the night in each others' rooms, we needed to be undercover.

I smelt the incense, thick and potent in the air when I arrived. She offered me kunun aya and bananas and she smelt of Umra. I drank the kunun aya and ate the bananas she offered. She was wearing her silk robe- the one she wore when she was crazy horny or we were fighting and she wanted to make amends.

I stood up and went to the loo, there, I drank a potion of the honey mixture Tijanni swore would make my tongue turn to Zuma. I had never given a woman head before. I don't know why I had asked Halima sef. Before now, It was almost taboo for a man to give a woman head. But my guys always talk about how their women are dicmatized and can't leave them because of how well them sabi eat their girls out. I decided to also eat Halima out so that she will never leave me.

I came out of the bathroom and she was in the kitchen clearing the dishes. The lights in the room were switched off. I took off all my clothes except for my boxers and went to her. I held her from the back and kissed her neck. She giggled and protested but did not push me away. My hands roamed her body and it registered she was not wearing anything underneath the robe. Shege Halima, she was looking forward to tonight as much as I was.  I guided her to the bed but she insisted that whatever it was we would do needed a soundtrack. She was a romantic so she played some Hausa guy who sang about the loneliness of having to live without his second wife.

I lead her back to the bed and guided her to lie while I knelt down on the edge. She was so nervous, I felt her shakes even before I touched her.

“Halima, I am not going to hurt you. Please don’t fight me.”

"I trust you Awwal. This is new for me, that is all. But I trust you."

I knelt between her legs and hoped that Tijanni was right. I looked at her spread before me and wondered if I made the right choice. What if I was no good? What if Tijanni was wrong and she did not like it and she never spoke to me ever again? I darted my tongue and tasted of her woman. I had watched enough you-tube tutorials so I let that guide me. In no time, I was holding her thighs and following her prompting. That night I learnt two things. Halima loved head, and she was loud.

After that night, she would insist I give her head before we sexed. I watched too many videos and drank so much honey I was more than confident that she would never leave me.

One Friday evening, I was gisting with my landlady and I mentioned how Halima couldn't have enough of my tongue. It was not my fault really, I had drunk two bottles of smooth that night and it had given me a certain level of invincibility. my landlady listened with such attentiveness I think it was not much my story but how it made her feel.

After that day, I  noticed she became even more friendly. Sometimes she will come to my door as early as 5 am. She would look me over then leave. No word said.

“You sure say you sabi do all these things you dey talk so?”

"Mama, na your boy ooo. I go tell you wetin no pure?"

She had resorted to giving me two bottles of beer and a plate of whatever pepper soup I wanted. Isi ewu, Fish, intestine or cow tail. She would ask me about my week but was only interested in the parts with Halima and more importantly, the parts that included me and Halima getting down. I knew that and I made sure she was happy every Friday. It did not matter that I and Halima had been fighting for weeks over the pot of banger soup she had brought over. Or how she had come the morning after by 5am to invite us for devotion. It did not matter that we were of different faiths and did not attend devotions. Halima kept eyeing her the whole time how she spent preaching about the sin of fornication. No, I always told her how we fucked in empty classes and dark staircases in school. I painted beautiful pictures of how we would then go to her house and I would watch her remove her clothes one after the other. On the occasions I was feeling really in the mood, I would tell her how Halima would take me in her mouth real slow. Tasting the textures and feeling the corners of my dick as she gave me head. Halima had also learnt how to swallow and on the days we had quickies in dark staircases, she would just at the right time, turn and envelope me inside her wet warm mouth and draw out my fluids.

On one of such Fridays, she asked me to wait for her till closing time. She offered me my usual but I declined. I did not want to be intoxicated while I prepared Halima's Surprise party the next day. Everything was set but I still did not want to miss any details. Halima had always wanted her 22nd birthday to be grand and I wanted to deliver.

“Wetin you just dey do for your phone since eh”

"Na school work o" I lied. I knew she did not like Halima and she looked stressed already."Come help me small na, abi you no see say na only me dey shop today?" I agreed and plugged my phone to charge.  By the time she closed by 10pm instead of midnight, I was exhausted and grateful.

