He glanced at the bodies on the floor; bodies of his wife and two daughters. The gun in his right hand was still smoking from the bullets it had dispelled and the metallic smell of blood pervaded the living room like a kitchen aroma.

Blood oozed steadily from their bodies leaving a huge stain on the persian rug. He thought of its price and how ruined the rug was.
His wife still had her eyes open in shock, the same stricken look she had as he aimed at her. His daughters bore no facial expressions, he had given them no time to think. They reminded him of dead animals, animals hit by fast moving cars. Animals that died without grace, left to rot by the roadside.

The smell of death was thick. He raised the gun to his head and just then, caught sight of the pictures on the wall; those of his twin daughters at their convocation and his wife at her fiftieth birthday party just a week ago.

The gun slipped from his grasp as the scales fell from his eyes. He felt a presence behind him and the Succubus whispered
“Now it’s your turn”.

She gave him a warm smile as she sashayed to the wall opposite him. She looked like the lady he had shared a bed with at his Bachelor’s party. He picked up the gun and shot himself in the head.
She looked down at all four bodies admiringly, they made the perfect family portrait.


Love Lost

David held himself aloof as the love of his life pledged herself to someone else. The groom in question appeared exhilarated. He recited his vows with precision and devotion while Ireti looked happier than he had ever seen her.

Ireti had loved him as she had done everything else; wholly and completely. She had been patient with him despite his numerous short-comings.

Seven years and four abortions later, he had ended up marrying a family friend who had insisted on keeping her own pregnancy.
David felt pain arise from somewhere deep within, he felt suffocated.

He managed a perfunctory smile and said “I now pronounce you man and wife”.


Hi guys….I’m sorry for the long silence.  This isn’t White Raven. I’m afraid that might have to wait a while. Thanks for disturbing me so much to write again. This story is a work of fiction. I love you very much. Thanks for your patience.

Ojiugo saw Tobi today. Not the Tobi she had known and loved twenty years ago, she saw that the boy had been replaced by a man. Gone was his playfulness and nonchalance towards life, in its place was a serenity and intense contentment she didn’t think he was capable of.

Ojiugo saw Tobi, but he did not see her. She saw a man she could just as easily fall in love with again. He had aged gracefully. She saw an extremely handsome, dark-skinned man in his mid-forties. He had put on some weight and didn’t look as lanky as he used to, he wasn’t buff, as he had never really appreciated the rave about six-packs. He was lean and looked fit, like someone who had a fair share of fresh air and ate lots of fruits and vegetables. She noticed he hadn’t removed his moustache and still left his beard and side burns trimmed and neat, they seemed to have dustings of gray and the same gray hair was evident on his temple.

She saw Oluwatobiloba. He was with his wife and two children. She wondered if maturity had dimmed his passion and sensitiveness. She wondered if he loved his wife as he had her. His wife was everything he wasn’t attracted to in the old days. She was slim, pert and looked like Heidi Klum’s twin. She was also Ibo. That had hurt the most; she had a name that Ojiugo would never forget, perhaps because it was almost as uncommon and deep as hers, Akuoma. He had loved them big, buxom and forward, just as Ojiugo had been. 
She had taken a different jogging route that morning. She didn’t want to encounter her students as they had been hounding her in the last few days. She had been known to drop a hint or two that would aid the lucky student to a straight A, which was so rare that she had been called to question numerous times. (She had never understood why the Americans assumed students were entitled to an ‘A’ just because they went to school. She never forgot how her A’s were far and in-between when she had studied in Nigeria.) So she had gone round the University in a bid to escape. She wanted buy a cup coffee, so she had gone to the only street café on Elm’s street. She watched Tobi sip his coffee and smile indulgingly at his teenage son and daughter as they argued over something. His wife appeared to scold them for drawing attention. She finally moved her legs and jogged on, she had seen enough. That could have been her family. That handsome man and the beautiful children should have been hers. She took the longer route home.

Twenty years gone and she still felt the sting of Karma’s vicious bite on her derriere.

All she could think about as she jogged on was her little room. The one she had lived in when she had met Tobi. Not Tobi, just the room. It was the most uncomfortable place she had ever called home. It was small, hot, and mostly dark because of the poor electricity in the little town. But she thought of the small hanging mirror and the chest of drawers, she thought of the small mattress and the cold tiled floor, she saw the tiny bathroom and the shower that gave her skin irritation each time she used it, she saw the kitchen and its leaking faucet. She saw everything again as if twenty years had not gone by. Tobi had lived with her.

Tobi was the first man she broke up with and had still remained in love with. She usually broke up with the boys she had dated because she either lost interest in them or fell in love with someone else. But Tobi was different, he had always been. Even after she had ended it she kept calling to check on him, a part of her wanted him to say he loved her and adored her but he never did. She had started to feel disgusted at herself when he never called back or replied her text messages; it was at that point she promised never to call him again. And he didn’t object or call back after she said that.

She almost ran into an old lady walking her dog.

“Sorry”. She muttered as she side-stepped to give them free passage.

She would never understand the reason the white people gave for surrounding themselves with all manner of animals. Living with human beings was hard enough as it was. She enjoyed her solitude too much. Even when Tobi had lived with her, he had understood her need for peace and quiet at times and subsequently gave her the space she needed. That was probably because he was a deep thinker himself. They were the kind of couple that spent every waking minute in each other’s company and relished every bit of it. They had always had something to talk about or argue about or fight about, yet, their love did not wane. It had seemed as if it never would.

She couldn’t call to mind the genesis of their fight but she remembered why she promised never to contact him again. They had had one of their classical fights after he had moved back to his parents’ and she, hers’; but this time after she had called it off with him, he never called back. And when she had confronted him about it he had answered;

“Is that normal? You broke up with me and you still expect me to keep calling you?”

She had felt sick to her stomach. Not because he didn’t make sense but because he had made too much sense and she had begun to feel like one of her obsessed exes. She had felt he would have fought for her, made her understand that her insecurities were irrelevant, showed her that he could never easily forget their months of staying cooped up in the small room together, reminded her that their cultural differences could never pose a barrier, but he had given up so easily. Like it had all never happened, it seemed her over-active imagination had conjured him up. She wondered if the other guys she had broken up with felt this way. Karma had obviously waited a while to give her a taste of her own medicine, it was bitter.

A car honked loudly and she quickly skidded to the side walk as the blue mustang sped past her. She bent over panting; the adrenaline rush had left her heart thumping too loudly. Forty-two wasn’t the age get a heart attack she warned herself. When she was sure her heart beat had decelerated to its usual tempo she jogged on. Not bothered about the queer looks she was getting from passers-by.

She remembered the months that had followed the break-up. Deeply grueling months, times when waking up became too hard for her, when she needed to talk to someone who would understand her regular bouts of depression, when she wished she had not promised never to contact him again. Days of sitting by her phone, and hastily picking any call with an unlisted Caller I.D (you see she had deleted his phone numbers from her phone and somehow managed to convince herself that the numbers she had stored in her head were wrong). The most prominent emotion was one that had been alien to her, the low self esteem. The lack of belief in her capabilities, the inability to look in the mirror and see someone beautiful, she didn’t smile or laugh or joke around as she used to, she didn’t cook or clean or clean up after herself, and her parents could not understand the sudden change. She had always been boisterous and full of life; the new personality change had come as a shock to them. The constant fear of rejection was not far, it was always there, resounding like an echo in a dark tunnel.

“You are not good enough”.

It was the bleakest period of her life. She had nothing to look forward to, the dark tunnel didn’t seem to have any light at its end.

Then she remembered the day the pain disappeared, the day the pain was replaced by numbness. She had gone through her chest of drawers and brought out a packet of Dorchester cigarettes, one she had bought as a trophy to remember him by. Tobi had been a chain smoker but had gradually quit the habit because she had threatened to take up smoking. She walked to the kitchen corridor and sat on the dirty floor, inhaling the smell of rotten vegetables and fish emanating from the waste bucket. Her grandma’s wrapper was thrown haphazardly around her and could barely cover her nakedness. Her nipples were peeking from both ends of the wrapper and the red paint on her toe nails had chipped. Ojiugo lit a cigarette and smoked a full stick for the first time without Tobi’s supervision and she didn’t dare cough. He had never let her have more than a puff or two. She had smoked the full packet of cigarettes before she realized that she was crying, silent tears, rolling down her cheeks. That was the day she had made up her mind to let go.

She slowed her jog to a walk and took a bend leading straight home, enough jogging for one day. She fished out a twenty year old I-pod from her breast pocket and turned it on, clumsily disengaging the ropes of her ear-phones. Tobi had given her the I-pod. She listened to Fela complain about Nigeria’s overly religious lifestyle and extremely bad economy. Tobi had loved Fela. She had not been able to relate with him on that level, she still couldn’t, but she craved the nostalgia the music brought with it.

Walking down the street in Michigan reminded her of the one she and Tobi had lived on back in Nigeria. They were the unconventional couple, the unmarried couple that lived together. In a country where there were more churches than schools, that was a taboo. She never forgot the looks, sometimes she felt it was imagined. The looks of condemnation and disappointment. The constant fear that a cousin or an uncle would visit unannounced.  But she was happier than she had ever been in her whole life. She had loved the rain, she had loved it immensely. She was guaranteed a hot beverage and a bed time story, he sometimes read to her.

