NewStats: 3,265,551 , 8,187,175 topics. Date: Sunday, 15 June 2025 at 05:25 PM 481k45

My mind went to my last customer. It was incredible that Gab was dead.

And I had walked out like a ghost.

Now, every second felt like a countdown. Every voice behind me made me flinch. Had I left something behind? Would the manager find the body and my face?

And if he did... how long before the police came knocking?

I didn’t know.

All I knew was I had to vanish before they came looking for Ella.
Because Ella, sweet little Ella, would be charged for murder.


***


I got down from the okada and paid him from the money Gab had given me.

The Polytechnic’s gates looked the same as they always did—dusty, chaotic, full of life. It felt like stepping back into a different world. The contrast was jarring: here, students laughed, vendors called out to ersby, and life carried on like nothing had changed.

But for me, everything had changed.

I moved quickly through the campus, avoiding familiar faces, my mind a swirling fog of what-ifs and worst-case scenarios. I reached the off-campus hostel I shared with Amaka and slipped into the room we rented at the back of a compound near Jakande Gate.

Amaka was still in her wrapaper, just lying on the bed. The music of afro softly played on the rechargeable radio. She blinked as I entered.

“Ah-ahn, babe! Where did you go since afternoon?” she asked, smiling. "I thought you said you were not feeling like going out to hustle.”

I stood by the door, my hand still on the knob. My lips trembled before I could speak.

“Gab?” I said louder, already feeling the first stabs of panic. I grabbed his arm. Limp.

“Gab!”

Nothing. Just the sound of his shallow, slowing breath. Then... silence.

Cold silence.

I stared at his chest. It wasn’t moving.

That’s when the dread hit me. Not the sadness of a dead man lying beside me—no, I had no room left for that—but the sheer, bone-deep fear of what this meant.

What a life! There he was, still naked. He was so full of life minutes ago. He was on top of me, trying to prove sexual prowess. He banged like he could do it for ever. Now, an unforseen twist.

He was gone. Dead. In a sex room. With me. What would people say?

They wouldn’t ask about his heart.
They wouldn’t care that I didn’t touch a thing but his body.
To them, I was a sex worker. A predator. A murderer in lipstick and perfume.

They would throw me in jail. I’d rot there.

I stood up, heart racing, legs shaking. I had to get out. I had to disappear.

I dressed quickly. I could hardly hook my bra. I had to yank my dress over my head. I put my tangled underwear in my purse. Then, I quickly looked around to see if I had forgotten anything.

No time. I grabbed my purse, my phone. My mind was racing.

The man had already paid me. It was always pay before service. I didn't touch any of his things.

I cracked the door open. The ageway was silent. No footsteps. No voices.

I walked on.

Not too fast. Not too slow. Just calm. Like I had somewhere to be. Like nothing had happened. As I ed through the bar, thankfully the manager and others paid no attention. The football match was still going. That, thankfully, had their attention.

Out on the street, the city roared to life around me. Motorcycles zipped past. Horns honked. Music blasted from a nearby shop. I turned the corner and stopped a motorbike popularly called okada, my heart still pounding.

My mind went to my last customer. It was incredible that Gab was dead.

He nodded. “I’ll take your number. Maybe another day we do something longer, okay? Today... I’m short on time.” He smirked. “So let’s make it short.”

Short-time it was. He drained his bottle and stood up, slipping a few bills on the table with practiced ease.

“Let’s go to the manager and get a room,” he said.

I followed him, heels clicking softly behind his long strides. The manager barely looked up as Gab dropped money on the counter—he’d done this before. A key was handed over like a secret. Room 7.

Inside the ageway, my mind slowed down. I wasn’t nervous. Not anymore. I had done this too many times. But I was alert. Always. That was the difference between those of us who lasted and those who didn’t.

The room smelled faintly of stale cologne and cheap disinfectant. Faint outlines of old stains remained on the curtains, like shadows of past encounters that didn’t want to be forgotten. The lighting was dim, forgiving.

I walked in behind him and shut the door softly.

This was one of the rooms I had been in before. The bed creaked the same way. The mirror was still cracked at the edge. I had seen men of all kinds here—young, old, married, drunk, aggressive, shy. Some were gentle, others careless. A few were cruel.

My eyes had seen much in this business. My body had endured a lot.