She invited me to her house but we went through the back. She said she did not want to wake her children up and when her husband was not around like today, she usually went through the back. I followed her in the dark as she unpacked what she brought. I listened to her move about as she told me about her family and how she never knew she would ever work in a joint again after she watched her mother do things when she owned her own joint.

I am sure she must have guessed I wasn't listening so she went quiet. After a moment, the lights came on to reveal my landlady in a thong.

”Mama.”

“Please don't call me that. Call me Lizzy. I no be your mama.”

She was always in boubous so I felt she was overweight or had so many folds. But the woman standing in front of me was stunning. Her breasts laid bare before I was still perky even after three children. Her stomach was fleshy but did not look out of place in contrast to her hips and ass. And boy did she have an ass for days. I could not help it. I stared at her as she stood in the doorway to her kitchen.

“You fit handle me?”

“Mama!”

I walked to where she stood and stared.

“You go stand dey look ni abi you go begin work?”

I buried my face in her ample bosom. She held my face to her chest while took deep breaths. She smelt of cheap cologne and firewood. Her skin felt like satin; smooth and slippery as I rolled her hands over her buttocks.

"Biko, leave that one bia rie ọtụ m". She moved to the dining table pushed to the corner of the kitchen and held her large food coolers. She removed the thong and climbed on it. The table creaked and dipped dangerously but did not give way. How was she able to arch this way?

I went to work as she ordered. How do I begin to describe how she tasted? My hands could not go round her to keep her from wiggling but I did not mind because her movements gingered me on. She tasted like spices mixed in honey with a drink of palm wine to top it off. She began to speak incoherently and I intensified what I was doing.

I climbed onto the table and said a silent prayer it will not cave in. It didn't. If her skin felt like rich satin her pussy was even richer! Her juices rushed to invite me into her perfect moulds. I dug in and did not want to pull out. I was overtaken by jinn. It was like she was sucking my spirit through my dick and with each thrust I was nearer to be enslaved. I thrust deeper, faster, wilder till I erupted and fell unto her cushion-like arse.

"Ah! You no lie oooo. See as I just dey cum anyhow ooo. Omo! You sabi fuck die!"

“Mama, I be your boy ooo”

“I no teh you make you stop dey call me mama?”

We heard a crash dowsers.

She jumped down and switched off the lights and commanded me to stay put and stay silent.

I listened as the door in the front opened and her husband walked in. His unsteady steps grew louder as he got nearer. I hoped he could not hear the pounding of my heart from where ever he was.

“You don bring another one?”

His voice was without emotion. Flat and deflated. We both remained silent. He struck a match and raised it to his lips. The yellow glow from the match stick cast an eerie glow revealing parts of his face. Not enough to show the whole face, just fragments that did not look completely human. His eyes were bloodshot and blank. He took a deep drag and the house was back in darkness except for the red glow from his cigarette.

"You tell am say you go suck him glory, make am as useless like me and all the others? Abi this one no know?" He took a few drunken steps forward but did not enter the kitchen. I held my breath and covered my now very shrunken penis. What did he mean by sucking my glory?

He staggered off and the kitchen was now completely dark.

Was that what happened to him? There was gist on the streets that she was involved in some diabolical stuff but there was nothing about her that seemed true. How could her husband know that there was a man in her kitchen who had probably fucked her and not care? His comments were more a warning to me than accusatory towards her. Was Halima right after all and my landlady had seen something in me that she wanted? Was it physical? Or was it more diabolical.?

Follow Shitoto.com to access their premium contents

Return to list of stories

Featured Stories


Leah

by eli-smooth, published 3 years, 1 month ago

The ride down the empty hill felt like a deluge. Five people cramped into an old Peugeot 504. The car jolted its way down the rough terrain and with each sharp turn, their eyes narrowed with despair.

