http://penastory.com/2016/02/02/twenty-episode-6/

Excerpt from Episode 5:

“Are you alright sir? You really should not stress yourself so,” turning to Chioma, she reprimanded in a voice that clearly showed that she meant no disrespect “what did you do to him? His pulse is racing and he should not be this excited. Don’t you want your brother to live ni?”

“That snake is not my brother and I do not care if he lives or die!” Chioma retorted hotly. She turned her back on the grin that was spreading on David’s face and without looking back, she said “Are you aware that Matthew is dead?” Read Episode 5 via www.penastory.com

The grin that was spreading across David’s face was wiped away at the news. Emotions of fear and surprise grappled him and he tried sit up but the nurse gave a nasty look at him, a look that was clear indication that he was to lie still. Trying not to fume too much, the nurse turned to Chioma and in controlled tones said, “You too sef, don’t be telling him bad news na! Don’t you want him to live at all ni?”

“What do you mean Matthew is dead? How, where, when?” David said feebly from the bed, all the energy he had felt before drained out of him by the news. There was a look of agony on his face and this time when his eyes met with Chioma’s as she turned to face him with tear filled eyes, he had nothing of the malice they had had before.

“I don’t know,” the tears rolled down her cheek “he..he..was supposed to come to the house. He said…he said…he said he was on his way after I attacked you, he was on his way,” she choked out between sobs. The nurse stood there looking confused, her own questions racing in her head. Who was this Matthew? The girl had just confessed to putting the patient into this condition? How were this people related? Hope she had not put herself into trouble by collecting money from the woman who had left in a rush earlier? Should she tell one of the hospital authorities? Finally, she said, “Madam, stop this. Please sir just try and get some rest. I am sure that you can deal with whatever this is later on. You need your rest to recover.”

“Shut up!” Chioma and David barked at her simultaneously. The nurse looked between the two of them unsure of what to do and stared at the sleeping figure of Maryam who was still dozing like a member of a church congregation during a long and boring sermon. There was no hope of getting an answer from that one. Well, if they wanted t kill themselves, she might as well leave them to it and with that settled, she shrugged and left the room.

Chioma’s sob was beginning to get louder, loud enough to wake some of the other patients in the ward. David stared at her with a frown on his face, unsure whether to pity her of hate her. He knew she loved Matthew but at the same time, she had tried to kill him himself, was it not because of her he was here.

“Stop those tears and answer me, what killed Matthew? Did you kill him too? What happened?” Chioma stared at him with a blank expression on her face before what he was trying to say hit her. She hissed and turned her back again, her tears blinding her eyes to the curious stares of the other patients in the ward as she walked past their beds. She needed air, she just had to get out of there and it was with the tears streaming down her face unhindered that she walked out of the room that seemed to be choking the life out of her.

It was close to midnight before Chioma finally came back into the ward. The hospital was as silent as a graveyard and everyone was asleep except Maryam.

“Where have you been? I had to call my mother that I was going to stay at your end today. I couldn’t leave him alone here until you were back,” Maryam said, nodding towards the sleeping figure of David who was fast asleep.

“I have just been taking a walk, mother hasn’t called yet. I wish you left him though. He doesn’t deserve our time…” The shrill sound of a phone ringing interrupted Chioma and she frowned at the sound of the familiar ringtone. It took her some few seconds to see that place her fingers on it, it was David’s phone. How come he still had his phone after she had buried him and he had somehow miraculously arrived at the hospital. She walked toward the bed and stared at the screen, it was a private number. Could it be her mother? She had barely had time to make up her mind on whether she wanted to pick the call when it was disconnected. She glanced distractedly at Maryam who was looking at her with a puzzled expression on her face.

“I don’t remember him having his phone on him when I buried him…” the phone vibrated in her hand and she saw it was a text. Pressing the open button, she read

“Davo, I don do the packaging, your cous don ex the picture. I dey go Abj by morning. No call this number again o,” the text message read.

Find more interesting stuffs and older episodes on www.penastory.com

http://penastory.com/2016/02/01/the-bride-the-rapist-and-a-murderer/

Her heart was thumping against her chest so loudly she was surprised none of the bridesmaids or the other women could hear the sound. She looked at the excited faces of the people milling around her and swallowed resignedly, they didn’t understand her plight; none of them knew of her grief. She did not trust any of them well enough to bare her pain, not even her chief bridesmaid who was so excited like it was her own wedding. Even if by chance any of them heard the thumping in her chest, they would probably mistake it as nervousness or excitement since today was her big day. But who could blame them, it was only natural for them to think it was it not? It was after all her wedding and she was supposed to be the happiest woman in the world right but happy was the last word that described how she felt.

Shade rubbed her palms together to steady her nerves in anticipation of that walk down the aisle, the walk that would lead her into a world she could never come back from as soon as she stepped into it. This was a big decision she was about to make. Whatever she did today was going to forever change the course of her life but she knew she was not ready. She stared at her reflection in the mirror making sure that her disinterest in the whole affair was well guarded as the bridal make-up team did their thing to her. She felt like meat ram being prepared for roasting as they expertly worked on her hair while another was adjusting her ridiculously expensive wedding gown.

Suddenly her mother’s sister, Mama Bisi burst into the room to announce that it was time. Shade swallowed the lump that developed in her throat and tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at the woman who had replaced her mother. Shade’s mother died when when she was just nine and Mama Bisi had never for a day allowed her to feel the vacuum of the loss of her mother. Her mind went to her mother, her sweet gentle mother who if she had been alive was sure to have saved her from this madness. Mama Bisi noticed the tears in Shade’s eyes and hugged her gently, smiling in her usual sweet manner. Shade hugged her back and wished Mama Bisi understood her tears weren’t what everyone thought it was. She wasn’t feeling emotional and over the moon because she was about to become a married woman, her tears were of pent up frustration. She felt so alone among all of them. Being the only daughter of one of the wealthiest men in the country was her plague. Although it was supposed to be a life of luxury and contentment, a life most would give an arm to have, Shade knew she would trade places instantly with the lowliest of beggars at that moment than to be called Shade Sukungbade. With a final look around the dressing room, she allowed herself to be led away like a lamb to the slaughter while the excited murmurs and chatter of the women sounded like her funeral song in her ears.

Her father, Chief Olusegun Sukungbade was waiting at the entrance of the church, his regal bearing was hard to miss even as he stood with his bodyguards. He flashed a rare smile at her as he took her hand and they began that walk down the aisle. She stiffened her spine and looked straight ahead at her husband-to-be, Tunde Fasan, the perfect husband material. Young, handsome and successful, he was who had been chosen for her to cement the the partnership between her father’s conglomerate and his. How she loathed him so! She tried to still the bubbling rage she felt boiling inside of her at his sleek smile. The slimy slinky bastard! The devil that had taken her virginity forcibly when she was eighteen and now eight years later, they all expected her to marry him. Her father had turned deaf ears to her appeal and cries, it was business. It was bad that she was a girl and her mother had died without giving birth to a male son but if a girl could also secure him more money and wealth, then it was good enough for him.

Shade paused hesitantly for a split second but her father’s hold on her arm tightened as he jerked her forward, making it look like she tripped on her gown. Was he really her father? How could he marry her off to a man that had raped her and robbed her of her innocence all to cement a business deal that would make him three times richer than he was currently worth? Didn’t her pain and joys matter to him? The thoughts chased themselves around in her head even as they finally arrived at where Tunde and the Pastor that was to wed them stood. The church rites began and her heart started its thumping again as the moment drew nearer. She listened as he said

“I, Tunde Fasan take thee Shade Sukungbade to be my lawfully wedded wife. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.” She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them as the priest turned to her and asked

“Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part.”

She stared at the pastor as if he was some apparition that had suddenly appeared before her, she glanced wildly at the sea of faces in the church and saw the beginning of a frown on her father’s face as the church waited in silence. Then in a loud, clear voice that resonated a strength she couldn’t boast of, she said

“No, I don’t!”

She heard the stunned gasps from the guests and calmly, she turned to face them and repeated in an even louder voice, “No, I don’t!”With that she raised her chin up and began walking back the way they had come. She had to get out of the confusion as everyone stared at her, too stunned to say anything. Mama Bisi rushed towards her but she halted her with a steely gaze.

“Shade!” She turned at her father’s voice. Their gazes had barely met when she heard the loud bang before the bullet tore into her chest. She saw him staring at her, his face a mask of rage, the gun he had grabbed from one of the bodyguards still in his hand. A sharp burning pain coursed through her as she fell to the ground in a heap of snow white wedding gown. There were screams all around even as she felt her life ebbing away from her. Mama Bisi was by her side and yelling her name but she repeated defiantly, “No, I don’t,” and then the darkness took over.

Also win N20,000 on PenAStory this valentine season, visit www.penastory.com for details

http://penastory.com/2016/02/01/participate-in-the-penastory-love-contest/

Hi there! Are you a writer and would like to win cash for yourself this valentine season with your writing skills? If your answer is yes, then then you certainly just got lucky! PenAStory (www.penastory.com), a fast growing Nigerian literary platform is organizing its first writing contest which you absolutely can’t miss out on. In keeping with the theme of the Valentine season, this contest is centered on the theme of love. We present to you The PenAStory Love Contest!

THE GUIDELINES:

Writers are to send in a short story or flash fiction not exceeding five hundred words. Story must reflect the theme of love. Entries should not be sent as attachments but should be the body of your email and sent to contactpenastory@gmail.com with “PenAStory Love Contest” as the subject of the email (without which your submission won’t count as an entry). Your full name and phone number should also be included in the email. Be assured that we won’t publish your personal contact details. Only one entry is allowed per person.
Submissions start from February 1 and closes at midnight on February 14 after which online voting would commence for a duration of two weeks.
Follow PenAStory on at least one social media platform, by this either on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or BBM Channel (following on all increases your chances). Writers not following on social media are also welcomed to send in their stories but must note that engagement (likes and comments) on your story on Facebook, Instagram and BBM Channel gives you an upper hand in emerging winner so it’s best you follow on as many social media platforms that you can. However, the quality of your entry will also be a HUGE determiner. The final decision of winner and runner ups rest solely on members of PenAStory team.
Immediately entries close, stories would begin to get published on the blog. Only shortlisted stories will be published. Entries received would get published in the order they are received.
Shortlisted entries will be published on www.penastory.com with links available on our BBM Channel, Facebook Page, Twitter and Instagram so that you can get your friends to read, comment on, and like your story. Winners will be announced on March 1


THE PRIZES!

