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Life After Death

Posted by Dan Ochu-Baiye on

Mya

I feel nothing.

Watching them both stammer and stutter is epically underwhelming.

My best friend and my fiance.

Edit that, an acquaintance and my mistake.

You see after a series of convoluted events, this ill bred scoundrel confessed to having slept with my best friend several times.

She denied it of course.

Despite the monumental tragedy of it all, I was proud of her.

The One That Got Away was of the opinion that tricking both of them to a meeting for the sole purpose of a confrontation was not a good idea.

But I needed closure.

The “he said, she said” narrative was causing me cognitive dissonance. I needed to hear the truth from both of them.

Right now they were yelling at each other. Trading insults. Flecks of spit involuntarily launched at each other in naive insubordination.

No one was expecting the slap that rang out.

It was a cruel swipe that I did not see coming.

I felt my neck whiplash twice I think. Once from the recoil after the backhand blow and the second time as the back of my head was driven hard into the concrete wall behind me.

I was in a daze…, but did this wanker just hit me? In public!? Why was I bleeding?

I looked up in confusion, he was panting like an ostrich tripping on crystal meth.

Miriam (my former BFF), was screaming and pointing to my neck.

I lifted my right hand to scratch an itch on my neck and in the middle of sticky wetness, I pulled out a shard of glass.

The sight of my blood gyser-ing out of my neck is the last thing I remember.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Mya’s Dad

My family was not doing too well at the moment.

This thing between my daughter and her fiance had quite literally raised me from the dead.

I was at the hospital, but no one was talking to me.

From the little information I had gleaned, my daughter’s fiance had confessed to boinking Miriam. Her best friend.

Miriam not only denied it, but asked my daughter to call on all parties to sit and speak the truth.

The cornered young man had lashed out with a glass in his hand. The tumbler exploded upon impact and lacerated my baby’s neck in several places.

She was brought in clinically dead.

I was brought in as good as dead myself. Sigh… What do you expect. I am her father.

She was in critical condition in the ICU at the moment. And I was here, helpless. Unable to do anything.

Do you know how emasculating it is? To be unable to cater for your family?

I have been here for two days now. There was confusion and pandemonium everywhere, and I was powerless to help.

I walked into the hospital room. It was a comfortable VIP room in a private hospital.

My wife was on her knees in earnest supplication for our daughter’s life. She was kneeling by Mya’s bedside.

Mya had bandages around her neck. Two large tubes had been inserted into her open mouth. She was still unconscious.

I did not like the way she looked… Dead.

Her large eyes were partially open.

But all the sophisticated machines she was hooked up to proved that she was still alive. The medical equipment were emitting a cacophony of beeps, dings and clicks.

As a father, I could tell that my Mya was dying.

You see she could have easily fought the injuries. She is a tough girl.

But Mya was heartbroken. I know my baby. This was not going to end well.

I stalked outside the room to yell up at heaven.

Mya was an only child. A love child. My pride and joy. She is her mother’s pulse. Mya is all we have.

“God… Why? Please… ” were all the words I had spoken when I saw him talking to the nurse at the front desk down the hall from me.

I saw the nurse on duty point and he started walking toward me.

He was a handsome man.

Big.

Athletic build.

He carried himself very well.

He had an air about him.

His clothes sat like skin.

But his face was determined. His eyes had purpose.

This man was the key… A key…

He walked past the door and stopped beside me. He sat down and stared into the open room. His eyes on Mya.

“Boss… She is going to be just fine.” He said to me.

I felt tears break away from my eyes and down my cheeks.

It had been a long time since anyone in my family had spoken to me.

This man had a gift. He most certainly was one exposed to Truth. The aura he brought was pure.

Straight from ‘I AM.’

Then it dawned on me that he must have been fasting and meditating.

He looked to be about 35 years old. He was wearing a wedding band and an Invicta limited edition watch. (Yes, I know these things.) His fragrance was Creed and the aftershave he was wearing was Old Spice.

I had never met him before. At least not when I was around. But I liked him. He was a classic man. He had machismo… He had respect.

He turned and looked straight into my eyes, and smiled.

He nodded at me and stood up. He was mumbling in a strange tongue. In many strange and diverse tongues actually.

I stood up and followed him into the room.