The driver was Kelechi, a 22 year old medical student who had joined the fraternity about a month ago. His low hanging beard chiseled into his sharp jaw-line. The scar that was above his eye gave him a menacing look.

“How could this happen?” He wondered as he drove through the rickety slope. His eyes squinted a little as he swerved to avoid a goat that had moved into their path. The sudden swerve forced the engine to quake mildly and shut down.

They all moved out into the open space.

Silence lingered for a while.

“What do we do now?” Simi asked. Her dark skin glistening under the low light of orange setting sun. She was a psychology student. Brilliant but edgy; unwilling to succumb to the wild stereotypes that followed the other women in her life.

“We do nothing; we just bury the body where no one can find it” Sam whispered coldly.

Leah winced and paced the space around them, sobbing gently as she walked from side to side. She seemed the most distraught of the five. She wondered how different the day before had been and wondered if her life would ever be the same.

But it was the fifth person who seemed the most odd.

His tattoos were visible under the sleeveless shirt he had on. A nose piercing marked him out from the rest of them. He barely talked as the others encircled the empty bushes around. He just leaned on the car and peacefully disappeared into his thoughts.

“We were only supposed to scare him” Simi lamented. Her voice seemed to echo a distant regret.

“I keep asking what happened and no one wants to tell me. We were all on the same plan but as soon as I turn to take a leak, I return and find a fucking dead body on the floor. What happened while I was gone?” Kelechi asked. He seemed to be screaming at everyone else.

“Is it that important? Would you rather not have the truth be a little subdued from your conscience now?” Goni, the boy with the tattoos whispered back at Kelechi. His voice was cold, almost haunting.

“I don’t know. I didn’t sign up for this.” Kelechi confessed.

“Oh, so you think we all woke up and planned a murder and you were the only person out of the loop?” Simi asked angrily.

Kelechi looked away. His hands shaking under the weight of his deepest thoughts.

Sam chuckled slyly as he watched Leah’s wandering theatrics. He seemed calmer than he was a few minutes ago.

“The truth is right here. Whatever we say it is” Sam cuts in. The others looked at him. He nodded. They all nod back except for Goni.

“We still haven’t answered the most pertinent question though. Who poisoned the little old chap?” He asked calmly.

“Does it matter, we all know he was a dwindling, two faced monster” Leah said.

She had stopped pacing and sobbing. She seemed calmer and her big round eyes cut into her beautiful face. Sam looked at her in admiration

“We all knew that, but we also knew that the idea was to scare him and not to murder. So who amongst us had the most reasons to murder him?” Goni asked.

They all went quiet. The few seconds left between their breaths built up a reckless angst. Leah stared at each of their faces. She wondered who amongst them fits the murder type best..

Sam was a nerd.

It was odd that the frat boys loved him but underneath his queer humor and deep lingering eyes, there was no reason to suspect that he could be a killer. Leah thought. Simi was mostly indifferent; capable of the mundane but also the awe inspiring moments. Her calculative mind set her apart as the most logical of the group.

Kelechi was by matter of chance, the only one that was unavailable when they witnessed the death.

Goni was the one who seemed the most vulnerable to accusations. He had fought with the dead boy just a few minutes before the boy broke into a fit. He seemed more dangerous than anyone else and he also seemed to be nonchalant about the corpse that lay in the trunk of the car that had just stopped.

  • Simi looked at Leah from the corner of her eye. Their eyes meet and for a few seconds, they lingered on in their sanctified space. Simi felt a rush of casual emotions rushing within. She remembered their nights underneath the moon when the boys were away. She remembered every feeling and it made her question her every truth. But she also knew the other truth.

The five of them stood in an arc as the trunk was slowly being opened. The three boys straddle the body and move it towards the empty path that led one into the bushes. The rustling of the leaves just in front of them stopped them in their tracks.

A Park ranger had his gun pointed at them. The boys surrendered and raised their hands. The Ranger looked on in surprise.

“Who killed him?” He asked as he nudged the safety of the gun; turning it off.

The group stood, staring at him in silence.

“Who killed my partner?” The Ranger asked again.