She didn’t forget the discomfort, it was a constant reminder of the temporary arrangement they had. The poor power supply, the insufficient water, the heat and the mosquitoes. But they were happy. They wrote letters to each other when they were away from each other; they bought each other gifts for no reason at all. And he had loved books just as much as she did, perhaps even more. They had travelled together to see his parents and they were extremely welcoming to the “omo-ibo” their son had brought home. A courtesy she knew would not be extended to him were the positions reversed.

She greeted the door-man at the front of the block of flats where she lived.

“Good morning, Jason”. She said smiling.

“Good morning Prof, you are back late today”. He replied in a deep southern drawl.

“Oh yes, I took the longer route this morning”. She replied in clear voice devoid of any accent at all. She sounded like a person with no need to identify with any culture. She sounded as though she was from an exotic place far, far away, where the inhabitants had evolved past conformity and usual human reasoning.

No wonder Jason was in awe of her, he always wondered why she never looked bothered or sad. How she managed never to show what she was thinking. She knew Jason had a crush on her, she once heard him refer to her as Nubian Prof.  She was more amused than flattered though. Jason was Caucasian, average height with a slight punch in his midsection and a passably handsome face.

“Okay, see you on your way to school”. Ojiugo nodded and continued in-doors. She decided against the elevator once she saw that it wasn’t down yet and decided to take the stairs. So for the first time since she had moved in five years ago, she braced herself for the long walk to the eighth floor.

She remembered the curvy staircase leading to their small room. They always had to go downstairs in search of their foot wears as their neighbours always kicked them down. Fela had stopped singing and some other person was singing but she couldn’t make out the words mostly because the Ipod was old and broken.

She remembered the recurring dreams. The ones she had started having five years ago, after seeing his picture on Forbes’ magazine, amongst Africa’s top ten richest men under forty. He was number six. She wasn’t surprised seeing him there, if anything she had expected it. Her dreams had started after she had seen his wife for the first time, beautiful light skinned woman, skin as smooth as a baby’s bottom and eyes so small it disappeared when she smiled. In her dreams, Akuoma’s skin was ebony, she was thick with wide hips and big breasts, she had full lips and big eyes, in her dreams Akuoma was Ojiugo. Tobi wasn’t smiling down at the beautiful slim model but at the buxom Nubian Professor.

She climbed the last set of stairs and fished out her keys from her joggers and opened the door. She walked straight to her kitchen to make the coffee she so craved, she saw the empty waste bucket and pristine white cabinets and counter but all she could smell was rotten vegetables and fish with a hint cigarette smoke.

She picked the I-pod and threw it into the waste bucket.

“Honey, I’m home”. She said a bit loudly.

“Yea, I know”. A huge buff man with well chiseled features and a prominent lower lip walked in with a coffee mug in his left hand and gave her a kiss on her fore-head.

“Happy anniversary, baby”. He said engulfing her in a hug.

“Happy anniversary”. She replied smiling.

It was November 25, the day she and Tobi had shared their first kiss.


C’est moi
jay da Fantasist…..


Hello lovelies! This is just a lil something to lighten up your week. This was written some time ago. Enjoy!!!

¤ Hey hon, wadup?
• Hi stranger
¤ No naa, I’ve just been busy
• Yea right *rolls eyes* busy with him
¤ Lol
• What’s funny? Am I Chris Rock?
¤ You assumd I ws busy wit him na
• Wc is absolutely correct
¤ Well…..
• Well what?
• Look Vera don’t treat me like a kid or ur lap dog. I’ve playd dis game a thousand tyms and I always cm out d victor.
¤ Wht r u talking about Kris? I’m lost
• Don’t piss me off
¤ Why d f*** r u getn pissed
• Loooooool
¤ What’s funny?
• You can’t even write Fuck without all d silly star signs.
• Boo, I’m way outta ya league
• I ws der 4 u wen ur sorry xcuse of a bf was shagging round town
• And when he smiled at u, u ran to him lyk a bitch in heat.
¤ Y r u getn angry?
¤ Itz nt as if u lovd me
¤ U said u wantd a fling
¤ I don’t do flings, I told u
• Dat’s my problem wt u, u claim 2 b ancient, yet u did and prolly stil do thos insane wild tins wt him
• Ur such a hypocrite
¤ Y r u lyk dis?
¤ Using wht I told u against me
¤ Pinging u was a mistake
• Fuck, delete me den
• Fuck! Vera. Reply ur damn pings or I’m calling up ur ass ds minute.
¤ What?
• U r such a prude, n I’m nt saying sorry
¤ Then stop pinging me
• U pinged 1st
¤ What do u want Kris? I told u he was my 1st.
¤ I told u everytn
¤ He was gonna breakup wt her
• So….
• What hapnd
• Ohhh! Let me gues, he nevr did
• U r so pathetic
¤ Fuck u Kris, Fuck u
¤ I hate u so much ryt nw
¤ I’ve nt chatd wt u in 2months n ds is hw u wanna get
¤ What’s d diff btw u both, u specifically said u jst wantd 2 shag his memories outta my head
• U knw I won’t apologise ryt?
• So? I wantd 2 fuck u
• Hell, I still wanna fuck u silly
• But I’ve nevr bn assistant bf 2 no one
• I did dat 4 ur sorry aSs, n u went running bk 2 d beast
¤ I loved him
• R u mad?
• He cheatd wt all ur friends
¤ He said he loved me
• N he slaps u wn he is drunk
¤ Dat was one tym
• U disgust me, n ds isn’t metaphorically, I mean literally.
¤ Thank u
• Dnt send me on a guilt trip love, won’t work
¤ I don’t care
¤ Just leave me alone
¤ Bsides u r 6000 miles away
• N he’s 2inches away on ur bed abi
¤ No
• No as in?
¤ No as in we broke up
• Wen? Last nyt? N u beta nt lie 2 me
¤ 2days after u sed I shd stop caln n pinging
• Fuck! Dat was 2monts ago
• Y didn’t u tel me
¤ U sed I shd stop tryn 2 contact u
• So? Wht r u doing nw
¤ Saw ur pre-wedding fotos on fb
• Yea, So?
¤ I didn’t knw u lykd her dat much
¤ I wntd 2 congratulate u
• Whtz stopn u
¤ Congrats
• Whatever
¤ Lol
• What’s funny?
¤ Only u wil say whatever to congrats
• Yea, I’m an ass like that
¤ Yea.
¤ This is Goodbye then
• Yup
¤ Aii, bye Kris
¤ Hav a gud lyf
• I most certainly wil
• My only regret is
¤ We didn’t fuck
• Lol yea, I’m spoiling u weLl, yea we didn’t shag

Phone Call
# Lydia
• Yea?
# U asleep?
• A lil bit
# Thank you
• Whatever for?
• Oh! She took the bait I guess
# Hook, line and sinker
• So when are you going home to the love of your life?
# Don’t be smug, next week.
• Aii, I’ll miss you man.
# I’ll miss you too Dude.
• Don’t call me that
# Don’t yell, you will wake your husband
• Yea. Love you
# Love you too

A week later
» Minnie
• Hi Mickie
• Itz bn ages since u cald me dat
» Yup
• R u havn wedn jitters
» Nope
• Lol, u r bad like that
» Yea, I am
» Y aint u comn?
• Wher?
» Uk of course *rollseyes*
• Y?
» Ur bestfriend is getn married duh
• Ohh! Ur wedn is 2mao, can’t possibly make it in tym
» U neva wantd 2 cm
» Dnt b actn lyk u wantd 2
• True
» Wher r u
• Our spot
» At ds tym?
» U cray or wht
• Nope, jst sayn goodbye officially 2 ur memory
• N itz nt late joor, itz 4pm
» Lol, n wht hapns whn ur done
» Ok
• I’ll go hom n hv a gud cry
» Lyk ur nt cryn nw
• Lol, ur such a cocky idiot
» That’s y u love me
• Yea, that’s y
• Btw, I have a confession
» What?
• I stole ur green hood last summer
» Mcheew, I knw
» But wht did u do to it tho?
• I burnt it
» Rotfl
• Stop lafn
• I didn’t wnt u wearin anytn she bought u
» *grinning* ur so silly and nw I’m marryn her
• Yea
• N I’m hopelessly in love wt u
» Yea, I knw
» Is that y u r crying
• Hu said I am
» I can see u duh

Vera turned to Kris strolling towards her, a wide smile on his face
“What are you doing here?” She asked in shock
“That’s not quite the welcome, I expected. It seems you are better at declaring your undying love when I’m 6000miles away”. He said with a slight frown on his face.

“I’m just shocked, did she come with you”. She asked looking behind him.

“No, she didn’t”.

“What?” She asked looking at him like he had grown an extra head.

“I wasn’t ever gonna marry her, Barry would have had my balls”. He said smiling and drawing her close.

“Who’s Barry?”

“Her husband”. His smile was now a full blown grin. “And Vera, I love you more than you can ever imagine”.

“I love you more”. She said smiling through her tears.

“Can we shag now”. He asked after kissing her forehead. She gripped her sides and laughed.

