Emperortj93:
Nice one op, keep the update coming
cc
toykathy
titigold
sholyzee
psalmwise
harjibolar1
ishilove
bouye1
mynd44
larrysun

thz bro, am here

Thank you to everyone who has read and/or commented on my story.
emperortj93
sholyzee
bouye1
toykathy
tomtoxic
shalommeri
Starting from the month of September, I will try to post once a week. I'll appreciate more comments on my story, like I said at the beginning, it's my first story, and I'm desirous to know what my readers think about it.
Thank you once more

September in a bit.....





#cantWait

CHAPTER FIVE
Omosede nattered on. She was a typical Benin girl, all the polishing her designer clothes gave her, couldn't take out the rascality from her blood.
'My blood dey hot' was her motto.
Oluchi always wondered how her best friend, who was born rich and pampered, had been to all the nice cities in the world, spoke fluent French and was thinking of getting into an Ivy League college, could be so crass.
Omosede who was wont to dress like it was her last day, had on a white, finely cut trouser suit that Oluchi was sure she'd seen in an American music video. She wore no inner, and her cleavage was delicately exposed.
It is Chanel, Omosede had said when she complimented her suit.
But after so many glances from people, Oluchi was thinking Omosede should have worn something else.
They were in the cosmetics section of Phil Hallmark, and Omosede loud voice shook the racks where the beautifying item were displayed.
"You can't find anything in this city," Omosede was saying, "not even common eye shadow, they want me to be looking like those market women in Oliha."
"Haba Sede, but see the eye shadow now, are they not all the same?"
Omosede looked at Oluchi as though she had lost her senses.
"That Shoprite they said they were building, why have they not started the foundation? Is it not because that monkey sat on the whole thing?"
Oluchi, seeing that Omosede was not about to stop, tried to distract her, "where's Nnedi?"

"Your sister just disappeared again abi, are you sure she doesn't have a guy she is arranging to meet, I mean anytime she follows us," Sede swallowed and continued, " she would disappear only to come back later."
Oluchi sighed, "maybe it's because you talk embarrassingly too loud, Nnedi hates it."
"Park well o, na una get my mouth," she hissed searching for the expiring date of a bottle of moisturiser. "That's how they fenced that Shoprite site, giving us the impression that they were building it, but when that stormy rain came and the zinc fence fell, we saw that they've not even started foundation," she dropped the moisturiser into her cart, "that monkey wants bribe, and Shoprite will not give him, we are the ones who suffer it."
"You don't know that for sure Sede," Oluchi said wearily, "and stop shouting."
Oluchi hoped the shoppers would think Omosede was older than her nineteen years, and forgive her her noisiness.
Oluchi wondered where Nnedi could have gone, her disappearing acts were getting annoying. Silly Sede, thinking Nnedi could be seeing a guy, Nnedi hated boys as all female fifteen yearolds should, but Nnedi was not the usual fifteen yearold, she was almost done with secondary school, was too brilliant, too mature. Noone could guess her age from looking or talking to her, she was almost Oluchi's twin.
"So how is beau?"
Oluchi smiled, that natural reflex smile of happiness.
"He's fine."

Lanre had confessed to her that he had pretended he was dating her from the moment he set eyes on her.
"I used to tell my friends I was dating you when we were just friends," he had said.
She'd laughed and he had said he knew it was a silly thing to do but he couldn't help wishing so. She had disagreed in her mind, somewhere along the line of friendship, she had pretended too, she hadn't told her friends though, but she had pretended. And it hadn't been silly.
"Lovey dovey" Sede snapped her fingers, "back to earth please."
Oluchi smiled again, this time from embarrassment.
Sede looked amused, "omg, you are in love, I really should meet this guy o."
"What of...emm," Oluchi had lost track of Omosede's main boyfriend And co.
"Bassey? He's well o."
"Was it Bassey?" Oluchi asked, she would remember the name 'Bassey' anyday, because of 'Mr Bassey' from her primary school Macmillan English reader.
"Oh, you must mean Fred, I broke up with him, he is a fool."
"Haba Sede, and And co?" Oluchi laughed, making a quoting sign as she said 'and co'.
"Oh my side blokes, dem de."
"Hmm Sede, after you na you o."
"Before nko."
Oluchi looked around, "where's this girl?" bringing out her Iphone from her jeans pocket, she searched for Nnedi's number.
"I'm done here, so call her to come now now now. We'll go to Exclusive next, then if you are not too tired we'll meet Bassey at GT in Ekenwan Road."
"Sede take it easy o, what do you tell your parents sef?"