And yet, every time I stepped into one of these rooms, a part of me stood back—detached, watching. Waiting. Wondering when, or if, I would ever walk into a room like this and feel nothing at all.

But not tonight.

Tonight, I was Ella. And Ella had work to do.


***


The air was lusty. You could smell the faint muskiness of sex. The room was dim, with peeling curtains and that all-too-familiar smell of cheap air freshener and maybe smoke. I had been here before. Too many times.

Gab wasted no time. We undressed, it was time to get down to business. It wasn’t the worst I’d had—not by a long shot. But he was not gentle as he rushed things, like a man trying to squeeze every ounce of pleasure out of a ticking clock.

The way he squeezed my breasts was rough. It was if he had never touched breasts before. The sexual act itself was too physical. The condom softened the impact, but I had to pray it would not burst.

I let him take what he wanted. I was used to men like him.

The first time was quick. The second, more demanding. He was sweating by the end of it, panting like a runner. By the third round, I could tell something was off.

His breathing grew heavy—too heavy. Not the tired moans I’d heard a thousand times, but something deeper. Desperate.

He pulled away and sat on the edge of the bed, clutching his chest. I sat up slowly, watching him.

“Hope nothing?” I said cautiously. “Are you alright?”

He didn’t answer. His skin had gone pale, and his mouth opened, gasping for air. His eyes darted wildly for a moment, and then—just like that—he collapsed backward onto the bed.

“Gab?” I said louder, already feeling the first stabs of panic. I grabbed his arm. Limp.

“Gab!”

Good day, esteemed friends. I have come with this hot new story.

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A Knock in the Night









The journey of life for Funmi is a tough one. She has to do all sorts of odd things to survive, including commercial sex hawking.
The biggest challenges are that at the peak of her happiness, there are knocks at the door in the night that shatter everything.






Saturday evenings had a regular sound of their own in the city—rushed, chaotic, and a little desperate. By six o’clock, the streets around Unity Road, along Ago Palace Way, were already humming with life: street vendors yelling over each other, music spilling from loudspeakers of nearby shops, and the clamor of weekend freedom slowly building to a crescendo. But I wasn’t part of that world. Not really.

I had claimed my usual corner seat in Galaxy Bar, a dimly lit but stylish place that balanced between being lively and discreet. I always chose that particular spot—close enough to the door for visibility, far enough from the spotlight to be ignored by the uninterested. The scent of beer, sweat, and old leather furniture filled the air. A live football match boomed from the massive wall-mounted television screen, complete with wild cheers and o groans from a mostly male crowd.

I barely noticed the game. My eyes skimmed the room occasionally, but I remained mostly still, sipping from a green bottle of 7 Up. I didn’t drink alcohol. I couldn’t afford to do so—not when I needed my senses sharp.

I was there for business, after all. Yes, the real hustle business. The kind of business that required smiles that weren’t real, names that weren’t yours, and charm that was more calculated than felt.

My name tonight? It would be Ella.

It always worked—soft, feminine, non-threatening. It rolled off the tongue easily and left a lingering sweetness in the minds of men. In truth, I had retired my real name a long time ago. What use was it when the world only saw what I chose to present?

I crossed my legs slowly, subtly adjusting the slit in my black skirt. My skirt was not too short, but it was short enough to reveal my thighs, which men often commended. The top too was not too revealing. It was quite transparent enough to show the outline of my wellpadded bra, but nothing beyond that. Oh, well, it also showed the cleavage. I must say I was used to men staring at my busts.

So, my dressing was nothing too flashy—just enough to catch wandering eyes. I glanced at the entrance. The door creaked open and in walked a man I had noticed before.

Gab. That wasn’t his real name either, I suspected at first.

Men like him wore layers of pretense like cologne. He was tall, with a confident stride and the casual arrogance of someone who never had to work too hard for anything. The last few times I’d seen him here, he was flanked by ladies who hung off his every move like ornaments. But tonight, he was alone.

He scanned the room—and then his eyes landed on me. And stayed there. He smiled. Not the sleazy grin of drunk desperation, but the calculated smile of someone used to getting what they wanted.

He approached smoothly, pulled out the chair opposite mine without waiting for an invitation, and sat.

“Hello, pretty lady,” he said. His voice was deep, oiled with charm.

I looked up, offering the faintest of polite smiles. “Good evening.”

“I’m Gab,” he said, leaning forward with the ease of a practiced flirt. “Can I meet you, please?”