“After we are married of course”. She said looking at him.

“Hmmm”. He sighed


“Like hell I’ll wait, let’s get home first”. He thought chuckling.


Women Palaver

I want to lose weight so I can be sexy, I want to dress prettily so I’ll be confident, my breasts are too small, e nor dey let my guy hold (someone actually said that), my legs are too thin, my legs are too fat, my tummy is too big, my arms are too dark, I have pimples, my skin isn’t evenly toned, my ass is too flat, my upper part is bigger than my lower part, my hips are non existent (please add the remaining female wahala you know)………

And we (ladies) whine and complain and sometimes cry and even strive to attain perfection. But it is absolutely impossible to stay perfect, I’m yet to see a perfect lady; Beyonce has bow legs (though sexy but it’s still a turn off for some guys), Rihanna has small breasts, someone said Jolie has bad breath (omo I nor know if na true oo), Mercy Johnson’s ass is too big (hehehe most guys like it anyway) and my heavenly self, my right arm is bigger than my left (I just told you my most guarded secret, *rolls eyes*). Anyway, I know I’m not making much sense, I might have succeeded in making you feel even worse about yourself but I’ve also proven a point…ask me what?

Did I hear you say What?
Ok you said what

My point is this your bodily flaws, most of the time do not define you. What really does is your character defect, I have a very beautiful cousin that doesn’t find her shoe size in the market, her legs are gigantic but well she’s such a wonderful person that we just look at her face and forget her legs.

If you (as a woman) think you honestly need to be loved and you crave a perfect barbie doll feature because your main aim is to be loved and you overlook the fact that Christ already thinks (actually knows) you are perfect and you want to be perfect for a man, honey you’ve got it wrong. Don’t misquote me ooo, I didn’t say taking care of your God given body and gift is wrong but I’m saying your ulterior motive shouldn’t be because you want to be noticed because like it or not you are loved as you are.

And honestly, don’t come and say that I now said that you can be a dirty disgusting woman and look unkempt but have a wonderful character….(Hehehehe I laugh in ibo) nobody will even come close to you “sef” to realise how wonderful you are. Be good because it pleases you to be so and if you wanna be nasty, well……let’s hope your beauty is what those around you prefer to your character.

Truth is you can be beautiful and have a good personality and some people (guys or family) will still treat you like trash. In the end all that matters is that you are not perfect in the eyes of the world, but God sees a beautiful child whom he loves enough to have died for.

*sighs* I had to get that out, I’m honestly speaking more to myself than you.

C’est moi,
Jay~> da fantasist.

White Raven (4)

Hello lovelies, this episode is rated 18 ooo. If you never reach 18 abeg, I take God beg you, jump the ghen ghen ghen part. If you dream dreams, my hand is not deir. Bikonu, enjoy


Muna stood in front of the door to the Penthouse suite in Pride’s Hotel at 9:55pm. She wondered what she was doing there in the first place. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to go in, but the same force that had propelled her to leave her house at 7pm was still at work. It was clearly a battle between her brain, heart and body. Her brain clearly lost the battle. She wanted Ekemini….she wanted him with an intensity that scared her shit-less. When he kissed her she lost her mind, when he looked at her she became shy, when he held her-she never wanted to let go and yet she was as uncertain as the first day she had seen in watching her dance.

He was arrogant, selfish, annoying and too handsome for his own good. He was everything she did not want in a man, yet she yearned for him. She was three hours late and he had probably left the premises. The receptionist had been quite vague on disclosing his whereabouts, she’d just been pointed to the elevator and left to find her way. From all indications, Ekemini had been in the Penthouse suite at some point, but she doubted if he had cared to wait. He could have lost interest and left. But Muna would be damned if she came all the way and never found out what could have happen if he had actually waited for her. With that, she threw away the remnant of her tattered pride, took in a deep breathe and raised her hand to knock.


After waiting three hours and thirty minutes, she had finally shown up. Ekemini knew the exact moment she had gotten to the hotel (the receptionist had called immediately). Even now, he knew she was in front of the door drowning in an ocean of uncertainties. He was tempted to make the decision for her and open the door, but he wanted her to come to him of her own free-will. What he felt for her was too strong and he would not want to have her half-hearted devotion.

His heart thudded incessantly, he felt like a school boy about to have sex for the first time. The mixture of excitement and anxiety he felt now was far greater than what he felt when he had lost his virginity at the tender age of twelve.

Seconds ticked away, minutes seemed to fly. He wanted to yank the door open and pull her in but he held himself. Just when he began to think she had left, a faint knock sounded. He let out the breath he didn’t realise he was holding and waited for the second knock. It came….and it was louder than the first. He stood smirking and staring at the door and waited for the third. It came five seconds later and it seemed almost desperate. Fully satisfied that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, he mentally patted himself on the back stretched his hand and opened the door.


Muna was rendered speechless. He didn’t look angry but his stance was intimidating, she loved his handsome face and pink lips but she hated his arrogant expression. It was clearly saying “I-knew-you-couldn’t-resist-coming” and she disliked it immensely. She stepped in and he closed the door behind her.

He walked to the mini bar and poured himself a glass of brandy. Muna was in awe of her surrounding. Never had she seen such opulence, she had heard that “The Pride” was beautiful but this was simply heavenly. She didn’t enjoy her elevator ride because she was nervous at the time. But now, she just stared at the decor. There was a connecting door left slightly ajar and she noticed a massive King-size bed with white sheets in the middle of the room.

Ekemini liked the look of unabashed admiration on her face. He liked the fact that she was so easy to read, so transparent. He crossed his legs and took another sip from his glass.

“You are late”. He said. Muna was snapped out of her reverie and she turned to him, he looked edible in his black jeans and white body hug shirt.

“I wasn’t sure I wanted to come”. She replied honestly.

Ekemini was surprised but he appreciated truthfulness. “What changed your mind?” He asked.

It was obvious he wanted to rile her up, Muna wondered why he seemed so aloof. She missed his smile and sweet nature, she wanted him to call her sweet names again, she knew he was probably angry she had poured her drink on him and she felt a pang of remorse, but he had deserved it at the time, he was acting more like the boss she knew.

“I don’t know”. She whispered.

She didn’t know but he knew, she was attracted to him and she couldn’t deny it. Ekemini knew she was nervous and he hated what he was doing, he didn’t like that she was uncomfortable but he was angry at her….and himself. She just stood in the middle of the large room looking small and out of place with her small hand-bag in front of her.

“Come here”. He said. He sounded sensual, Muna took small tentative steps towards him. Ekemini watched her till she stood directly before him. He finished off his drink and placed the glass on the stool beside him and drew her down on his lap. She was light and he enjoyed having her pert buttocks on his legs, but he didn’t move to hold her. He leaned back on the chair took out his cell phone and made a few calls. Muna was confused, was she supposed to kiss him, cuddle him or just sit on his legs like a puppet. He was so unpredictable, she moved to get up but he stopped her. He rubbed her back with one hand while he held the phone with the other. He pulled he closer and whispered “relax” to her while he continued to listen in on the call.

She reluctantly relaxed and leaned against him. She wondered if he was going to make love or just shag. She wanted to make love, she had never been made love to and she was far from experienced. Her last boyfriend had been her only boyfriend and she had never enjoyed sex with him, she wondered how Ekemini would be with her, she hoped he won’t call her cold and frigid like Chinedu. She didn’t like sex but she hoped he would be gentle, gone were her thoughts of revenge. She couldn’t go through with it not when she felt as she did and besides what could she possibly do to him anyway.

He ended the call after a curt “do it”.

“Are you hungry?” He asked

“No”. She replied.

“What do you want to do?” He asked

“Kiss you.” She replied with a smile.

“I’m all yours.” He chuckled. She loved the sound of his laugh. She knew she had surprised him with her request, she had surprised herself too. She leaned in and gave his lips a light caress, she put her arms round his neck and kissed the side of his mouth. She kissed his eyes, his nose, his cheek, she bit his jaw and he groaned. He had remained unresponsive till the bite, he drew her almost roughly to him and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her like his life depended on it. She matched his kisses with drugged kisses of her own, they clung to each other and were both lost in their world. Muna didn’t know where his tongue started and where hers ended. She felt a deep yearning in the pool of her belly. He bit her bottom lip and Muna moaned.

Ekemini wanted to jump her and ravish her right there on the chair, she was like a flower gently opening to him. He reined in his passion and reduced the vigour of the kiss and she followed suit. He stopped and picked her up bridal style and moved to the adjoining room. Muna knew what was next, she wasn’t afraid that she would be unresponsive, she was scared to be wild. Ekemini slowly undressed her and kept gazing at her beautiful body, she was more beautiful than all his imaginations. He put on the bed and stood beside her to take off his shirt, exposing a muscular body and wide chest.

Muna gawked at him and watched him join her on the bed, he took out a foil from and tore it open bringing out the condom. He continued kissing her, and stroking her nape. He kissed her all over her face, caressing her breasts and nipples, he nipped her ear lobes and she let out an anguished moan. His hands were all over her, there was an unspoken conversation between them. He satisfied her every sexual desire, he touched her wherever she wanted without direction. She wanted to touch him back, she put her hands on his chest and caressed his nipples, he jerked and grabbed her hands.