He walked around the bed and leaned over my daughter. The minute he touched Mya’s right hand, all the machines went crazy. The pandemonium was so abrupt that my wife’s head snapped up and out of earnest prayer.

“Good afternoon ma’am.” He almost whispered at my wife.

“Good afternoon my son… Welcome. Please who are you? Are you a doctor?”

“No ma’am. I am friends with your daughter.”

By this time nurses and a doctor had arrived at the door. They literally ran through me and physically pushed my wife out of their way.

They hurriedly pulled out tubes from Mya and tried to flip my daughter onto her left side to face the door.

But Mya had the man’s hand in a vice like grip. She was choking in her own spit or blood.

“Baby please turn over” He whispered urgently to my daughter… And she allowed the nurses finally turn her onto her side.

A spatula deftly applied between Mya’s teeth allowed a mixture of blood and drool to ooze out of my baby’s mouth.

And my daughter still held on to the hand of the married man who had just called her ‘baby’. She held on like her life depended on it.

“Praise the Lord!” My wife screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Hallelujah!” The man answered bashfully.

Just then someone tapped me on the shoulder.

My time was up.

I looked back at the man and smiled with tears in my eyes. He actually smiled back before the angel and I returned.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Mya

He was here!

The One That Got Away was here!!

He was sitting next to my mom enduring the most awkward questions.

Lol… My poor teddy bear!

He caught my eye and smiled. My mom smiled at him too… Awww…

I only wish daddy had met him. Daddy would have loved him.

Rest in peace papa… I miss you every day.

The End.

Prophet (Dr.) Abi’ Samuel

Posted by Dan Ochu-Baiye on

(Thank you R. O for letting me do this. May you always have parables to tell.)

I have never deceived myself. I think that that is the worst sort of deception, when you lie to yourself.

My name is Prophet (Dr.) Abi’ Samuel. I shepherd a flock of about three hundred and fifty souls in the capital city of Abuja.My ministry is called, “See His Glory International Ministry”.

I am not your regular pastor. I was not ‘called’ into the ministry, I chose the ‘call’.

Why?

Simple… It was either this or the Nigerian police. Jobs were scarce back then. I was raised by liberal catholics. I was always religious.

My decision was ordained. (trying to keep things Biblical hehehe…)

As with any entrepreneurial venture, I encountered teething problems. I was in dire need of parishioners. Unfortunately for me, they were all in other people’s churches.

I was stranded around the same time in a popular north-central state. I was passing through the state on a journey. Car problems arose and the driver practically bailed on us.

One of my fellow passengers was a middle-aged gentleman who was from that state. He was helpful but hard up. By the time he got me to a motel, it was midnight and I knew that he had nowhere to go.

Contrary to my nature, I shared my room with a total stranger. In a strange land.

He was appreciative in the morning. He told me that he was a priest. His lineage were those chosen by a river goddess to serve. They were the oracles, diviners, servants and custodians of that marine deity.

I told him that I was a struggling pastor. I was honest. It was only a business for me. But at least I would not be a menace to society.

I was actually going to preach and encourage holiness, but get rich in the process.

He nodded objectively and suggested that I visit his shrine. He said that the only way he could thank me was to help me see ‘his mother’.

There was something deep about that man. And so I went with him.

He got us to a secluded bank by a river. He had me follow him across waist-deep water into a sandy enclosure. It was like a tiny island hidden from view.

I noticed artifacts and effigies that depicted the image of the river goddess.

The place was clustered with sacrifices of fresh food and fruit.

Dead and dying livestock and premium aromatic schnapps.

He changed into a white wrapper and donned his regalia.

He had me wrap one of those white cotton wrappers about my loins and then he showed me a chest-high lake of brackish water.

His mother was waiting for me he said.

As of that point in my life, I had nothing. Fortune they say, favors the brave. And so I stepped into the rather ominous-looking pool.

I saw and heard things. The deity is real. She told me when I was going to die. She told me my entire life story. She was not wrong about anything she said to me.

She offered me power. She offered me charisma, wealth and fame.

All I had to do was to have sex with her regularly. She said that she was not jealous, but I could never tell another woman that I loved her. She said that would visit me at least once a week. Wherever I was in the world.

I was tired of poverty. Besides I had heard that most men of God got power from the devil. They were rumored to use juju to perform miracles.

