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Okon had seen his face.

When he turned away from locking his car he had briefly locked eyes with the other man. It had barely been for a second, but it was enough. The other man’s face ran through a mix of emotions: recognition, surprise, disbelief before finally settling into a lewd, secret smile.  He had anticipated this in the scheme of things and quickly dipped his head in return, before heading into the house after his host.

Drumming his fingers on the arm of the sofa in Shola’s lavishly furnished living room with his other hand wrapped around a drink she had poured him from the ornately carved bar, he waited for her return from her bedroom upstairs. Between admiring the all too familiar decor and wondering what sort of stupid playlist she had put on the stereo, he replayed the evening in his head.

Since he had offered her a ride a week before when her car had conveniently broken down, all their texts, phone calls and instant messaging had led up to the dinner date earlier that evening. They went out to a place he knew she hadn’t been before and just to be sure, he had asked her. It was a slow night for the restaurant, weekdays usually were.

She, of course made sure to order something very expensive off the menu that she couldn’t even pronounce, but he didn’t mind. He was secretly delighted by her feet repeatedly brushing against his leg, languidly tracing circles under the table and the sultry way her eyes seemed to undress him. The way she leaned over when she spoke coupled with her low cut dress had caused a dull, pleasurable ache in the front of his expensive, tailored trousers all through the meal. Afterwards, they came back to her place, on her insistence, for a drink. He smiled.

None of that had really been necessary for him: not dinner, not the constant back and forth with the flirty messages or the weak excuse she had invented just to get him in her house, because he had already marked her as his since he’d first laid eyes on her. He could have had her whenever he wanted and he knew it, but it was the anticipation borne by this seductive play that kept him. It was exhilarating playing a game that he had already won, everything he did became a part of some sort of ceremony in preparation for the inevitable. Heck, even the meal had some sort of significance. It was like the ritual of a predator stalking its prey; certain protocols had to be observed, certain roles had to be played out. It was the thrill of the hunt.

He glanced at his watch impatiently, interrupting his drumming fingers. Maybe it was thinking about the way she made it so obvious that she wanted to fuck him. Or the memory of the disgusting way the gateman had smiled at him; irritating little motion, like they shared some sort of bond. Or it was possibly because he had reached his breaking point with the music on the stereo which was slowly killing him inside, grating on his mind, his thoughts.

But something snapped and he couldn’t wait any longer.

He took the stairs slowly to the first floor of the house, gliding his hand effortlessly over the smooth, polished wood of the banister as he went, his heels clicking on the tiles. He found the intricately carved, heavy wooden door at the end of the corridor as with all his previous visits, but this time he wasn’t so careful when he threw the door open without a knock.

Shola, who was standing in the middle of the room jumped in surprise to face him, clad in nothing but a black thong. She recollected herself quickly and wordlessly raised an eyebrow at him, smiling provocatively. A ripple ran through him at the sight of her perfect body: tiny waist, toned thighs, turgid nipples, smooth skin. She edged slowly towards the bed; her dark lustful eyes propelling him across the room to her.

She undid the buckle on his belt, all the while squeezing and stroking him through his trousers. The low, dull hum of his zipper being pulled down brought his attention back to her. He watched her take short breaths and lick her lips while her hands worked eagerly at freeing him.

“You’ll need to take a sit for this” she winked turning him to sit on the bed while she got on her knees between his legs. He jerked slightly at first when he felt the light pressure of her tongue and let out a sigh when the warmth and moisture of her mouth covered him.  He closed his eyes and took to running his hands through her hair when the pleasure was almost unbearable. He bit his lip and moved his pelvis in rhythm with her mouth. Then she stopped abruptly.

His eyes flew open angrily and he grabbed the back of her hair..

“Who asked you to stop?”

But her mistake was trying to reply because as soon as she opened her mouth to speak he rammed his penis into it. With her head firmly gripped in his hands, the choking sounds she made as he roughly pushed himself deeper into her throat gave him just as much pleasure as her tears as she tried to pull away from him.

His hands moved from being buried deep in her hair to encircling her throat in a tight grip, and she began to claw desperately as his thumbs dug in.

“What’s the matter?” he asked in a soft whisper, “You don’t like it rough?” his voice was so low it was almost a hiss. She was finding it hard to speak with her mouth full “I know you like this; I’ve seen your toys.” There was something satisfying in the way her arms flailed about while her eyes bulged; a vein throbbed beautifully in the middle of her forehead. He held another human’s life in his hands and in that very moment, he knew he was a god. The power was ecstatic.

It was an aphrodisiac.