“You may,” I replied softly. “Call me Ella.”

He chuckled. “Ella. Now that’s a name that fits. Sweet and mysterious.” He paused. “Your parents chose well.”

I almost laughed. The irony was too much. If only he knew. Ella was as real as the diamonds in my earrings—which were, by the way, cubic zirconia.

“Thank you,” I said.

He gestured toward my drink. “Mineral? On a day like this?”

Before I could respond, he snapped his fingers at a bar attendant, who came rushing over like a trained pup. Gab didn’t look at the man, only muttered, “One Gulder for me, and give the lady whatever she wants. Fast.”

The attendant turned expectantly to me.

“Another bottle of 7 Up, please.”

Gab raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He shrugged, amused.

The drinks came quickly. He downed a gulp of his beer and turned his full attention to me. The small talk began: the usual banter, laced with subtle assessments. He asked what I did, where I was from, what I liked. I dodged and redirected like a seasoned tennis player, giving just enough to seem open, but never enough to reveal anything real.

Eventually, the veil dropped.

“How much for it?” he asked, bluntly.

I leaned back, nonchalant. “Depends on what you want.”

I then went on to mention the packages and their prices

‘The hotel is like a complex building,’ she explained.

‘The main building houses the lodging rooms, restaurant, a bar, a conference hall and a club. Behind the main building is a storey building. There’s a kind of suite on the first floor and that’s where I stay. On the ground floor, there’re four rooms. You’ll be occupying one of them for now. The problem of accommodation and transportation is solved.’

I nodded. We soon got to the hotel, the Comely Hotel. It was a two-storey building with a side drive that led us to the building at the back. The driver, whose name I had learnt was Gideon, stopped the car and grinned.

We got down from the vehicle. Mrs. Shitta stretched her legs. ‘To think that some people will travel by road from Lagos to Kano!’ she exclaimed.

A young lady came from the house.

‘Welcome, ma,’ she greeted her.

‘Yes, Bimpe. How’re you?’

Fine, ma. How was your trip?’

‘Fine.’

I removed my suitcases while Bimpe struggled with madam’s big luggage. Madam faced Bimpe.

‘Simi here is the daughter of my good friend, and that means she’s my daughter too. She’ll be working with me. Take her to the first room downstairs to drop her luggage. That’s where she’ll be staying. Then bring her up. We still have some talks to do.’

We entered the building. It was a new building that looked and smelt new. I followed Bimpe to the room allocated to me. It was a modest room, a little smaller than my room in Ibadan, but still comfortable enough. It had a single bed, a desk and a plastic chair, plus a stool.

With the chair and desk, I could do some reading and writing. There was an in-built wardrobe. Everything smelt new.

‘This is your room,’ Bimpe said. She pointed at an ading door. ‘In there, there’s a toilet and a bathroom. You don’t have to use the other main bathroom and toilet at the end of the corridor. I occupy the next room.’

I nodded. Bimpe, at a guess shouldn’t be more than twenty-four. She looked friendly and I hoped we would get along well.

‘Thank you,’ I said.

‘You’re welcome.’

I opened the wardrobe and piled my suitcases inside. Later, I would arrange my things there.




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‘The job is better than what I have now and mum advises that I should take it.’

‘And you didn’t discuss it with me before you decided,’ he accused. ‘What if I say no?’

Now, that was Daniel for you. How could he say no?

‘The job is from a family friend and …’ I was explaining.

‘Alright, alright. What kind of job is it, anyway?’
I sighed. ‘I’m to be a hotel Business Manager.’
‘What? You want to work in hotel?’ His tone sounded like it was the most disgusting job I could ever take.

I breathed in deeply but said nothing.

‘Listen, Simi,’ he said. ‘No baby of mine will work in hotel. You’re not to take that job.’

‘You don’t mean that, Daniel,’ I said, getting agitated.

‘I mean it. Don’t accept it. If you do, then kiss our relationship goodbye.’

‘Daniel!’

‘I mean it. Take up that job, and then forget about me.’

He went on to cut the line. Can you imagine that? Daniel cut the line. I sighed and shook my head. I was not totally surprised by his behavior, for he always had that propensity to be domineering.

I continued to prepare for my departure. Mum kept drumming it in my ears that I must be a good gal and prove myself worthy, and I kept replying her that she had no reason to be apprehensive.