I made love to the goddess.

She was pleased.

Over time I learned more about my goddess. For one thing, no woman was allowed to spend the night in any bed I was in. Even my wife. We had separate bedrooms.

Those unfortunate to have been caught in bed with me were tormented with nightmares, bloody scratch marks and sometimes suffered a supernatural beat down.

My church grew. Top government ministers started attending my services. Within a few years, I had branches all over the world.

God’s work spread through my ministry. I am on television and radio everyday. I am revered and respected. Life is good and the ministry is doing well.

Part of what the water goddess wanted was for me have sex with as many women as I could. She helped me understand that that was the best way to keep my powers. The more sex I had, the easier it was to perform the miraculous.

I heal many people. Hundreds in fact. I have raised the dead. Opened blind eyes. I really do these things. People ‘sow’ millions of Naira in appreciation for the miracles I perform.

Part of what the river goddess told me is that I would not only die old, but severely diseased and blind. This is not how I want to die.So I agreed to transition at the age of forty one years old.

I would die suddenly at the height of my ministry. I was set to go out when the ovation was loudest.

The only way to ensure that I died at that age was to pass the disease and blindness to other people by way of oral sex.

Though I lost a few years, but those are years of sickness and suffering. These women would either die early and their destinies used to propel mine upward and forward.

They usually died soon after or passed the scourge on in fractions to other sex partners. Extending their lives by a few months or years.

I like it when they give me oral sex.

I like it when they swallow.

Whoever she is…

Swallow my child…

Brother’s Keeper

Posted by Dan Ochu-Baiye on

I am of the opinion that my sister is a cow.

A very cow-ey cow at that.

Hi.

How are you doing today?

Enough pleasantries exchanged… To my matter…

Said sister arrived the country with her family in tow for the Easter holidays. It was great seeing her again.

She and her family of course, but we were raised in a small family of four. I am her only brother. She is my only sister.

At least to the best of my knowledge. Who knows?

Anyways…

At some point she offered me a raggedy clock. It was poorly packaged in its crumpled original box.

I am not materialistic by any means, but this…

“Babes (our pet name for each other), it’s a ‘spy cam’. For keeping tabs on ish innit?”

Her British accent amuses me thoroughly.

She finds my American accent ridiculous.

We jointly blame our parents for the dilemma.

My girlfriend and I did not have kids yet. We have been together for about four years. I wanted kids. She said she did too. But we have none yet.

Busy body! Tattletale!! Happy now?! I know what you are thinking. Yes you!

Babes did not like my girlfriend much. I do not like her husband much either. So no worries there.

I say the above because the only ‘ish I had to keep tabs on’ would be my girlfriend … My sister is a cow walahi!

For lack of a better location, I placed the ugly time piece on a cabinet opposite a wash hand sink in our shared bathroom. That way, I could honestly tell my beloved cow that her Trojan horse was in use.

Babes helped me set up the contraption so I could look in on the live feed from my tablet. It was a cool toy, but my girlfriend and I live a boring life. There was nothing to see.

Since my sister et al were billed to spend about a fortnight in my home, I found it expedient to hire a man-Friday of sorts. Someone to help with coals for the grill, lifting up heavy stuff, a bit of driving… That sort of thing.

I contacted a popular ‘Nannies and Household Help’ company and a young man was sent over.

I introduced him to my immediate and extended family. My sister did not like him at all… Which was not an issue… I mean do you ever ask beef if it wants to be eaten? Or a cow how it feels about being slaughtered? Forget my sister!

My girlfriend appeared indifferent to his presence.

The only man my mom can see is my dad. Does not matter that he has been dead for a while now. She still sees him and manages to have short conversations with him.

Shake. My. Head.

Family!

Right?!

Holidays went by blissfully. Nothing life-threatening or bad.

My sister and her family returned to the United Kingdom. The ad hoc staff was retained for one extra day to help clean up. He was to work 9 to 5. I left for my place of business at about 1 pm.

There was not a lot to do at my office. Business was still in holiday mode generally, so I ended up watching documentaries via Netflix on my tablet.

On a whim I brought up the hidden camera.

My girlfriend was in the bathroom top less. She was trying to hold up her hair with some pins. Some of the pins were sticking out of her mouth.

