Toto Series: Nobody Is Off Limits
If na by your argument then everybody go enter hell so make everybody getaaat!”
“Don’t take this too personal. All she is saying is that some things are off-limits and seducing a pastor is one of them.”
“What do you mean by taking things too personal? Person dey talk rubbish about my person and you are saying I should not take it too personal? So suddenly you people know some things should be off-limits but you are servicing your boss, his boss and his brother because you want promotion. Miss don’t touch my anointed here who is allowing her lecturers touch everything, shey those ones no dey off-limit na single man wey no even get babe wey I talk say I want don suddenly turn off-limits because him na pastor? Pastors no dey fuck?”
You see why I do not like living with girls ba. Them go just wake up begin find wetin no loss. We were at breakfast before Sunday service and I mentioned how I would love Pastor Michael to spread me like bread and insert his penis like Akara on a cold Sunday morning like this one so we go cum make hot pap as breakfast na im these cackling witches turn angels begin dey tell me rubbish say as I wan make pastor sin, I go get better mansion for hell complete with AC and bodyguard.
Wo! Make everybody getttaaaatt!!! and you see that pastor Mike, I must fuck am.
Ever since pastor mike resumed at Tabernacle of glories church international Guzape, three months ago; attendance had quadrupled for the 8:00am service. Service wey former pastor dey beg make people attend before, now people no dey see place siddon.
Every Sunday people trooped to church wearing their Sunday best, literally. To be fair, not everybody was there to catch a glance at him. Apart from being drop-dead gorgeous, pastor mike was on fire for the lord. One hour of listening to him felt like 10 seconds. He was charming, charismatic and knew the word of God. He was transferred from Portharcout and based on gist sha, e be like dem send am come Abuja to avoid belle scandal. I guess they figured Abuja babes eye don too tear.
My plan to seduce him was set in motion. No be those kind Nigerian feem own wey you go see person wey wan seduce pastor dey dress Mary Amaka or Delilah. No. You have to find balance. Not too sprikoko and not totally street. Balance. Working in the sales and marketing sector in Lagos opens your eyes to how to approach various clients and how to make them patronize you. If you enter places like V I, Lekki and co, na queens English get you except for those wey been grow from street wey want make you relate with them unto that level. Then when you enter Mushin, Ikorodu, Festac etc dem na area!.
For somebody like pastor Mike, it is obvious he knows he is fine and is conscious of the attention he gets. The idea is not to drown in the sea of mindless fans. During revival week, after a particularly intense session, pastor Mike called for those who wished to rededicate themselves to God to come forth to the alter. Everybody came out except me. I stayed in my seat right there at the front pew as the whole congregation were gyrating and exhibiting being filled with the spirit. He looked at me with a confused look on his face before he went to pray for those who came out. I left church before they returned to their seats.
My roommates; Mary Jegede and Mary Steven – to differentiate them we called them by their surname,- came back and said pastor Mike had mentioned something about those who could not come out in church should come for private sessions during the revival week. On a normal day, that would be my cue but you have to understand that for a man like pastor Mike, showing up eager to please won’t work. He needs to be the one to pursue you. He wants to be the one to convince you that his wooing you is God’s will.
And so, every Sunday I sat in front, interjected ride on pastor!- always ride on or Yes pastor! So that he saw me but not too much to make me too available. I always dressed demurely. Nothing too revealing, just enough of a promising suggestion. And whenever our eyes met and it now did ever so often, I’d hold it for a few seconds then drop my eyes coyly. The last week of march – six weeks after I began prepping him, Brother Matthew informed me pastor mike wanted to see me in his office on Wednesday after midweek service. I feigned innocence and asked if it was something I did wrong but Brother Matthew said he did not know why but assured me I was not in trouble.
On Wednesday I did not attend church and I did not go to his office either. My boss Tega, a mean spirited man who hated anybody around him to be happy decided that day to keep us all back to work on a campaign that according to him would revolutionize Nigeria. Working in the creative department of Nexend corp was a dream come true for me. The pay is good – a leap from what I was earning chopping shoe on the streets of Lagos, we even have healthcare and insurance packages. The only bad side and it is truly terrible is Tega, the boss. No wonder him never marry, who go wan tie herself to a narcissistic prick without human feelings? Even with him money, e get some kain cross wey no worth am.
We in the creative department were to come up with pitch ideas of four out of the nine components. Each pitch had an accompanying ad and a nationwide rollout plan. To create a seamless process those working on the project – the IT guys, Creative and Legal were booked into a hotel for the week. In as much as he was a mad man on steroids, he ensured that he provided us with the tools to make us at our best. As long as work is concerned, he would demand your last blood but give you the best.
On Saturday afternoon I got an SMS.
“You have not been to church in two weeks which is unusual. I hope you are fine?” I did not know who the message was from and I was too caught up in work to even bother finding out. The next message came on Sunday abi should I say Monday by 2am.
“Good evening sister Joy. Are you sure you are alright? You can share your burden with me so I can pray for you. Pastor Michael.”