‘I’m twenty-seven and I know what I should do,’ I said.

On the Sunday that I would leave Ibadan, Mrs. Shitta’s driver came to our house about three o’clock to ‘pick’ me. I had already packed the clothes and other things I would be taking to Lagos in two suitcases. I went on to hug my mum to say goodbye. I was surprised to see drops of tears fall from her eyes.

‘Oh, mum, if you’re doing this because I’m traveling to Lagos, what will you do if I’m departing for Canada, or Australia?’

She smiled wryly. ‘Don’t mind me, Simi. Make sure you’re very careful there.’

‘I will, mum.’

Titi too was shedding tears. Now, wait a minute. I was only travelling to Lagos, a place less than 190 kilometers away, for God’s sake!
But the, I knew I must not get angry with my sixteen years old niece.

‘Come, Titi, I’ll always be coming back home.’ I gave her a thousand naira note. ‘Hey, get something for yourself.’

I was surprised she refused my offer.

‘I’m going to miss you,’ she said.

I was moved, so I hugged her. She calmed down.

Titi and mum waved at me as the driver moved the jeep out of our compound. I felt like shedding tears too, and I almost did; but the presence of the driver who would imagine that I was probably destined for a trip as far as Papua New Guinea, prevented me from doing so.

We were soon at Mrs. Shitta’s residence at Bodija. We didn’t stay there for long. Her suitcase was soon added to mine in the booth and we set out for Lagos. I sat with her at the back seat.

‘Simi, my daughter’, she said. ‘I’m glad you and Bimbola accepted this offer. Just do your best and see how you will be rewarded.’

I nodded. ‘I’ll do my best, ma.’

‘That is good.’

She did most of the talking, and she would caution the driver from time to time to cut the speed.

‘Hey, I’m not in a hurry o. Even in London where their roads are better, I never liked speeding.’

About an hour later, we got to Berger. The jeep veered off the expressway. I supposed in minutes, we would get to our destination.

‘The hotel is like a complex building,’ she explained. ‘The main building houses the lodging rooms, restaurant, a bar, a conference hall and a club. Behind the main building is a storey building.




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The following day was Wednesday, I was on my way to work when mummy called me.
‘Maria just called me now. She advised that you should resign from your current place of work with immediate effect.’
Just like that? I sighed. ‘Okay, mummy.’
‘She also advises that you’ll get set and follow her to Lagos on Sunday.’
‘So fast?’
‘Yes. She wants you to be on ground, familiarize yourself with the place and be part of the team that will kick off the operations of the place.’

I sighed. ‘Okay, mum.’

As I soon as I got to my office, I wrote a short letter to notify the management that I had resigned my appointment with immediate effect. I thanked them for the opportunity they had given me to work there. Moji, my colleague and good friend was shocked by my sudden decision. I explained to her why I had to do what I did.

I packed my few personal belongings, bade them farewell and left. I was back home before mid-day. Mum advised that I should get some books and read about hospitality business. I went on Google to do so.

I called my friends to inform them about my imminent relocation to Lagos. I also called Deola, my sister to intimate her. She was a Medical student at the University of Ibadan and she stayed on campus.

‘Are you going to be working at NAFDAC in Lagos, or what?’ Deola asked.

‘Mrs. Shitta is opening a hotel. I’ll be working there.’

‘What? Hotel? Do they prescribe and dispense drugs in hotel?’

I chuckled. ‘Don’t be cheeky, Deola. I’ll be working as Business Manager.’

‘Business what? What d’you know about business?’

‘Don’t under estimate my potentials, sister.’

She laughed over the line. ‘Well, best of luck, Simi.’

‘Yeah. And best of luck to you too.’

Last but not the least, I called Daniel.
‘I’ll be going to Lagos,’ I said. ‘There’s a job waiting for me there.’

‘What!’ he sounded astonished. ‘How could you do that?’

‘The job is better than what I have now and mum advises that I should take it.’




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The person that knocked didn’t wait for an answer when the knob was turned and the door was pushed in.

Titi gave a grin. ‘Mummy said you should come downstairs,’ she informed.

I knew that would be her message. ‘Okay, I’ll be coming.’

I got down from the bed and went to the staircase. Here, I could hear the excited voices of mum and her guest. I descended the case slowly. The voices grew louder as I got to the large living-room.