“Not yet, honey”. He groaned. “That will be my undoing”. He said almost harshly.

“But I want to touch you”. She argued. He silenced her with a kiss and continued exploring her body, he moved his hand down to her core and she jerked, moaning and tossing her head.

“Sshh”. He whispered. He loved her reaction, he loved her face, he was mesmerised by her lips. He continued wrecking havoc to her senses and barely restraining himself.

When they joined it was magnificent, she clung to him and ran with him to oblivion. She had never felt anything like this, it wasn’t painful, he wasn’t rough. He was considerate and kept asking “are you ok, babe?”. They chased each other and came crashing down to earth, it was simply cataclysmic. He eased out and held her in his arms. Muna had just had her first climax, she wanted to howl and tell the world that she wasn’t deformed, that she was normal and she wanted to tell Chinedu to suck it. She grinned happily and drifted off to sleep.


Ekemini watched her sleep, she was smiling some seconds ago, she was angelic when she slept. He wondered how many men she had slept with, it shouldn’t bother him besides she was a stripper but he cared. And it irked him that he did, he had never bothered about how many partners the women he slept with had, but here he was wondering who her first was. He went to take his bath. He had a meeting in Abuja at 8am on Monday. He had planned to stay with her through out sunday but he needed to sort out his emotions. With that he dropped an envelope on the dresser and without a backward glance left her sleeping alone in the room.


The chill in the room woke Muna up, she was carefully wrapped in a blanket but she was cold. She turned sleepily and tried to snuggle into Ekemini’s body but he wasn’t there. She opened her eyes and looked around her, she wrapped herself in the sheet and softly padded to the bathroom to check if he was there. When she didn’t see him, she went to the sitting room. She refused to believe that he had abandoned her, she opened all the doors and when her search turned futile she sat on the floor and wept, she wept for all the things she had done wrong, she wept because he had left her sleeping alone like a cheap whore, she wept because she had enjoyed her time with him too much.

Muna put on her clothes not bothering to bathe. She saw the envelope next to the lamp stand and without bothering to check the contents, put it in her bag. She checked her watch and saw it was 7:30am sunday morning, she took the elevator down and left the envelope with the receptionist. She was going home to have a good cry and wipe out the memory of best night of her life.


Two weeks had gone by since the last time Muna had seen Ekemini, 2weeks 3days 15hours and 32minutes. “Who’s counting anyway?” She thought. To make matters worse he hadn’t called her to bark orders at her, he hadn’t even asked his assistant to do so. She had been left with recurring dreams of their lovemaking, she went regularly to the club hoping he would come but he was no show. Muna was emaciating and she knew it, she tried to be happy but she couldn’t help feeling cheated. When he had said she would be his mistress, he had specifically said she would be his mistress for a time, did one night equate to the time he had meant? She knew she needed time and she would forget that night. She was supposed to hate him, she was supposed to despise him. Her life had been simple till he came and turned it upside down, she was an erotic dancer who had enjoyed teasing men but she was now the teased. She felt like a dog under a butcher’s table being handed a tiny morsel of meat and chased out. For the first time in her life she wished she wasn’t a stripper, she wished she had met him under better circumstances. She wasn’t in love with him, far from it but she felt used and slighted. She pushed all thoughts of him from her head and threw herself into her job.

Ekemini drove to “The Pride Hotel”. He hadn’t gone there since the last night he had spent with Jasmine. She hadn’t called him, he had been in a terrible mood all week. It had been amusing at first, then he became slightly annoyed and frustrated but in the last few days he had become almost aggressive, snapping at his workers and even his driver and cook. He wasn’t one to display emotions but it had become obvious that maintaining his aloofness was becoming increasingly difficult. The doors opened automatically as he walked into the reception. The receptionist saw him and smiled brightly.

“Good evening, Sir”. She said still smiling and fluttering her lashes.

“Do I have any messages?” He asked completely ignoring her greeting.

“Yes”. She replied solemnly and handed him a brown envelope. Ekemini took the package and recognised it instantly, it was the one he had left Jasmine. Apparently, it had never been opened.

“How long has this been in my safe?” He asked.

“Three weeks today, Sir. It’s been there since the last time you were here”. She answered in a very professional tone.

“Thank you”. Ekemini took the elevator to his suite. He opened the envelope and saw the credit card, complimentary cards and note he had left Jasmine. No wonder she hadn’t called, she hadn’t bothered to check the contents of the package. He was so relieved that he didn’t think of her reason for not accepting the package till he had had dinner and was well rested. Did she expect him to be there when she awoke? Was she angry he had left her alone? She should have checked the content of the envelope. She wasn’t only beautiful but she was headstrong as well. A stripper with principles, he threw back his head and laughed at the irony of the whole situation. He loved her spirit. Well, she would have to see him again, and God help her if she refused. Their time together had barely started.


Muna came in to do her final dance in the club. She was going to say fare-thee-well to her life of dancing and move on to less lascivious hobbies. Maybe she would pick a hobby from singing, playing any musical instrument or even start a sport but she was done dancing to entertain wealthy men. Most of her twenty four years on earth had been spent trying to live up to people’s expectations, first it was her family-trying to be the best in her class and when that failed, she tried to be a church girl and when she had asked her sunday school teacher “why if men were so smart why Samson had fallen for Delilah”, she had been called too inquisitive. Then when she asked Mama Bolaji, her Pastor’s wife, “If the apple in the bible Adam ate was sex”. She had been called a libertine. From that day she stopped caring about all things spiritual, she barely even believed in the existence of a supreme being. After her failure at being the church girl her family wanted, she gave up trying to please them and started pleasing herself. She learnt how to dance because she wanted to, she had studied Banking and Finance because she loved to count money, even though her parents wanted her to study medicine. She was comfortably the black sheep of the family and she had stopped caring.

Her father said she needed deliverance, her mother said her father’s first wife that had no children for him had re-incarnated through Muna to torture them, her elder brother felt her parents were just over-reacting to Muna’s way of life and her younger sister didn’t give a hoot about her existence. But Muna loved her dysfunctional family and had signed in for a month’s leave. She was going home after her last dance. She took extra care with her appearance and stared at her face in the mirror wondering if she there was something wrong with her. Jackson opened the door and walked in.

“So Muna, this is good-bye?” He looked almost sad staring at the dresser, his crossed eyes were too hilarious to pass off the look of sadness he was trying to let on. He looked like he was sad the dresser was being moved.

“Yes, I am”. Muna replied in a false sad tone. She was only sad she was going to miss out on some extra cash, she wasn’t sad that she didn’t have to keep asking if he was referring to her or any other person or furniture that had the misfortune of being in her vicinity when they talked.

“I’d miss you”. He said looking at the wall.

“No you would miss me bringing you a lot of money, you selfish bastard”. Muna thought.

“Awwww, I’d miss you too”. She gave a fake puppy dog face, while mentally grimacing at the idiot that had diverted his gaze to the cupboard above the dresser. Muna had become confused with Jackson’s eyes, she knew that when he stared at the dresser he was looking at her, but when he talked to the wall and cupboard she wondered what part of her he was talking to.

“You just dey mad oo, Muna”. She said in her head and mentally guffawed, she wished he’d just leave so she could laugh properly.

“I came to tell you that your last performance would be a private one, just be prepared and go into the blue room,your client is there”. He quickly left the room so she would have no objections. Muna sighed and reluctantly walked to the blue room, her heart beat accelerated as she remembered her last two encounters with Ekemini there. She had almost pushed all thoughts of him successfully from her head till now. She opened the door and saw Ekemini sitting on the couch with an expression of amusement on his face. She was so angry that she wanted to walk out on him. After three whole weeks he dares to show up and send for her as if she were his paid thing, a part of her was excited to see him but the more rational part helped sustain her anger.

“What do you want?” She said trying hard to act nonchalant.

“I came to see my runaway mistress”. He replied with a measure of confidence that startled her.

“You’ve gat jokes, mister. You left me alone after one night and tried to pay me off, I might be a stripper but I’m no whore”. She answered fuming.

“No one called you a whore, Jazz”. He said walking towards her. He gripped her shoulders and when she tried to pull away he held her tight. He brought the package from the breast pocket of his suit and handed it to her.
“Open it”. It was clearly an order and Muna did as he asked. She was shocked to see a credit card and three complimentary cards, she also saw a neatly folded square paper. She carefully opened it and it read

I had to leave early, I’ll see you monday evening. Call me on any of the lines and I’ll send my driver over. The credit card is for you, buy yourself whatever you want. Password is 5462.

Muna didn’t know what to say, he hadn’t really left her sleeping alone, he had left a note. Though unromantic and seemed so like an order, it was still a note. But she wasn’t going to leave with him, she was going home. He left her emotions too jumbled up and Muna was too tired.

“Look Ekemini, I’m too tired. I wanna go home”.

“I’ll drop you off”. He said.

“No, I’m fine”. She replied.

“That wasn’t a request”. He led her out of the room to and waited outside the dressing room for her. Muna came out dressed in her usual shorts and tank top. They walked outside together and she shivered slightly. He removed his jacket and placed it over her shoulders. Ekemini found himself doing things for her he had never considered doing for another woman. His driver opened the door and they both got in.