Of course, our winners won’t go away empty handed with just our best wishes! The winner will receive a token of ten thousand naira (N10,000) while the first runner up receives five thousand naira (N3,000) and the second runner up receives three thousand naira (3,000).

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http://penastory.com/2016/01/30/punish-me-please-18/


I always thought sex didn’t matter to me in a relationship that it was all about the person and not the physical attraction but being with Daniel for about three months with nothing but lukewarm sex soon showed me that I was more sexual than I was thinking. He was one of those one minute guys that finished the action in less than eight strokes. It was always over before it even began and I soon began to get sexually frustrated. My matters was not helped by my best friend Hannah who never tired of telling me of how much of a good fucker her boyfriend Godwin is. I remember there was a particular time she had gone.

“Have you ever been bleeped so bad and you are the one begging him to stop? I thought I could Bleep but Godwin has shown me that I really can’t really. His curved banana drives me crazy and he never seems to tire.” She had then gone on to describe how she had been in the bathroom one day and Godwin had come behind her smiling like a devil with his dick rearing up and holding her against the wall had given her a good banging like she was a slut. I had laughed and said I wouldn’t mind being treated like that once in a while but Daniel was too gentle for those kind of things but in my head I knew he wasn’t going to even last two minutes before it was all over. Sex with Daniel was routine task for me as I would let him do his thing then I would get up and try not to let my frustration show by saying

“Baby, don’t worry it is not all about the sex. I know you are working on yourself.” He would smile his appreciation while I would go off to the bathroom to clean myself but really it was to calm myself down. I needed something hardcore but how was I going to get it?

I had gone to visit Godwin and Hannah in their self-contained apartment that they shared very early one morning at around 8.00am following a previous night of frustrated sex with Daniel. I was going mad having not had good sex since I got myself into a relationship so who could blame me when I walked in on Godwin wanking in their one roomed apartment. His eyes was glued to the porn he was watching on the TV screen and he must have been so carried away he didn’t hear me come in, I was just that kind of regular visitor that didn’t need to knock. Oh lawd! He was big. I stood at first at the door and watched him beating at that meaty dick that I could see all the vein standing out proudly. His eyes turned to me and he tried to cover his dick with his hand in embarrassment but seeing that dick had brought out all my pent up unsatisfied sexual desires.

“Hannah…she is not home. She had to travel to her aunt’s place…last night early this morning to her aunt’s place…I..I thought she would have called you,” he stammered. That was like all the invitation I needed knowing that my friend was not at home. He was still sitting there with his pants down, holding his dick and the soft moans coming from the porn playing on the TV was contributing to the horniness that I had carried over from last night.

“Oh she hasn’t called me. Why are you covering your thing? I like it.” I said with a smile and watched his eyes cloud in confusion. I was still standing by the door so to show him what I meant, I turned the key in the lock and tried the door handle to make sure it was locked even as my hand began to unbutton my blouse. Hannah talked about how much of a good fucker he was, I wanted this meat so I could talk about some good experience with her too even if she was to never know it was her boyfriend. I don’t know whether it had to do with the porn or if he had always had any secret fantasies about me either but I can’t say that Godiwn stopped me as I dropped my blouse at the door and walked to him, my hand already tugging down on my skirt.

I took his hand away from his now semi-erect dick and hungrily, like someone who has been starved of food for too long, I took his dick in my mouth. He tasted of Vaseline but who cared, here I was sucking on a dick that was fast growing in my mouth. He spread his legs apart to give me more access and his hand helped me to unclip my skirt at the back. I tried to take his whole dick in my mouth but I couldn’t, he was too big so I settled on bobbing on the length that I could even as he began to talk dirty.

“Suck on that dick, you know you want it.” Usually I would have been offended by dirty talk but I just wanted to be his Dam and be treated like Dam. He slipped a finger into me from behind and began to finger Bleep me even as my head went up and down on his dick. I was sucking like my life depended on it as I alternated between sucking hard and slow teases while he was manipulation my Kitty-Cat like crazy and I began to feel myself getting wet all over again.

Suddenly he pushed my head away from his dick and he drew me up roughly asking me to bend over in a gruff voice. I didn’t need any further prompting, this was different from all the gentle lovemaking with Daniel, this was hardcore, just the type every good girl secretly wanted but was too shy to tell their boyfriend about it. He entered me from behind and to say that it was like a cucumber had just been slipped into me was an understatement. He held me by the waist and began to piston in and out and like some hungry animal and I moved along with his rhythm. I have always wanted to be ridden like I was a slut and at last I had found someone that was doing that for me. Hannah didn’t say this was what she had been enjoying and as Godwin’s dick went in and out of me, I began to whimper like a baby would when sucking contentedly on his mother’s breasts. He kept on slamming into me but with every stroke, I made sure that I met him halfway.

“You like that huh?” he asked but I didn’t make any response, instead I pressed closer so that he went even deeper on his next thrust. It was like he was planning on fucking out my insides as I felt his dick go up to places that Daniel had never gone before so when he commanded that I lie with my back and spread my legs apart, I was only too eager to comply.

He took my spread legs and spread them further apart like they weren’t wide enough before his dick plunged right back into my open vagina lips that closed around his hard dick like a friend would envelope another friend in a warm embrace. It was like a trailer was being rammed into me and the slap-slap sound of skin against skin only made me want him to go in as deep as he could. We had been fucking like this for five minutes and I know I was enjoying every bit of it, this was not the less than one minute sex with Daniel and it was like heaven when he switched tactics again.

This time he asked me to lie down with my ass shooting up and my face pressed against the bed. He then pressed on my ass cheeks and entered me again with him squatting behind me. My vagina felt like it was on fire with the speed at which he was slamming and ramming into it and with each hard thrust, I felt waves of pleasure roll over me. I had not felt an orgasm in a long time with a dick inside of me but it felt like today was my lucky day as I soon began to feel myself building. My moans of pleasure began to match that of the lady being bleeped on the screen and it was like Godwin himself knew that I was getting close. If I thought he had been fucking me hard and fast before, his new speed and intensity was something that made me want to jump off his dick. But he held me tightly and kept slamming into me,

“You going to take this rooster babe, you know you want more,” he said from behind me through gritted teeth. I was too high now and I found myself saying despite myself.

“Oh Bleep me daddy, Bleep me like you mean it,” he pulled out of me and pushed me aside before lifting my legs into the air and entering back into me in a swift stroke so that we were facing one another now.

“I want to see your face as you climax,” he said and his dick went back into action.

“Just Bleep me, don’t stop, oh lord don’t make it stop. This feels so good.” Nobody had ever bleeped me this way before and as I felt myself reach. I found myself screaming out in pure ecstasy as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me and I impaled myself on his dick as far as I could even as he kept on the panel beating treatment of my Kitty-Cat like his life depended on it.

“That was just round one oh, I am not even close yet,” he said when my climax had subsided and I tried to extract myself from him.

“Sure thing, I am all yours for as long as Hannah is out I heard myself say,” heading for the bathroom already thinking of ways on how to ride that dick once again.

Find more interesting stuffs on www.penastory.com

http://penastory.com/2016/01/30/poetry-play-8/

Samuel Oluwatobi Olatunji and Noah Babajide



N:

If you see my tears fall

Just move along nothing to see

Just let me be



S:

How can I let you be

When the waterfall of your eyes flood

The forest of our existence?



N:

Even if my tears flood the nation

Just let me be

It’s just drops of water from the purest



S:

When the eyes bleed

It’s the duty of the doctor to bandage

Let me be your doctor



N:

I’m crying a river

An ocean of pain

For the quaking fear of something big

Can feel my empty mind

And the past has gone

The future is almost near

Behold, I’m in it alone

If you see my tears fall

Just let me be



S:

Only if you can disallow the tears from clouding your eyes

Then you will see salvation, that shade of hope



N:

Yes, I wipe away my tears

My eyes see clear the blessings in front of me

Looking around, I’m abundantly blessed

And the tears still fall

Yes, and they are tears of joy



S:

When tears tarry too long

That’s a sign of sorrow, of drowned joy

So cry no more, my friend



NB: Poetry Play, a product of Artilogue in partnership with PenAStory, is a game in form of poetic dialogue for every poet on BBM. It is a game of two poets: one drops a line or more, and the other replies, flowing along until one of them gives up, or the poem gets too long. Every poem formed from this game will be published here (penastory.com) every Friday and Saturday. So poets, are you ready to play? If yes, contact Samuel via BBM: 7f5210ec

http://penastory.com/2016/01/28/aditi-oloko-abraham-isaac/

When a blind leads the blind
Irony plays out at the expense of freedom
“Aditi Oloko”
I sing the praises of the ones who fell behind
And as the blind took over from the one-eyed
Inanities befuddle my herd- the herd that used to be a pride

Yet, I cried
“Ko..ko..ko la nro Ifa aditi”
Screamed and bawled until my lungs were sore
A man cannot bear hot coal in his bosom
And afford a moment of slumber
But auditory impairment is quite the assassin


“A’pani ma yo’da”
Death and famine are close by
But few have so much
And much, so few- how then?
How will these handicapped herd make it?
Through the folly of the supposed Alpha

Tears might drown my visage
But blood and gore will drench these sorry ones
When a blind leads the blind and deaf
As they forge deeper into the ripper’s den
The dog has become the lion’s guest
Surely, there shall be a bloodbath

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http://penastory.com/2016/01/28/the-picaninny-tina-august/


They looked down on me and mistreated me, turned me into a slave in my own home,mocked my ebony beauty and looked at me as dumb.They resented my guts and jailed me for questioning their authorities all because I am a Picaninny. They took my freedom and restricted my wisdom because they did not find me worthy. They laughed at my beauty, insulted my sincerity to my people and jailed me.

