Desire
and confusion flashed in his eyes and I knew that he wasn’t intentionally
taking advantage of me. Even at that, he withdrew his hand only reluctantly,
apologized bashfully.
“Cassandra
I’m really sorry for that.”
He
didn’t seem so sorry because his eyes still lingered on my smooth thighs as my
short skirt rode way up and clung to my hips. The look in his eyes was carnal
and lustful and surprisingly this caused my heart to start hammering again.
What in Pete’s name was wrong with me? Maybe it was because I had not had sex
for so long but this sexy stranger looked ravishing. I crossed my legs and
leaned back in the seat, silently exhaling through my mouth. His eyes followed
my every move as he mercilessly heightened the sexual tension with his soulful
eyes that were shamelessly taking off my skimpy skirt stitch by stitch. I swear
I’m not the overtly sexed female, infact I haven’t had some for ages. It’s not
for a lack of a partner that I haven’t been with a man though. I’ve just been
so engrossed in my quest of gathering information about my mother that every
other thing simply took a back seat. I had been celibate for almost a year.
I
moved uneasily on the seat trying to stop the twitching I felt deep in my
belly. His husky voice was subdued as he said.
“We
had better start going, it’s almost 8pm”
I
nodded helplessly not trusting myself to say a word. How could this guy affect
me this way? He had an animal magnetism I haven’t felt before. What my friend
Haley told me back in Washington when I had just started working came to my
mind. “Cassie, be careful. These Naija guys are so smooth, suave and sharp,
else in no time they will have you eating outta their palms. Many of them do
that just to get US citizenship.”
Now I
could feel the smoothness from him first hand. I shook my head lightly to clear
my head, dude oozed sensuality. He drove in silence, nodding to an Eminem song
drifting through the speakers. I broke the tense silence between us in the car.
“So
Muna tell me about yourself?”
He
flashed his Morris Chestnut smile again and said
“I’m
your typical street kid, I’m a movie maker. I cover mostly music videos and
advertisements for public relations companies.”
I
liked him already so I prodded for more.
“So
you are this influential music movie maker in the city?”
He
laughed sexily. Okay by now I had come to realize that he wasn’t intentionally
being seductive, his voice was just sexy. He said
“I
don’t know if I can be called influential, I’m what you will call a hustler. I
do have my circle of influence though; it’s not beneath me to cover birthdays,
weddings or events. Whatever gives me cheese.”
I was
impressed.
“But
you know back in the US, if you say you are a hustler? You probably sell meth
or crack around or on the street.”
“I
know, down here in Naija hustling means surviving. You see, I left home even
before my bachelor’s degree so you can call me a self made man.”
I
lowered the volume of the car stereo, our gist was getting really interesting.
“Self
made man? I like that.”
He
gave my arm a friendly pat.
“Cassandra
can you speak pidgin”
I
blushed, the way he called my name made it feel so special and mysterious. In
US, my friend’s called me Cassie or Cass. I only knew few words in pidgin but I
didn’t want to seem ignorant.
“Hey
of course, I’m Nigerian you know.”
“Great
because na pidgin me and you go dey yarn ooh. Do you need to pick anything from
the mall? We are already in Garki Central area.”
I
laughed heartily.
“No
I’m good, just wanna go hit the showers. It has been so much fun riding with
you, thank you so much Muna.”
He
patted my hand again.
“You
are welcome, you made my evening.”
He
drove into Chelsea Hotel and helped me move into my room. He took charge and
made sure that the facilities were all working. I looked at him suspiciously as
I sank down on the sofa in the room; I blushed again and kicked off my shoes.
He glanced at me.
“Babe
what is it? Are you okay?”
I
tried to hide my apprehension.
“Nothing,
just that you are being too nice to me”
He
looked at me as if I was from Mars.
“This
is Nigeria; here we take care of our women. What I’m doing is what any man
worth his onions here will do for any woman he likes. I know over there, ladies
split bills with guys when they go on a date and are fiercely independent. Here
our women let us take care of them, Naija love is different from any other. If
I’m going to take you out 100 times, I will cover the bills a hundred times and
it’s natural for us.”
I was
blown away, this was different and old fashioned but already I was beginning to
feel my feminine side peek out from behind the curtains. This guy made me feel
like a woman, pampered and able to exhale.