Muna knew she was making a mistake, this thing with Ekemini was driving her insane. She just wanted to begin her yearly leave and forget him.

“Where’s your place?” He asked

“On the mainland”.

“It’s late and traffic is horrible, we are going to my place”. He replied giving no room for arguments.

“Who made you my father? who gave you the right to run my life?” She asked furiously.

“I heard you quit your dancing at the club, wise of you to do that, I’d hate to share you in the time we spend together”. He replied like she hadn’t said anything.

“You are the most arrogant, frustrating, ill-mannered and self absorbed bastard I’ve ever met”. She shouted furiously.

“Sorry to disappoint you, unfortunately I know my father”. He said chuckling wickedly. Muna lapsed into silence for the rest of the journey. The gate to the estate was instantly opened to them, they drove in and stopped at a beautiful duplex. They drove into the compound and Muna was led into the house, the house was even more beautiful than the hotel.

Ekemini poured her a glass of juice and sat beside her on the couch.

“Try not to pour that one on me too”. He said jokingly.

“I’m sorry about that and about what I said to you earlier”. Muna apologised.

“It’s fine”. He replied. He fed her the drink and led her up to his room. They spent the night making love. While he slept with his head cradled on her bosom, Muna wondered what would happen when he got tired of her, but she prayed he got tired of her before he found out who she really was. She closed her eyes and went to sleep.

To Be Continued……

C’est moi,
Jay~>da fantasist.

White Raven (3)

I’m so so sorry guys, I’m sorry for being so busy and not uploading. But make una forgive me, nor be my fault, I know some of you expected some heated scenes in this one… sha and know *cheeky grin*

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Big Boys are always in control. They never display emotions; anger, disgust, joy, anxiety, hatred or even love. They somehow always manage to maintain a blank expression. This is one of the unspoken rules of qualifying to be a full-fledged “big boy”. They are men of power, unpredictable, strong and wealthy. Nothing shakes them; money, flattery or women. They are a bunch of cynical, distrusting men, who prey on the hearts of women foolish enough to try soften them. Of all the big boys in Nigeria, Ekemini Benson was considered one of the most cynical, emotionless, wealthy and handsome. He had no respect for propriety. He had learnt to maintain a blank look when he realised it gave him an air of mystery, his ability to never display emotions helped to rattle and dis concert his rivals.

However, women had other ideas. Mainly because of his extremely handsome looks they had chosen to overlook his aloofness. To their credit, his charm was unrivalled, his words were like a script Shakespeare had written and they were practically in love after the first few minutes of conversation.

But since the night he met Jasmine, he had started to feel the need to fill the aching void in his soul. The last time he had felt a similar emotion was when he had lost his mother. What he felt then was fury, the highest form of it not this yearning and excitement. He was furious at his father for his neglect, at the doctors for not having supernatural powers and at himself for not being perceptive enough. From that day, the closest thing he had felt to a strong emotion was emptiness. Occasionally, he felt disappointment (after failing at a project), anger (reserved solely for his father) and disgust (for the women in his life who wanted exclusive claim on him or his subordinates-when stupidity over rode their common sense), but not joy or genuine happiness. He didn’t even feel satisfaction after an achievement, he just felt nothing.

But the last two weeks had seen him go through a rapid procession of emotions; anger, disappointment, curiosity, excitement, tenderness and the most disturbing of all; restlessness.

That monday, he arrived at his office as early as 6:30 am. The insomnia he thought was gone had come back with a renewed vigour. He had sworn never to go near another sleeping pill after his mother died of an overdose. But Jasmine provoked him in ways no other woman ever had.

He had been perambulating from the moment he stepped into his office. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had prettier women in the past but he wasn’t satisfied with what he had with them. He knew he seriously needed to get laid, but his recent sexual encounters had been less than gratifying. While he left the women sated, they left him hollow. He was a lot like his father, in looks and character. He would rather not marry than subject any woman to a life of misery, his father had pushed his mother to suicide with his flirting and selfishness. He had known his mother was an emotional wreck, with her regular bouts of depression and what his father claimed was unnecessary anxiety, which had stemmed from his continuous philandering but he never got himself involved in their issues. Now he wished he had.

He wasn’t ever going to let any woman into his life, there was no need. He had nothing to offer, hence he was careful with his relationships. He always broke them off before the women fell too deeply in love with him. At 32, he didn’t see himself having any children (not because he didn’t want them but he didn’t want to fail at being a parent) and all his wealth would go to charity. It wasn’t the way of Africans not to want children but it was his way and he had never cared about people’s opinion.

Anyway, he needed a solution to his new found obsession with Jasmine. He would make her an offer she wouldn’t be able to resist, he hoped the encounter would give him the emotional release he needed, cure his new found problem of sentiments and give him back the feeling of nothingness and nonchalance he now craved.

In the meantime, he was going over to see the bank manager of New Age Bank and ask why he had replaced a sluggish moron with a clueless lack wit. It was a case of “frying pan to fire”. He honestly missed his previous account officer (the sluggish moron) and hoped she hadn’t been sacked on his account. This new one was plain hopeless and he didn’t suffer fools lightly, she had no inkling of an idea on what was expected of her. He wondered on what criteria she was employed, he wouldn’t doubt it was based on her bedroom skills rather than her office skills. He was going to request his previous account officer, she was far better than this new girl. He picked up his jacket lying on the sofa and walked out of his office.


Muna came to work dressed in clothes her size. For someone who was more comfortable in over-size clothes, she sure knew how to look like a runway model. She wasn’t dressed up to seek attention, but attention is what she got. From the moment she walked out of her flat till she walked into the bank, she left a long line of drooling men and had gathered an even longer line of prospective lovers. Her colleagues were so astounded that some of the ladies even asked her if she changed church (as they thought she was a member of one of those “God-will-send-you-to-hell-if-you-wear-trousers” pentecostal churches), Muna just laughed them off and continued with her monotonous work of signing and stamping deposit slips. She had already turned down a lot of dates both from her male colleagues and customers, all she wanted was for the day to come to an end. Since she had started working as a cashier, she had begun appreciating her job as a relationship manager. She had decided to petition her boss as she found out the main reason for her demotion was because he wanted to please his current bed-mate, Jumoke. No one turned a Relationship Manager into a contract staff and she had been too blind and afraid to act.

But her job was the least of her problems. Since she gave her last performance at the Blue Moon, Jack had been insisting on her giving more private dances and even subtly hinting she sleep with the men. It wasn’t as if she was a virgin or a prude, for God’s sake she was a stripper but she wasn’t a whore. It was one thing to sleep with a guy one cared about or was in love with, it was another thing to have sex with every Tom, Dick and Harry. Honestly, she was beginning to lose her flare for dancing in public. The only reason she still went there was because she kept hoping Ekemini would come back.

It wasn’t like she had been thinking about kissing his soft lips again and nibbling his ear lobes, nor was she interested in sitting on his legs and cuddling, neither was she interested in having long talks with him and looking into his mysterious eyes, she kept convincing herself that she didn’t want any of these things. Muna shook herself from her stray thoughts, men like him didn’t make love, they shagged and they shagged hard. In an attempt to get him off her mind she stamped the teller so loudly that the elderly woman she was attending was shocked.

“Come do you want to tear the teller before giving it to me? Ehn?” The woman asked angrily.

“I’m so sorry ma, it wasn’t my intention”. Muna apologised.

“Sorry for your stupid self, it’s all you badly trained children that are stealing our husbands, nonsense, mcheeeeew”.

The woman snatched the blue copy of the slip from Muna, gave her a deadly glare and stomped away.

Muna wanted to disappear, she was so embarrassed when people started to look at her as if she really snatched someone’s husband. At that moment, Muna swore to erase every thought of Ekemini and his handsome self from her mind.

As if conjured up, the object of her fantasy walked into the banking hall. It seemed time had stopped as people stared at him. It was obvious from the appreciative looks on their faces that he was greatly admired and respected. She wasn’t the only one that noticed his air of charisma and the power he exuded.

He walked up the flight of stairs and Muna kept staring, she couldn’t help remembering the kiss and the way he stroked her wrist.

“Won’t you attend to me? Abi you want to keep looking at the man all day?” The next customer asked, obviously irritated.

Muna calmly took the deposit slip and cash from the man and wished the ground would open and she could enter.

“Nor mind am, her mind nor even dey here. Kuku follow the man climb up na”. An angry girl said.

Her comment spurred on a series of complaints and laughter from the other customers.

Muna wanted to die, she was steadily humiliating herself.

For the rest of the morning, she ignored rude customers and went about her business with utmost efficiency while thanking her stars that Ekemini hadn’t noticed her.

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If Ekemini had a club, it would have surely been used to adjust the B.M’s brain to its default settings. The only problem was that he had strong convictions that the brain came with factory error. It was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain a nonchalant facade. From the start of their conversation the B.M had been singing the Alades’ praises, not minding the fact that Ekemini hadn’t come to count his losses. The man was set out to upset him, but he refused to rid the earth of any unnecessary baggage and end up in court where he would be accused of killing a man and not an animal.

“Good for them”. Ekemini replied to the B.M’s continuous praises.