Why do we still worship this people even after so little affection they showed the Picaninny? Why do we still copy their deranged fashion and absurd culture even when they have no values? Why do we not challenge them when they act like they own our world and our lives? Why do we let them see us as so little when we are so much more? I am a Picaninny and I believe in what I stand for, the beauty of my African skin and the values of my culture. Yes! I am a Picaninny.


Find more interesting reads on www.penastory.com

http://penastory.com/2016/01/27/my-life-as-a-fifty-naira-note/

I lie there in the dark corner of the room, under the bed that creaked loudly every time any human weight rested upon it. The darkness shrouded my dirty, torn, worn and old battered body and it was with indifference I watched as the rat seeking food nibbled at a tip of my body trying to figure if I was edible enough to serve as a meal. After satisfying its curiosity that I wasn’t delicious enough a cuisine, it scampered off at the sound of the door opening, its little rat paws leaving a tear in my already battered body.
The opened door causes light to spill into the room and some of the illumination finds its way to my dingy corner under the bed. The shrill voice of Bimbo came from above as I heard her plop on the bed with the poor bed creaking in protest in its usual fashion.

“I am yet to find my money, you have to give it back Funbi.” The room was suddenly dark again as Funbi, her brother stood by the entrance of the room, his body blocking the source of light into the room. His shadow fell across me and I heard him reply “I have told you, I didn’t take your stupid fifty naira note. Who would accept that dirty money from you anyway?”
Shame welled up in me as I heard this description by Funbi. The rascal I thought to myself. Indignation rose in me and I felt like screaming from my position under the bed that I wasn’t stupid or dirty but I knew that would be useless. I had not always been dirty as he called me after all I came out of the mint house clean, fresh and sparkling; the envy of all eyes. Didn’t he know I am one of the first fifty naira notes made out of polymer? Oh the beauty I possessed then as the old fifty naira notes stared in blatant envy as the minters handled us with utmost care and packed us up for distribution but sadly that glory was short lived. My being new and rarity that had been the reason for the other notes to be envious soon became my curse.
My woes started the moment we left the safe haven of the Central Bank of Nigeria and got into the mainstream spending market. I was at first sad to be separated from other fifty naira notes of my kind but then it seemed fate already had me singled out for doom. At my bank of destination, a man came to withdraw money and asked if he could get a single piece of the fifty naira, the cashier with her polite smile obliged his request and if I had known what was to come, perhaps I wouldn’t have been so happy to have been picked. I most likely would have attacked her and cut her with my crisp, sharp edge just to see that silly smile wiped off her face. Oh, the curse of ignorance. He didn’t put me among the other notes, but I went straight into his wallet and as he closed the snap of the wallet over me, my journey of doom began.
When the wallet was finally opened again, I breathe in the fresh air that hit me and I sighed in pleasure. You should therefore imagine my horror when I got plucked out of the wallet unceremoniously and to my chagrin my new owner immersed me in a bucket of black water that had some foul smell to it. If money could be drowned, I believe that would have been the death of me. As I lay supine in the water, chant like sounds came to me from above and I could barely make out such words like “Let this new money bring new things to my life. Let it take away all the pain, suffering, poverty and failure in my life. All the bad things in my life I deposit on this money.”
I gasped for air as I was brought out of the smelling water and he began to rub me all over his body from head to toe. The prayers continued and then I got dumped in a corner of the bathroom as he quickly took his bath. After he was done, he picked me up gingerly as if I had some contagious disease and went to dress up. Off we went looking for a beggar to bequeath me to and I cried silently at the slime I felt was crawling over my body. At last he found his victim, a blind beggar sitting on a side of the street begging for alms. He dumped me brought me out and brought me close to his mouth as he whispered some few more of diabolical gibberish to me before dumping me into the beggar’s bowl. I stared daggers at his retreating figure and if looks could kill, he surely would have dropped dead that instant. He however left unscathed leaving me with my ego badly bruised. I looked at my new abode and studied my new companions; a tattered ten naira note that looked like it had seen better days, a five naira note with oil stains all over it that you could barely make out the note again and three ancient coins that didn’t look like they had much value. Sighing in resignation, I tried to block out the song of the blind beggar that was my new owner as he droned on and on in his appeal for alms. I was beginning to doze off when I felt another note land on me and I cried out in mortification. “Watch it stupid!” It was a twenty naira note and half of its body lay across me in the tiny bowl that the beggar was using for his alms collection. It was bad enough that I had to share the space with the filthy five naira note, the old ten naira and the useless coins but at least then I had my own space.
“Look, what we have here, if it isn’t the clan of polymers. My apologies for resting on you your highness but sadly as I cannot move myself, you would have to endure my burden.” The twenty naira note’s mocking tone infuriated me further and I hissed to show my displeasure as I held my tongue. Unlike me the twenty naira note soon started a conversation with the other monies and soon had them cheered as they traded gossip of where they had been and what they had been through with their different owners. I longed to join in the conversation but held myself, after all I had more value than all of them put together and they should have had the grace to treat me with more respect.
The day wore on and we all lay there in the sun, listening to the beggar’s pitiful cry. Alas he broke off his cry for help as he heard the sound of a food vendor advertising food. He called out to the vendor and asked her if he had enough money in his bowl for her to sell him fifty naira worth of rice. She told him yes and sold out the food before plucking me out of the bowl. I smiled gleefully and said a quick prayer of thanks to the heavens for getting me out of a society that was beneath my class. My new owner, the food vendor looked at me in wonderment as she turned me here and there inspecting every part as if to confirm I was real. She smiled like a woman who had just seen her lover and I soaked in the attention happily. Now this is how to treat royalty like me. “I no go use this one for chaangi” I heard her say to herself in pidgin English and folding me gingerly, she tucked me into her bra. The foul smell of sweating skin mixed with soaked fabric assailed my nostril and I screamed silently in protest. This was like jumping from frying pan to fire. In the beggar’s bowl I at least had fresh air but being crushed between this food vendor’s breasts with her mammary glands pressing on me heavily I wished for the weight of the twenty naira note on me once again. I would happily suffer their company and bear the twenty naira note’s weight on me than this crushing weight that felt like a trailer was over me not to mention the nauseating smell.
I suffered in this condition as she went from street to street hawking her food. I listened from my prison as she boasted to some of her customers that she had the new fifty naira note and is among the first people to own it in the country. I wished throughout the entire period that she would at least bring me out to show off so that I could breathe in fresh air but each time she was asked to show me, she would pat her breasts affectionately and reply in the negative saying she had it hidden somewhere safe. I did not get released from this prison till much later in the evening, when she was home and decided to show me off to her children. They gathered around me where she lay me like a prized treasure and I watched the wonder in all of their faces. They each had their turn to feel me, examine me from head to toe. My old feeling of importance came back as the illiterate mother and her little children practically worshipped me.
“Maami, shey e le fun mi?” Tunde, the youngest son asked his mother in Yoruba. He looked about ten and his little child eyes pleaded with his mother silently. She looked at him sternly as if he had asked her to buy him a car and she scolded him sharply for being greedy. “Ki lo fe fi aduru fifty naira shey. Oloju kokoro.” The family settled down to their dinner and after all was set for bed, she put me gingerly on the only table in the dingy one room apartment. My only companion was the single candle that acted as a source of light in the room with the snores coming from the sleeping figures breaking the silence.
It felt like only minutes after I had settled down into my own sleep when I suddenly felt a hand grab me and I woke up groggily to stare into the mischievous eyes of Tunde. He had a smirk on his face as he looked at me and then tip toeing to where the candle lay he teased the burning flame with a tip of me. The eager flame leaped at me and I felt the heat of the fire but he quickly withdrew me just before the fire could touch me and he smiled happily to himself. This game continued for a while with me closing my eyes in fear each time the fire came near till alas, he was a bit too slow and the fire kissed my tip eagerly. I curled up in pain as Tunde stared in horror at what he had done. His gasp of fear must have woken his mother because she startled awake and seeing Tunde standing by the candle with me in his hand, she leapt up from her place on the mat and smacked him hard on the head for his mischief. He started crying but a threat of a severe beating with if he didn’t stop his noise put an end to that and I was put back in my place. I was damaged and I cried myself to sleep.
The next morning, the food vendor angrily told Tunde that as his punishment he was to keep me but not to expect any meal in the house for that day. After apologizing to his mother for last night’s mischief and then he headed off to school with me safely tucked in his pocket. My appeal had quickly dwindled with the new burn scar on my body and he didn’t hesitate to hand me over to the conductor as he paid his bus fare. The conductor looked at me suspiciously and just to confirm my authenticity, he squeezed me and left me all wrinkled before adding me to the other naira notes. My stay with the conductor was however short lived as he soon handed me over to another passenger as change.
My new owner Bimbo is the one currently questioning her brother Funbi about my whereabouts and for the sake of all of us I really hope she does not find me. I am tired and been through enough as it is. She had dumped me unceremoniously in her room and perhaps Mother Nature herself has seen that I have suffered enough, she had been kind enough to send a gust of wind to send me to this hiding place under the bed.
“Have you checked under the bed for your money?” I quaked in fear as I heard Funbi’s voice. I heard the bed creak again as Bimbo got off it and her shadow descended over me as she peered under the bed on bended knees.
“There it is,” she cried happily as her fingers grabbed me. Another journey about to begin I suppose. My life as a fifty naira note is apparently not yet over

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I shut it out. “I am not going to think of you,” I said to myself as I drove past Wendy’s on East Broad Street today. There was traffic and I was stuck there. Memories of you came in a gush and I resisted them as hard as I could. I toughened my heart and turned up the volume of the radio to escape the thoughts of you that sifted through my mind like flood sifts through the thickest blankets. Slowly, thoughts of you penetrated and I unwillingly surrendered. I recited my order, “Number six. That would be spicy chicken combo. I would like my fries, fresh and very hot. And my drink will be Coke, no ice please. Plus, extra napkins please.” Instantly I missed you. I remembered the taste of the salted fries in my mouth every time I called your name. “Funke, are you there? Hold on, let me make sure this people got my order right,” I would say while I chewed my fries and sipped my drink.

