The Narrative (iii)


Without much ado, I quickly jumped to the bathroom, had a cold shower, put on a short brown gown, wore cologne and boarded the next available cab to Sammy’s location. I got to Bubbles Plaza in record time. I called him, he told me to come inside the plaza that he was putting on a brown chinos trousers and a blue denim shirt (brown gown, brown trousers; seems like a scene from a Nollywood thriller? Hell no! This is real life, more like reality TV).

I met Sammy for the first time, for some imaginary reasons I was kinda shy. A seductive fragrance oozed from his body. Sammy was buying some items for his house. He seemed like he wasn’t delighted to see me, acting all busy. At intervals he would ask for my choice on some things he wanted to purchase. Maybe that is a guy code or his usual communication ingenuity because what’s the point in asking for my choice on something I won’t use?

In a moment, he was done and paid for his items then we marched to the parking lot. We got into Sammy’s car, he started “wow, you are stunning. For a moment, I froze when I saw you. Cameras and photographers should apologize to you. They have continually misrepresented you. That’s injustice. You are way prettier than you look on pictures”. At this point, my head was plaiting Bob Marley. Of course, I know I am beautiful, but the way Sammy was painting it got me more intoxicated.

With a wry smile, I told Sammy it was okay. Sammy kept mum, turned the ignition and drove off. I didn’t ask Sammy where we were headed. I think I was comfy with him. It shouldn’t be, I was just meeting him for the first time but I was anyways. As we got to New Haven, I asked him if we were headed to his house, he responded in the affirmative. I found that kinda cool.

I am the only girl in a family of 6. My siblings who are all my seniors, always said that the only women they take to their houses are the ones they have regard for, otherwise, it is a guest house or a friend’s house. Armed with that mentality, I was proud of myself. My CV is qualitative I guess.

Immediately, we got into Sammy’s sitting room, he pulled me by my waist and started kissing me. I was meant to turn him down. I was meant to push him away. I was supposed to be furious but I wasn’t. I kissed him back and before I knew what was happening, my gown, my undies were in different continents. Sammy’s head was buried in between my legs. Sammy ate me like his life depended on it. Sammy ate me like there was no tomorrow. After a while, the feeling became paradoxical. My clit was swollen. I couldn’t tell him to stop because the pleasure was coming from the pain. As providence would have it, he stopped and unleashed the dragon. He drove it in as fast as someone thinking I may change my mind. Saying I was wet would be putting it mildly; the region was a downSTREAM sector. The fikifiki sound was embarrassing and funny. Though we laughed about it, Sammy continued. Switching lanes and changing gears as he thrusts. Sammy was ruthless. Sammy was brutal. Sammy was disrespectful. My legs were shaken, I had muscle cramps. When he was done, he splashed his fluids all over me. Before you judge me….

Wait for part iv…