"My dad is too busy making money, my mum's own is church, you know she's a deaconess and besides I'm not doing anything bad."
"Where you for spoil like this?" Oluchi joked.
"Like I always say, I'm keeping it real, I don't have time for forming forming, and I don't take money from my bf's if that is what you are thinking."
"Guilty conscious, who said anything about that now?"
Omosede was about to reply, when they saw Nnedi coming, her steps were fast, her gait boyish and as always, bold.
Nnedi was nothing like Oluchi really, they were the same height, looked the same age, and shared the same surname, but that was about all the similarity they had.
Nnedi had their late mother's dark complexion, almost like well made amala, wide eyes and full lips. She had her father's confidence, strength and will and their elder brother's determined mind and rigidity. Nnedi was the beautiful one, her mother come back.
She bounced towards them, her eyes,which were usually clouded with teenage mystery, were excited.
"Where have you been?" Omosede barked at her, playing the elder sister for Oluchi.
"You guys," Nnedi voice was calm and sonorous, her body however betrayed it with an enthusiastic shake, "Oluchi, you won't believe who I ran into a little while ago,"
"Who?" Oluchi and Omosede asked simultaneously, and Oluchi awkwardly thought of jinx.
"Richard, Richard Obawonyi," Nnedi screamed.

So out of character was it that Oluchi pinched herself, her sister screaming and jumping, her adolescence clearly shone by her bright smile, didn't quite make sense.
But that was before the name registered in Oluchi's mind, and when it did, her vision blurred and dimmed at the edges, and Oluchi feared she was going to faint. She wanted to run the full length of the aisles and scream. She searched her sister's face. It wasn't a cruel joke, it was true.
Images of her twelve yearold childish scrawl came to her mind.
/I love richard./
Richard was her first love. Richard was the beginning. Richard was her maturer. Richard was kind. Richard was strong. Richard was handsome. Richard was here.

Sholyzee:
September in a bit.....





#cantWait

A little something for the end of August.

Expect another post within the week, like I said, once a week in September. Readers don't read alone, tell me what you think.

come talk about lanre jhur

CHAPTER SIX
Seven years ago
Igbinedion Education Centre
Come here, the fat senior said to a timid Oluchi. She walked towards him and his tall friend. The tall one had a perpetual sneer on his face, she'd seen him around. They were both bullies.
Oluchi shifted her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and adjusted her navy blue blazers and milk straw hat, anything to delay going near the bullies.
"What's your name?" the fat one questioned, his tummy wrestling for space with that part of his blazers, he was a heavy breather and his face was babylike, swollen from unhealthy fat.
"My, my name," Oluchi breathed hard, "Oluchi Okafor."
"Oluchi Okafor," the tall one mimicked, feigning a childish voice, that Oluchi thought, did not sound like hers.
It was break-time, not used to the rich kids' cliques, Oluchi had gone out to break alone. She didn't understand the whole idea of belonging, of others circling a particular richer kid during break in the name of coterie.
They looked at her with a pinning reproachful stare, then the fat one said, "get me four meatpies, two doughnuts and two La Casera, one Orbit and a packet of chin chin from the cafeteria," he handed her five two hundred naira notes.
Oluchi was flummoxed, she wasn't a sharp person, didn't really know maths and wasn't sure the cafeteria people would sell to a junior student with so much money. She wasn't suppose to carry more than #500 on her person, school policy. She pointed this out to the seniors.
"Tell them it was a senior that sent you, if you lose the money, you'll use your own," the fat one shrugged, "now go!" he shouted, clearly irritated. But Oluchi didn't go, she stood on the spot, defying them with her pose, as well as her gaze, that was darefully on them.
The fat one seemed afraid, "I said go."
"No, I won't because I don't want to," she said half screaming angrily, "I hate bullies."
Senior Fat suddenly looked overpowered, subdued. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it.
"If I close and open my eyes and your big head is still here..." It was the tall senior. There was a vicious glare in his eyes that made Oluchi run, made her throw the money on the ground.
Nightmarishly, the seniors pursued her and caught her in one leap. The tall one raised his hand to hit her.
"Stop right there," a rich, mildly accented baritone voice uttered, "release her." The voice was nearer and hands freed her. She didn't look at whom had spoken, her back was turned to the voice, she faced her two assailants who looked petered now.
"What is going on here?" the voice said.
"Sorry, senior, this girl refused to go on an errand I sent her, she insulted me." It was the fat one's voice.
"You're well aware sending junior student personal errands is against school policy," her saviour's voice rang with rebuke, "and the way you were going about equals to bullying. Go report your to the VP." He said this with finality, and the bullying seniors hurried away.
"What's your name?" the voice was softer. Oluchi knew it was referring to her, but she didn't turn.
"Oluchi Okafor sir."
Oluchi heard his footfalls, and soft hands raised her head. In front of her was a god, made even more godlike by the sun behind him.
His face was the handsomest, it was even beautiful, face she'd ever seen. His skin, the colour of akamu and tin milk topped with sugar, shamed her meatpie complexion. His nose, aquiline. His lips, pink and thin. His hair full, black and curly. But it was his eyes that arrested her, how could something so dark and black have so much warmth? Warmth that heated things in her she didn't know could be heated before.
"Oluchi, what are you doing all alone, don't you have friends?"
She'd never heard her name like that, it made her unearthly, heavenly like him, "no."
"I'm Senior Richard, do you want to be my friend?"
* * * * * * * * *
The Present
It was either the yellow Dior or the black lacy Chanel, nothing else. They lay on Oluchi's bed, she sat beside them, indecision having befallen her.
"Choose the lacy Chanel," her cousin, Dika adviced. Onyedikaghi was the only relative her dad did not think was a witch, and allowed to live with them. She was at Ekpoma, and was back home to collect more blocking money for her lecturers. Dika often said, 'if you don't block at Ambrose Alli University, it will block you'.
"The yellow dress looks like something pregnant women wear, the black one is sophisticated."

