By Oghenerukevwe Divine Ogede,
It was a cool evening of June 30, 2001. It was a Friday. The scorching sun had already been smothered by the murky cloud. As such, the evening was hyper real. I decided to take a walk through the golden street of Nungua. It was my second day in the town. The street was always awake with street lights which make some tall buildings visible-the characteristics of a metropolis. Although, cars were often using the road, it was not too busy to congestion. It breezed proportionately to human satisfying level on the street that night. As I tucked my hands into my jeans front pockets, I gamboled along the lane.
Who wouldn’t be in such frequency when the evening complemented the imminent pleasure I was preparing for? I was on my way to buy some hard drinks to fill the refrigerator in my room. It was a lonely road until I got to the main road off my close, busier than expected. I manoeuvred my way through the pedestrians who were either moving in or against my direction. As I moved on, I noticed on the other side of the road some ladies who were standing in suggestive postures. The ones saw clearly, dressed scantily and flashy with heavy makeups for easy identification. One wouldn’t have to scout or search amiss to see one’s target. Some others were leaning on windows of stationary cars, negotiating the night. I looked as I walked to my destination ahead. Tigo Store is located in the heart of three competitive night clubs in the area. Everywhere was noisy as I moved closer. Music blast from the clubs and people moved in and out of the store noisily too. I hurriedly picked and paid for the drinks I needed and paced my way back home.
My appointment time that was almost due wouldn’t make me look at the human commodities at the other side of the road as I journeyed back. I was blaming myself for leaving the house late and promised not to forgive myself if I missed my guest. She had promised me a visit the next day wherever I would be settling. My journey from Lagos to Nungua was remarkable with Epiphany as she told me was her name. It was a beautiful name, I thought as I wasn’t familiar with such. We enjoyed each other’s company very much. She was black and beautiful. I believed the sun must have worked on her complexion. Her white eyeballs were exceptionally smashing. Her lower body curves were exaggerated in comparison to her moderate waist. She was that kind of a lady most men only dreamt to have. Her dark hair was a mass of ringlets-clean, sweet-smelling and natural, reaching well below her shoulders. I was too lost in her charming beauty that I laughed to all she uttered whether amusing or not. My mind was made up to make her my mistress. Unconsciously, I laced my fingers behind my head, as I stared into her eyes.
‘’Be my guest tonight, spend the night in my arms like a bird in a nest. If it gets cold later, we can wrap ourselves up in the blanket like two caterpillars … my mind is already open for your love. What I needed now is your love in return. I have all it will take to make you happier than you have ever been.”
She smiled indulgently and never replied. As the silence between us lengthened, I longed to pull her close to myself. Her disarming smile exposed her set of beautiful teeth for me to examine for the first time. They were in beautiful rows. Joy crested in me like a tidal wave. “I’m Prince,” I said to her with a stretched hand. “Prince? … It’s quite a handsome name for a handsome man like you. Are you from a royal home?”, she complimented instead of her intending question, giving me her warm hand. It was so tender and smooth. I knew she had a posh upbringing. She was entrancing. I was obviously stunned and anxious such that a fog of desire welled up in me. With the compliment, pride stretched in my lips and lightened my eyelashes as I moved them to and fro her body ravishingly. The fact was that, when my mother gave birth to me, I was like an outcast, so my grandmother decided to name me Prince. She lifted her hair with both hands to let the breeze cool her nape. The movement caused her breasts to strain momentarily in her enlarged neck blouse in a sensuous and highly provocative gesture. My eyes caught the movements and I salivated repeatedly. I doubted if she was aware of its effect. I cleared my throat. “I am not from a royal home.
My grandmother decided to give me the name perhaps ,due to her cheer happiness. So, may I know yours now?” In a voice not quite like mine, because I had begun to lose it. “You’re so anxious to know my name. That will be next time,” she said, her voice lowered to my ear. She looked away, smiling afterwards. “Next time?” I queried. “Yes, next time,” she confirmed. I wondered when that might be. If we got off this bus, the chance that we would meet again was unfeasible. Maybe she’s sure of what she was saying, I wondered apprehensively. “Okay, if you insist. Where can we meet again? Would you mind giving me your phone number and house address in Nungua here so I can visit? Please,’ I pleaded”. “I am staying at my aunt’s. I’m afraid there won’t be room for such a visit especially by a male. But if you insist you can give me your phone contact and address, I’ll come look for you. I think, I have tried to please you in a way, don’t I ?” “Yes … that’s cool. Very, very cool.” I stuttered it.
It came unexpected and I received it with all surprise. I asked her to be sure she meant it and she confirmed it again. We exchanged phone numbers thereafter. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. I’m sane and I think that’s what I can do to sustain what we have built in here.” A wave of excitement swept across my face as she said that. The dial has been cast with great anticipation; I paced up and down round my specious room. As I sat staring into nothingness, her memory kept tugging at me.
The breeze moved gently causing the window blinds to draw my attention to them. The door too shook to the knocks of the wind. I was startled each time that happened. I understood that when a man is waiting for his lover, he often hears the footsteps of the spirit. I became conscious and tried to take control of the situation. I put a call through to her to know what had kept her and if she wouldn’t be coming again. Of course, I felt I’ll be advantaged if she came that late, she would have to pass the night in my place. Our initial arrangement was in the afternoon until it turned out the way it appeared. I took it for a deliberate and compromising act. She told me she would be leaving her home at 9pm. Then, my assumptions were on point. I was joyous, and danced all alone in the room that indeed, it would be a splendid night. I started imagining a night with her in my bed. Being the last Friday of the month, many churches opened for vigil and I imagined how many ladies, young girl and even teens that would have gone out of their homes under the guise of going for vigil and never got there, rather vigilled in men’s beds. My visitor was one of such.