“There
must be a catch somewhere”
“No
catch, don’t get me wrong. I would love to do all sorts of indecent things to
you and make you moan to no end but lady it will be at your time and no
pressure, so relax.”
He
chuckled at the look on my face. His mention of having me moan endlessly had
hit me by surprise. Again I felt the twitch and pull in my belly. I gulped.
“So
you like me?”
“What
do you think?”
“I
can’t really think now Muna, I just want to tumble into bed. I stood up on
tiptoe to give him a goodbye hug and he caught me in his arms like a starved
man.
I
looked up into his eyes, and again that look was there. Fierce desire and
confusion, I felt a full blown hard on press on my belly and tried to push away
from his embrace but he shook his head, his eyes drawing me in. His voice was
like an aphrodisiac.
“Cassandra,
I’m really sorry that I’m this attracted to you. The last thing I want to do is
frighten you away or hurt your feelings, but this Oga down here no dey hear
word, it has a mind of its own.”
I was
furiously aroused; his muscled chest pressed down on my heaving boobs. I
searched his face for any hint of an ulterior motive and saw nothing, probably
like me he was a victim of our hot emotional and sexual connection. I wanted
desperately for him to kiss me, to devour my lips but he hesitated and started
pulling away.
OMG!
Nah!! There won’t be any play of honor mister! Quickly I pulled his mouth down
on mine; I saw the shock in his eyes. He was probably okay being in charge and
playing by his own rules. As I kissed him, I could feel his control slipping
away.
He
groaned deeply and held me by the back of my head and took charge, backing me
against the wall he kissed me until my eyes crossed. Then just as suddenly he
broke the kiss and moved away inhaling deeply in frustration. It took seconds
for me to find my bearings. What did he do that for? He said
“I’m
sorry Cassandra, I… I should have more control.”
I was
suddenly very weak and flopped on the bed; he came over and kissed me on my
forehead. I pulled his mouth down to mine and kissed him again passionately. He
held me gently by the neck and devoured my mouth hungrily and then he
whispered.
“Sweet
dreams dear.”
“You
too”
I
whispered back. He retrieved his car keys from the sofa and left. I could hear
his footsteps down the stair and shivered from cold and desire. I couldn’t
believe how eventful my whole day had been. Here I was in Nigeria at last and
couldn’t wait to meet my mother the next day. At first my friends in the US
thought I had lost my mind, coming to look for my mother after all these years.
Both my parents had gone to the United States in 1980; they both
schooled in New York, my Mum dropped out to have me and according to my Dad
took off before my 8th birthday.
Her name was a taboo in the house and Daddy’s wife, Amanda “my evil step
mother” a real estate white bitch from Cleveland claimed the mention of my Mum
traumatized her.
Well
I never really belonged there anyway; it was just recently that I learnt to be
proud of my luscious hips. Amanda made me feel inadequate and fat throughout my
teenage years in high school and college, but now I’m my own person and
comfortable in her own skin. Plus I am ready to meet my mother and find things
out for myself. When I first told Daddy about my plans to come to Nigeria, I
swear he had a psychotic breakdown. He ranted and swore darkly.
But all that was water under the bridge, my mind was made up.
Here I am on the 22nd of
July 2013 standing on Nigerian soil. I have done my research and I have my
mother’s address, she stays in Utako in Abuja and is a sort of skin care doctor
with her own beauty products.
All
my mother’s pictures had disappeared from our house a long time ago and Daddy
refused to talk about her, but luck smiled on me when I ran into Aunty Amara,
one of our few old friends from back in the day at a child dedication ceremony of
another Nigerian family friend. I cornered her with the intention of gleaning
every little piece of information I could from her.
“Hi
Aunty Amara, how have you been? At times like this, I can’t help wishing that
my Mother did not abandon me here to run to Nigeria.”
“Cassie
you have never talked about your Mother before, what is going on?”
“I
miss her, or who she was, I miss a mother in my life.”
“What
of Amanda?”
“The
witch?”
We
both convulsed in laughter, it was a private joke. Amanda’s face is long and
horse-like and we called her ‘the witch’. Aunty Amara became serious,
“What
if Nse never abandoned you? What if she was the victim?”
My
heart skipped a bit.
“Aunty
what the hell are you talking about?”
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