“What are you doing?” You always asked like you did not know that stopping at Wendy’s every work day at around eleven o’clock at night on my way to work was my daily tradition and having you on the phone while I gobbled my food was the most pleasing part of those nights.

“Eating these fries. It’s so good Funke,” I would pause for a heartbeat “so freaking good,” I would exaggerate just to taunt you.

“May you choke on it!” You would reply jokingly but I knew you meant those words because my teasing always got on your nerves especially on nights you had ramen noodles.

I let myself remember our last chat on WhatsApp. The last time we chatted, two weeks ago. First you sent me picture “a picture of him and a flag of Ghana and Nigeria, with hashtag Ghana Naija let’s try again 2016.” As soon as I got the text. I knew what it meant. You were going back to him. I was not shocked. I was ready because I had always known, you and I, friends with benefits were meant to be short-lived.

And then you texted. “That’s what Kweku said last night?”

“What did you tell him” I asked

“I told him we will see,” you replied. I know you and your heart, how it beats, how it sounds, how it cracked, how you love the hands that smashed it to the ground. I know you liked to act like he was your past, like you moved on when what you really wanted was for him to miss you, beg for you and fight like hell to have you back, have you back and not break your love again.

“That was last year” I texted you back.

“Okay,” you replied. You must have been startled by the response. “It is time to let the man have his girl,” I added as an afterthought. And then I brought up small talks; school, the weather, anything to get away from it. You replied and we carried on like nothing happened. I thought I was ready but I was not. We talked too much, played too much, fought too much and I let myself become fond of you. I read your text over and over again and I knew we had to end, totally end.

You and I, what we had was perfect like that. I met you. We exchanged Instagram details. We texted. We talked a lot. We went on a date. I remember we were supposed to go bowling, we ended up having Chinese food and sitting in your car talking for hours. We talked more, more and more. It got scary, dramatic, steamy and sexy. We talked about sex, we talked about it so much and it seemed like it would never happen. Eventually it did. I decided to drive two hours to your school. We did it and then we had this crazy fight. We said the dandiest and cruelest things to each other. We thought it was over. And then the anger stirred emotions, raw emotions, I wanted you, you wanted me. We made plans, plotted some fantasies together, brought some to pass and let reality swallow up the rest. We had more fun, this time better sex. We did it more and then we both were convinced we may get used to it. I wrote you a beautiful poem. We almost had it all. Then he came.

He came back crawling to you. Asking that you let him be your man again. And being who I am, knowing who you are, it was best to let you fly like a bird and choose what nest you want to lay your eggs. I listened to you more than you think. I observed your words, your choices and all case scenarios and when it came to horses and zebras. For you, I chose none, for me, I chose horses. You agreed to the weekend with him. You bought a dress for it. You made your hair. You even said something about making sure you show him what he missed. You wanted to be sexy and look good for him. You wanted him. So I let you be. I pulled away from you so you can figure you out while I did the same. Three days, no call, no texts, just emotions, just me, just you, no us.

Then I called. You thought we could keep what we have, cut down the feelings and subtract the sex. I tried to think that no matter what happened I could just be your friend, the one you can always call, the one you can tell anything and everything. I thought I wanted that too and then I realized that I wanted something else. Something much more. I wanted you in golden memory. So I called, we talked and we hit a wall. “I would talk to you less so I can have time for other people because I don’t want to be hanging around waiting for your relationship with Kweku to fail. That won’t do neither you nor I any good,” I said knowing that the best way to be your friend was to give you space.

You thought that meant we were not friends anymore. I tried to make us nice that night. And then I said something else, something about not having any reason to drive two hours to Toledo in the next few months and you felt like I was not committed to being friends with you, that maybe I was trying to spite you.

“When I come to Columbus. I am not even going to try to see you,” you responded in anger. The decision to make you a golden memory became the only thing to do. I began to think that maybe you are just selfish, maybe you just want to eat your cake and have it. Maybe I should just do the same, do what is best for just me even if it’s hard. So I hung up and texted you.

“Let’s establish this, you and I are nothing. Not even friends”

You became a memory and now when I think of us, I mourn in silence. I mourn what we had but I am quite sure I don’t want you back. You and I, us, as beautiful and amazing as we were, are best left a memory.

I made a left into Wendy’s today, same order; number six, spicy chicken combo, fresh hot fries, coke no ice, extra napkins. Just in memory of you and what we used to be.

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I have everything. Oh no, wait. I had everything. Although your definition of everything may very well differ from mine. But for the sake of clarity and context, we’ll settle with mine. Plus, I am expecting a friend soon, so I’d like to be done with this as soon as possible. My name is… my name I suppose. My name… my name… is… I… can’t honestly remember. I’ve been called by my surname as well as ‘Sir’, ‘boss’, ‘Mr. CEO’ and some other monikers like that for so long that I’ve forgotten my own name. It’s at the back of my mind somewhere, but it truly escapes me. Something with a J in it, I think. My mother, rest her soul, would remember. I think I shall start there, but pardon me as I get another glass of this scotch…whiskey…whatever I’m drinking.

My mother was an honest soul. She may not have won any Mother of the Year awards, but within the confines of our decrepit circumstances she found a way to push forward. My father was nonexistent, and after claiming all my riches I found out he had died of a drug overdose some years ago. Pity really, might have been able to help him out. Maybe that would have helped me on my search for myself. Or maybe not. He’s dead, my mother’s dead, I don’t know where my siblings are or if they are alive and I have half a dozen different medical conditions and still live.

I remember when my mother had kidney problems, and I had the money to pay for all the hospital bills. It was a bittersweet moment when I saw her after the surgery.

“You are always away, boy. You should stick around more and be with the family.”

“Did the family pay for the bills, or did I? If I was sticking around like my brothers and sisters, would you be alive to scold me about being around?”

I had seen the hurt on her face, like I had punched her stomach. But I had no time for family meetings and get-togethers. How I got my money is not important. What is important is that I got it. And sadly, the family never fully appreciated that I was dashing away my own happiness to see them dress nice, eat well and be fancy once in a while. A strong point was when we were all gathered in the huge living room of the new house I got for us and talks started rising up again of how I was never around to see anyone nor was I socializing enough. That night, I made a toast,

“All of you, relatives included, know how rough it was when we started out. I wasn’t born until much later but I know things were fair before everything crumbled down. We were living in shitholes, but we managed to survive,” they all murmured agreements.

“Now… Most of you relatives didn’t even show your faces or extend help and now here you are eating good and talking about family bonds and how I don’t keep in touch. I want you all to know that I do not give a crap,” this time there were gasps and bits of anger.

“Oh shut up!”

“Don’t you try to shush me! If it wasn’t for me, none of you would be here! You’d all be minding your own business telling each other ‘it is well’ instead of doing something! So here’s a toast to family, for being the biggest hypocrites of them all,” I downed my glass of champagne, calmly walked out and drove off. Suffice to say, I never attended anymore of the get-togethers. Excuse me, I think I need the damn bottle of that scotch thing. Five point two million naira for one bottle and I don’t even know what the hell I’m drinking.

Was I selfish? Possibly. Will I ever know if if I was? I doubt it. Everyone around me kisses my ass no matter how many times I tell them to stop. Money does make the world go round, the rotation of the earth is just natural phenomenon happening.

“My son, you should go out and find someone you can love. Family won’t be here always,” my mother advised me once.

“But isn’t family supposed to be around forever?” I asked my mother with naive innocence.

“Yes and no. We all die, son. It’s just what the world is.”

“So, what is the use of finding love? It’ll just die away as well. I’m fine the way I am.”

My mother never could really grasp what changed me neither could I but I didn’t care about it. Another time she tried to lecture me on balance and I told her bluntly just how imbalanced the world was. You could never find balance. You either favoured one side or condemned it. Sigh.

I hear my friend coming. It’s a sad tale. At the top of my office building is a penthouse, and I stare out through the ceiling to floor windows at the vanity of it all. How do you have six different medical conditions and still live? Shouldn’t I be gone already? Sigh. Is there a lesson to this? That is for you to decide.

“Hello, friend. Good to see you again,” Death said as he stepped in.

“Good to see you too. Were you in the neighbourhood and decided to drop by or is it finally time?”

A weak smile from Death. “Not your time yet my friend. I am just here for another game.”

“Very well, then.” I smiled back. “Chess or checkers?”

You see, in this world full of the living, the biggest irony ever is that Death is literally my one and only friend.

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The persistent soft knock on the window brought me out of dreamland. My foggy brain took a minute longer than normal to register that the sound that woke me was a knock on the window. I yawned and stretched on the bed lazily before the soft knock came again. My head jerked instinctively to the direction of the noise and I wondered what could be making the noise. A quick look at my bedside clock told me it was 1:47 a.m. Alarm bells went off in my head and I jumped off from the bed as my thoughts flew to a possible burglary. The knock came again, this time a bit harder and I tiptoed to the window. I heard the soft hissing sound of Kasali’s voice.

“Bimpe open the window, it is me Kasali.” My heart fluttered in my chest and I quickly unlatched the window from the hook to let him in before going quickly to my bedroom door to lock it. He was standing there looking just as handsome as when I had last seen him which was the day before.

“What are you doing here Kasali, have you gone insane?” I whispered trying to control the excited tremor in my voice. If my father met Kasali in my room, going berserk would not begin to describe the way he would react. Father couldn’t stand Kasali because he was a welder’s son and so father considered him beneath me, a university undergraduate. If only father knew that despite’s Kasali’s lack of tertiary education, he was a smart and caring young man with a good heart. But what did father know about love? Absolutely nothing!

Kasali stood there unsure of what to do and I realized my questions must have left him unsure of himself. I went to him and hugged him, forgetting we were under my father’s roof and that he had climbed a three storey building just to come see me. I shuddered when my mind went to the thought of him falling off while climbing. He mistook my shaking for cold and wrapped his arms tightly around. I sagged into him and let him hold me close. No words were exchanged as we held each other close with no other witness but the moon far up in the sky, its light rays peeking into my room to catch a glimpse of our forbidden affair. I took his hand and led him to my bed, as we began to converse in hushed whispers. Kasali was his witty and humourous self and for a moment I forgot myself and laughed out aloud at something he said. My heart stopped in my chest as I realized what I had done and we both stood stoic still, waiting for footsteps to announce that we had been found out but nothing happened. After about five minutes of waiting in dreaded silence for the impending doom with nothing happening, we continued our conversation and loving embraces.