‘Good evening, ma,’ I greeted Mrs. Shitta.

‘Ah, Simi, my daughter, come and give me a hug.’

I gave her a hug, the strong whiff of her perfume assailing my nose.

She looked at me all over. ‘Only God knows what is wrong with the young men in Ibadan. How could they leave a beautiful damsel like you alone all this while?’ she smiled.

I wasn’t surprised at her sarcasm. This woman could talk!

‘Don’t worry,’ she went on. ‘Lagos men are smarter. Before you spend months there, you’ll see how they will rush you. They know good things.’

Mummy smiled while I grinned. But, who told Madam Maria that I didn’t have a man in my life? I had, even though he was an unserious fellow.

‘O ya, sit down and let’s discuss,’ Mrs. Shitta went on. ‘Bimbola must have told you about the Lagos job I’m offering you, right?’

I nodded and took a seat beside her. ‘Yes, ma.’
‘So, what d’you think?’

‘She’s going to do well on the job,’ mummy intervened. ‘I trust my daughter.’

I nodded in of what my mother said.

‘Yes,’ Mrs. Shitta continued. ‘I want you to be smart and sharp. I want you to be my eyes and ears there. I want you to grow the place. And of course, the remuneration is mouth-watering. I know you’ll not disappoint.’

I resigned myself to fate. ‘No, I’ll not disappoint,’ I answered.

I stayed with the two women for several more minutes before I excused myself. The following day was Wednesday, I was on my way to work when mummy called me.



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I opened my mouth in astonishment. ‘What! Me?’

‘Yes, you, Simi,’ my mother said. ‘You can do it and you will do it.’

‘I read Pharmacy, for God’s sake! What has that got to do with running hotel business?’
‘Studying Pharmacy does not mean you can only be limited to that line. With commitment, you can succeed as Business Manager, my dear.’

Presently, I worked at Dravos Foods, a company that was into the production of biscuits and confectionery. The pay wasn’t that good, but it was still better than being idle at home. Daddy’s ex friends who had promised better jobs were yet to fulfill their promises.

I was thoughtful for a while. At twenty-seven, I had graduated over five years ago and had completed my national youth service over fours ago, now. I had taken the job at Dravos, after I could not secure a job at the pharmaceutical industry.

Mummy herself promised to get me employed by the UCH, but it wasn’t easy succeeding in that.


Now, the offer from Mrs. Maria Shitta had become the news flash.

‘But that would mean my leaving Ibadan for Lagos,’ I pointed out.

‘Yes.’

I frowned slightly. ‘Why didn’t Mrs. Shitta set up the business here in Ibadan? Why did she have to set it in Lagos?’

Mummy chuckled. ‘She has her good reasons for doing that, my dear.’

I nodded. Just then, there was another blaring of horn at the gate. ‘Goodness,’ mum said.

‘That must be Mrs. Shitta. She said she would be visiting.’

She stood up from the bed and moved to the door. I followed her.

‘Maria has a lot of confidence in you for inviting you for this job, Simi. You must not disappoint her.’

I sighed. Mummy was always zealous about things she was interested in. I had not even affirmed that I would accept the job offer, but she was already taking about not disappointing her friend.

She went downstairs while I went back to my room. I played some music on my small sound system and reclined on my bed. Many minutes later, there was a knock on my door. The person that knocked didn’t wait for an answer when the knob was turned and the door was pushed in.



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‘But we’re serious, mummy,’ Deola had said.

‘I’m sure you’re still getting toasters.’

‘Plus micro-wave ovens,’ Mummy added.
We had all laughed.

I sat on her bed. She was not in a hurry to tell me the good news, so I waited. Mummy changed into a long house gown.

She turned to me. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re eager to hear the good news.’

I nodded.

She came to sit by my side on the bed. ‘Mrs. Shitta is commissioning her hotel in Lagos next week.’

‘Oh? Congrats to her.’

Mrs. Maria Shitta was mummy’s good friend. She was also a nurse at the teaching hospital in Ibadan years ago before she relocated to London. She wanted mummy too to change her place of work, but mummy chose to remain in Nigeria.

After ten years in London, Mrs. Shitta was coming back home with an investment. She had built a hotel, as she said she was ionate about hospitality business.

But was the opening of the hotel the good news mummy wanted to tell me? I waited.

‘Well, you know her three children are all abroad,’ mummy continued.