Ah, an! pastor wants me to unburden on him by 2am. Even though I had not had close to 10 hours of sleep since we lodged and everybody was cranky and bone-tired, I still managed to do a little victory dance. This would most definitely be a nice way to release all this anger frustration and tiredness.
“Good morning Pastor Michael. Thank you for checking up on me. Work is a bit hectic that is why. I hope to be at church for Sunday service.”
“That is good to hear. See you in church. Goodnight.”
On Sunday morning we got an email instruction to cancel any church plans if we had made any. We would be adequately compensated for overtime ba bla bla. I did not have any church plans. I know I told Pastor Mike I will be in church on Sunday but as I said, men like him like to do the pursuing and even though it was work that was making me unavailable, it was working in my favour.
It would take another three weeks before we were able to present a “passable pitch” according to the boss. Shey I teh una say my boss na demon? of the Edo type sef. True to his word our salary for the two months came with a 30% bonus for each of us. The hotel bills- feeding and laundry were all paid for by the company. We also got to pick three days off.
I picked Wednesday Thursday Friday so that I could have a long weekend. It also coincided with when Jegede and Stephen would be out of town. I no wan make them pour sand for my garri. On Tuesday evening I texted pastor mike to inform him of my availability for midweek service. I arrived very early and sat at my usual place. I was putting on a flay polka dot skirt with a black turtle-neck body-con and flat shoes. As soon as he climbed the alter his eyes caught mine and he smiled broadly. He was excited to see me and even though I was bone tired I felt more than alive. I was on my feet all through service screaming ride on pastor!. At the end of service, he was swamped by the congregation before I had any chance to speak. Our eyes locked and he gave me a “Please stay” look. I was not sure tho so I picked my stuff and headed for the door. Brother Matthew caught up with me and said Pastor Mike asked to meet him in his office. “But half d church dey there na?”
“The spirit moved in a massive way today sister Joy! But pastor Michael said what he needs to talk to you is very important.”.
I followed silently and was soon swallowed by the sea of people waiting to be blessed by Pastor Mike. I wondered if I was the only one with my specific kind of blessing in mind? Surely with these many fine women who looked less than pleased at the number of people here, we plenty wey need wiping.
I sat at the back playing candy crush. When that did not help I watched funny videos on Instagram. By 9:00pm two hours after service had ended I was asked into the office. He dismissed Brother Matthew and told him it was fine to go home. He would lock up and drive me home. Brother Matthew did not object and if he felt somehow leaving both of us alone together he did not show it.
We sat in silence. He was on his phone typing seriously while I looked at his sanctuary. I had never been inside a Pastor’s office and so did not expect the affluence. This office could easily pass for a governor’s office. It was large with buttoned gold embroidered grey settees. There was an entertainment corner at the large glass windows. A black coffee table with a matching cabinet full of assorted biscuits and teas. There was also a refrigerator I assume had more than juice stashed in. The carpet was a thick grey that matched the chairs and curtains. His desk was a large imposing black thing that seemed to rise and fill the room. It was surprisingly empty. When I entered was there not a computer and files? Where was Pastor Mike? The click at the door answered my question. Before I knew what was happening I was lifted to the desk.
“Pastor Mike” I exclaimed breathlessly.
What was happening? This was going way faster than I had ever imagined. his belt was undone and he placed my hand on his dick. I gasped at the feel. There was a zap of current that crossed from his penis through my hand and nestled deep inside me. I held on to it like it was my anchor. My head felt light and the office began to move in sync with my hands over his fully erect penis. His movements were efficient and fluid.
I was spread on his desk, my panties sodden at my ankles. My breasts were still covered by the body con but freed from the straps of my bra. The sensation of his hands over my erect nipples through the fabric, while his lips and tongue teased my neck and earlobe was beyond what I could contain. His lips replaced his hands while he dug one then two fingers inside me.
I gasped and moaned and shivered at once. I was plagued by too many sensations. He positioned his crown at the mouth of my woman sending blinding fire through me. How can one man be able to draw such forbidden responses from me? Then he stood back and looked into my eyes and spoke to me for the first time since I entered his office.
“You belong to me” and with that, he slithered in. A venomous rattlesnake summoning something dark and unexplored, deep inside my woman.
His mouth snatched the deep growl from coming out. There was nothing delicate or even honourable about how he fucked me. It was unbelievably intense. As intense as any fuck could be. And it was over. Just like that. I was breathless and o so unsatisfied.
He moved out of me to fix himself and I fell to the ground on all fours, sinking into his thick grey carpet. I stayed there unable to connect my limbs to my brain. What was that? I had come here expecting him to flirt with me but still maintain some flair of “being a concerned church leader” Instead I got spread like hot bread just like I wanted. Who am I kidding? this was way beyond anything I had imagined or experienced.
“Maybe next time I would take you from the back just like that”
I was on the floor still unable to move, but he was back behind his desk with an uninterrupted view of my bum. I shook my head as if that movement would somehow gather my scattered thoughts and bring some coordination.
“We would need more time”
I couldn’t move yet my mind was wanting more time? Was it my mind or my still throbbing pussy? I finally got up smothered down my skirt and sat gingerly on the couch.
