Esther was a final year student at Covenant University, studying Business Administration—or at least that's what I gathered from eavesdropping on my uncle. She was tall and fair-skinned, with attractive lips and a charming dimple that contrasted with her gap-toothed smile. When she smiled, you'd think she was the most caring person on earth (guys, don't be deceived by smiles, I'm begging you!).
I couldn't determine her figure completely since she dressed modestly, but she had curves that occasionally invaded my private thoughts—trouble indeed! She would travel to Lagos directly from school before heading to Abuja, where her parents (my in-laws and siblings) lived. This December, though, she wanted to stay in Lagos for reasons I didn't care to know—she was just a spoiled brat in my eyes. Sotis I looked at her and pitied her future husband. But either way, "I must use Asamoah's style to deal with this situation," I thought within seconds.
"Danladi, what is this?" she asked, glancing at my embarrassing situation, still sowhat concealed. Before I could explain myself, she brushed it off, smiled, and said: "Where's my breakfast? I need to eat before taking this anti-malaria dication."
Seriously? Esther smiled at ? Those dimples appearing while her gap-toothed smile shone in my direction? For what reason? Malaria? Food? What a liar! She didn't know I was a walking lie detector.
All these thoughts raced through my mind. "I won't be swayed like this," I told myself. So I simply told her where to find the food, still trying to maintain my composure.
"Nice boy," she said, turning around and leaving with another smile. Blood of goat! Another smile? I frowned and fired the million-dollar question: "ESTHER, WHERE IS BROS ABU?" I stood there like Balotelli in the 2012 Euro Cup.
She froze, looking puzzled and shocked, her face displaying one hell of a "WTF" expression.
At this mont, I felt like the Puppet Master (though I can't rember where I picked up that reference). I had Esther right in my palms, just like Asamoah had his dad's drivers. I was so elated that my earlier situation quickly deflated like a balloon. (Scientists really need to explain these mysteries surrounding male anatomy.)
"What kind of question is that? Which Abu are you talking about? And how dare you call my na in such a tone? Have you gone nuts, or do you think you're talking to your sister?" These were like JAMB questions fired at , and to make matters worse, she asked them in an unusually low tone—very unlike Esther. I figured she must be keeping her voice down to avoid being overheard, which only confird my suspicions. So I pressed on: "YOU THINK I DIDN'T SEE YOU TWO?"
By this point, she was furious but lacked the energy to slap as she usually would. I assud this was due to her exhaustion from... well, you know. But then a Jack Sparrow-like voice whispered in my head: "Hey silly, she's 23, Abu is over 30 but single—you really think you can blackmail her?"
That's when I realized I'd let vengeance cloud my judgnt. I apologized, claiming I was just teasing her because she looked weak and sick. Then a clue hit : she had malaria, was still in her nightwear at 2 PM, and I hadn't seen her all morning. But wait—why was her hair so disheveled?
"I don't have ti for this. Don't ever try pulling a psychological joke on again in your life, you get it?" she warned.
"YES, MA'AM!" I exclaid, responding like a cadet to his commandant.
I left the kitchen entrance, embarrassed, and went straight upstairs to put on a kaftan. As soon as I was dressed, I headed to the storeroom and flung the door open.
Ladies and gentlen, the previous "Shock of the Year" record was broken yet again on the sa day. I had a new Shock of the Year!
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"Friends hurt the most—be careful of the friends you keep." How ironic that I rembered my teacher's words warning about the company I kept as I stood there, staring at Bros Abu and the woman who, just hours ago, I had called my uncle's wife. But at this mont, she was just a stranger.
"Ummm... Danladi, what are you doing here?" she asked in the most vulnerable voice I'd ever heard. She stood up from the old mattresses in the store, sweating profusely like a steel cup filled with ice, while Abu frantically pulled on his trousers. He was wearing designer underwear, but I didn't see any evidence of protection. Not that it mattered now.
"Joyce weds Daniel"—I had just seen their wedding calendar the previous day. Joyce ca from a wealthy family, a law graduate from A.B.U. Zaria in her mid-20s.
I'd never really paid attention to her appearance before, as she was my uncle's wife, but she was undeniably beautiful, especially considering how well she'd maintained her figure.
Unfortunately, that physical beauty ant nothing now—I was looking at the ugliest person I'd ever seen.
What went wrong? Was it my uncle's pot belly (which explained all those XL shirts he kept giving ) that left his wife unsatisfied? Or was it because he was rarely ho? They'd only been married two years, with no children yet—was my uncle unable to father children? Or had Abu used so kind of charm on her?
"My guy, it's not what you think!" Abu interrupted my stream of consciousness. I looked at him, feeling rage build inside .
I wanted to break his head, but thank goodness my better judgnt prevailed. I just looked at him and left the storeroom. (Lucky for —who knows what might have happened in that danger zone I'd stumbled into.)
The phone rang—it was Asamoah speaking in barely comprehensible words. All I caught was "I don find girl for you." I had been in my room for almost two hours, wrestling with thoughts about why Joyce would betray my uncle who practically worshipped her.
Deciding I'd had enough of these disturbing thoughts, I grabbed my phone and opened my browser to check my saved pages of certain adult entertainers, hoping to distract myself from the earlier scene. Or so I thought.
"Grrrrhhhhhhhh! Grrrrhhhhhhhh! Grrrrhhhhhhhh!" The gate bell rang while I was preoccupied (ironically looking for the sa soap I'd left outside).
Joyce's image invaded my thoughts again. "Why did my uncle listen to his wife about not hiring a gateman? How am I supposed to answer the gate in this state?"
Back to my kaftan, sowhat more composed now, I went to open the gate. I noticed the Honda Accord was missing, aning Joyce wasn't around. Faith and Abigail ca in. Abigail ignored , but Faith offered a greeting.
Faith was a chubby girl, reminiscent of a younger Toolz. She was an engineering student at Landmark University with an inquisitive mind.
After she greeted , she asked about my tired eyes when I deflected her question about her outing. I told her I had just woken up.
I closed the gate and walked behind them. I don't know why but my attention was drawn to Faith's ass, though I tried to redirect my gaze. "DAMN!" was all my brain could manage.
I attempted to distract myself but found my mind wandering inappropriately as I followed them to the house entrance.
Like soone snapping out of hypnosis, I suddenly beca aware of my surroundings when I saw them climbing the small staircase to the house.
I composed myself, adjusting my kaftan, and rembered I needed to retrieve my soap from the backyard these temptations were becoming too much.
Back in my room, I went straight to the bathroom and I masturbated to the thought of Joyce's nakedness, Faith's ass and Esther's Smile in mind.
I was so sure I was gonna cum twice but damn this silly brain, it always decieved . I ca just once and I lost the hormones? Upon all that build up?
I stood there contemplating whether and my uncle shared the sa fate of being "One round" n.
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