I reminisced on my religiosity in schooldays in connection to vigils. I remembered Mike who always came to call me for to attend. I recollected one of the nights that Mike emerged. “Are you at home? Brother, put on your clothes, and let’s go to vigil,” he said and sat on the chair. “Bros, I’m damn tired,” I answered. In my heart, I was bitterly angry with Brother Mike for calling at such a time. He was the devil that came to block the ways of men’s pleasure on earth. I finally told him that I was expecting a visitor who I wouldn’t want to miss. So, he excused me from that night’s vigil. With the gentle knock on my door, I knew it was my guest. I was so uncontrollably happy. How easy for the hunter to get his game that night. The prey willingly surrendered itself to be preyed on. This is a great feat and it happened once in a while. I let her into the room where I had flaunted my wealth of baits. She looked around and commented on my taste. I knew my charms were effective. Pierced with a wanton stab of pleasure, her presence invoked a deep desire in me. Her blooming flamboyant hair arced on her shoulders. Her earrings move rhythmically with her steps.
She wore a well-tailored black jeans trousers a flower-pattered white short-sleeve shirt. As such, she was plumy ripe for the picking, I thought. We talked and talked till we were at the middle of the night. The clear cloud had taking over at the time and the moon was round and glittering, casting its silver presence on the room from the opening of the window blinds under the control of the wind. The silence notwithstanding, I could hear my mind dictating the next plan to me. She looked at me and smiled. I wondered why she smiled. “Could she possibly be a mind reader?” I quizzed under my breath. I smiled back to assure her she’s safe with me. She came closer to me and laid her head gently on my laps. My heartbeat began to increase as we began to move to the rhythms of the love that kept us under the same roof.
She hissed and moaned, and winced her body against mind as I pushed up her shirt to claim her hidden breasts. They were firm and heavy in my hands. I fumbled with her breasts and kissed her eyes, nose, lips, earlobes, neck and chest. I found her lips and parted them with a thrust of my tongue. After a while, her nipples began to harden as I stroke them. She reeled and moaned in ecstasy as I cupped my mouth on the nipples one after the other. She fell on the bed with her legs sprawled. She moaned with need. Like the moth takes the flowers it pollinates, I slowly let my pumped-hard tissue loose into her. The whole forest was set ablaze with the stricken of a single match. Her eyes were guttering like a fixed star amidst dark clouds. Her feet on my buttocks peddled the action and my temper grew like that of a wild animal as I pound harder. We both moaned on each other’s tongues, cacophonically. Like between life and death, the strength that had built up in me tripped into her. Balls of sweat dropped from body like a leaking roof. My eyes glittered with unshed tears. The room was ruffled with sexual perfume. I became weak like ‘Idodo’ on the bed. With the loud silence in the house, I fell asleep. * * * It was a serious brawl.
My guest came with a man and pointed to me. This man was holding a cudgel and a cutlass. He was huge. No particular argument between us after the lady pointed at me. It was just a rash attack. I received some blows form the cudgel before I seized it. He was left with his cutlass while I had the cudgel. At a point, we lost hold of the weapons and wrestled. After some time, he overpowered me and I was under him. He was strangulating me that my life began to deflate. I cried and cried and cried but no one could hear me. I was struggling on my bed trying to call the name of Jesus. I succeeded after a while and my life came back. I opened my eyes to see no one. A swift wind rocked the window blind. I was frightened. I was naked. I looked around; my guest was nowhere to be found. The time was 11 am when my eyes got to it. I called out to her but no reply. I hastily stood up from the bed and wore my underpants. She was neither in the toilet nor closet. The door was locked as I left it the other night. I made for the window, it was opened slightly. “Could she have gone through the window? Why couldn’t she wait till daybreak? What kind of girl is she? Could it be I had an affair with a ghost or an evil spirit?
My mind went back to my dream. I remembered she was the one that brought the monster and pointed at me. I remembered I didn’t ask for her name. I remembered I didn’t know her address. I tried call number, it was unreachable. I remembered, my course would start at 8 am. In this labyrinth of mystery, I approached my bed taking each step with trepidation. I knelt down and prayed but the fear of the unknown hounded my existence from then.
Background of the author
The author Oghenerukevwe Divine Ogede, lectures in Western Delta University, Oghara Delta State. He is a member of Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA) Delta State Chapter. Many of his works have been published works. Among them – a short story: “A Drop of Mercy“, Nesting On The Rocks: An Anthology Volume 1, New Series published in 2023 by the Association of Nigerian Authors(ANA) Plateau State chapter. His novels are :Unwanted Shadow by Boox and Bransador Limited (2021); Festering Wounds by Kraft (2022); Orgy In The Garden by Boox and Bransador (2024). His poems are: “Too Many Radios Are On” (2024) and “Deltans Cried For Joy” (2011).
Phone number: 08062551183, Whats app number: 09153565375 Email address: ogededivine88@yahoo.com,Gmail :divineruky53@gmail.com