It was arousing.

It was mind-shattering.

And then he came, buried deep in her throat, shaking from the force of his orgasm..

He got to his feet and left her coughing and spluttering in a ball on the floor beside the bed.

***

It was a relief to be able to breathe again and Shola sucked in the precious air. Sweet Jesus!.

Which kyn rough play be all this one now?

Her throat was on fire and every breath she took burned like a motherfucker.

Fucking werey!

She fought the stiffness in her muscles and raised herself to a sitting position, leaning against the bed watching Ahmed walk across her room to her dresser and wondering what sort of crazy person he was. She was used to fetishes, some a bit daring but this was something else, and worst of all he hadn’t even warned her.

A cold, dank feeling of dread clutched at her chest as she watched him pull out the last drawer in the bottom of her dresser; the one where she kept her props and toys. Her cause of discomfort wasn’t because he had opened it; it was the unfaltering way that he casually reached for it, slipped his hand inside knowingly, like he knew exactly what would be there. The realisation hit her low and hard: this man had somehow been inside her house unnoticed; there was no other plausible explanation. But how could it have happened?

He turned to her slowly with dark, unreadable eyes; her silver handcuffs dangling off the end of his finger. The ones she had specifically gotten because Nasir was fascinated with kinky stuff like that.
“Sssshhh” he was closing the distance between them with slow, calculated strides, stroking the handcuffs tenderly.

What trouble is this my God?

She opened her mouth to scream and the last thing she remembered was a heavy fist crashing into the side of her head.

*************************************************************

When Nasir showed up at Shola’s house that morning because she hadn’t picked any of his calls or replied his texts, he had thought it was a good idea. He figured he would play the part of being annoyed at her for ignoring him and she would give him “make-up” sex. And that was just how he had planned to start his day.

He parked outside and made to knock on the side gate but it was unlocked and swung open slightly on impact.

That useless gateman he cussed in his head, stepping in through the gate and heading straight for the main house, he found the front door unlocked and made his way into the house and upstairs. With every step he took up the stairs, the bulge in the front of his trousers seemed to grow, throbbing impatiently against his leg in anticipation.

“Shola?” he knocked on the door to her bedroom twice before slowly pushing it open.

Shola was sitting up in bed, completely naked with her hands held up loosely over her head by a glint of silver at the wrists. But there was no head, just the stump of a neck. It took him a second to realise that the shaggy mass of hair between her widely parted legs was her head, face down in her vagina.

He didn’t know he was the one screaming until he couldn’t breathe, so he ran. Stumbling down a few of the stairs, he seemed to regain his composure as soon as he was out the front door. He glanced into the gate house wondering where the gateman could possibly have disappeared to at such a time and he froze.

Okon was sitting on the floor with his head flopped unto his chest, propped up by the iron frame of his tiny bed. His abdomen had been slashed open and his innards had been neatly arranged on the floor beside him. This time, Nasir scream wasn’t at fast as the contents of his stomach and the doubled over beside the gate house, heaving.

If you haven’t had a chance to read that yet, you could do that here

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Shola was thinking that things couldn’t get any worse than they already were but then she saw the darkened, rain clouds dancing on the horizon, heading her way courtesy of the wind. She kissed teeth, frustrated and kicked the tire of her green Lexus jeep. How had she known that things would turn out this way right after they had been great?

She had pulled out of her house late morning, as her mind played host to a million thoughts of her rendezvous with Nasir. Her heart beat wildly in her chest: euphoric, her tummy did flips and she had to wipe her sweaty palms countless times on her thighs to get a better grip on the wheel. It wasn’t that there was anything to Nasir; indeed he was young, fit and very good-looking with brown, animated eyes and his deep laugh that rumbled deep in his chest. His full beard, without fail always brought to mind that stupid song by Majela (Queen of Vagina) that she still didn’t remember where she had heard it, the song went ”I like having sex with bearded men…” He was magical in bed and rich enough to work for as little time everyday as he wanted. But it wasn’t any of that that made her pulse pick up just thinking of being in a room with him. It was simply because he was Alhaji’s son, and not just a son, the son.

Alhaji had a lot of children, many from his two wives and one or two illegitimate one, but Nasir was his golden boy: the only reason he had chosen to live solely with his mother and set the other wife and her children up in a different compound, visiting them for short periods at intervals, long intervals. He didn’t care much for Nasir’s mother though but afforded her the respect she was due for providing him with Nasir.