My woman is quite busty and I found spying on her at that point in time quite erotic.

Every time she lifted up her elbows to get her hands to her hair, her firm and heavy bosom would jut out enticingly… Mmmmmm…

Busy body! Tattletale!! Happy now?! I know what you are thinking. Yes you!

So you can imagine how and why my boner deflated when a man suddenly walked into the bathroom and cupped my/her breasts from behind and started nuzzling the side of her neck.

The feed was video only. So I could not hear what was said. Or any sound.

She however spun around and shoved him…

He looked to be placating her… She threw a slap at him that fell short…

He was quick, that was why she missed. He tweaked her nipple and one boob laughing…

I immediately barked at Siri, and my girlfriends phone started to ring. Her phone was perched on an unoccupied soap holder, I could see it ring. She looked at the phone and hesitated… She said something to him and he walked out.

She did not pick up.

She did not return the call for the next fifteen minutes.

He did not return to the bathroom.

She however locked the bathroom door, collapsed sitting with her back to the door and cried.

As soon as she locked the bathroom door, I picked up my phone and called in a few favors. Then watched her for another thirteen odd minutes before I logged off.

I leaned back and replayed what I had just watched in my head. I replayed the clip mentally about a hundred times.

I pondered. I thought. A lot.

About two hours later, I locked up and went home.

She was alone. She was bleary-eyed. She was moody.

I casually asked what the matter was. To which she mumbled, “nothing baby”.

I asked her four more times over the space of three hours.

She maintained her stand.

At about eleven pm, she came up behind me and got me all worked up. I was in the den channel-surfing. She proceeded to straddle me and sensually bring us both to an above average ‘happy ending’.

Then she French kissed me and said ‘goodnight’.

My phone rang at about 11:55pm. My favors had been granted. I dressed up and drove to a destination at the outskirts of town. It was in an industrial layout. I own nine warehouses there.

My ‘friends’ were waiting for me there.

They had the man from my house tied to a chair.

I knew that he was ‘the man from the video’. But I was aghast when they told me that he was my man-Friday.

I was shocked not because he was my employee, but because of the damage he had suffered to his face. He was unrecognizable!

He had not just been beaten up. He had been systematically mangled.

Over the course of his malicious manhandling, he had confessed that he used to date my girlfriend. It had been a sexual relationship many years ago.

His posting to my house was a mere coincidence. He was as surprised as she must have been. He said that he became pleasantly surprised when he still had his job the next day.

He said that he mistook her silence for the possibility of rekindling their romance.

He said that he was sorry. But that he had only ‘tried his luck’. And that ‘nothing happened’.

He was telling the truth of course.

I am also telling the truth when I say that he was murdered that morning by my ‘friends’.

I am also telling the truth when I say that my girlfriend died ten days later.

On the day that she died, I requested that she pack up and leave. When she asked why, I told her.

My issue was simple… I could not trust her anymore.

I am the sort of character that you do not need as an enemy. But now she scared even me.

After I communicated my fears and my decision. She got up and packed without a word.

She dutifully packed up all of four years of living together in about eight hours and left.

She took her own life outside my environs that same day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Verily, verily I say unto you; my sister is a cow!

A cow in whom I am well pleased.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{“Say something I’m giving up on you…”}

I played that song incessantly for you…

Till the very end though, you could not fellowship or communicate… with me…

Rip Jacqueline …

Hey Baby…

Posted by Dan Ochu-Baiye on

It has come to my attention that we have outlived any usefulness between us.

It would seem that anytime you withheld sex or I money, we became bereft of agenda. And activity.

I am far from perfect, I know. But it is my opinion that there are things that you need to hear. Things concerning your character that have brought us to this point in our journey.

These words that you need to hear however, shall not be heard through my lips. I transfer the burden to any other man. One who is braver than I.

We were a glaring miracle. Then we had beautiful magic. But it is my prayer that we part without excitement.

I feel… Nothing…

So the usual deluge of your tears, manipulations, aggression and threats… will not…

You. Killed. Us.

I know…, I know… “men are scum!” aye?

Sigh…

I wish you the best.

Goodbye ma’am.

Here & Now

Posted by Dan Ochu-Baiye on

Lovemaking or sex

In Abu Dhabi or Zanzibar

Half a dozen; or six

We are what we are.