This time his gun was pointed at a visibly distraught Simi.

She was overcome with fear.

“Leah, Leaaah,

She poisoned him because he raped her” Simi confessed.

The boys look back at Leah, stunned.

Leah’s face bore a look of resignation.

“Thanks so much for having my back; Lover” she said in disgust.

They boys all stood stunned. Processing both news that had crept into their ears.


Minutes of Memories

by InspiredLetters, published 3 years, 1 month ago

Screenshot_20210319-113259.png

The first thing you know is that you don't know how to run until you know how to run.

***

"Do you plead guilty?" The Judge asks, his glasses perches on the bottom of his nose.

"Do you -"

Although the ceiling fan whizzes faithfully, the room is still hot. It is still still hot.

You are held behind a dock not just by chains washing your hands and feet but by betrayal spoken in silence. Your hands, those large elements of bloody lust, gasp for the air of freedom, at least.

Anxiety is carefully sketched on the brown faces of the court.

The eyes in the room shining brighter than your future peep into your past.

***

Your anger started the day you met Mama sitting on the verandah; her wrapper had come undone, finger prints, five of them, kissed her cheeks, disheveled hair, and eyes blood red from crying. And Papa walked around like four walls with the paintings of Mama's curse words hanging on them.

"Prostitute!"

"Jobless drunk!"

Whenever they quarrelled, there was a cold war; minutes grew into hours, hours into days, days into weeks...

You know the air in your compound smells of their daily quarrells, yet you do nothing, can do nothing but run away. Away from it. It's now normal that if you see Papa saying I love you to Mama, you wonder if something is wrong, if it's a dream.

You keep on dreaming but the pain from the cuffs whisper reality into your eyes.

***

"Do you plead guilty?"

The atmosphere is now condensed like the hot thick pap Mama does for you and Ike every Saturday morning.

In nanoseconds, you could be kissing Mother Earth goodbye just from one statement of one man. One! One!

You look around, wanting to say the truth. Say it anyway!

But then you keep quiet.

***

That fateful day you were greeted by distant sounds of fighting. You know it's Mama and Papa again!

"Not again," you mumble and walk into the sitting room sluggishly.

Your sight beheld a liquid on the burgundy carpet. No, it was not water, it was blood, that sacred stream of life's mystery, Mama's blood!

"Daddy, stop, please, stop," your younger brother, Ike, screams, kept on screaming. He tugs at you to do something because the overflowing blood scares him. But you do nothing, can do nothing but run away. Away from it.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

The punches come in quick successions. Mama's body lay half-dead, half-consYou'vehalf-consYou'vehalf-consYou'vehalf-consYou've

The punches come in quick successions. Mama's body lay half-dead, half-consYou'vehalf-consYou've on the floor decorated with blood.

on the floor decorated with blood. on the floor decorated with blood.

"Daddy-"

The blood melts into thin air, into your eyes, forming a dark cloud, maybe an envelope on the canopy of your eyelids.

You can no longer take it.

So, you grab Papa by the neckcollar of his shirt but he pushes you away. Once, twice, thrice.

Your anger gets the better part of you when you forget the scissors in your hand in his neck.

Blood gushing out, Papa dies within minutes. The same minutes with which everything falls apart.

Papa is dead. Dead!

***

You know you should run. But you also know that you don't know how to run until you know how to run. Instead your feet glues to the roof of the earth and your tongue embraces silence.

Your mother's eyes, though dull with darkness, will you to run away. Still, you don't run, you don't want to run. You don't want to run but still run. Still, run!

Don't run again. The police are waiting out of your house.

"Who called them?" you kept asking.

***

Now.

You pose, one knee up, one knee down, before a congregation of rifles about to blow your dream off. An eye closed, you remember minutes of memories that you never can forget. Memories such as your younger brother calling the police against you, in fear. Memories such as the night you mixed rat poison in Mama's drinking water instead of Papa's.

You tiptoe through life into the bars of death. You are now your own fate. Can you run away from it?

#TheRun