Richard had invited Nnedi and her to dinner at Uyi Grand. She'd been disappointed Richard had invited her sister too, but she reasoned he must have invited her out of politeness, after all, it was Nnedi he saw at the mall. Nnedi had told him, when he asked about Oluchi ,that she was at home. He would have rushed to the cosmetics section, if he knew she had been that close.
"I'll wear the yellow one," Oluchi resolved, "it's more comfortable, something I'ld need."
Dika looked like she was going to argue, but shrugged instead, as if to say it wasn't her business.
"So you said, he's halfcaste and your childhood crush."
"Childhood crush? It's more than that, he was my first love."
* * * * * * * * *
The table was for three, the menu, promising and the wine was worth its expensiveness. The drapes of the restuarant were black cotton complemented with organza stoles, giving the eatery a foreigness, an otherness.
"This place is it," Nnedi wore a decolette LBD, that made Oluchi wish she'd worn that black gown. " Daddy is so sacking those decor people."
Richard chuckled. 'Wow' he had exclaimed when he'd seen Oluchi, and the evening had taken a whole new lustre for her.
Yet since they'd found a table and ordered dinner, he'd only glanced at her, once.
They, Richard and Nnedi, had kept chattering like they knew each other, Nnedi had been only nine then, how could she even remember him.
Oluchi was glad when the food came, she wished the evening would just speed up.
They were talking about football now, and Richard smiled and kept smiling. His smile was unchanged, his face, except for a stubble, still looked the same, and his complexion was the lightest a black man's skin could ever get naturally.
But his eyes were different, when he'd looked at her and said "wow", they had seem tentative and something else Oluchi couldn't pinpoint.
The food was delicious: fried rice with roast chicken and salad, and delicious sauce on the house.
"I mean Uyi Grand comes close to perfect, especially its restuarant service," Richard was saying, his accent thicker, "where else can someone find exotic wines like Rigatoni con Broccolo, Dolcetto D'alba or, or Chateau Carbonnieux."
"Hmmm, you should try my father's chain of hotels. Regent Royal is really excellent," Oluchi said, wanting desperately to join the conversation.
Richard seemed surprised, or was it irritation she saw in his eyes? "of course. I will."
Nnedi excused herself and headed the direction of the lavatory.
"Fascinating isn't it? She's so grown up, little Nnedi," he said, acting familiar, "I missed you Oluchi, how has life been?"
The effect of his calling her name had not changed at all, it still made her full.
"It has been... good, although you stopped writing and not to mention the way you left, I've been well."
Then her phone beeped, she looked at the caller, it was Lanre. She'd wanted to excuse herself and answer it, but she cut the call instead.
Richard watched her movements, and as if on cue asked, "are you seeing anyone, is there someone in your life?"
Oluchi pretended she didn't hear him, her glass of Dolcetto D'alba in her mouth.
And so, he repeated himself, his lips were moving slowly, his face was earnest and fearful.
"Do you have a boyfriend?"
Oluchi saw her sister coming. Nnedi looked elegant, her body shapely and ripe. She'd wanted to say: yes, Lanre. But she said no instead.
* * * * * * * * *
The morning was lucent with unshared happiness and hummings. Nnedi snuggled the pillow, her Chelsea FC blanket over her body. Mornings like this, she'ld daydream about something till someone dragged out of bed.
That someone this blessed morning appeared to be Dika.
"There's a demi-god by our front door waiting to see you," Dika's voice filled with energy and faint humour.
"Richard?"
"I think that's the name."
"Where's Oluchi?"
"She is out already with a friend."
"Oh."
Nnedi hurriedly descended the stairs, and tore open, the front door.
Standing there, was a bespectacled Richard, in jeans .
"Hi, good morning," Nnedi said.
"Hi."
"Sorry, didn't my cousin tell you, Oluchi's not at home."
"Oh, I came to see you, not her."