°°°°°°°

We are deeper than sorrow

What we do has no cure

Love we cannot disavow

No one will ever love you more.

~~~~~~~

Sit on your throne Khaleesi

I; I am, decrees it

Lo… We are growing within thee

We are perfect; we are complete.

“““`

Lovemaking or sex

In Maui or Libya

Half a dozen; or six

We are what we are.

Mayo Kam 

Posted by Dan Ochu-Baiye on

I am not originally a Backpacker®.

I only signed up for this trip because I was tired. I was tired of life.

I was tired of being alive. I actually went on that trip hoping to die. Misadventure, murder, animal attack… Anything. Even via the auspices of the pack of prescription sleeping tablets I had stashed away just in case my mind got made up.

Mayo Kam.

River Kam.

Yes, I believe ‘Mayo’ means ‘river’. The waters were deep, clean and cold. We were soberly lectured by the park rangers that a tourist fell in and drowned about a year ago. I so wished it had been me!

Listen, Mayo Kam is an excellent place to camp. Especially during the dry season when the waters have shrunk and left more sand and land in its wake. There is no mobile service in the Gashaka Gumti Game Reserve. If you are Nature’s kid, you have a home there. It is truly amazing. It is beautiful, pure and largely unsullied.

We were eleven Backpackers in all. Two heavily armed park rangers and four local fishermen that met up with us by the camp site.

Leinad, Raj, Rebecca, Henry, Bashiru, Noorah, Joanne, James, ‘Long John’, Sarai…and me. Enez.

Lovely, lovely people. Diverse experiences, countries and character. Never a dull moment with the Backpackers. Yet I was dead inside.

I was not sure of the time, but I was positive that the day was Saturday. For two reasons:- Firstly, there was going to be a Super moon tonight, and a lunar eclipse of some sort. Secondly, today was supposed to be my wedding day.

Cards printed. Venue paid for. Ivory white sleeveless wedding gown bought. Everyone that knew me in any capacity was aware. And why not? I was twenty five years old, I was in love with the only man I gave my spirit, soul and body to. He knew that even Jesus took a back seat when he arrived. Yet… Yet… He PUBLICLY called off the wedding after mandatory blood tests revealed that we were both HIV positive. As in, why?! Who does that?!! HE knew that he had infected me, I was his submissive emotionally and physically!

My mum consequently suffered a stroke. My dad tried to kill me twice. I tried to ‘kill me’ twice… I was the brunt of every joke. An object of pity and ridicule. The subject of many conversations. All of these inside a week.

And so I fled with the Backpackers, to this remote and dangerous adventure, hoping I would die. By my own hand or otherwise.

Leinad was making it hard though. To kill myself I mean. Or to even suffer injury for that matter. He was clearly interested in me. Men! They are so predictable, they would fuck anything given half the chance.

The fishermen arrived at dusk and immediately set about fishing roughly five hundred meters away upstream. They brought their own gear and so ours was redundant. While the rest of the female Backpackers fussed over roasting yam tubers and frying tomatoes, onions and peppers to make a sauce for the imminent fish, I somehow anchored three hooks together and found a spot on a boulder and began to fish.

Faithful and loyal Leinad tarried beside me in abject misery until my dark mood forced him to seek lighter spirits. He joined the group by the large fire and soon forgot about me.

A short time later, I got a bite and expertly reeled it in. It was a foot long indigenous catfish specie. It paled in comparison to the humongous sizes the fishermen were catching and so I killed it just as my dad taught me years ago and decided to use it as bait. I had just tossed my line into the water when I got called to supper. I wedged the flexible but strong fishing rod in a two foot deep crevice, and left.

I woke up reluctantly sometime during the night. I badly needed to pee, but my sleeping bag was very cosy. Besides everyone, including the park rangers, was asleep. I guessed that it was about midnight. It was pitch black outside the influence of the camp fire light.

One look at the sky decided me. I got up and walked towards the river and did my business in a hole I dug in the sand. I was just rounding up when I heard something thrashing about weakly in the water. I intuitively knew that my line had caught something big. I was up the boulder in a flash and back down with my fishing rod.

I think that all three hooks played a part in my catch. I think that the crevice helped wear down the fish. I think that the super moon and it’s unusual brightness lured that fish from the deep.

