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Sunday, February 12, 2017

Finding Hubby (3)

Gloria sent me a BBM that they were leaving The Marquee for Aura. It read “Off to Aura. Enjoy en, and be ready to spill all the details. You’ve gotten the iPad, but I’ll still get dem shoes. #bbdevilsmiley#”. 

Ha! I was so keeping my shoes in some bank vault. But I knew it was an effort in futility, because if Gloria wanted them, she would organize a bank heist to get them.

 So I was going to tow the line of making available to her anytime she needed them, so that I didn’t lose the shoes altogether.

Anyways, back to the present. I was enjoying all the shaking what my mama gave me and movement with Mr. X. Men.

 The guy could really move and he had a way of working me into the most desirable positions for body melding dancing.

The d-jay had done a good job of whipping the whole club into a frenzy and now we were getting doses of Terry G and all the Naija ginger movement boys. 

Visions of the expertise with which he could handle my body raced through my mind and I worked fervently hard to make sure I gave him enough reason to want to.

 Kalu and Koikoi could go and hug a transformer for all I cared. After what seemed like hours of rollercoaster dancing, he finally put his arms firmly around me and led me towards the hall, and then the exit.

 Hmmm, a man that was sure of himself and took what he wanted. I was liking Mr. X more and more. In the elevator ride down, I could feel his eyes racing all over my body with intensity and his hands went into his pocket. I could guess what he was trying to hide and I was glad I was having that effect on him.

You know the saying that goes “We guess some people are foolish when they keep quiet, but they remove all doubt the moment they open their mouths?" 

 I’m sure he had heard the saying before and made that his watchword. When we got downstairs, he spoke. 

“Aunty, before I go on and enter the car park with you, we need to discuss price.” 

That’s how I would have said it. This is actually how he said it. “Haunty, before Hi go Hon Hand Henter the car park with you, we need to discuss price!” 

Oh my God! He sounded like he was acting out a scene from Jennifer. That must be the worst H factor I’ve ever heard. 

And to cap it all, he thought I was a call girl. Oyinomalicha, you have suffered in this your life. See en, I can live with most things, but a man with an H factor is just a no no, a total turn off.

 Calmly, I answered. “I’m not up for sale. There’s no need to discuss a price for anything.” He smiled and looking at his face now, I wondered what I was attracted to in the first place (bad belle on my part o, he is damn fine).

 “Madam, I was not talking about price for taking you home. I’m talking about the price you have to pay for me going home with you and servicing you for the night. I thought you knew the way things are now.”

                                                                            ***
I nearly died where I was standing. He was a gigolo! This nonsense man finished looking at me and I looked like someone who could not get a man without paying for one. 

A thousand concentrated Yoruba curses raced into my head, but I refused to say a word. I just turned and began walking away when he grabbed me by the arm.

 “You can’t just go like that now, I gave you a good part of my night when I could have been pursuing other clients. You have to settle me.”

 I couldn’t believe what was happening. I don’t know which shocked me more, what he was saying, or the fact that he dared to lay his hands on me (forget that I had been dreaming of having those hands on discreet parts of my anatomy for most of the night).

 Those curses I had done well to keep sealed away came rushing out and the Yoruba girl in me shot to the surface “Oloshi, oloriburuku, e.t.c.” He held me menacingly and I was sure he was going to hurt me. I was in serious trouble.

Be nice to people, okay, cos you never know when they will come in handy. The guys that parked our cars at the Marquee who knew me well (I am generous, wink wink) came to my rescue.

 When Mr. X saw that he was outnumbered, he stepped away, waving a finger at me as he backed away and then pruned himself and went back into the club.

“When I see you with am, I been dey wonder o”, one of them was saying to me. “She no sabi their type”, another one said. “Na true, she no be like the type wey dey use those dirty boys,” a third chipped in. 

They followed me to my car, saying they wanted to make sure I was safe. But I understood them well, so I parted with one thousand naira as I entered the car amid chants of “madam the madam”.

 I had had enough for the night. All I wanted to do was get home, scrub myself clean of all the events of the night and curl up in bed.

 I’m tired of this Lagos sef. I think I need a vacation, Miami, beaches and bikinis. I sent Toke a voice note with the gist of Mr. X and headed for home. I knew she would probably not see and listen to it till morning and that was fine by me.

 I was not in the mood to talk to anyone tonight...

  To be continued
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