Nasir had manipulated him, played him like a pawn ever since he could speak; milking his father’s love and adoration for him and all the while managing to appear as the son incapable of evil and hurt to his father. Of course if they were ever found out, she would bear the brunt, whatever little affection Alhaji had developed for her would be thrown to the dogs and she would be ruthlessly dealt with as all the others that had dared to cross him. And Nasir’s freedom from the clutches of the ‘jezebel’ would be celebrated; ”After all” it would be said “she seduced the poor boy”.

But that really wasn’t the case; there had been no seduction, not in the sense people believed anyway. It was lust: pure carnal instincts and it drove both of them to the inevitable. There had only been tension and anticipation, and once they had begun, it only spiraled down from there. It never was a case of the heart for neither her nor him: the derisive “forbidden love” theory. Theirs was a sick, twisted game they played and around the flames of deception they danced hand in hand. They would take to places where the threat of being discovered was immense with nothing but expert timing and brilliant acting skills to save them; or in better words, save her. She was technically the only one taking a risk, with everything to lose.

Sometimes he would arrive at her place, exactly 30 minutes before Alhaji would be scheduled to arrive to spend most of the evening and night with her. She would send Okon on some far away errand so that she would be the one to let him in, as planned. They would make out until Alhaji did in fact arrive on time (as always), then she would hide him away in one of the two guest rooms the house had, like a toy. Later at night when Alhaji’s lazy snores rocked the quiet house, she would sneak back to him. The risk of getting caught coupled with the immense pleasures he wrecked on her, were world-shattering.

That day in question, she had arrived a few minutes after noon to one of Alhaji’s many houses, known to her only because Nasir had given her directions after asking, rather demanding for her to meet him there. He’d secured her safe passage through the gates, leaving her car parked a few meters away at the closest establishment with a parking lot they could find. When they had torn out of all their clothes in the one of the massive studies the house boasted of; he had whispered to her with a wicked smile as she lay on the long conference table that his father had called a meeting with some of his associates for that afternoon and they were in fact, at that moment all headed out to the house. That very house. Suffice it to say the scramble to climax was exhilarating. She made it out of the house and unto the floor of the backseat of his car just as the huge gate had been pulled open…

Now she was heading home exhausted and sore, but for no reason at all, her car had just stopped like it didn’t understand her need to rest.

For real? Right after the day had gone so well.

As if that wasn’t enough, the threatening rain clouds served to further dampen her spirit. She cracked her knuckles nervously and flipped through her phone in search of a cab’s number. She was thankful that she had gotten far enough from the vicinity of Alhaji’s house before the mishap but she still needed to get home before the rain. She hardly knew a thing about fixing cars and it was for this very reason that she always got the car serviced regularly.

Stupid piece of shit, she eyed the car angrily.

A car pulled up a few feet away from her and she looked up. Her eyes quickly noted the car, it was a BMW, better still a recent model. She didn’t really care that it was red; a color she hated on cars, to her it spelled fun, young and rich: just her type. She quickly reached into her car and smacked on some lipstick.

“Hey, is everything okay?” a voice called to her, beautiful accent he had. She turned to meet its owner standing a few feet away leaning on the open door of his car with an arm thrown carelessly over it. He was tall and dark, with average looks; nothing special. He looked like he could easily get lost in a crowd, but her eyes overlooked all of that and landed briefly on his wrist. Watches were usually indicators for her and she always took the time to updated her knowledge on them. He had an Audemars Piguet strapped to his wrist.

“Uh, my car just parked up on me” she shook her head confused,

“Oh wow, where were you headed?”

“VGC”

“You wouldn’t mind a ride then? It’s my way too, I could get someone to come tow your car”

“No thank you, I don’t want to be a bother, I already called a cab” she smiled sweetly. It was one of her rules: never accept on the very first offer, you had to play the part of being persuaded,

“Are you serious? Waiting out here for a cab?” he looked around incredulously, “I’d really not like to leave you out here all by yourself”

“It’s okay. I’m tougher than I look” she joked.

He raised a perfectly arched eyebrow before looking up “Besides the rain’s coming in” looked back at her, “You don’t seemed dressed for cold weather”

She was dressed in a sleeveless dress that came many inches above her knee, worn for the convenience of taking it off.

“It’s just a ride” he tried again.