‘Hmn hmn.’ I nodded.

‘Her children would have ed her in running the place, but for the fact that they’re not around. She wants a very trusted and capable person to handle the business for her. She wants a reliable person to be her Business Manager. She wants you work for her.’

I opened my mouth in astonishment. ‘What! Me?’


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How long would I continue to condone his childish – almost foolish – behavior?

There was the hooting of car at the gate. Titi went to see who it was. Soon, the wide gates were opened and a car drove into the compound. That must be mummy. She was on afternoon duty and anytime she was, she came in about this time. I could hear the voice of Titi welcoming her.

Moments later, I could hear footsteps coming up the stair case.

‘Has Simi come back?’ Mummy was asking.

‘Yes, mummy,’ Titi answered.

Mummy raised her voice. ‘Simi! Come o! There’s good news.’

I sighed, wondering what could be the news. The greatest news I would have loved to hear was that my father, the late Brigadier-General Michael Akolade, had come back to life. Since daddy died about two years ago in a ghastly road accident, I believed I was the one that missed him most. Not even his wife, my mother, missed him the way I did. I believed he was the most loving father in the world, even if his wife did not think so.

But I knew his resurrection would not likely be among mummy’s news items. I got up from the bed and left my room. Mummy was removing her uniform when I entered her bedroom.

‘Welcome, mummy,’ I greeted.

‘Simi, my dear. How’re you?’

Mummy was in good mood. There must be good news she wanted to .

‘Fine. How’s work today?’

‘Hectic, as usual.’

She removed her stockings and white gown. I had always known mummy to be a nurse, ever since I could . She was once a slim and beautiful woman and I took after her.

Even now that she was fat and not so young again, she still looked beautiful.

Months ago, I and my only sibling, Deola had teased her about re-marrying.

‘You girls are not serious,’ mummy had said.

‘But we’re serious, mummy,’ Deola had said. ‘I’m sure you’re still getting toasters.’



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Hello, friends. Long time no see. Despite all challenges, we shall survive.

Happy reading......







A Babe in Distress


This story was formerly titled: Thrills of a Lagos Babe

© Copyright, 2025


No part of this can be used or reproduced without the express permission of the author.

Wura


Simi is a simple lady until she moves over to Lagos to start a job. Working with someone as sophisticated as Tina opens her eyes to many things. Her new perspectives make her see sex as something that can be well explored. Two major tragedies in her life bring Simi back to the reality and to realize that she must live a godly life.



This story is dedicated to Almighty God.







I took the last seat in the cab from Dugbe. A fat woman occupied the center seat and had taken a great deal of space. I just had to bear with her. In the next ten minutes or so, I should be at Idi-Ishin quarters, my destination. I finally got down and gave a sigh of relief. I gave the driver money, but he complained he didn’t have change. When it was obvious he was wasting my time, I decided to forgo the change and moved on.

Our home was a white storey building that needed repainting. It used to be a very beautiful duplex, but the peelings on the wall had done some damage to its aesthetic values. I unlocked the pedestrian side of the gate and made for the entrance door. It was locked from inside. I pressed the bell and waited patiently.

From inside, a curtain was moved aside as two eyes peered to see who the intruder was.
‘It’s me, Simi,’ I called out, in case the person had some doubts.

Quickly, the door was unlocked and thrown open.

‘Welcome, aunty,’ Titi said, coming to hug me, and to relieve me of my handbag.

Titi would not stop amazing me. Just about nine hours ago, she had seen me off to work. Now she was greeting like someone who hadn’t seen me for months!

‘Thank you,’ I mumbled and entered the house. She knew where to take my bag to. We went straight to my bedroom which was the first by the right on the first floor.

‘How was work?’ Titi asked.

I smiled. ‘Fine.’

She lingered a bit. I opened my bag, brought out a roll sausage and handed it to her.

She smiled. ‘Many thanks, aunty,’ she said.

I nodded. ‘You’re welcome.’

She left my room. I sighed, sat on the bed and removed my shoes. Then I changed from my office wears to a t-shirt and shorts. I lay on the bed, thinking of Daniel. The guy was becoming erratic these days and I was getting fed up with the relationship. I had complained to mummy about him, but she said I should be patient. How long would I continue to condone his childish – almost foolish – behavior?


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‘It’s my work. It’s becoming very demanding.’