It was the largest fish I had ever seen in my life! It was not a shark or anything predatory. I think the locals call it ‘water elephant’ or ‘Giwan Ruwa’ in Hausa.

It was beautiful. I was not afraid. Death by this fish if it could would be welcome anyways. And so I darted knee deep into the treacherously cold and fast flowing water and dug my left hand into its gills and began pulling it ashore.

I came to pee in the bikini bottom of a two-piece swim suit, with just a hoodie over me and the bikini bottom. The rocks under the water were slippery and sharp. The humongous fish clearly did not want to leave the water… I was almost drowning within seven minutes.

Whatever I lack as a woman; big boobs, bubble butt et al… came to my aid that night. I used all of the six feet of lithe physiognomy I possessed to lever my catch out of the water.

The fish was only a little shorter than me. My left hand was still locked under it’s gills. That hand was now numb. I locked my right hand into the gills on the opposite side of its head, sidestepped the last foot or so onto the sand and lunged, pulled and lifted in one explosive move.

I landed on my right side painfully with the fish’s head between my thighs. Both my hands still gripping it tightly. I was exhausted! My breath was raggedy and labored. I was wet and cold, I was shivering and shuddering – (from hypothermia, shock and adrenaline).

As I slowly caught my breath, the fish too started to calm. As I slowly warmed up from the heat my body was producing, so did the fish.

But I knew that something was wrong… and so I slowly eased off my painfully cramped fingers and looked down at the fish.

It now had long hair and was a naked girl. I could feel her cheeks on the insides of my thighs. I could feel her cleavage on both sides of my right thigh.

I was by now hyperventilating in shock. But I was spent, lactic acid had built up to the detriment of my muscles. I simply could not move.

And then she started convulsing; flopping about in a most unnatural way. I did not need to be told, she was dying.

I successfully struggled to sit up. I held both her shoulders and began to push her back into the water… But the sand and my tired body impeded my noble intentions.

I began to weep. Not just because of there and then, but because of before. I finally got to cry at the injustices, at the curse of being a woman in Africa, at being ‘the weaker sex’. I was simply so exhausted and tired on the inside and outside. All I could do was to keep stroking her hair and back babbling, ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…’ over and over again.

I learned something that night; we are spirits and we live in physical bodies. At some point she stopped shivering and translated. I felt her leave. She was not her body, she was gone. Her body went limp, numb and cold. I saw her stand beside me wearing a look of slight confusion and wonder.

“Please, I didn’t mean to… I am so sorry!” Were my exact words to her.

She looked down at me for a while and then her beautiful face softened. She knelt beside me and then blew softly on my face, and then lightly kissed my lips.

“Enez…baby girl… Wake up!”

“Did you frigging catch this behemoth?!” Leinad’s handsome face inquired in disbelief.

It was about dawn, not quite bright yet. I made him help push the fish back in the water. We watched it bob in one spot eerily before it sank suddenly.

I shivered suddenly and hugged myself. To my utter amazement, I was bustier! I groped my new and improved breasts in confusion. I looked up at Leinad and the look of pure lust on his face terrified and thrilled me.

I am no longer ill. Have not been ill since that day, not a cold, rash or headache. I am at peace. I am rich and I am wealthy. I am happy.

P. S: “Please, I didn’t mean to… I am so sorry!”

The Greedy Slut

Posted by Dan Ochu-Baiye on

Last month was February. 

My boyfriend was hard up and so I knew that I would not be getting any extravagant gifts. But I wanted an iPhone. I wanted the iPhone 7 Plus specifically. All my friends had one. It cost a lot, but I do not earn a lot. 

“Use what you got girl!” Elena had coyly whispered. 

What I had was just a vagina. Vagina’s are overrated really. 

I am hot, lightskinned and endowed. Men have always wanted me. 

But then there was Dapo. We were in a committed relationship. He is the sweetest man ever, and he loves me to bits. But in Elena’s words, 

“Na who love help?!”

Dapo though is fiercely territorial and possessive. He is a very intuitive and a very intelligent person. He is not someone you could cuckold. He is almost impossible to cheat on. He knew my body even better than I did. Down to the days, duration and dynamics of my menstrual cycle, he knew. 

I was not willing to break up with him just to date someone who would buy me expensive stuff. But I wanted that iPhone. 

