I just met her.
Adele – kinda woman. Yes, she sings too.
Quiet. Too quiet actually.
But the eyes behind those spectacles…they spoke volumes to me… Within seconds I knew a lot …
She wrote this story.
I connected with its plot and I will try to give you a wider perspective…
There she lay on her back, her body rocking as the man went in and out of her, sweating and panting as
though he was doing a 10 kilometre run. He was pot-bellied and greying already. He was definitely way older than her friend Susan had told her…
… Disgusted could not explain how she felt at the moment. She was irritated, not just at the man but mostly at her self and maybe life. As if life had not been cruel enough to take her parents away, she had had to drop out of school to fend for her siblings…
… Why had she agreed to this? Why had she come here? She knew it was definitely going to end in this, yet she came. She had had no plans to sleep with this man,,, so what made her leave her house to come see him? …
… She blinked away the tears gathering in her eyes…
… So why on Earth did she stay back after realising her mistake in coming..? ‘Maybe he’d be the type that just wanted company and not sex…
… The love and tenderness with which he spoke to his daughter. What would this man think of her tomorrow? A prostitute?
Definitely! Who else would readily sleep with someone old enough to be their father.. Someone they did not even know…
‘… Jane, you’re a prostitute’, she told herself.
‘A shameless one’…
… She had never felt this rotten in her miserable life. This was not living, was it? She was merely existing…
… There she was in bed naked with a pot-bellied old man grunting on top of her. She had refused to kiss him as much as he tried to force his mouth upon hers. She couldn’t bear the mouth odour touching her lips
This was what she had brought upon herself. And what was all this worth?
And to think they never even talked about money before the sex. So she had no idea if he would even give her some cash when they, rather when he was done…
… “Oh God!”, She wept. “How did I fall so below your Grace? How did it get this bad?”
She remembered when she was eleven singing in the church choir. How amazing it had felt being in God’s presence. Now she couldn’t even remember the last time she had prayed let alone been in a church.
What had her life become?
… She was drawn out of her thoughts when she felt him jerk and grunt louder..
“Oh thank jeez” The torment was finally over.
He rolled over and fell asleep immediately his back hit the bed. She stared at his huge stomach and resentment washed over her.
She wept more… Totally ashamed of herself. She picked her clothes off the floor and slowly dressed up. Trying as much as possible not to wake him up, she quietly snuck out of the bedroom into the sitting room…
… There she crumpled to the floor and wept bitterly, knowing that no matter how much time passed or how many lifetimes she found herself in, this dirt would forever be etched in her mind. She was tainted for all eternity…}
I work hard.
I earn every penny I spend.
City to city. Select destinations around the world. It’s never pleasure. Just business. I know I should relax. Doc says my blood pressure is too high…that he would have me rest…
Well… I will rest when I die.
I prefer to be alone. It’s easier frankly. Women are convoluted… Making money is my mistress.
So I am in Keffi, Nasssarawa state of Nigeria at the moment. I am passing through to Jos, Plateau state.
The fuel scarcity is brutal. My driver drops me off at a lodge called Minki, and then heads of to adorn the long chain of vehicles queuing up for petrol.
The hotel is okay. I sit by the pool and sip on a generous serving of Campari.
I strike up a conversation with a young lady close by. Her name is Susan. She is a student at the University in Keffi. She is about Maya’s age. I have about thirty – five years on the child.
That’s why it was funny when she started flirting with me. She was not my type and I told her so. We drank and talked for a while. The liqueur loosened my tongue and my usually strict code of ethics.
She had a friend I would like, she said. What room was I in?
The friend arrived an hour later. Emboldened and suitably intoxicated I started to undress her.
She would suffice.
Her breasts were rather small.
I was grossed out by the hair under her armpits, only because they smelled stale.
She was unshaved down there too… Hairy legs further down.
Her belly was my worst problem. It was a pot belly. It’s protrusion exceeded the protuberances of her breasts. I hate that in a woman. Especially if you’re not a mother of four kids and above. You belly should be largely flat otherwise!
Her redeeming features were her stunningly beautiful face and large buttocks. Trim waist.
That stomach though! Suck it up!!
She’s quite lacklustre in the sack. She will not kiss me. She is unbelievably naive.
And she starts to weep tight – lipped.
I cannot wait to get this over with. A waste of my time and money.
But I realize that I feel something. I feel like I understand her plight. I can empathize.
She clearly did not want to be here. She was getting no pleasure.
All she probably needed was some money.
All she probably wanted was (maybe) my benevolence. All she probably desired was a functional father /parent.
As I climax I reason that I will invite her to accompany me onwards to Jos. I want to hear her story.
I am rich.
I will help her out, I can afford it a hundred million times over.
If I figure she is a mere hustler, I will simply make it worth her while.
I am a chronic insomniac. But I feign sleep immediately.
My heart breaks as I hear her whimpering beside me.
I feel her leave the bed and the rustle of fabrics let me know she is dressing up. I listen to hear if she would try to steal from my wallet on the table.
Instead I hear her sobbing softly from the other room.
I then decide that I will become her benefactor.
I will take care of her. She is a true victim.
I will marry her.
It has been too long since Hannah died anyway.