“Open the door this minute Bimpe!” Father’s booming voice came from the other side as a loud rap followed by a banging sounded on my bedroom door. Kasali and I sprung apart and I could see the fear on his face. He looked around the room desperately before running for the still opened window even as I made for the door. I paused to make sure Kasali was out of the window before I opened the door. Father barged into the room, looking like he was ready to commit murder, his whole body shaking with rage.

“Where is he? Where is the bastard?” Without waiting for an answer, his palm connected with my cheek and whatever answer I had been about to give died on my lips. He looked around the room again and this time his eyes caught the open window. He headed straight to it.

“God help me and you if I catch you riffraff. Oloriburuku, omo ale,” father’s voice sounded louder than ever in the silent night. His voice must have frightened Kasali as I heard Kasali’s scream even as mother came into the room. Together we rushed to father’s side by the window to see what had happened. Kasali lay on the ground below, sprawled on the floor unconsciously with his life oozing out of him. Father reeled from the window obviously still angry and landed another slap on my face,

“I hope he is dead!” With that he stomped out of the room like an angry bull while I slumped to the floor crying and praying Kasali would be alright.

I heard father order Akin to make sure all the doors and windows were locked to prevent silly educated girls and their more foolish lovers while he instructed mother to stay with me to ensure I didn’t do anything stupid like climb out a window like Kasali had done. I shut my bedroom door to conceal my shame from Akin’s probing eyes which held a mix of pity and curiosity in them. The tears flowed down my cheeks unhindered but I dared not cry out so I sobbed into my pillow.
Father’s chiding hurt badly and at that moment, I was torn between not knowing the fate of my lover and having provoked father to such fury. Mother sat looking at me without saying a thing in the characteristic manner that defined her. She dared not contradict father even if her heart went to Kasali as I could tell it did judging from he frequent glances at the window. After about ten minutes of sobbing, my tears abated and turned into soft sobs. I tried to muffle the sounds with the edge of my wrapper so as not to arouse father’s anger again if he heard me crying. I wanted to go see that Kasali was well. I loved him, father or anybody else couldn’t change that. He is my life, I thought to myself. Thoughts of elopement crossed my mind but then I was scared of missing out on my father’s blessing and having to do without mother’s grace. That part of my brain that was still functioning well with reason held me back.
The led light of my phone suddenly caught my attention and I rushed to the dresser. Grabbing the phone, my hands shook as I saw it was a text message from Kasali. The phone clattered to the ground in my hurry to input the pin and I swore under my breath as I picked it up and tried to still my shaking hands. My misted eyes scanned the text
“I can’t do this anymore.” That was all it said but it was enough to send my thoughts spinning like a whirlwind. I could not understand what it meant. “I can’t do this anymore?” Many thought passed through my mind; it could mean a million and one things. Could this mean he was leaving me? Was he tired of the hide and seek games and finally ready to face father square on? Mother was fast asleep in her chair where she was to keep guard over me so I made for my closet and quickly discarded the wrapper throwing on a brassiere and slipping into a gown and flat slippers as quality as possible.
Opening the door without making a noise seemed to take forever but I managed to do that without arousing mother. I said a silent than you prayer to God when I saw Father’s bedroom door closed. I tiptoed out of my room and hoped the rich Persian rug would muffle the sounds of my footsteps. The wooden staircase creaked in protest when my feet landed on it however and the sound was like the explosion of a gun going off in my ears. I paused for a moment to see if anyone had detected my actions.
“Where do you think are you going madam?” Father’s voice sounded behind me in clipped tones. My heart stopped in my chest and I stood still unable to face him before my rebellious heart flared up again and I spun around to face him with my the emotions flashing on my face
“I am not telling you,” I barked at him. I was surprised at the sound of my own voice as this was something I would not have done on a normal day but today wasn’t a normal day, I had witness my lover falling from a building, gotten a text that left me confused. I needed answers, I couldn’t go on living in fear of father at twenty-seven. Father’s face registered surprise and his face contorted in a mask of rage for what must have been umpteenth time that night
“If you go out of this house, don’t bother coming back,” father barked back at me. His words hit me hard and my legs wobbled. My first thought was to bow my head in defeat and walk back to my room silently but my emotions were running high. I had reached the end of my tether, I have allowed father control me for too long. He was always the one that had the final say and the woman emerging in me wasn’t going having any of that anymore. I had to find out the meaning of Kasali’s text, I had to know he was alright and most of all I had to speak out and free myself of father’s prison. Mother was behind him watching the whole scene with saucer big eyes. It hit me then that she was just another of his slaves, obeying his every command.
Kasali’s text had read “I cannot do this anymore.” Father words were “If you go don’t come back to this house”. I had to see my midnight lover, I had to do this for me and without another word, I ran down the flight of steps without a backwards glance. As I busted out through the door, I felt truly free for the first time in forever.


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Excerpt From Part 2:

At long last, he whispered that he was close to releasing and I said I was ready as well. He turned me to face him and began pinching my nipples as he started fucking me with his eyes looking at me like he was trying to read my soul. Finally, I felt him jerk violently as he spurted cum and his climax triggered mine as I also began to climax and we both collapsed on the bed in a tired heap.

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I thought I would be too tired to want to have sex again after that mind blowing sex but I soon woke up to feather kisses. I must have fallen asleep after we both collapsed on the bed and he held me close to him. My foggy mind quickly awakened as he kissed me on my nipple and I smiled lazily at him when I saw the wicked glint in his eyes. He couldn’t be ready to have sex again, could he?

He kept kissing me and I began to return his kisses. He was leaning over me and my hands on their own accord roamed his naked body. I began to feel like I was being heated up at my very core. It was like something was missing down there and when my hand found his erect dick, I curled my hand around it like one would hold a prized possession. This was what I needed, I needed him in me again and I knew that he felt the same judging from the rock hardness of the cock I was holding in my hand. His mouth sought my earlobes and he bit on them gently before he traced kisses down to my boobs all the way to my stomach. I moaned unconsciously, I liked all this new sensation that my best friend was awakening in me. It was like I had never been with a man before.

His mouth paused at my vagina and I felt his hot breath as he teased gently. His mouth moved closer and I closed my eyes in anticipation of what was about to come but as if he knew what I was expecting, he withdrew and his lips came back to my lips. I tried not to let my disappointment show but really I didn’t have the time as his mouth began to suck gently on my already hard nipples. His kisses interchanged between soft and rough and whenever he sucked hard, I found myself moaning in pleasure. My grip on his shoulder loosened, it was like I was melting. I wanted more and I could feel myself getting wet down there again. He kept nipping and sucking till I felt I could no longer take this pleasurable torture any more. My hand went to his dick and i tried to draw him to me but he stiffened his body and gently removed my hand.

He knew what I wanted but he wasn’t going to give it to me. He slipped one finger into me and I gasped from the sheer pleasure of it. He looked up briefly and smiled before slipping in another. I bit down on my lips to avoid screaming out loud, He knew what he was doing, I was the slave and he was the master. His other hand was tracing patterns on my thighs even as his mouth worked their magic on my breasts while he began to finger me. The skill with which he was able to handle all three was beyond my pleasure soaked brain, I didn’t want it to stop. I didn’t care how many many times he had done this before. My eyes flew open when I suddenly felt his fingers stop moving and his mouth withdrawing from my breasts. I looked at him searchingly. Did I do something wrong? It was like he could read my thoughts as he shook his head and whispered that I looked so beautiful with my hair disheveled. I smiled self consciously and his body roved over my body appreciatively before he began gently rubbing my clit again. I was sure I was going to die from the pleasure of it.

I felt so close to the edge and I told him I wanted him to put his hand inside me. He kissed my forehead and told me soon. He then raised my lower half up and kissed me at my core. I felt another orgasm coming and I must have screamed this. He just smiled and applied more pressure to rubbing my bud and kissing my nipples. Finally, I orgasmed again and while I was cresting on the waves of pleasure, he kissed my vagina and even stroked me with his tongue a couple of times. As my orgasm subsided, he held me to his chest once again and stroked my hair till I drifted off into another sleep.

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They say to love a writer is the best thing in the world

I believed them and yes they were right

Odd places I found myself writing you poems, I cared not about the business of the road

Nothing but a skinny little brat but alas in my pen I found might

To the world you are a burning star

In my world you shone brighter than a galaxy

Twinkling and beckoning like diamonds from afar

My heart always in a galloping frenzy

An eternity with you is all I wanted

But now death’s sting will I gladly welcome than to have that old wish granted

Your glory was but a mirage

Underneath your painted splendour was nothing but a filthy rag

Your crimson lips drip venomous spittle

Help! My mind is left in an unsolved puzzle

I learnt too late that all that glitters is not gold

You are but flashy metal I no longer wish to behold

Alluring daughter of Eve

Walk away now as I no longer wish to grieve

I wasted my young years on you; fascinated by your flashy hue

I tilled your land seeking to strike gold

You were never real, now I am left feeling blue

Rust, filth and mud is your mould

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It’s the end of an adventurous era
The beginning of a promising journey
One quarter of a century lived better
With hopes of the future looking merry

Experiences garnered, lessons learnt
Minds strengthened, bones revitalised
Lives touched, hearts broken, hopes rebuilt
Family appreciated, Friends discarded, foes created

Could time stop for a second while I swallow this reality in one breathe?
Can the minute hand be still for me to process this swift movement?
So happy that with each passing hour, brings forth an increase in strength
In denial of the impending reality, one holds on resentment

Reflections deep and mistakes corrected
Effects of the past begin to surface from shallow years
Ready or not, for the proximate adventure ahead
Striding strong without the will to face the fears

Lies expressed in denial of missing the former youth
Joyously embracing the gains of this beginning latter
Passionately blowing to the entire world my joys on a flute
Cos, the obvious reasons standing ahead do not matter

Waiting earnestly for the passing of the lucky star
For one last time would this fairy tale sustain me
One so dear to my heart, like a final prayer
The strength and resilience to hold on to my youth

Looking at twenty-five, never to stare behind
Planning for seventy five ahead and more with excitement
Building this rocks that provide me a stable mind
Hoping silently for an abundance of memorable moments

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It’s funny how emotions control us. Every feeling is branded in our memories like cracks on a CD plate. Even for us, people like me, the so called logical ones, emotions, when we get them, are as mind numbing as any narcotic. I sat by the window, staring at the rain, puzzling on nonsense and sipping my coffee. Not happy, no never that but maybe content, definitely afraid, both of the choices before me and afraid I will make the wrong one. From early on in life I made the decision to be logical. I as a rule do not make decisions and break them lightly. So when I decided to not let my emotions rule me, it was to me a sacred oath. The fact that I was maybe six didn’t detract from the decision, if anything it seemed to strengthened it.

