Looking back, I somewhat wished I never requested Tunde’s help on matters of the heart. However, I take solace in the fact that he saved me from plunging into a marital booby trap which Grace was determined to plunge me into.

While Tunde was my right-hand man, Grace was simply my woman at hand and heart. I met Grace at a Freshman function in the University. We had just resumed after a six-month strike. The joy and ecstasy of university matriculation pushed us all to the motion ground. After snapshots, there was a party at the university hall.

“Good morning pretty”, my 18-year- old bristling smile shone like stars.

“Good morning”, the young pretty Grace responded, extending a hand.

We exchanged contacts and met regularly on campus. From dates to chance meetings, we never lost sight of each other. Soon, we started dating and began a life of oneness that I was so assured of. There was a calm, a lull, an emotional relaxation and connection I felt with Grace that assured me it was all Uhuru. As the relationship progressed through our 100 and 200level years, I offered her with love and gifts, ce-z and bliss. We were so used to each other that we started I literally put my life in her hands. She knew most of my friends. Most fatally, She knew Tunde.

Under normal circumstances, I should address Tunde as my elder friend, considering the vast age difference between us. As at the time we met, during my 100 level years, he was 28- some 10 years older than me. A law student with a knack for grammar and history, Tunde was also experienced in women matters. In fact, I learned all I did with Grace from Tunde. The ki-zz-ing. The intense s-king of the n-iples . The fin-qering and intense licking of the nether regions. The forceful gag of Grace with my then vi-rqin c-k. Which was why I discussed practically every matter between Grace and I with him. So, on a particular weekend our 300 level first semester, we hung out at the university staff club over beer.

“Tunde, I have an issue ooo”

“Shoot bro”

“It’s about Grace. I want to really spend the rest of my life with this girl. But I need to be sure of her loyalty.”

The plan was hatched. Hatched, then butchered by Tunde. He explained to me. He would draw closer to Grace, ask her out on a date. Test her resolve. If she acceded to him, then she is not for me. If she didn’t and goes ahead to report to me, then she is my ideal woman. I consented to the idea, trusting the fidelity of both parties to me.

That was how the journey to my emotional devastation started. Tunde began to give me snippets, how he had chat her up. He even showed me apparently innocent conversations between himself and Grace. It continued for a while. Then I began to notice Grace’s changing attitude. She began to stay out late, then receive strange calls anytime I visited her. I was worried. I explained this to Tunde. His response was unserious. Maybe she had just been busy with school work. He showed me their whatsapp conversations. Grace had flatly denied his proposal, threatening to tell me before the week ran out. The following day, she knocked on my door. It was 6a.m. I opened. She flew into my arms, with a se-duc!ve, sneaky look.

“I am sorry I have been busy baby”, she said softly, as she began to strip me off my boxers. My d-k was out and in few minutes, was lost in the engulfing circularity of her mouth. She f-ked me twice that morning, in styles we had never tried.

“Brother Tunde has been pestering me. He wants me to go out with him. I just thought you should know”, she said as she began to take her leave.

If I had any doubts about her, it all vanished with that singular statement. We continued our relationship. Tunde gave a final verdict: Grace was God’s gift for me.

With my initial worries settled, I began to see Grace as a life partner, a woman beyond campus dating. I showered her with gifts, even made investments in her name. She had access to my account balance at will and I placed her on regular stipends. She got to know my parents. And my dad, being a generous businessman and politician, sent her cash.

Normally, I always informed Grace before paying her a visit. This Friday morning, I planned a pleasant surprise. I branched at a beauty parlour to buy her favorite wig.
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