Monday, 3 December 2007

Fall In, Walk Out Of Love

Even after we had taken a break from the relationship because of the swingeing way things had slowed down between us and the sudden way some deep things had seemed uncertain, we still saw each other regularly. She, I called Black and Cute, but you call Ebony, would occasionally come all the way from Calabar to Port Harcourt to do her stock broking deals, and see me too. We never slept in the same house and we were not having sex. The no sex part was especially because she was a good Christian girl and still unbroken and I was not going to defile that status. It seemed like a healthy relationship, although we did a bit of sneaking around, every so often getting physical at the slightest opening, but we had limits which were always silently reviewed and allowing us go a step further every other time.

There’s no one whose dreams have better aligned with mine. Ebony and I could talk about nothing, anything and everything; maybe not particularly share those secrets. We were as compatible as understanding as open as comfortable as in accord with each other. For her understanding, she earned my utmost respect.

On several of these visits, we would stay out and talk about everything, us and why we were so into each other and yet not with each other right now. We never exactly came to any conclusions. However, it was certain that if we were to get back together again it would be clearly heading for a connubial affair which I was not sure I was ready for, at that time. I had lost focus.

For the singular reason of this break, my status would not be wrongly described as single. I had however sunk into my regular randy steed-like self.

Without going into much detail, I had awkwardly become the only person I knew that did not have a steady girlfriend. After a period of ponderings and assessments, I decided I wanted to be in a relationship and Ebony best fit the profile. I picked up my phone and dialled her number off the top of my head. I had to make comeback moves. I cease the very next opportunity, Christmas, which was less than three weeks away, to be in Calabar.


I felt a kick in my bum as I lay on my hotel room floor; I was beginning a gradual ascent into the deeper cloudier bays of slumber. I turn around, awakened to find a set of sparkling white teeth somewhere on this black and cute recognizable face smiling at me. Rose up to a very warm tight hug and then she introduced me to her bosom friend, Goggles, about whom I had heard everything, spoken with on the phone, never seen a photo of and never met.

I had invited Ebony that afternoon the day after I got into town and had left the door open because there were a couple of my friends including guys and girls sprawled out on the floor likewise in the other two rooms on either side of mine. I and the rest of the entourage were all trying to sleep off the morning carnival stress and alcohol and catch some rest before the bash that evening.

She still had that legendary graceful smile on and I was getting jubilant as I pictured her as the woman I was going to spend the rest of my life with. Everything was falling into place now. I was on the way into a relationship, just as I had planned.

After her friend had left us, we hugged again and I leaned forward to kiss her. She turned away in resistance, shaking her head like she was pleading not to be taken advantage of, she hugged me tightly instead. I had missed holding her. We talked and laughed about a few things, caught up on recent happenings, she apologised for not seeing me since I got into town and had to leave almost immediately to run an errand for her folks so we agreed to see the next day just before I leave town.

She was at work when I saw her the next morning, looking super; the time was nigh. It had come for me to say all that needed to be said. We talked outside her office holding hands, leaning on the car I came in. She pulled one of the rings I had on and was playing with it, she always did that, I took the ring from her and playfully slid the middle finger of her left hand through it acting like I was proposing marriage, she then asked me one of those her magical questions.

"Do you want to marry me?”
I smile with one side of my mouth and replied, “Yes, I want to marry you. Will you marry me?”
“Hmmm! You’re not joking, are you?” she enquired smiling too and looking me in the eye
“No, I’m not. I’ve never been more serious in my life” I said, sounding as earnest as I was “If you agree, I’m talking August next year”
Realising I was very serious, she looked down and back up at my face, asking, “Baroque, why are you doing this to me?”
“Doing what?”
“Speaking now, after such a long-time” she completed
“Long-time? Well, you never really are sure about these things but I might as well be now”
“That is what I’ve been trying to tell you”
“What?” I asked curiously
“You’re late” she said
“Late! How do you mean? Am I missing something somewhere?”
“I’m sort of seeing someone else and he wants to marry me”
“He wants to marry you, so? He’s not the only one that wants to marry you, is he?”
“The thing is, I’ve agreed already and we’re looking at the end of next year”
“You’re kidding me! Then, why don’t you have an engagement ring on? I queried
“I told him I wasn’t going to wear one until it was about two months to the time”
“If the reason was to keep your options open, then forget him and marry me”
“Baroque, it won’t work like that”

At this time I had just realised she was not joking. I took my glasses off, ran my palm tightly over my face cleaning my eyes with my thumb and index finger in an apparent bid to come to from this kick in the teeth.

“You are serious, right” I asked in dismay
“Why is that when you guys say you’re ready you want it almost immediately” she said
“Ebony, you and I have been through, wetin we dey wait again? Getting to this point is not as easy as launching a rocket” I asked convincingly
“Why now? I’ve been trying to tell you about what has been happening but you made me believe you were no longer interested in me and that I could go on and date someone else”
“I did? You’re not sure. Ok, so how come you’re going to marry this guy and I don’t know” I demand
“This guy was a friend and we had been seeing each other on and offish” she informed me
“And one day he asked you to marry him and you agreed, just like that. Is he in Calabar here?” I ask again
“It wasn’t just like that, and no he doesn’t live in Calabar” she said.
“And you just stopped loving me?” I asked like I was not shopping for pity.