I remember quite clearly, the memory is still quite vivid. One of those things that just doesn’t fade with time. I had just entered primary school, sometimes when I can, I close my eyes and hear the echoes of the memories to remind me. The way they said my name “Marreeeya,” the girls would yell On that day, a friend of mine was yelling it with excitement, ‘Marreeya, come see what Vincent is doing with his “rubber band.” She didn’t let me decide if I wanted to come see or not. I don’t actually remember her name but she was pushy that way. Grudgingly I stood up and made my way slowly to the other side of the classroom. I remember leaning against a desk with the studied disinterest that I had been perfecting all term as a result of incessant teasing. ‘I am not one pf you’ my pose clearly stated, because I was not one of them. My body frame strung tight in a parody of relaxation as I watched Vincent hit target after target, to the crowing worship of my classmates. Stubbornly I remained unmoved and unimpressed.

At some point I got bored for real and turned to go back to my seat. Then I heard my name, the same keening sound that they managed to turn it into. I turned and faced down a sweaty Vincent. ‘You don’t like my skills?’ somehow he managed to make that sound like an accusation. ‘It’s fine,’ I replied with a shrug and turned around again. Then I heard it, the anger in his voice, the belief that he thought I was better than him. ‘Dare me to hit you,’ I just stared at him, not defiantly, but with something close to wonder. He hated me and I wasn’t sure why. He must have taken my stare for defiance because he notched another paper “bullet” into the band wrapped around his thumb and pointer and shot at me. I felt everything, saw everything with the terrified clarity horror brings. The sting of the paper, the sound it made as it connected with my eye, my eye tearing and hurting. Worst of all, I heard the cheers of my classmates, their vindictive pleasure, they were happy in my pain. The thing called fury awoke within me. My fury did not burn hot, it coalesced into this lump of ice in my chest and then it froze everything in me, my morality, my conscience. Humiliated tears rolled down my face as I silently turned around back to my seat. I didn’t explain to my teacher or to my parents. Inside me, the fury burned.

Days turned into weeks, still I did not forget neither did I forgive. Finally I saw my chance, Vincent was running towards the class, the slap slap of his sandals bringing me out of a day dream. I could see him but because of the sharp bend, he couldn’t see me. I stood up and pushed a desk directly into his path. He kept running oblivious to the obstacle, the class was empty, everyone was outside for break playing games and generally having a good time. I wasn’t one for games nor did I belong to a clique so I stayed in. He ran and made the sharp bend, running smack into the desk. I heard his shriek and watched his head hit the flat table of the desk. Then I saw him on the floor, bleeding and in pain. I felt vindicated. Finally, I was free of the fury that had become my life force. The blood rolled down to soak the white of his uniform shirt. It was beautiful. I just stared and stared until someone else saw him and called a nurse. I had had my revenge and it felt good.

Reality didn’t set in until after a few days. I was horrified at what I had done. The conscience that went on vacation suddenly came back and it resumed in full force. I couldn’t bear the thought of what I had done. I was afraid of myself, of my emotions. Of the fact that they controlled my actions with such ease like the strings of a puppet. I couldn’t recognize who I became with them. That evil person could not be me. Slowly I came to the decision to lock everything away. All emotions because I couldn’t keep just the good. Even then I knew it didn’t work that way, the bad far outweighed the good so the good had to go too. Sometimes though it’s not just your personal emotions that have the ability to control you. People when you let them in enough to care can turn you into their own instruments. Making you into a thing you didn’t recognize. My six year old self didn’t know that. She thought if she was in control of her emotions, if she suppressed them hard enough then the world would not shock her. She was wrong, she was wrong for another fifteen years. I was wrong.

I grew from a logical little girl, to a logical woman. My life as it were was great. I did not have the issues plaguing most of my generation. I was confident, self aware and proud. I had just started university after a four years stay at home but while most people bemoaned the lack of admission and blamed the education system, I was quite content to spend the four years growing up and becoming more self aware; I didn’t feel the need to rush. After the four years at home and the ensuing celebration that followed the news of my admission, I finally started school, resuming to new faces and even newer reactions from people. For some reason I was really popular. Not by design on my part because I am really not that social and I have had the same friends since my secondary and primary school days. At first I just assumed it was because I was new but logic soon poked holes in that reasoning. The truth is that I was a new attractive female. That is enough reason to spike popularity in any environment. It boggled my mind because I was not up to that point aware of how potent the attractiveness was. It was just simply my face, my body. The thing that greeted me in the mirror every morning. Nothing to scream about. Men and boys alike came in droves. They pestered and disturbed. I had just broken up with my boyfriend at home because we both agreed that long distance was a waste of time. I was not ready to date again but that did not deter them. Names and faces blurred into each other. I always had free food. The perks of being female, I thought always slightly amused. Amusement quickly turned into annoyance when people around me judged my many admirers to be my many lovers. The rumour mill started working overtime and I heard things about myself that were said with such conviction that even I believed them. I got tired of the calls, I got tired of the sudden silences from my roommates when I walked into my room. I just wanted people to leave me alone. Then I saw him.

Something about him called to me. He didn’t feel like everybody else, he felt like me. Like he would understand me because he was that way too. He didn’t see me, not in the way the others feverishly professed their feelings of love. I approached him, we talked. Things moved slowly. Those feelings of love began to seep in after he told me he loved me. Why not? We made sense. I had never met anyone so like me. I slowly talked myself into being in love with him. He was my shield, he protected me against the waves of the world that battered the shores of my mind. I was in love, not the soul consuming love that people seemed to indulge in with the intensity of titan red hues or the frequency of breathing but my own love, gentle, content and kind. I did not think I was capable of such a love. “My Space,” I called him and the others thought we were crazy. We were in love and that was what mattered. We settled into each others’ rhythms, he began to lean on me and I let him. It was easy, there were violent passions on his part and stupid grudges on mine as we waded through the murky waters of relationships together. Then we slowly lulled ourselves into complacency, I found myself altering parts of me for him. He did not demand this. I just did it on my own because even though he understood me, there were parts of me he didn’t understand. He was jealous, so I kept my male friends away from his sight, avoided them as much as was possible without actually breaking the friendship. Made his friends my friends and tried to be as out going and as lively as he was. Tried not to cringe in embarrassment every time he said something offensive in public and caused people to stare at us. I became an attached identity and in my complacency, I didn’t mind that. My personality was too notorious anyway, I was better off fading into the background, I was better off being owned by somebody. He was a good man, he loved me, he was good for me and he made me as close to happy as I had ever been. As close to happy as I would ever get, my life was good. Not great, but good.

Then Mr. Magic happened. As with big things in my life there was no epiphany the moment I saw him. He had always been there in my periphery. I knew him, the kind of knowing where one knows of the person and very much aware of their existence but beyond that there is no conscious acceptance of the person. We didn’t speak regularly, barely greeted each other which is odd because I was friendly with his friends. Then one day we spoke. That was it. He was magic. We talked for hours about everything. His mind was a marvel to me, a true work of art. If there was ever a time to believe in God, that would have been it because nothing but an intelligent Creator could have made that mind. I suddenly didn’t feel content anymore, I felt happy; complete not attached. I felt fear for the first time in fifteen years. I felt anger, jealousy, joy; stupid emotions that just bubbled forth one after another on top of each confusing my half asleep senses. Emotions that lingered. The world receded when I was with him and nothing else mattered. When he touched me, I understood the meaning of passion. I was alive and it actually hurt but the good kind of pain.

I had to tell him. We had been dating for over a year. I had to tell him. He loved me, I loved him too, I didn’t want to hurt him. I went back and forth making myself sick with guilt for days. I couldn’t go back into complacency. I got courage after days of running and told him. He was angry as I had expected. I had betrayed our trust. There was nothing I could do to make it better so I turned to leave, that was when I felt it. His palm clamping down on my wrist, his finger nails biting into the flesh there. Then I heard it. “Maria”. He didn’t yell it. He didn’t need to. The calm way he said it was scarier than any yelling. “You can’t leave me, we have plans for our future together,” so calmly said like that argument made sense. I told him that it really didn’t make any sense, we made plans, that is what people do but we didn’t say we would spend our lives together. I wanted to leave. I had no apologies for this, no right words to soothe his hurt. We both needed time to heal. As I made to leave, he yanked back my wrist and I finally looked up at his face. His face was something I didn’t recognize. It was an ugly contorted mask of feverish greedy possession. “I own you,” he spat the words at me. I was terrified. So afraid I pulled my wrist from his arm and ran. I did not recognize the stranger in that house. Did I do that? Did I turn my sweet, kind boyfriend into that monster? I got home panting and dissolved into tears. Tomorrow he will calm down, he will understand, I managed to convince myself while trying to fall asleep later that night.

Tomorrow came, there was no calm. He called me and texted me until I wanted to scream. Using every weapon in his arsenal, he fired decapitating shot after shot into my skin. I couldn’t breathe. When I stopped replying him or picking his calls, he moved on to stalking me. But who could blame him, it was my fault. I am not brave, I am not strong. My only protection was my wall and I had allowed that down. Now I am opened up and bleeding. I ran and ran and he chased with feverish delight. I ran until I could not move any more. Then he caught up and picked up the pieces. Dante was wrong, I had discovered a hundred new levels of hell. He owned me. I am not a person, just an attached identity. I was once again ruled by something else. He was, is my puppet master and I his marionette. So I will sit on his couch, sip my coffee, watch the rain drops and seal my mind. It does not exist. It doesn’t have any place in this universe. This is my oblivion.