what's wrong with d Richard guy na coming to spoil better tin

like oliver twist ah nid some more#waiting for next week

Tomtoxic:
like oliver twist ah nid some more#waiting for next week

Thanks, I will not disappoint

CHAPTER SEVEN
All governmental buildings in Benin City, except Government House, of course, and Police headquarter, were blackened and rotting and had the atmospheric air of neglect. Same could be said for the uninhabited mansions in GRA dotting the otherwise salubrious environment. Lanre called it real GRA; Commercial Avenue and environ streets were the real GRA while Etete and those GRA streets, where houses were fenced so that passers-by couldn't even see the roofs; where there was abiding silence and birds chirped and chirped like it was a graveyard, were just extensions, second-thoughts to pacify those Big Men who wanted to live in the GRA.
Oluchi stood in front of one such uninhabited mansions, its white paint having peeled and creased, its decay as prominent as its big greasy black gates. She was sure it had been inhabited by white people in the early 19th century.
Where are you, she muttered.
Just then, a stone fell by her feet, and she squinted to see Lanre beckoning her to come to a part of the fence that had given out and collapsed.
He helped her climb the crumbled bricks, and gently carried her from the fence, landing her feet safely on the grass.
"You didn't need to carry me, I could have jumped down," she said, although she enjoyed it.
The white mansion, which looked English and quaint, could have once been an ambitious manor for its surroundings took acres and acres of precious GRA land. A part of its roof had sunk into it, and most of the windows had been taken out, presumably by thieving fellows at first, then the owners later as a preemptive measure. The blackened white facade looked like a white and black camouflage. Even the surrounding trees had decayed barks with moss all over them.
"We'll have a picnic there," Lanre pointed at a gazebo, where the white family must have had musical nights.
"Lanre, what if people see us and call the police, we are so going to jail for trespassing." Oluchi saw The Observer's headline: Teenage Couple Arrested for Trespassing a Deserted GRA House, with a subheadline: they were having picnic.
"Relax, no one will, I've checked this place before, and besides, no one expects sane people to come here," Lanre said, his voice raised as if to prove a point, "have I told you, we're so insane."
Oluchi chuckled and said nothing, Lanre was happy but guilt about the night with Richard, when she had said no, to the 'do you have a boyfriend' question, ate her up.
"Look I bought meatpies and ice cream, like I knew your whole secret picnic plan, your excited voice on phone was a complete give-away," she was trying hard at being jovial.
If Lanre noticed anything, he didn't show it. They sat on a red and white check wrapper, Lanre had spread on the floor, near greenish puddles and a pew-like chair which termites had eaten away at.
Oluchi looked at the film of dust on almost everything in the gazebo, the low-hanging ceiling fan with the webs of many species of spider woven around it. The slime literally crawling at their feet, the maggots festering on the offals of something long dead and decayed.
She heard her voice before she knew she was speaking, "Lanre, I can't eat here." She'd wanted to say, we can't eat here, to include him, why had she not? She felt guilt anew, he must have been manic in his preparation to even notice anything. She should have eaten in silent blindness and respected his devotion.
She looked up at him and was all at once preplexed, shocked and surprised, he was smiling and her confused look made him bubble over and explode with laughter.
"Of course, we can't eat here, I was only testing you," he said after quieting himself enough to be comprehendible, "you should have seen your face, God, it was pricelessly adorable."
Oluchi hit him with her two hands and all her might, flushed with embarrassment, while he tried to catch her hands. She knew she'ld never forget that moment, those words; pricelessly adorable.
"You are a stupid boy, shey you know?" She was smiling, joyous tears filling her eyes, she'd not suspected.
"I love you, shey you know?" He retorted and she smiled some more, for a moment, forgetting her guilt.
They sat in the open field by the front of the mansion, eating her meatpies and ice cream and his hot jollof rice, he said -but Oluchi didn't believe- he had cooked himself. It had been a choice between the open field or the glade-like space between many trees at the back of the house.
Oluchi had preferred the open field, risking being seen by passers-by -they weren't many passers-by anyway. At least, there were no rotten things to steal her appetite.
Lanre played soft blues from his new iphone while Oluchi teased him about how his money had come.
"It really is my mum's," he said about the phone, "her brother bought it for her, but she couldn't understand it and said she preferred her Nokia, I had hinted about how bad my BB was getting, and she said I could use it for the time being."
"Now we are on the same level, abi," Oluchi teased, "I hope you'll not leave me for a finer sisi." And she saw the whole irony in what she had said.
"No, and mine is an iphone 6, yours, an iphone 5, I'm on top of you," he pointed out jocosely.
"Oh, I hate to change versions that's why, I'm kind of afraid of change, I love my familiarity with my iphone, I don't want to change it, it's a phobia."
"Oh yeah, metathesiophobia."
"Yeah, smart alec," she smiled, "so are you changing your institution? It's still Uniben right? I mean you scored high in JAMB, all you need for Post UME is a few marks, no need to change institution."
"Yeah, 290 nor be joke o," Lanre wanted to tell her he wasn't sure he was taking the Post UME of any Nigerian school, "yeah, it's still Uniben," he bowed his head, so she would not see the sadness beclouding his face.
"We would rent a house and live together, and when your parents come to visit, I'll hide in the wardrobe, but don't worry, you'll not need to, my dad will never visit."
"Of course, he will," Lanre said, the words almost choking him. God, how would he tell her, "I wrote you a poem," he said, derailing the conversation.
"Really? How romantic," she intoned stageyly, clasping her hands, smiling, "lets hear it."
"Okay, it's titled A Gentle Man's Promise, Lanre said beaming and read aloud:
When the rains should decide
to come in cats and dogs, in deluge,
I shall be there with my brolly.
I shall cover you from its miaows and barks
and furl not til ceases.

I shall sweep you off your feet
and carry you through mire and murky
To my home where I shall put you
on a throne of gold and purple velvet.
Your feet cushioned in matching hassock.

I shall bestow you with gifts and my service
Where no man had thought to kiss you,
In that place, shall I, if you permit.
I shall put in your tongue praises for me
And bring out sounds from you,
You didn't fancy existed.