The office decor was in ash, grey and white. The chairs were arranged in a semi-circle before a massive oak table and Ekemini was sitting in third of the five chairs. He was grateful he was far from the moron, because he wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t have strangled him.

“Anyway, Mr Benson enough of the jokes. What brings you to our bank, sir”.
He said displaying a crooked set of teeth.

Ekemini could only wonder at the arrogance of a common B.M. Wasting his time on idle chatter, all in the name of false sympathy. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen an uglier man, he wasn’t vain or one to judge efficiency by looks but New Age Bank’s B.M would give Shrek a run for his money at the Oscar’s.

“The new account officer assigned to manage my affairs is incompetent and I want the previous one back”. He replied with the same I-aint-got-a-care-in-the-world look.

“Really? That’s quite disappointing. Jumoke is the best available”. The B.M said.

“What happened to the previous relationship manager?” He asked like he hadn’t heard the man’s response.

“She’s working as a cashier downstairs”.

The audacity of the fool, how dare he? Who did that anyway? Turn a Relationship Officer to a Cashier, the girl must be doormat.

“I want her back”. He said standing up. “And I want her now”. He strolled out of the office.

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“Life’s a bitch”. Muna thought. “A female Rottweiler to be specific, an angry vicious bitch”.

She couldn’t help herself, whenever she felt restless she diverted to soliloquy. At the moment her joy was that she was alone in the toilet. Staring at her reflection and telling herself that the week had been the worst in the history of bad weeks. With her poor performance and lack of concentration she was almost certain that she would remain a cashier for the rest of her days. That had been her greatest trouble as at the day before when Ekemini walked into the bank.

Yet, twenty four hours after seeing him, she was still as disconcerted and edgy as ever. She was so lucky that he walked like a british royal, head-up, slight swag with the poise and grace of an autocratic monarch. He didn’t even bother glancing at her direction. At the moment she was grateful and slightly disappointed, she would have loved to slide off his mask of indifference. She wanted an emotion from him.

And today she had gotten one. Her B.M had sent her back to her desk and she was back as Ekemini’s account officer. Apparently, he had come to request her immediate re-appointment. Instead of being ecstatic, she felt initial irritation grow into full-blown disgust. It brought to mind the old saying about money being power, he obviously called the shots in the corporate world. He could easily terminate her appointment or renew it as the case may be, the fact that he was such an arrogant buffoon strengthened her resolve to deal with him.

But that was before she received a call from him that morning. His voice….it was the kind that exuded arrogance, authority, respect and warmth. The deep baritone of it and utter velvety feel reminded her of their conversation at Blue Moon.

“Can I call you Jazz?” He had asked.

However, that morning’s call made him sound more like an arrogant jerk than a polite lover.

“Your ineptitude displeases me immensely”. She had picked the call without checking the I.D but she had instantly recognised the voice. She didn’t even know how to respond, so she was silent.

“You are quite fortunate that I do not have the time to start afresh with a new officer, I do not want to have to handle your bizarre attitude anymore”. He continued.

“I’m very sorry,Sir”. Muna replied curtly. She was not sorry, she was angry as hell that he could sound as if he was scolding a five year old and she had to manage to sound in control.

“An apology isn’t the reason I called”. He continued in the same cool voice. “A warning is what I just issued”.

Muna stared at her phone, the asshole cut the call. He didn’t want an apology, he called to warn her. The knowledge that he was being rude didn’t stop her from tingling all over in the aftermath of the call. He was sexily rude.

She honestly had to stop hiding in the toilet, but she needed to look herself in the eye and convince herself that she could make Ekemini Benson grovel. Yes, she could. Even if he was the hottest man alive and he was the first man she had ever been so fiercely attracted to and she honestly wanted to kiss him again, she could still make him grovel. With the firm resolve in mind she turned the tap head and proceeded to washing her face.


He was going to kiss her again. After three weeks, he was going to stare her in the eyes once more and plead that she let him call her Jazz. Weird, he had never had the urge to nick-name his previous conquests, he called them by their given names. And they called him “baby”, “honey”, and whatever name they felt could soften him.

As he waited in the same room he had first been alone with her, he tried to anticipate her reaction to his proposal. He had to confess that she was a spit fire and that she was a tad unpredictable, she had actually walked out on him the last time. He would love to break her and see her soften. How he would enjoy the process.

Muna walked in not bothering to knock, her heart was racing. He had come. After three weeks, he came again. And he had asked to see her. Jackson seemed pleased, but she couldn’t be bothered right now on the amount Jackson was going to pay her. She had managed to convince herself that the reason she wanted to see him again was so she could start her revenge. She had even missed his voice, she honestly did, he no longer called. He sent her text messages or had his secretary do the calling. She had been slightly miffed but now he was here.

Ekemini stood up and offered her his hand. She reluctantly took it while praying he couldn’t hear her heart beats. He put his other arm round her waist and drew her close.
Muna was scared, she was anxious, she was thrilled, excited and confused. He kissed her fore-head.
She was so petite, even in heels she didn’t quite reach his chin. Ekemini liked holding her, she looked scared and incredibly pretty. He loved her dress, it accentuated her curves, she smelt of something nice. He couldn’t quite tell the name but he loved the smell. It was unique and it was totally her.

“Hi”. He said tilting her face to look at him.

“Hi”. She responded shyly. Muna was overwhelmed, she couldn’t deny her attraction to him. God help her.

He pulled her down to sit beside him and offered her his drink.

“May I call you Jazz?” He asked.
She almost choked on her drink. Muna wished she had given him her real name, she wished he had asked something like “May I call you Muna”.

She nodded yes and looked at her glass.
Ekemini wanted to eat her whole, he wanted to kiss her and never stop but he had to be careful with the extreme display of affection. Women were good actresses and Jasmine was one of them, she wouldn’t be very different from the rest. He had a serious aversion to commitment, he had been there, done that and he crashed and burned. He couldn’t take chances, not after his last girlfriend slept with his father in the bid of vying to be his step-mother. He was a wreck, even if she was different he felt he might make her miserable.

He looked at the lady who had her head bowed and wondered if she would be any different from the rest. Either way, he didn’t care much.

“I have a proposal to make”. His voice was no longer husky, it was almost tart.
Muna wondered at the change.

“What’s that?” She looked at him.

He managed to conceal the effect her she had on him.
“You will be my mistress for a time, you will be compensated at the end of our time together”. He no longer sounded loving, he sounded like Ekemini Benson, the no nonsense business tycoon.

Muna was so furious that she dumped the remnant of her drink on his face.

“When I fuck, I do so on my own terms Mr Benson, I call the shots. Not the other way round”. She was so angry, she should have known. She had let down her defenses and the man wanted to add her to his long line of mistresses, she was almost in tears how could he be so cruel and spoil such an exquisite moment.

She picked up her bag and had almost reached the door when he said standing.
“No one walks out on me, twice”. He paused. “No one”.

He mopped his face with a white handkerchief. Muna watched in fascination as he strolled towards her pulled her forcefully into his arms and kissed her. The kiss was angry and punishing, almost bruising and she remained unresponsive. But when he softened and began to tenderly coax her, nibbling at her bottom lip, she dropped her bag and put her hands on his chest, it was like reflex, she wasn’t aware of what she was doing, kissing him was as natural as breathing and even when she was still smarting from his insane and business like manner of asking her out she couldn’t help but kiss him like her life depended on it. She was lost in his kiss, utterly mesmerised, he had a cataclysmic effect on her. Just when she was sure that nothing could stop her from enjoying the sweet torture, he stopped and stepped back.

“Pride’s Hotel, Penthouse suite, 7pm tomorrow. Don’t be late”. He announced and left her standing alone in the room.

To be continued…….

C’est moi,
Jay~>da fantasist

White Raven (2)

Ekemini was stunned, he was lucky his chair was comfortable, he’d have probably landed on his rear. The dancer was absolutely exquisite, slim legs attached to perfectly curved hips. He had a strong weakness for legs and the stilettos made them seem unending. Her stomach was flat, something one of his friends would call “hungry man size”. But this hungry man size didn’t show any ribs, it was flat and beautiful. Her breasts were perfect, “Lord, who’s this chic?” he thought.

But looking at her face was disappointing, why did she have that ugly mask on, he wanted to see her eyes and her lips devoid of that hideous red thing. He felt so embarrassed, he had never reacted so strongly to a woman in his life. He graduated from the University of Players with a Masters degree, so why did this masked little chit affect him so much.

Muna was so nervous, she wondered what he was doing in a place like this and why he was looking amused. She honestly wanted to ask someone if she had something on her face till she remembered she was masked. And besides, the men were too busy ogling her body, they didn’t care about the face, all they saw was a female body. The sound of Katy Perry’s E.T brought her back to reality, she swore to give this her best. She turned to Ekemini’s direction and smirked, she walked round the pole and seductively placed her hands on her hips. She danced like never before, did stunts that she had been too afraid to do in the past. She was like a demon possessed lunatic, she swung her legs around the pole and twirled round it continuously, she swayed her hips from side to side, she moved in synch with the music. The sight of her sweat glistening body was making Ekemini think wild thoughts.