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A mysterious aura oozed from her
No one knew who she was
She came by night
She spoke words no one could understand
I could tell she has walked through fire to get here
Her eyes spoke of fear and insecurity
The more she stayed, the more I didn’t want her to leave
She belonged to no one; she belonged to everyone
The moon seemed to have fallen for her – lying at her feet
A marriage has been arranged between the moon and the girl – the girl no one knew
Morning came
She didn’t want to stay
The sun couldn’t comprehend why she wanted to leave
No amount of pleading could change her mind
A juxtaposition of love and hate
The pure innuendo of a crimson heart
She spares no one
The girl everyone hates to love
The moon died a thousand times for the girl no one knew
The girl who came by night
The girl who left by day

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It was my bachelor’s eve party and the guys had organized a little something for me. At least that was what Tade had called it. Throughout my years as a bachelor to getting engaged to Jane, I had always prided myself on being a virgin though I rolled in the company of two notorious playboys. I had promised myself that I was going to remain a virgin right until my wedding night but all that changed on the eve of my wedding.

Tade picked me up from work that Friday evening and as he drove down to Richard’s place, he was giving me a sermon on how it was wrong of me to be working a day before my wedding. I told him that Jane didn’t mind and that I was just trying to clear out my desk so that I wouldn’t have to worry about work when we were in Hollywood in Hawaii. When we got to Richard’s, he entered the car in his usual boisterous manner and asked Tade if all was set at the house, a question which Tade answered with a confirmative nod of his head and Richard gave me a wink. They knew that I wasn’t too cool with the idea of the bachelor’s party but since the three of us have been friends for well over ten years now, there was little I could do. They had refused to tell me of where the party was going to be held, all they had said was that it was safe enough for all secrets to die there without Jane ever knowing what went down though I knew I had no intention of doing anything that would need hiding from Jane.

“Relax man, you are going to be alright, it’s just some booze and good pussy,” Richard said with a laugh as he opened a can of Orijin from a small cooler in the back seat, “it’s your bachelor’s eve, don’t you want to tell your children of at least one sin that you committed. It is technically not going to be cheating if you don’t do anything you know.” The meaning of that dawned on me much more later. He continued, “You are not yet married to Jane so you can get into your faithful husband mode starting tomorrow.”

“Well that is not so reassuring coming from a man who has no intentions of getting married. What would you know about cheating?” Richard has two children from two different women and according to him, he was never getting himself into the prison called marriage. According to him, one would he want to fish in the same pond when he could visit as many rivers as he could without guilt. There was just no convincing him that marriage was much more than sex,to Richard, every woman was sex on legs to him.

We got to the apartment in no time and a gateman opened the gate for us. As I got down, Richard motioned for me to stop and said as part of the fun, he and Tade had agreed to blindfold me so that I didn’t freak out. I took one look at their faces and realized that they were serious so I allowed myself to be blindfolded and like a lamb to the slaughter they led me into the house. The party was already in full swing as I could hear Patoranking’s “Girlie O” blasting from a stereo. I was lead to what must have been the centre of the room and then the music volume reduced, I was surprised when I heard Tade’s voice

“Thank you for coming to our very good friend, Chinedu’s bachelor’s party. We the friends of Nedu are however a bit uncomfortable with the idea that our friend is about to get married without knowing the pleasures that comes from a woman so we have decided that we got to teach him how to be a man for Jane.” I reached out and tried to yank the blindfold off my eyes but they were too quick for me, Tade and Richard held me down while someone began to tie me down to the chair I was sitting on. I was going to kill them, at least I believed I thought I was going to kill them.

The music began to play again and then I felt a hot breath fanning across my face, it was soft and held a sweet pleasant smell that I couldn’t place my hands on, it smelt oddly like Jane’s perfume and then I felt someone unbuttoning my shirt. I tried to move but couldn’t, the bastards. They had led me to be humiliated in front of everybody?

“Relax Chinedu, I am only here to make your every fantasy come to life,” a female voice said in my ear. I don’t want my fantasy coming to life I wanted to say but I said nothing as I felt her go behind my chair and a tongue began probing my ear. Her moist tongue felt as if it was curled as it played in my ear while her fingers unbuttoned my shirt. Wait, it wasn’t the same person, there were two of them. There were two women? When my buttons were undone, I felt two fingers run through my chest hair and despite my own protest, I began to feel a stirring in my groin. How was that even possible, I was tied in a room filled with only God knows how many people and I was having an erection?

The soft breath came to my face again and this time the tongue teased itself across my lips while I felt a hand working on my zipper. I tried to turn my head away but a soft palm turned my face back and I found myself allowing myself to be kissed. It had to be the scent, it reminded me of Jane. Her lips were soft and undemanding as she kissed me and her tongue probed my mouth. She explored every corner of my mouth and I felt that stirring in my crotch again before I felt another hand at my dick and then a mouth. She began to kiss the glans with her mouth and f it was possible to have buckled, I am sure I would have buckled. Despite my protestations, I felt my dick growing firm and harder. The girl at my dick rolled her tongue around the tip before my member went into her mouth. This sensation was sensation like I had never felt before and my mouth sought the girl at my mouth with my fervor as my dick came to full erection with the sucking, licking and stroking that was going down on my dick.

Her mouth was traveling up and down the length of my dick over and over again. This was damn insane, I shouldn’t be erect, I shouldn’t be enjoying it but alas I was. She was alternating between licking and sucking and for the first time since getting tied up, I wished I was free not to make my escape but to touch something but I was tired and the girls kept on doing the work. The girl at my dick then did something that surprised me even more, she went to work on my balls. She proceeded to lick my balls while her hand jerked on the shaft of my dick. I groaned with pleasure, although I was a virgin, I had jerked myself a couple of times before now but having someone else do it was a totally new experience. The girl kissing me suddenly pulled away and spread my shirt apart and began licking and sucking on my beefy abs with her fingers rubbing up and down the sides of my body. I couldn’t take this anymore I began, threw my head back as I tried to get as much of my dick into the girl sucking me and she must have felt that twitching sensation because just as I was about to cum, her mouth left my dick and her hand went back to jerking me even as I screamed in climax.

I suddenly felt embarrassed, that had just happened in front of other people and as if sensing my new embarrassment, one of the girls whispered to me, don’t worry, we were alone as she undid my blindfold. It was Lydia, Jane’s best friend but I never got to see the face of the other girl as she was already closing the door behind her. Lydia dressed pulled up my trouser and untied my hands before also walking out the door and I quickly undid the ropes to adjust myself before my crazy friends made their re-entrance.

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Aba, United African Federation

2095

Professor Nwude sat, entranced and stared at the city as it sprawled out several kilometres away, unblinking. The glass buildings jutting out from the ground and racing into the clouds, the autonomous airborne vehicles hovering in the evening sky, carrying passengers in and out of the city. Nwude was in love with this beauty, he could not get enough of it and so every evening, he would come up to his study – from where he got the best view. He would sit by the glass walls and get lost in the view. He would travel through time, through decades, he would see the city before the buildings began running to the skies, before cars drove themselves, before robots and artificial intelligence walked among humans. He would close his eyes, ‘those were dark days‘ he would tell himself. He would then open his eyes again, the image of skyscrapers and self flying vehicles would flood his eyes and he would smile, satisfied that he had been instrumental in bringing light to the world.

As much as he loved to admire from afar, Nwude would never step into the city. The streets were filled with self driven cars wheezing very fast through the maze of glass buildings, successfully avoiding other cars and humans pushing their way through the streets. Giant billboards screaming out products and instructions, trying as much as possible to drown out others in noise meanwhile showcasing videos that appealed to the basest of human needs. The blinding lights, that seemed to come from nowhere but always filled the city, hiding the heavens, extinguishing the night and blanketing the stars. It was chaos in there, Nwude did not like chaos.

“Professor, it is time, 6pm”, Uloma’s voice filled the room. Uloma, the intelligence that ran his house, had always been the only companion that Nwude had. She had been so, right from her beta test, many decades ago, she had been so during his marriage to Nkemdilim, she remained so after the marriage ended. He had built her to be so.

Nwude stood and walked slowly to his desk. He sat and focused his attention on the table.

“On”, he said, the table blinked on

“Good evening Professor”, the table beeped.

“Make the 6 o’clock call,” Nwude said and reclined the chair. A few seconds later, a hologram popped up and filled the study. Three men sitting on one side of a long conference table, looking very real like they were there in the study with Nwude, the conference table seeming like it was an extension of Nwude’s table.

“Good evening, Professor Nwude,” one of the men said, “it is an honour to be in your presence after such a long time. We were surprised when you set up this meeting, it has been a while”.

“Is that you, Nana?” Nwude asked

“Yes sir,” Nana answered “I am sitting with Bamishe and Ngeda,” he pointed to the men sitting with him as he mentioned their names “we understand that in your condition, you cannot come down to the institute, that is why we agreed to the call, so if you don’t mind Sir, show us what you have for us, it is already a few minutes past 6”

Nwude was not listening, he was disappointed. The institute that he had helped found and contributed so much to had sent three children to attend to him, children he had taught.

“Where’s Aishat?” He asked “I have something very important to showcase, I need someone important”.

The three men exchanged glances before proceeding to communicate within themselves in whispers. After some few seconds, Nana spoke up again, “I can assure you Sir, we are important.”

Nwude looked at them intently for a few seconds, then tapped a button on his table. A much smaller hologram came up, it looked like a model of a pipe like structure.

“Gentlemen, what you are looking at is the culmination of my life’s work, I call it ‘the tunnel’,” Nwude announced without dramatic effect but waited for them to let the news sink in before continuing “it is a 10 kilometre tunnel to be built underground with a mechanical super catapult which I am still designing at one end. The catapult will be able to project a specially built and adapted vehicle to speed as fast as the speed of light,” now he paused for the dramatic effect “at the speed of light, a time loop is created and humans can finally be able to control time. Time travel will be possible!” The deflection in his voice mirrored the excitement on his face.