I shall take you to papa and mama
This is who I love, I shall say
To pastor and church
And before God, I shall say I do
We shall become one.

It shall be we against the world
We bearing off springs
We building together a family.

Time shall count away
and senility greet us
We shall have conquered the world
and decide to conquer hereafter next.
We shall leave together.

But even as we leave
My promise shall be as potent
As when I first uttered it.

"OMG!" Oluchi squeaked, you wrote this for me all by yourself?" She snatched the paper from a beaming Lanre, "can I keep it, it's beautiful."
* * * * * * * * *
Nnedi, having taken permission from Dika, sat in the soft leather seat beside Richard in his Lexus. Olamide's stylish yoruba raved through the speakers. Nnedi had literally thrown the Westlife CD plate, that had been playing when she got into the car, out the window.
Momentarily, she raked through his panoply of CDs.
"Bez, Praiz, Asa, Omawunmi, Timi Dakolo, more Westlife, Phil Collins? Avicii? Backstreet Boys? The Cranberries?" Nnedi raised her voice comically as she mentioned the artists, "What are you? I mean, no Phyno, no Illbliss, no Mavin, no Wizkid, no Davido, thank God you have Olamide o."
Richard laughed, and it reminded Nnedi of crunching plantain chips, "It is by accident I even got this one, one hawker literally shoved the thing into my car during traffic, I looked at it, and on the cover, this guy was in a Greek costume, his hands away from his body," Richard said this as though it was a revelation, "eyes looking up, I decided I'll buy it. Olamide."
"You decided right o,"Nnedi said, still looking at his CDs, "you don't even have Erigga? Ah guy."
"Who's Erigga?"
"One raw guy like that, he's very good sha."
"You know all my years schooling in Britain, the only artist I listened to was Fela." Richard intersected into a dirt road. They were heading to Stadium Road, "now that I'm back home, I can't even find Fela to buy."
"I'm not into those posthumous things sha but I hear he's good, but to me sha, he is just talking with beats, I know saying this must be a sacrilege." Nnedi laughed.
"Yeah, he was talking, but it was what he was saying, the protestations, the truth, I think contemporary artists should emulate him, Fela was a music genre himself, he was a movement."
"They are emulating him o, this Wizkid guy, but what's going on now is if he actually wore pant on stage," Nnedi guffawed, her teenage laugh ringing all the corners of the car, and Richard smiled, "his son said he didn't, everyone else seems to think he did."
"I think he did, but now that you mention it, maybe he didn't, I can't remember, but the dude used to smoke, so he could have done things, it doesn't really matter."
Soon, they were packed in front of a sport shop and were selecting jerseys. Nnedi had agreed to a one-on-one match with Richard.
"I'll take the black Chelsea jersey," Nnedi said to the salesgirl.
"Do you wear anything except black?" Richard asked, looking at Nnedi's turned up black polo and blacker jeans, feigning a suspicious face that made Nnedi laugh because he was all the more adorable.
"I don't, actually, no other colour seems to fit me."
"Hmm, you should try navy blue or grey and ash-colour, anything a little away from black."
"Okay, I'll consider your advice, but don't expect pink from me, ain't into girly stuff."
"Yeah, you act boyish, I mean like a tomboy."
"But that's where it ends," Nnedi said, taking her wrapped jersey from the salesgirl, Richard bought a red Arsenal jersey for himself, "I'm not that kind of person, if that's what you're thinking."
"No, I wasn't thinking that, it would have been a waste, all that," he said, tracing her figure in the air, he liked that she'd said that.
Richard requested for football boots too, and Nnedi felt as though he was shopping for their wedding.
They played football in a small part of the astro turf field at the Sam Ogbemudia. Between fat exercising women and jogging old men. Richard tackled hard, dribbled fast and for minutes Nnedi's foot did not touch the ball.
"Kai, you are very wicked o, don't you know I'm a girl," Nnedi said between pacing and catching her breath.
"Oh oh, you're playing the I'm-a-girl card now abi, when you were boasting that you'll so dribble me, I'll fall on my behind, you didn't know you were a girl."
"It's enough sef, I'm tired."
"We've only been here for twenty minutes."
"Ah, that long, wow, I have endurance o."
They sat on the field, watching a particular fat woman, who seemed more interested in the ripped chest muscles of the instructor, than her aerobics routine.
"We should go, I didn't tell Dika, I'll stay this long."