At the end of the song, all but Ekemini stood to clap. It was only when she walked out the door that she realised that for the first time in her life she had pole-danced without stripping.

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Ekemini was shaken, there was no need to deny it. He would have stood up to clap if it wasn’t for his unsteady legs. Who was the girl and why was her name “White Raven”, he couldn’t control the direction of his thoughts. After her performance all others seemed quite useless and disgusting, with women flashing their nipples and other very unappealing parts of their anatomy, he stayed on till the third dancer. Normally, this was his thing. The most sensible thing to do would be to have one of these girls satisfy the emptiness he felt but looking at them dance, he couldn’t help feeling more empty. There was a desperate look in their eyes, forced smiles on their lips, not like the smile the masked girl had given him. She acted like she knew him, like she put on the show just for him.

He signalled one of the waiters and asked to see the Proprietor, if there was anyone that was going to satisfy his needs, it had to be the masked girl.


Muna was dressed and waiting for Jack to pay her for the night. She hoped he wouldn’t be angry that her performance wasn’t the conventional one. She waited patiently for her two hundred thousand naira. It was clear Jack was ripping her off but she was being careful, he wasn’t an easy man and could dismiss her if he perceived rebellion, so Muna patiently waited for the day she’d be his equal and dance for the men she wanted not the idiots that payed him.

“Haaa, Muna my love, you were at your best today”. Jack said with a wide smile on his face. She let out the breath she didn’t even realise she was holding. Jack was a tall man, extremely muscular with his weird crossed eye commonly called “half past four” eyes. He’d have been handsome with his dark complexion, but he looked like someone from the viking era, he was just too muscular. At 42 he looked in his 30’s but his greed was a serious turn-off for Muna and she didn’t want to keep asking him “Baby are you talking to me?”

“Thank you Jack, but I’m so tired I have to leave may I have the cash now”.
Jack handed her a brown envelope and Muna could tell it wasn’t the usual sum. She gave him a puzzled frown, something was definitely amiss.
“I know you are baffled, I gave you 500k extra” Jack said. For the second time that day Muna left her mouth hanging open.

“, thaa…n.nk you Jack. I’m short of words” she stammered.
“Something is definitely cooking”. She thought.

“You are welcome” he replied automatically. “But there’s someone that wants to meet you, I know this is not part of the contract and you are not supposed to meet anyone without your mask but please Muna, he gave me a lot of money and I’m willing to share it with you”.

“I talk am”. Muna replied in her head, she had never seen Jack say a thousand things at once, he didn’t even allow her to reply before giving explanations. So unlike Jack, the idiot was also being evasive about the sum and talking like he was referring to the dressing table and not her.

“See Jack, I’m tired. I’m not in the mood to give any private dance. Remember the last time, the man wanted fuck, I don’t do fucks, how am I sure this one won’t rape me”. Muna replied, sounding really vexed, she chose to ignore his request about unmasking. Jack was a selfish bastard, he didn’t deserve any pity from her.

“Muna how you dey tink sef, you tink say I go dey here, person go com wound you, make you relax naa”. Jack only used the vernacular language when he wanted to lure his workers to a false security zone. Muna was instantly alert, she had already given him five “yinmus” in her head. This was obviously important to him and in as much as Jack was mean he was also protective and had stuck to their “you can see but you can’t touch deal” for that alone she was grateful.

“Hmmm” she sighed. “Ok, how much you wan com cut for me”. She said it like that because she knew her share wouldn’t be up to quarter of the whole payment and she wanted to be sure the extra five hundred grand wasn’t advance payment.

“That’s my girl, the 500k in the envelope is the pay”. He replied smiling. Muna was even more baffled, who would give Jack so much money that could cause him such generosity. There was something fishy about the whole situation, as much she loved the thought of being 500k richer she could only wonder at this unusual turn of events.

“Abeg ooo, Jack who be the man?” she asked.

“He asked to remain anonymous”. He replied, still looking like he was talking to the dresser.

“But what exactly does he want?”. Muna couldn’t stop her agitation from showing.

“He just wants to meet you…..without the mask of course”. He replied sheepishly.

“What?” She almost yelled. It was one thing to dance naked and half-naked before a group of men who honestly did not care about her face, it was another thing to place a face to the pole-dancer.

“See abeg, count me out, if na so you wan take give me the 500k, abeg take am back”. She said, handing him back the envelope.

“Come Muna, wetin dey worry you sef? Where you tink say you dey work? Church? Abi na because say I let man nor touch you naim you dey form for, e don dey mad abi?” Jack was obviously angry and miraculously his eyes seemed focused on her, it seemed it took anger to adjust his eye-sight. A saucy and selfish Jack she could manage but an angry Jack with a perfect eyesight? Him, she would never dare.

“Oga Jack nor vex na, it hasn’t come to that, it’s just that I don’t want someone that knows me to see me here, you know how I am outside this place”. She replied softly.

“Then I’d suggest you become one person and do away with this your multiple personality disorder and FYI you are gonna meet him, $20000 isn’t a joke”.

How more greedy could Jack be? He couldn’t even give her up to $5000, he was even paying her in naira. Muna was tempted to quit, but dancing was the only exciting thing going on in her life and 500k was huge.

“Ok, let me change to my outfit”. Muna said

“No need, he specifically wanted to meet you without the outfit and make-up”. The request was strange but she didn’t give a hoot, she wasn’t missing 500k for the world, though she wasn’t looking appealing in her two-sizes-too-large tee-shirt and thigh-length shorts, she looked at her toes and noticed the chipped nail polish, her sandal straps were worn out, she had been promising herself a new pair for months now. The man would obviously not know what hit him when he saw the transformation from sexy dancer to dowd.


The room was well lit, strangely Ekemini liked it. When he told the proprietor Jake or Jack or whatever his name was that he didn’t want a performance or bed but just wanted to meet the lady, the idiot of a man had said it would cost him more than the usual $5000, he had felt insulted and had given him $20000 just to put him in his place, with his stupid crossed eyes. He glanced at his wrist-watch and wondered how long he had to wait, he left specific instructions that he didn’t want her dressed in her earlier outfit and make-up, he just wanted to meet her. The initial plan was to get a private performance and probably a shag but now he just wanted to meet the woman that had left him so shaken.

Muna stepped into the room and pushed the door with her left foot. Her graceless attitude was to shock the man and make him leave early. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw who was comfortably seated with a glass of “something”. She almost ran out of the room till she noticed the lack of recognition on his face, the man was oblivious to who she was. Great! the goddess of revenge had provided her an opportunity to hurt this arrogant man, but how could she? She wondered, till she noticed the look of lust in his eyes.

“Hi, I’m Ekemini”. He said rising and stretching out his hand.

“I am eh…hn Jasmine”. She lied, taking his hand. She’d always loved the name, now was the right time to use it. They both sat down.

Ekemini was held spell-bound, Lord she was beautiful. He loved her lips void of the hideous red paint and her hair held in a ponytail, he had always been indifferent to hair extensions but he loved the one she was wearing. She was so small without the heels, her shirt was like something a giant had given her to wear. He liked the way she tied it to the back to expose her shorts, he even liked her small feet. Ekemini pulled himself together and looked into her eyes, it was brown and went well with her olive complexion.

Muna didn’t even know what to feel; hate, anger or attraction. Up close, the man was more gorgeous than in the pictures, everything about him was breath-taking. She had to break the silence and start a conversation but what did one say to one’s greatest enemy. They kept staring at each other for a while, till Ekemini placed his glass on the table. He held her face and placed a slight peck on her lips.
On any normal day, Muna would hit anyone that tried that on the head with the glass and run for her dear life, but this was different. He wasn’t ravishing her, he was seducing her. She responded instinctively and what started as a peck turned into a full blown tongue dance. She’d never been so thoroughly kissed in her life.

Ekemini had kissed her because he had to. It was an impulsive thing, her full lips were simply begging to be kissed, so he had done it. Now he wasn’t sure if he was being seduced or doing the seducing, she was a damn good kisser. The sound of his phone vibrating cut short their kissing fiesta.

“One minute, baby”. He said holding her face. He couldn’t tell where the need to be on familiar terms with her had come from.

Muna was appalled at her lack of decorum, how did she let herself get so sucked into this man’s web. She was already so attracted to him she was scared her feelings will jeopardise her plans.

“Hi Steve”. Ekemini’s tone seemed changed, gone was the soft seductive voice. He sounded cold and angry. He held her left hand and was gently stroking her wrists, she was uncomfortable in an exciting way. The guy was good at multitasking.

“I heard you lost the deal”. Steve sounded sympathetic.

“Yea we lost the deal and the old man’s been giving me hell”. He seemed tense but he didn’t stop stroking her wrists.

Steve was Ekemini’s lawyer, he had been patiently waiting to seal the deal. When he had received no calls from Ekemini he had been worried till he learnt the Alade’s had paid the cash before they could.

“But how come? You had everything planned out”. Steve knew Ekemini was a strict business man, he always got whatever he set his mind on, coupled with the history he had with his Father. They both hated each other with a passion, Ekemini couldn’t afford to be a failure and get taunted by his father. Now failing to close the biggest deal of the year was something he wouldn’t take so well. He was sad for his friend but he had so hoped for that commission.