I could not sleep. I could not eat. I could not function for weeks since that evening at Pastor Mike’s office. There was an intense itch that had come alive in me and only he could scratch it. I may be possessed because I no dey use eye see man again. Be like everybody don turn to wood. Yet he was not available. He was at a pastor’s conference in Lagos and after the conference, he would be heading out to Georgia. As I said, he was on fire for the Lord and in high demand.
My plan on coming to Abuja was to work hard, save enough money to rent my own place so Peace – my younger sister would join me. As the firstborn to a widowed mother, most of the responsibilities of my four younger siblings were on me. That plan had taking longer than expected. Living in this Abuja get as e be. Things dey cost anyhow and since Pastor Mike come, I know how much I don spend on cloth and make-up and perfume. I never add wigs and shoe money.
The evening before he flew to Georgia he called me and we spoke. This was the first time we spoke like really spoke. I tell am the way mumsi face fire after her husband die. The only thing our papa people no collect na her job because even our clothes dem collect am all. I dey Unilag 300 level when e happen. Na aunty Linda; our mama younger sister carry us make we stay with her while our mama find small face me I face you. Peace was in ss1 and dropped out to join my aunty to sell okirika in Balogun market while my mama become petty trader join am with her teaching job take pay my younger siblings their school fees.
If I wanted to stay in school, I was on my own. I started making hair and nails between lectures. I also wrote assignments, tests and sometimes exams for money. During holidays I dey hustle anything wey I fit to get. I don do Usher job, sales girl for boutique, receptionist work before I get marketing and sales job for one big company wey dey sell organic supplements. I do that work on the low make my aunty no know. Na so I begin send my mumsi small small change so that she go fit leave the petty trading. It was at a prospective client’s place that I overheard them talking about a new company recruiting.
The next week I was in their Ikeja office. The recruiter said I fit what they wanted but there was nothing she could do since I was still a student. Even if it was my final year. I began visiting the office every day Monday to Friday until she took pity on me and gave me an internship position. It was very demanding but by now I had gotten used to the madness of Lagos and was able to pull off my sales job, school and the internship. After my last paper, still wet from the celebrations I went to the office to inform Margaret – my godmother, that I was free! two months later I was sent to Abuja to be a part of the new branch.
A month later I went to NYSC camp and Margaret ensured I was posted to work there. The only corp member with that privilege. He listened intently as I rambled on about my family problems and how one moment life was good and the next moment it had become a living nightmare.
“Now that you belong to me you would never lack anything.”
The way he said it made my scalp tickle. It was both a promise and a threat. I was not sure how to react so I stayed silent.
“I have to go now. Send me your account details. And Joy… be ready for my return.”
He did not wait for a response before cutting the call. The tingle in my pussy was back with roaring force. There was a gaping hole between my legs and I was running mad with desire. I lay awake in bed creating scenes of us together. He said he would take me from the back the next time. My ass jutted at the thought. My body as if possessed arched to give a silent lover access. For the first time in all my life, I touched myself.
I rubbed my vagina walls with the flat of my palms in an up and down then circular motion and imagined it was him there. I removed my nighty and wore the body-con turtleneck I wore that Wednesday night. I touched my breasts and squeezed my nipple between my thumb and middle finger recreating the sensations of that night. I lay on my back and spread my legs wide so that he would fit in. I inserted one finger then another and began moving with what I hoped was the same precision and force with which he fucked me on his office desk.
I licked my fingers to lubricate them before putting them back inside me. The taste of my woman together with the sensations from my breasts pushed me forward. By the time my breathing slowed, I got an alert of 3 million naira from Michael K Damini. His message dropped by 5;00am. “send some to your mum then begin a search for a comfortable place.”
3 million naira? Just like that? The highest money I don receive at once na 250k from one aristo I been meet for Lagos. Na him I been dey use keep body and soul together that year. 3 million naira just like that? And from person wey na fuck carry me? God dey answer prayers mysteriously sha.
On Monday morning I called my mum and told her I was sending her some money. Na beg I carry join make she no fear. I teh am say no be thief I thief am. I tell am say make she use am wisely and by God’s grace I go soon fit to carry Peace make she join me for Abuja. During my lunch break, I went to the bank and sent 1 million naira to her then switched off my phone. Make she calm down fess. I go call am for evening. Back at the office, I was informed that Tega wanted to see me in his office and that he was pissed. I walked to his office and kicked myself mentally. Shey I for no allow my mama make she pray for me cast every evil eye wey wan look my side. He was on his way out when I climbed the third floor.
“Good afternoon sir. You sent for me.”
“ I am off to the airport now. Remind me when I get back on Friday.”
I stood and watched him leave. This was the first time I was this close to him. The first time we had exchanged words not via email. In my two and a half years of working in Abuja, He never mingled with staff. He was always traveling and the few times he was in the office everybody knew better than to be visible. And so far I had succeeded. So what now? What did I do to warrant him inviting me to his office and pissed for that matter? God help me. Just when it looks like my troubles are over then this??
Toto Series: Undiluted Worship Pt. 2
by Shitoto.com, published 1 year, 1 month 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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Toto Series: Vibes and Insha Allah
by Shitoto.com, published 1 year, 2 months 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?