As they drove back to Nnedi's, Richard bought all the CDs she'd recommended.
* * * * * * * *
He leaned and kissed her, gently at firstly as he bent over the picnic basket. Soft kisses that were really just their lips brushing. Then she had an idea, and scooped ice cream unto her tongue, gesturing for him to taste her tongue-flavoured ice cream. Then he leaped pushing the picnic basket absentmindedly, spoons and flask falling into the wet green grass, and tasted her tongue. Like vanilla, strawberry, chocolate and pineapple flavours, he would remark later.
He nibbled at her neck, touching it with his tongue and biting it, and her mind melted away. How had he known she like to be touched there. Presently, they were French kissing, and an exhausted Oluchi ran her hand over Lanre's hair, and she oddly thought of curly hair, like the one Richard had. Lanre didn't have curly hair, at least not the one she thought of, his was thick and tightly curled in a kink, not soft and greasy.
"Lanre, stop," Oluchi whispered. This wasn't right but Lanre continued, his hands everywhere, all over her body. Oluchi could feel his boner bulging near the crotch of his jeans trousers. "Stop," she screamed.
The nibbling, and the snogging, and the touching and the feeling stopped at once. Lanre, breathing hard, looked questioningly at her.
Oluchi straightened her rumpled polo, and glanced at the check wrapper that now lay askew on the grass beside them, they'd rolled over a few times. She was glad she hadn't worn white but a black polo and dark blue jeans instead.
"We were going too fast," she finally said.
Lanre gave her a knowing look and for a moment; Oluchi feared he actually knew why she'd stopped him.
"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"
"No, I'm fine," she stood up and went over to where the basket sat, deserted. With acuity, she folded the wrapper and arranged the cutleries. Lanre saw a finality in her movements.
"Baby," he said, startling her, he sounded strange, like another person, maybe because he never called her that, or was it his tone; the forcefulness of the syllables?
"Yes?"
"Is something wrong?" his voice took on a rich timbre, rumbling with sincere worry.
It was the question she had been dreading since she agreed to meet him. "No," she said unconvincingly, or so it sounded to her.
"You know what," he said, his excitement puerile and sudden, "lets climb that tree," he was already running to a sturdy looking tree. She saw his strong long legs, hit the grass, bounce into the air and repeat the process. Oluchi heaved and pursued.
They were on the tree momentarily, sitting on its bough, but the view wasn't much. It was after all only a few feet from the ground.
"I've never climbed a tree in my life before," she was saying, her chest heaving from the whole exercise.
"Oh, you should do it once in a while," Lanre smile widened and his dimples deepened.
Then the magic moment came, a gentle breeze whooshed through, picking her hair extension into her eyes so that she had to pull them away from her eyes, the leaves rustled and they looked each other with expectation filling them. Oluchi knew it was the right moment to kiss, Lanre knew it was the magic moment too, what Hollywood romances were made of. They leaned toward each other, slowly shutting their eyes for a true kiss, when Oluchi's iphone beeped and vibrated.
Oluchi coughed, letting a pouting, besotted, Lanre know that the moment was gone."I have to answer this," she said; it was Richard.
"I came by your house, but you were not around, where did you go?" His rich baritone nearer on phone.
"School, lectures," Oluchi stuttered as Lanre looked on.
"Oh, I forgot, of course," Richard said, pausing ever so often,"can we talk? Meet? Tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow's a Sunday," Oluchi said, Lanre was slapping a mosquito off her arm, his face contorted and intent in devotion.
"I know," I'll meet you at Holy Cross, my church, at eight, you know it right?"
"Yeah, the one along New Benin right?"
"Yeah, yeah," he said, almost hanging up, a hiatus, then he added, "and don't tell anybody, I mean, we wouldn't want people, say your dad or sister, thinking we are meeting up to do something bad," he intented it to be funny.
"I'm not a kid, sir," Oluchi said 'sir' more for Lanre, who was listening. "Okay, see you , love you."
"Okay, yeah ," and she continued talking, even after he hung up, to delay the questions.
Lanre asked only one though, "who was that?"
"An old schoolmate, a senior then," she said offhandedly, too offhandedly.
"Okay, lets go home."
* * * * * * * * * *