The silence that followed Nwude’s presentation reminded him of the days when as a child he went into the bush around his hometown to fetch firewood, when he was alone in the bush and he heard nothing else but his own nervous breath, the chirping of birds and the screeching of crickets. Nana and the others were at first sat like stone statues, unmoving, then they huddled together again and began whispering. Nwude was irritated. Nana turned and said to him.

“With all due respect Sir, the speed of light cannot be achieved, at least not on earth. You yourself taught us this in our first degrees and even if it was achievable, is not certain that a time loop will be created and also, we do not think a catapult can gather enough energy to project anything at such speed or even close to it. If you do not mind Sir, we would ask that you go back and finish your research and that you take into consideration the relativity of speed.”

“This is why I wanted to speak to someone with more experience,” Nwude sounded furious.

“Calm down, Sir” the one Nana had introduced as Bamishe said “what Nana is saying is that the speed of light…”

“Do not tell me to clam down,” Nwude cut him off “I had at least 10 inventions to my name before you were born. Where is Aishat?”

“Aishat is dead”, Nana said

“What?”

“She has been dead for 13 years, you read the eulogy at her funeral”

“What are you saying?” Nwude asked, he felt like a rude joke was being played on him.

“Uloma”, Nana called

“Yes director”

“Why are you calling him director?” Nwude asked

“Has the professor taken his medications today?” Nana asked

“The professor has ignored taking his medications for the last three days”

“What are you people talking about? Aishat cannot be dead, I was with her yesterday, you cannot be director, you’re a mere child. Where’s Nkemdilim? Where’s my wife!?” Nwude began agitatedly and as his agitation increased, an alarm went off in the study.

“Clam down professor,” the men were saying “calm down”.

“Where’s my wife, Nkemdilim!”

A wheeled android built to look like a red cross nurse rode into the study. It rode through the hologram to the place the professor sat. Her mechanical hands opened the cabinet that was her chest and produced an already medicine filled syringe and before the professor could push the robot away, she swiftly held his hands with one hand and administered the injection with another in his neck. The professor fell asleep on the table immediately and the cyborg nurse rode off. The alarm stopped sounding.

“Have you called Emenike?” Nana asked

“The professor specifically instructed me not to call any of his children” Uloma replied.

Nana sighed and said “I will call him myself, the man is 85 he needs at least one human around him.” The hologram went off and the professor was alone again in his study, fast asleep. Night had fallen but the city stood not so far away, its flashing lights seeming to beckon.

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Excerpt From Episode 2:

“Ruby, just a second.” I turned around and she looked me in the face and continued “I can see you have a lot of potential girl, if you play your cards right, you will be great at this.” With that she at my dress so that the dress came down a bit making the neckline come a little lower. More of my boobs became exposed in the cut out design in front of the dress and she smiled at me and nodded that I was ready to go…

To read Episode 2: CLICK HERE

We entered the club and I was already nodding my head to the rhythm of the music as we made our way to a table that seemed to be reserved for us. As we passed, some guys sitting by an area of the boy whistled and made some cat calls but none of the other three girls looked back so I took their cue and didn’t. I was behind Lily who I noticed looked back to where some of the guys sat and when we had seated ourselves in a corner of the club, Kiki whispered above the din of the noise

“You don’t ever answer guys that give you those kind of calls Lily. You are not a cheap prostitute, have some self-respect.” I was glad that I was not the one that had made the faux pas as Lola then took over the tutorial and broke things down further.

“So here is the deal girls, there are different types of guys that come to the club. Some of them are just looking for a quick olosho Bleep and that is not what we are. We are out here for the big guys, the type that you notice spend a lot of money not the bastards that would nurse one bottle the entire night. You make sure you dance with dignity, we have got class. A pussy is not a pussy because this pussy here,” she said with a sly wink before continuing “has got a lot of heavy juices that can’t flow anyhow. Not many men have tasted pussies so delicious, if you cannot afford it, you would never know!”

“We buy our own drinks as well just to show the guys that we are not desperate for their money,” this time it was Shady that was continuing the lecture “no guy likes him a gold digging LovePeddler but then again tell me who wants to do osho free? Everything is packaging. You act like you got your own money and he doesn’t price your market uselessly.” With that she stood up and sashayed to the bar area in her skintight jumpsuit. She made some orders and I noticed that as she was coming back, a guy beckoned to her but she looked straight through him like he didn’t exist. We remained together just talking laughing and gossiping till around 3:00am during which period they made sure that our table was never short of drinks. According to them, it was called the setting the bait and luring the catch in phase. You don’t get to the club and start action immediately, it didn’t speak of class.

Even as some guys came over and tried talking to us, they would shun them off in a polite manner saying we were here for a girls’ night out. It was a little past 3am when Kiki suddenly stood up and began dancing. The song playing was a club version of P Square’s “Do Me” and I stared in wonder as she moved her hips and waist in tune to the music. She was on a cropped top with a flared skirt and one could see that she was very flexible as her flat stomach moved effortlessly. As I watched her dance, I could not resist nodding my head. When she noticed that I was also feeling the music, she laughed excitedly and pulled me up to dance with her. The other girls were obviously impressed with my dancing. Our dancing soon began to attract attention to our table as it was obvious that Kiki was a better dancer than any other girl in the club and I wasn’t doing badly either. Kiki knew so many dance steps and as we shook our buttocks and breasts, guys would scream excitedly and clap with some of them trying to come over. After about thirty minutes of dancing, I sat down a bit exhausted but Kiki was apparently not done as she whispered something to Lola who went over to the DJ and whispered something in his ear. The next thing I knew, Shakira’s “Rabiosa” was playing, Kiki strutted seductively to one of the pillars in the middle of the club and began to give a perfect performance that would have put Shakira to shame as she twisted and gyrated her hips and body. Her flared skirt gave her an added advantage of easy movement and when she had her right leg round the pillar with her head thrown, Lola stood up and went over to her shaking her boobs like she was about to feed them to Kiki who had her tongues out. There was more clapping and whistling in the audience as the two girls danced like professional strippers. I made a mental note that I needed to learn some of Kiki’s moves.

Some few minutes after she came back to the table, a hefty looking guy came over to our table and handed her a complimentary card which she stared at with a frown before he indicated with his head that it was from someone else and he was but the messenger. We all looked over to the table and saw that his boss seemed loaded as he had a bottle of diamond champagne, two almost finished bottles and one unopened bottle of DonP his table. These are drinks that cost nothing less than fifty thousand naira although as at the time, being a first timer, I didn’t know. Kiki collected the card and waved at him before resuming her conversation with us in a manner that she later explained to be a way of not seeming impressed to the customer.

It was almost 4.30am now and I excused myself to use the bathroom and that was when I landed my first customer. I had finished urinating and was adjusting my dress when he staggered in obviously drunk and as I tried to evade him, he slurred

“Fine girl, how about fifty thousand if you self-service me and let me touch your breasts.” I was going to ignore him but the mention of fifty thousand naira stopped me in my tracks. My brain began to think of all the things I could do with fifty thousand naira. I had my admission fees to pay. There was just going to be a little money more to raise. The money was sure going to come in handy and with the calculations running in y head, I turned and smiled sweetly at him.

“How about you make it seventy thousand and I self-service you for only ten minutes and for any extra five minutes you spend, that is an additional ten thousand naira.”

“See you, money is not a problem!” With that he withdrew a bundle of one thousand naira notes stacked together and still with its bank stamp on it. He threw the money at me carelessly and my quick reflex was to catch it. “That is hundred thousand naira, so how about that wanking now.” I allowed him lead me into one of the toilet seats and he unzipped his trouser to expose his limp penis. For the first time, my resolve failed me, I had never seen a man’s penis before not to talk of touching it and when he grunted, I quickly grabbed it with both hands and rubbed.

He turned on the tap and indicated that I soap my hands which I obeyed. I wasn’t about to lose a customer from lack of experience. I began to slowly play with his penis. His manhood began to come alive in my hand as his limp dick began to get blood pumped into it and I smiled in triumph when I looked down at his rising dick. He had the type of dick that I would later nickname the C Command when my experience with dicks grew. Rather than a straight erection, his dirk curved as if it was trying to write a C and he instructed me that I should make my hands tighter. His hands went to my breast and he squeezed through my cloth before slipping his fingers through the cut-out in front of it. He teased the sides of my breasts as I played with his dick and then he said I should pull up my dress.

I grabbed the money and placed it nearer to me on the floor before unhooking the strap of my dress so that if fell down to my belly leaving just the top of my body exposed. He stared at my boobs lustily with alcohol drenched eyes and then grabbed at them, squeezing again through my bra. As I stroked, he squeezed asking me to go faster, after I must have been stroking his dick for five minutes, he asked me to unclasp my bra. I was reluctant to do that with my wet hands which was now a mixture of water, soap and precum but then I remembered the hundred thousand on that was by my feet and deftly unhooked my bra. My young breasts swung free from their confinement in all its fullness and he stared at them appreciatively before with one palm, he covered the head of my left breast and squeezed gently.

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http://penastory.com/2016/01/15/poetry-play-4/

Samuel Oluwatobi Olatunji and Ruth Zakari

S:

Burn burn burn

Into a splash of ashes, and your smoke

Rising towards heaven like spiral supplicating hands



R:

Brave brave brave

How the tiny sparks of this lit demon’s cough

Reason to light the way to its heaven


S:

Break break break

Break into fleshy fragments

And let the fire burn the firewood of your flesh

It’s time for a flight into heaven’s flat



R:

Breathe breathe breathe

In the eerie seduction of death

Crumbling walls into carcasses

Making noon from night

How miasmic a dance of fright!



S:

Bare bare bare

Bare the muddy map of your body

Let the night beyond your nudity

Let death be lost in this dance of unclothedness



NB: Poetry Play is a game in form of poetic dialogue for every poet on BBM. It is a game of two poets: one drops a line or more, and the other replies, flowing along until one of them gives up. Every poem formed from this game will be published here (penastory.com) every Friday. So poets, are you ready to play? If yes, contact Samuel via BBM: 7f5210ec

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