‘You mean your work is keeping you in the office till ten p.m.?’

‘Not exactly. If I leave work, for example, at 8.00 p.m., I still have the traffic to contend with before I get home. That’s why it looks like I come in late.’

‘It’s not that it ‘looks’ like. It is. Look at the time. Why must you work till eight?’

‘I’m sorry. I’ll try to cut the working hours.’

There was never any way he was going to tell his mother that he was keeping a steady date outside and was spending some time with her after office hours.

‘You must do that. If the workload is so much, why doesn’t the firm employ more people? Why must they overwork you?’

His mother was on point. He nodded and ate on.

‘You know how terribly unsafe Lagos is,’ mama went on. All these armed robbers.’

‘I understand your fear, mom. God is guiding over me.’

‘Of course, of course. I know God is guiding you. All the same, you too must be security-conscious and must not do things that will give the devil a chance.’

He nodded again. I’ll cut the office hours, as I said.’

Childhood memories flooded his brain and he felt like a child again. His mother had not learnt to talk to him as an adult, who – though needed counseling from time to time – mustn’t be prevailed upon to take advice. She was always the authoritative, loving mother who was giving directives to a loveable but petulant son.

Later, as he lay in bed, Yeni told him she had something very important to discuss with him. She was sitting up on the king-sized bed and that meant what she wanted to discuss with him was indeed very important. 

He looked at her closely. ‘I hope there’s no problem, or serious problem.’

She sighed and closed her eyes for some time.

Her fears about his suspected infidelity was becoming more evident. She thought she could perceive some female perfume on him when he came home that night. She had been feeling that way anytime he came home in the past recent nights.

It must be figment of her imagination, she had tried to dismiss in her mind. Twice in the last few days, she had called his office telephone line about seven p.m., the so-called time he said he was still holed up there working.

The phone had rung on and on without being answered. He was obviously not in there.
‘It’s about your coming home late,’ she started.

He grunted and chuckled. ‘Is that why you look so disturbed? You know my work. That’s what delays me.’

The service girl approached with a patronizing smile. They ordered burgers, chips and malt drinks.

‘So, what’re you studying?’ he asked his companion.

‘Sociology,’ Ekaette replied shortly.

‘Good course. Is it interesting?’ the assertion and the question lacked concord but none of them seemed to notice.

‘I think it is. I’m a level 200 student.’ 

‘Ah,’ he sighed. 

She couldn’t be more than twenty, still a girl, but already wise in things of the world. Going out with Biyi and ultimately snatching him from Joyce was a triumph for her. She had no scruples about doing what she was doing. Joyce had wronged her by snatching Chukwuma, a wealthy Igbo guy from her. Ekaette had only gone out with him for few weeks. 

Ekaette was not the type to allow things to happen just like that. She had given Joyce a good fight for it. At the end, Joyce won, pyrrhic victory or not. Ekaette had taken it calmly,
waiting for her time. Now, it was time for Ekaette to pay her back. Sweet revenge. She was having the last laugh, wasn’t it? It was tit for tat.

‘What do you plan to do when you leave school?’ he asked.

She laughed shortly. ‘I don’t really know yet. I may look for a job around.’ She shrugged. ‘Who knows, I may be able to do something worthwhile. If not, I may jet out to Canada.’

Canada again, he thought and smiled. ‘Lucky you.’ He allowed a pause. ‘I’m in business in U.S.A.’

She looked at him curiously. Just as he had thought, she was fascinated. ‘That’s interesting,’ she said. ‘What kind of business do you do?’

‘Over there, I sell computer software.’ He said it in a way to make Bill Gates proud. She looked blank. Obviously, she didn’t know much about that line of business. 

‘That’s interesting,’ she repeated.

They finished their food and were ready to move on. He took her to his duplex lodge where they popped a bottle of brandy and drank as if there was something to celebrate. The heat was on.


* * * 

Jide didn’t get home on Tuesday evening until about a quarter of an hour to ten. His lateness was becoming more and more pronounced these days and his wife was getting worried. He would come in late to complain about the load of work. She hoped he would not be too tired to listen to her and see reason. Mama beat her to it. Right when Jide was taking his supper, his mother went to sit by the dining table.

From the way she looked, he rightly suspected that he was in for another grilling. He braced himself for it.

‘You’re coming home too late recently,’ mama started.

‘It’s my work. It’s becoming very demanding.’