I know how to manipulate a man any way I prefer. And so I chose a mark off my many admirers and strung him on. He would buy me the phone without laying a finger on me. 

Ladies back me up on this, we have this gift; 

A free lunch, a date to see a new movie, airtime recharge vouchers or a trip to the salon, we all have that ‘ATM-man’ or several of them we can manipulate to achieve this or that. 

I told Dapo that I had to go for a meeting in church that evening. As he knew, the church had a Night of Bliss programme coming up. He nodded his consent and then I got him to drop me off at the church. 

My ‘ATM’ came by about an hour later and we left in his well-maintained Honda Pilot. He was obviously rich. He was well dressed and smelled even better. But he not very good looking. He was nervous and eager to please. He could not get his eyes off my breasts, the lecherous pervert kept licking his thick lips as he overtly undressed me with his eyes. 

He let me choose where we would go and so I chose the Elephant Bar at the Sheraton hotels. No danger of running into anyone I knew there. 

The date went very well. Dapo had surprisingly not called, and my ‘ATM’ was so much in lust that he promised to give me the $769 in cash that same night. 

True to his word, he did. In crisp dollar bills. In appreciation, after tucking the bills away safely, I allowed him to occasionally stroke and grope my boobs. What a girl goes through! 

We were by this time driving back and not too far from the church when he suddenly swerved off the road, parked and practically jumped me! It took a couple of seconds for me to realize that I was suddenly in hot water. 

Then I began to struggle with him. He was as though possessed. He somehow broke my bra strap and the top buttons of my silk blouse. His face dove down to my exposed breasts while his hand went under my skirt. As his fingers grazed my covered pubis, fear spurred me into violence. I clenched my Samsung Edge tightly and viciously drove it into his head slobbering over my breasts. I felt the phone splinter as he howled in agony. He raised his head and before he could bring his hands to check his injury, I speared the phone into his face. He screamed even louder. 

I was out of his car and running blindly back the way we came. I heard him come out and begin pursuit. I was wearing a pair of flat shoes, but my skirt was a tad too tight. He was gaining on me quickly. 

It was about eight pm and it was dark. Not surprisingly, the road was deserted. The church is located in a fairly undeveloped area of town. I instinctively knew that I was going to die horribly if he caught up with me. 

My untethered breasts were wildly flapping about, clutch purse containing the cursed dollar bills and hot tears of regret, terror and resignation all impeded my race for life. 

“God…! Please…!! Help!!!”I remember hoarsely crying out over and over again as I ran. 

Just then I saw a car approaching at full speed, it had the oh so familiar halogen headlight and fog light off on the right side. Dare I hope? Dapo’s Toyota Camry! 

He drove past me and slammed his brakes between me and my pursuer. The suddenness of Dapo’s maneuver caused my ‘ATM’ to practically run into the front of the car in a head on collision. The impact sent him flailing backwards in ungainly heel-over-head somersaults. 

By now,  I was in Dapo’s car. He put the car in reverse and gunned the engine ferociously, after a few meters he executed a flawless hand brake turn and then we were on our way home. 

He kept his eyes and face grimly on the road. His expression was inscrutable. I remember crying… No, edit that, bawling all the way home. Sweet Lord I cried! 

“Dapo… I’m sorry… Please…??”

Not one word. Not one syllable. 

I remember thinking then that we were over. I know his silence. It is not a good thing. I hung my head in grief and sobbed some more. 

Then we were suddenly parked in front of our apartment. He got out and walked away behind the vehicle. I originally thought that he was coming to get the door for me until I saw our front door open and Dapo come out looking worried. 

I stepped out of the car slowly. I cannot describe my state of mind, please try to understand. 

I was trapped standing, was I to run to this Dapo or to the other one… that was suddenly no where to be found?

“Baby what happened? Why is your blouse torn? Talk to me…! Why are you crying? How…Did I leave my car open?”

I dropped in a dead faint.  

I am a greedy slut. 

At least I used to be. 

I could regal you with the reasons why I was the way I was, but I will save you the tirade. 

I am not a good person. But these days I try daily to be a better woman. Experience they say is the best teacher.