The story is said of how the friendship bond of Senior Richard and little Oluchi grew strong. No one could touch her and go scot-free. Every breaktime, they were to be seen together, father and daughter.
One day, Senior Richard beat up a junior student who had pulled Oluchi's hair. It is said that the junior fainted and the school authority, shocked at the unbecomingness of their Head Boy, were left with no other choice but to debadge him. Senior Richard could have been expelled too, for it was a grave offence, but that it was his final year and he had enrolled the SSCE.
He hadn't cared though, he was going to hand over anyway, and had only a term left, for that matter.
Senior Richard therefore left Igbinedion Education Centre, a disgraced fellow because of the meek, shy Oluchi.

CHAPTER EIGHT
On Sunday, Lanre went to church. It may have been because he felt guilty for the 'sins' of the previous day with Oluchi or simply that he wanted to display the new clothes his uncle bought him, which ever reason, he was in church after so many weeks of fighting shy of it.
The auditorium was a white mass of solid columns, exquisite blue carpeted alter, marmoreal tiling, an overflow section and a gallery. Projectors hung just everywhere and the low-hanging ceiling-fans had been replaced with standing air conditioners. The out-of-the-world decorations on the alter were changed monthly without fail.
Lanre sat in the gallery because he didn't want to be slapped by the Holy Ghost, for he believed such things, it didn't matter that a Holy Ghost who could slap you on the ground floor, could of course, slap you anywhere else. He just didn't want to be anywhere near the alter.
The sermon was filled with 'the pit of hell', 'sinners', 'devil', and 'temptation' that Lanre kept shifting uncomfortably in his seat and muttering, "God forgive me my sins". But he intentionally refused to add the 'I'll not do it again' part because he wanted to do it again.
His pastor, a woman in a hat that almost reached the low-hanging chandelier, cast all sinners to eternal damnation, with so much strength, Lanre was afraid she would faint. She was a youngish, deep voiced preacher with a rumbustious manner, whose husband had founded the church, many years ago before he died.
She wore makeup meant for masquerades and after services, all the women complimented her makeup saying, 'mummy, your makeup is the bomb' or 'mummy, can I come and learn how to draw eyebrows like yours?'. It all made Lanre wonder what those women achieved in deceiving their spiritual head. Perhaps, she was not deceived. Perhaps, they were prophesying with faith that one day her makeup would be enviable.
So intent was Lanre on the sermon, he didn't notice the well-dressed sister sitting beside him. Until she said, "boring, right?"
The sister was the type that won the MBGNs, with her straight blond-dyed hair that was cut bob-like; its root black, her ripe plantain complexion, perfect nose; that was otherwise unachievable without going under the knife; and kissable lips coated in layers and layers of red lipstick.
With one glance, Lanre would know her type anywhere, her expensive russet tweed jacket over a red Sunday dress, said it all. The ipad sitting on her laps, confirmed it. Lanre was sure if he hadn't been in a nice expensive shirt with his iphone 6 in hand, she would have pretended he didn't exist. Snobs, they were preponderant in his church. They only spoke to 'themselves'; to their class. The surface of her Gucci watch shimmered as light bounced on it, and Lanre thought how her watch was the original, not some cheap misspelt counterfeit, made in Aba. Not Bucci. Not Gucgi.
"Yeah," he said playing along.
* * * * * * * * *
Ten o'clock mass, Holy Cross.
Oluchi had worn the black lacy dress she had rejected on the first outing with Richard. But she regretted it now. At any rate, it was outlandish to the catholic congregation of Holy Cross. All that black and all that lace; so fetish. She had also forgotten to cover her hair and now had Richard's hankie concealing only the top, an act which attracted scornful looks from many holier-than-thou, self righteous individuals.
But Oluchi felt great sitting next to a pensive-looking, sartorially savvy Richard in biro blue suit, matching sky blue tie and a silver rosary. His silk shirt sparkled and Oluchi imagined it was their wedding. They were behind Richard's powerful mother who single-handedly raised this handsome Richard.
She was a senator and had come down from Abuja for a special fund-raising. The senator had conceived Richard in Britain with her now estranged white husband, whom Richard could see anytime he liked. She had however insisted her son would bear her family name. Although, she was never at home, she'd groomed Richard into a decent, god-loving man, and that was why many respected her. She was an example, and an indirect encourager, to many parents whose busy schedule saw them away from home. If the woman senator could do it, they reasoned, then why can't we. Oluchi had heard all these while she had been soliciting information about her future mother-in-law.
During the sign of peace, the senator smiled at Oluchi, and Oluchi harboured more hope of becoming her daughter-in-law. And after service, she said 'my dear' to Oluchi as Richard kissed her. Oluchi thought it was adorable; kissing one's mother in public.
"The service was awesome, Richard," she enthused, although she'd not heard anything the fat, rotoud, sycophantic priest had been saying, except it seemed that all he did was praise Richard's mum, calling her a 'woman of virtue', wasn't that a wifey title, like for a woman who had a husband to be virtuous to?
"Yeah," Richard said, his face seeming, or so it appeared to Oluchi, repentant. Was it part of his penance to be dull in church? Did God prefer his children looking woe-be-gone in his presence? Oluchi didn't think so and tried to lighten him up. Perchance, he was bothered about something else.
"So, what are we doing today ?" Oluchi asked, she had ideas, but she knew Richard's would be better.
"I just lost my grandfather, paternal," Richard said gloomily, "mum just told me and he was due to be knighted."
"How old was he?" Oluchi knocked herself in her mind, for the stupid question. No sorry, no condolence, but a question? What was becoming of her? What did she need his age for, anyway?
"He was a septuagenarian, very good man, nobody could guess he was that old."
And Oluchi heard in Richard's voice, a deep loss as she tried to remember what 'septuagenarian' meant again. "I'm so sorry," she finally said sincerely.

Hi, sir Nicholas. The story is really good. It's so great. Your diction, style, line and all are good.

But please, reduce the rare words. They make the story seem like a facsimile to most guys.
Please.

jez followîng sïñçë

OluwabuqqyYOLO:
Hi, sir Nicholas. The story is really good. It's so great. Your diction, style, line and all are good.

But please, reduce the rare words. They make the story seem like a facsimile to most guys.
Please.

Thank you for making commendations and recommendations on my work, I appreciate it.
Well, I get what you mean by 'rare words' -I've had many such remarks elsewhere- but I don't quite understand your use of the word 'facsimile'.
Most times in the course of writing, I do not want to overuse words, so I opt for synonyms instead. I make sure it does not hamper understanding or the interestingness of the story though. Trust me, I'm just as concerned about prolixity.
I nevertheless will reduce such words henceforth.