She acted like the first drops of drizzle was what it took to change her mind but really that watch and the car had already sealed the deal, “I’m Shola”
“Ahmed” he smiled as a dark shadow passed over his face briefly. She didn’t notice because she was already sliding into the passenger’s seat through the door he had opened for her.here

She was a light-skinned goddess; although he was pretty sure most of that glow was out of a bottle.  She was 5 ft 7 with perfect legs and a tiny waist, with an ample bosom and a booty to match. Her full lips concealed straight, white teeth with a side-gap of which she was rather self-conscious, causing her to curl her mouth in a funny way when she spoke. He did not, in fact fancy her broad nose but at least he was thankful she didn’t have those sort of large nostrils where you could see the owner’s brain through them at just a glance. Her hair: a tawny shade of brown, which was artificial of course, suited her light complexion quite exquisitely and  came right down to her waist where a tattoo of an eagle sat proudly, wings spread.

It was a wonder she hadn’t noticed him in the three weeks he had been trailing her. Naturally, she drew a lot of attention, which was possibly the reason why no one had any to spare him: a lone figure always lurking behind at a safe distance with a face cap permanently pulled down low to hide the better part of his face. But then, in such a populous and busy place as Lagos who had the time to be looking over shoulders? Besides who would even believe that they would be followed by anyone? Who had such time? Well, he did.

He’d first seen her in the bathroom of a nightclub somewhere in Ikeja, with her skirt up high around her waist and her panties down between her knees. That night, he didn’t quite remember what he had been doing in the bathroom stall but he had found himself seating on the closed toilet seat with his feet up trying to avoid his “friends” and the distastefully loud music booming in the main hall of the club. Then he heard laughter and hushed voices as the main door to the bathroom swung open and shut again.

“Good! The bathroom guy is gone” a female voice surprised him, soft and breathy with a slurred edge to it. At first, he figured she was drunk and had stumbled into the male’s washroom instead of the females, which had their main entrances side by side.

“You mean the washroom attendant?” a gruff male voice.

“Whatever you call it” a giggle.

“We’re in luck, there’s no one else here. Help me with the door,” there were hurried footsteps as the male voice scanned under the the stalls for the feet of would-be users,

“How?”

“Pass that chair” the distinct  click-clack sound of heels on tiles  was followed by a scraping noise and then a dull click.

There was rustling of clothes, a grunt, a gasp and then moaning. He heard the words, “harder” and “fuck” a couple of times before he had dared to look.

Cautiously, he had pushed up to his feet slowly, peeking over the top of the stall door and there he had seen her bent over by the sink being taken roughly from behind by a muscular man in a plaid shirt who was clawing at her waist and spanking her behind. She had her arms on the counter to steady herself, and he caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror: beautiful. Even in passionate abandon,  with eyes half-closed and sultry red lips uttering profanities in hushed tones, while her electric blue nails clawed at the porcelain sink, offering up herself on fancy 6 inch heels to be devoured.

Fascinated, he had come out of the washroom to watch her after then; taking notes of how she flirted shamelessly, intrigued by her rather deep laughter as she took shots of tequila by the bar with her friends, aroused by her suggestive dance moves. He had even overheard her name: “Shola”. He repeated it to himself quietly, letting the ‘L’ roll off his tongue, feeling the air between his teeth when he started out the ‘Sh-’. When she left the club with her friends, he had  followed them, oblivious to the fact that he hadn’t come alone. The cab had dropped her right in front of her house as he had later come to find out, where she lived alone.

In the first week, he had quickly become close to her gate-man: Okon, by endearing gifts and kind words and of course proffering his company to the rather lonely man, who couldn’t help but jump at the thought of someone to ramble to.

“Na who live for this ya house?” he had asked Okon once he had gained the other man’s confidence,

“Ah, na my Madam. You never see am?”

He had always timed his visits so he would not run into her until it was the right time.

“No” he shook his head.

“Ehnn, na she dey there. Na only she dey live for here”

Rich Parents? He had mused.

“Ah, she get money o. Fine house like this” he said, gently pressing for more information that he knew the other man would be too happy to blurt.

“Taaa, which money?” Okon spat on the ground beside him, “Na Alhaji buy the house for am. You know na, all these small small gehs, na only God know wetin e don give the man wey e con put am for hia. If na me I go chop, clean mouth commot. I no go dey waste big big money like this on common ashawo”

So a Sugar daddy then…

“Ahn ahn! Why you dey talk so?” he forced laughter,

“Na true na, no be only chief wey dey con this place na. Plenty, plenty men, different kinds. She dey give me small small money, make I no talk”

“Ahn”

“No be say she talk am like dat o, I just know say na the reason for the money be that”

“You be smart guy”

“Eheh na” they both laughed.

Two days later, he drugged Okon with half a card of “Roofies” in a bottle of beer for a chance to snoop around the house. He picked the lock on the back door quite easily and spent the rest of the afternoon getting more ‘acquainted’ with his prospective lady.

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