Nosa will date any man for the right price. Find out why.
Waking up wrapped in Femi’s arms is the thing to not do. As crass as this sounds even in my own ears, I don’t cheat on the men I’m dating. Never. It’s always one at a time. It’s the reason why I would sometimes go for weeks without an affair.
But I wake up the following morning in Femi’s arms after a night of insatiate coupling. I can’t believe myself at this point. I am bedazzled at my own behavior. I have dated stingy men who used me, took advantage and made no big deal about it, yet I stayed true till it is over.
A nasty headache followed by the voice in my head scream, foul! Get up, you fool, and send this loser away. But I can’t move if it will freeze the sun. The object of my adoration sleeps on, snoring softly. For the first time I am not eager to send a man out of my bed. This feels so different and special from whatever I have had in my life, yet it’s not right for me. I can’t even let him know what I do. As it is, he may ask me to leave Luke, which can never happen. As for Luke, my fangs are in. I will never let go, if I have anything to do with it.
A high-school-failed good-with-his-hands kind plumber is in my bed. I must be insane! I jump up and stand by the bed. He gropes for a bit, missing the warmth of my body, then turns away, and continues to sleep.
The normal Nosa Williams is contemptuous, and I stare at him thinking he must have “jazzed” me or something. Yet, the way he made me feel!
I rub my temple, unsure of what to do. If I tell him the truth of what I am, what I live on, he would, should be disgusted enough to go, leave me. Again, I could let him know how serious I am with Luke, maybe lie we’re getting married; it should send him off too. But my soft heart cries at such blatant conspiracy to throw such a great man out.
I clasp my hand over my mouth, and whimper. “I can’t”
He stirs, and I walk off to my kitchen. I could pretend I was married to Femi, and like a good wife, I have woken early to prepare breakfast for my husband. From our one week together, I know he doesn’t eat much, so I fry two eggs, boil water for tea, and served four slices of wheat bread on a plate.
I hear a loud bang on my door, and startle. It’s close to seven alright, not too early but is that a good reason to want to break my door?
“Nosa?” Femi calls with a husky voice from inside the room. The bang on the door may have startled him awake.
“I’m going to check what the noise is.”
“Wait, let me.”
I hear the rustling of sheets as I assume he gets dressed. He’s with me in the parlour in a second, wearing his jeans lone.
I turn to him, and get a full kiss on my lips. “Femi, we need to talk about this—”
“Someone banged on the door.” He moved to it, and unlocked.
This conversation can’t be avoided for long. Luke will soon call, and I will have to answer.
I follow and stand behind Femi, shocked beyond reason at the crumbled heap of Ivy on my doorstep. I stifle a scream. Whoever dropped her had been kind enough to alert me, howbeit crudely, and keep her face up so I know she’s not dead despite the foaming at her mouth.
Photo cropped from pixabay.com
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