“Yea, my stupid ex-account officer”. He replied with so much anger.
Steve felt so sorry for the account officer, he didn’t know him/her but he knew that person was in the deepest shit ever.

“So sorry man, I’ll come by the office tomorrow. There will be better deals in the future”.

“Yea, thanks”. Ekemini ended the call. Muna was so mad, she almost blew her cover. She tried so hard to maintain a blank expression, he just called her stupid. After all the work she’d done for him in the past, she vowed to make him eat his words.

“Where were we, Jazz? Can I call you that?” He asked smiling slightly.

“We were at the point when I told you it was late and it was nice kissing you but I have to go home”. She paused. “And no, you can’t call me Jazz”. She stood up and walked out the door. This was just the beginning, Ekemini Benson will soon be eating out of her palms, she swore.

To be continued…….
C’est moi
Jay~>da fantasist

White Raven (1)

Muna was beyond fagged out, she felt like a sack of fufu, her eyes couldn’t even focus properly on anything and sitting down was making her drowsy. She could have called in sick, but her boss was a monster, she didn’t want him to have a reason to refuse her yearly leave. So she managed to drag herself to the office and just sat staring unseeingly at the computer screen. Today was one of those days when she swore never to set foot in a strip-club again, or dance again or even so much as drink again, but Muna knew that the thrill of dancing and being the centre of attention while maintaining her anonymity was too much to resist. She was a Banker in the day and a Pole-dancer at night, sometimes when her colleagues looked at her and asked her to loosen up or say that she worked too hard she’d just smile shyly and adjust her big glasses and say “we can’t all be boisterous naa”, while chuckling at their cluelessness in her mind. That didn’t stop them from inviting her to have drinks with them. She was hardly noticed by the men in her office, her owlish glasses hid her eyes and her bogus clothes hid her curves, though she was pretty but her reserved and goody two shoes personality made the male folks assume she was frigid, so they didn’t bother.

On this cool friday morning that topped her chart list of hangovers, she was unusually quiet and just prayed that the day would come to an end quickly. She hoped none of her customers would call her to make any transactions but she didn’t have the guts to turn off her phone, though the annoying thing was on silent mode, the ringing would only further aggravate her headache. Some of her colleagues noticed her need for solitude and let her be, others never really had anything to say to her, so basically she was having a normal work day just that it was one with the headaches.

She glanced at the wall clock and almost yelled. It was still 12:05, it seemed like ten years since it was 12:00, she looked at her wrist watch and gave a long hiss when she saw it was 12:02.
“Muna, what’s up? Why you dey hiss?” Sarah asked. She was a fellow banker known for her busy body attitude and Muna was in no mood to make idle chatter
“Nothing.” she replied
She was almost out the door on her way to the ladies when her Branch Manager accosted her.
“Muna, just the lady I want to see. Follow me.” The look on his face wasn’t pleasant, Muna was on alert, gone was the headache and drowsiness. She began to recount everything she had done wrong since she walked through the gate. Which was everything, she’d done nothing except stare into space, stacks of files to attend to, her system was overloaded with work begging for attention. Who knows which of her customers had called, at this her heart skipped a beat. She was so scared that she was sure that “The Monster” (her B.M) heard her heart beating.

They entered his office and he asked her to have a seat. Muna sat down with little confidence trying failingly to hide her anxiety.
“I would go straight to the point Miss Muna, you have angered one of our major customers who happens to be a shareholder, I must confess that your ineptitude was quite unexpected seeing as you have been quite efficient in the last year” He paused as though he expected her to respond and continued when she remained mute. “How you managed to sabotage the Bensons’ most important deal of the year is what I’m not interested in finding out, but as you know every action has its consequences.” He paused again, this time Muna knew she had to make her excuses or risk losing her job,she wondered why she had the devil’s luck.
“Sir, it wasn’t my intention to be inefficient, I’ve just been ill.” Muna replied as evenly as possible.
“You do not look ill to me and besides you should have called in sick and I’d have transferred your work to someone more capable.” Muna cursed the day she ever decided to earn her living as a banker and wished that the headache and drowsiness would come back, she prayed she could faint so he’d understand the gravity of her illness, now that she thought of it, she felt betrayed by the headache. Why did it disappear when she needed it the most.
“Muna, as I was saying. Every action has a consequence, the Bensons have asked for the immediate termination of your appointment”.
“But Sir…”
He held but his index finger signaling her to be quiet and continued
“But you are lucky that the banking system doesn’t work that way, so as a result of your past efficiency, you have been relegated to the counter”. He sounded like a merciful king
“You would be replacing Jimoke for 3months, hopefully when you come back to Operations you would be more professional”. Muna just stared with her mouth hanging open, this day had just topped her chart list for “worst days at the office”. She was left speechless, If anyone had told her that going to work that day would be an absolute disaster she’d have happily slept off her hangover
“You may leave now”.
“Tha..aank you, si…ir”. She stammered and walked out of the office.

Ekemini couldn’t remember a time he had been more angry and disappointed in his life. He had so hoped that his company would be able to acquire that Plot. Granted it would have cost him a lot but with the traces of oil found there, it would have been worth it in the end. Now his dad wouldn’t be satisfied till he had his head on a platter, the man had called him a disappointment a thousand times but for the first time he had actually asked the old man to go to hell. He didn’t know what angered him most, that he lost the priced plot of land to the Alades (their rival company) or that his sorry excuse of a father was rubbing it in. He didn’t even want to get started on his stupid account officer, he hoped the idiot had been sacked, she couldn’t even pick up her phone, the 10minutes he spent calling her had given the Alades ample time to make payment before he could. He walked to the mini bar in his office and fixed himself a glass of scotch. The beautiful Ikoyi night lights didn’t grant him the serenity it used to, he needed to ease off. Like a flash of lightning a thought crossed his mind, he knew the place to be on a friday night.

The Blue Moon Club was more crowded than ever, it seemed like the streets and residential homes were devoid of people. The whole place was stinking of cigarette smoke and alcohol and the different shades of blue light gave it an eerie feel. The D.j seemed to be in high spirits and was doing his best, boys and girls were high on all sorts, alcohol, weed and the smell of both. Ekemini looked around wondering if he was in the right place, for one thing the stage was gone and there were no dancers, he wondered what could have happened. He was about to leave when someone tapped his shoulder, he turned to look at a familiar lady dressed in a skimpy maid attire, she asked him to follow her. They walked through a back-door to another part of the building, lit with pink and blue lights, the corridor was narrow, he wondered at his reason for going with the woman in front of him, he could be killed or kidnapped and no one would find him. He was led to a door with two heavily-armed soldiers in front, the door led to a very spacious room with a centre stage and a conspicuous red pole in the middle. Surrounding the pole were men, not the boys and girls from the dance-hall but wealthy men and a lot of the faces he recognised. One of which was Wunmi Alade, his chest tightened with envy and anger, he was led to a seat thankfully far from the conniving bastard. He ordered a glass of champagne and dropped fifthy thousand naira fee in the basket passed to him, he wasn’t a miser but he knew that fifty thousand was a lot to watch a girl dance, she’d better be worth it.

Muna was done dressing. She didn’t even feel like dancing but she knew she had to. Those men came to see her, “white raven” as she called herself. Her reluctance stemmed from the fact that she wasn’t looking forward to working on the counter and she knew she wouldn’t be able to get her revenge on Ekemini Benson. The asshole. She’d been nothing but a perfect account officer but the idiot decided she wasn’t good enough just because of one tiny mistake. She’d heard that he was the richest Nigerian bachelor alive but hadn’t bothered to check him out. But her anger at him made her do so that evening after her conversation with her boss, and the man she saw was drop dead gorgeous devil. The definition of tall, dark and handsome but if only she could hurt him as he had done her. She wore her black mask adjusted her wig, panties and bra and stepped of the room in her red stillettos.
Muna climbed the stage and scanned the faces of the men as was her norm. She stopped in her tracks when she noticed her worst enemy looking at her with amusement clear on his face.

To Be Continued…….
C’est moi
Jay~> da fantasist

Sorry for the long silence guys, hope you enjoy this. Read and comment


Jay decided she needed a blog. She had had enough of the idleness. The ASUU strike had taken a toll on her. Initially, it was fun but not anymore. Waking up to endless hours of monotony was gradually driving her to the brink of insanity. She had read a friend’s blog and was quite impressed. Hence, she proceeded to giving herself a lecture, titled “How having a blog would save me from sinking in limbo”. She went on to promise herself that she would have no cliché headlines such as “Take a look at P-square’s dinner” neither would she compare celebrity fashion tastes……NEHI.
Her blog would only be an avenue, to off-load all the crazy stories her mind’s eye had been conjuring up for a while now. In the past, she had read other writers’ stories and her inner man could only say this “Omo, e b like say we never start ooo”, that statement which was thoughtlessly made by her other self delayed her post for a week and two days.
Jay, being the “positively eccentric” young lady she is decided to write her introduction in a reported speech(who does that anyway?). She only hoped to God that readers would not confuse her introduction, for a story. And lest I forget, she said to tell you that her postings would be spontaneous and that she hopes you enjoy her “tall tales”.

You are welcome to read the musings of a hopeless romantic……………….

C’est moi,