Babham:
jez followîng sïñçë

Thank you bro, I'd welcome more of your input -as well as other silent readers'- on my story.

where is dis Nicholas na I nid a new chapter

"Thank you, that means a lot coming from you."
* * * * * * * * *
"So where have you been hiding?" the dyed blonde asked, "I've not seen you around."
Lanre had been terrified at how much 'these people' divulged to strangers. She'd told him her name- Stephanie, where she schooled, lived, had primary and secondary education and the colour and make of car her father had bought for her during her last birthday party. What remained was the account details of her dad, and that, he was pretty sure, would come out before they said the grace.
"Well, I attend Oriel College, and I'm very interested in visiting places, so I'm never home," he said, his voice taking a cadence he'd copied from her.
"What do you study?"
It had to be either too serious or too silly, that was the very rich for you. So Lanre went for the too silly.
"Animal photography," he said, almost choking on the risible things he was saying, how could anyone believe this crap? "I specialise in zebra."
"Hmm," and he saw in her eyes an insecurity, and in her gesture; in her flaunting her iphone 6 plus, a deep insecurity that she may not fit in; may not be rich enough because the richest didn't flaunt their wealth and it made sense that Lanre could be one of them with his simple but expensive looking clothes, nice shoes, and iphone.
"Do you frequent Paris?" he asked.
"Oh no, but only because I want Joshua to take me, but he's unwilling and I want it special, I mean all that talk of romance," Stephanie said defensively.
Typical for the rich to say 'dad', 'mum' and 'Joshua', even when the listeners didn't know them.
"Oh, if you're interested in art, I'ld suggest you visit the Louvre, and oh, maybe 35 boulevard des Capucines, that's where the impressionists first had their exhibition in 1874," he thanked his wide-reading ability.
"Oh," she faced her ipad, clearly outmatched and Lanre thought gratefully that that was the end of it. But after the grace, she shoved a note into Lanre's pocket and walked away briskly. In a chicken-like scrawl, she wrote: call me, with an illegible number Lanre would have to decipher first. But he knew he would never call.
* * * * * * * * *
Oluchi knew their date was ruined. Why did the ageing man have to
die on a Sunday, anyway?
After the special fund-raising where Richard's mum had
unsurprisingly donated the highest amount, Richard had degenerated
to a gloomy soul.
They were in his Lexus, riding no where exactly for what seemed to
Oluchi as hours.
Richard had taken off his suit jacket, tossed it in the backseat and
buttoned down his white silk shirt, so that Oluchi could now see his
sculpted chest.
Wizkid blared endlessly from the speakers and Oluchi thought how
classic it seemed that Richard had taken to mourning the Nigerian
way: with loud music that distracted you.
He was sulky, and his eyes were red although Oluchi had not seen
him shed a tear. The skin under his eyes was almost mauve, his face,
sallow and occasionally, he downed a swallow from a McDowell
bottle. He was driving fast and Oluchi was becoming afraid; she'd
never seen him like this.
"Richard, don't do this to yourself," she said, grabbing the bottle as
he held it to his mouth, some of the content spilled on his white
shirt, but Richard didn't seem to notice.
"He was a good person, a maverick, a beautiful soul," he was almost
uncomprehendable, his accent thick and decidely British, "why would
the maw of death take him, why him?" His rhetorical question pained
Oluchi, and she thought that it had to be love; that his hurting could
hurt her too.
"But you can't kill yourself too, and if you keep driving like this,
you'ld kill us both," Oluchi was surprised at how her voice gave her
away; it was filled with fear.
Richard looked at her for the first time since he'd started driving.
And a realisation seemed to dawn on him, he reduced his speed and
parked the car at the side of a dirt road. Oluchi didn't know where
they were, and she was afraid Richard hadn't a clue too.
She thought to ask him, when she felt his touch like radiation, it
swept through her skin, ringing every pore as though she had a brief
fever.
His mouth crushed into hers and it did not occur to her to protest,
she dug a hand into his powerful chest instead and immediately felt
a wetness. Shocks of vibration went through her and she felt she
would die. She didn't notice when her dress came undone or when
she'd thrown his shirt through the window. She wasn't a virgin,
hadn't been since age twelve, so as he thrust into her, pulled out and
repeated the process, she shuddered and moaned and her mind went
blank and she didn't think, because nothing mattered. The love of her
life was the only thing she saw.
After what seemed like hours of warm cuddling, her taut body began
to release like a corpse after rigour mortis. They were unclad in the
backseat, the windows opened, the car, shambolic with their clothes
everywhere, and Oluchi couldn't remember when or how they'd got
there. Richard lay asleep on her chest and Oluchi was afraid to wake
him from sleep; from his respite.
She was hungry -her stomach literally croaked like a frog- but sated
too.
Presently, it got dark with the roseate hue of dusk filling the sky,he
stirred and roused. They dressed quietly. Richard remained bare
chested because he refused to wear the silk shirt that had lain in the
grass for hours, through their hump.
They drove silently because neither of them knew what to say.
Because they didn't know if something needed to be said. It
reminded Oluchi of another time.

I have re-edited your post and unbanned you. Desist from quoting numerous usernames at a go.