Silence…

“I need to be getting back into the office” she said, breaking the stillness

Exhaling, I heave a huge sigh although it doesn’t quite relieve me of the immensity of this realisation of the consequence of my delay. “Ok” I say, closing and opening my eyes slowly.

“I’ll call you later. Have a safe trip”

I watched her walk away, back into her office. I knew that was not the end of the issue. I got in the car and drove out of town, leading the convoy of three cars en route Port Harcourt, blaring loud music, enjoying the recent launch of Tu Face’s Grass to Grace Album.

Omo’s fiancée was seeing Ebony for the second time that morning after meeting her at our hotel the previous day and I did not hear the last of how she had never seen a better woman for me. Omo was my best pal, and we talked all the way about what had just transpired. He didn’t make me feel better either, telling me how I had just sat there, thought for too long, and missed what would have been the end of my protracted soul mate search.

I was saying to myself about how in love we seemed to have been until this very moment. She would not joke about a thing like this even if she was smiling all along. She always smiled. We warmed our ways into each other’s hearts and fell deep in love, now she’s walked out but I think she’s looking back.

On second thoughts I’m letting this one go without a fight, or will I?

Another Unplanned Post

Why people dey beef each other for inside this blogsville?

Some people dey speak them mind
Others dey spit fire for their eyes

Some call each other names because them speak mind
Others just come shout AMEN!

Some people dey publicly discuss forbidden issues
Others dey shout from inside closets

Some claim they dem born dem outside closet
Abeg, which person closet be this?

Some people are in and out of sexless relationships
Others dey diagnose relationships

Some are remembering Moraks (RIP)
Others dey awaken Isaiah

Some are just up about On……….everything
Others jog and are wanted for breakfast by neighbourhood canine

Some dey set Bebe on fire
Others dey busy dey do Gulder Max

Some naughty girls have gone bad and have deleted blogs
Others are getting in touch with their darker men

Some dey admit students for non-academic academy
Other dey try lose weight with black jeans on the treadmill

Some dey vent dey paste other people comments for them blogs
Others dey put up unplanned posts

Some dey waka with loaded weapon, ever ready
Others never go wan buy polish make them shine congo

Some dey wonder wetin I dey write untop this post
Others dey smiile say I don drop one at least

…make una take one beer for my head


Tuesday, 30 October 2007

Pre-Tryst

“The number you have called is not available at the moment, please try again later” said the MTN voice. This was after I had #31# the number, because I was not sure if I should call Nma again.

Again, would be because I had called her last night and we had had this very lewd and publicly offensive discourse on the phone, which should have been Phone III. It started from a Presentez Vous concept. I had never heard a woman being described like that before however it ended in one very PG21, strong language, explicit lyrics, viewer discretion required presentation; only the sex and violence remained.

Its Thursday morning, we’re standing at the arrivals, waiting to claim her checked-in suitcase, I had just arrived Lagos with my new colleague, my protégée as I would love to call her. Eve had only joined us less than eight months ago, after the completion of a Masters degree in the UK, and was drafted into my team, smart chic though. “How come you have a checked-in luggage for a two day meeting, abi you no dey come back” I queried.

She is also Lee’s kid sister; Lee is a friend from secondary school. However I had met her before when she interned with my company three of four years ago, this was after not seeing her since she was a very little girl.

She’s telling me the suitcase is quite empty that it belonged to her cousin in Lagos and how it was the perfect opportunity for her to give it back, before my phone rings. Without looking at it, I put one finger in the air asking for a minute and push the answer button on the blue tooth ear piece fitted in my left ear.

“Yello!?”
“Morning Romeo!” recognising the voice, I smile and moved away for some privacy.
I reply still smiling, “My Juliet, how are you doing?” in a jolly tone. I was in a good mood because I had a groovy weekend ahead of me; I was going to be in Lagos till Sunday morning, of course the approval came after a very annoying debate with my boss over what I was meant to be doing at the meeting, the notion I was representing, and his insisting I come back after work on Friday. Imagine the mudhaf*kr trying to make me pass up a Friday night in Lagos, is he mad? Not on his life.

“I had just tried your number and it said it wasn’t available” I said to Nma.
“The network has been terrible. Anyway, I thought I’d let you know I’m still in Lagos trying to sort out missing luggage issues with these Air France guys here, they say I’m getting it before the weekend, hopefully”

Missing luggage! Talk about being violated. It feels like one is stripped and made to walk through town, unshaven members and all dangling and swinging for the world to size up.

“I hope say no be there our goods dey oh, abeg. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll get it back” I say reassuringly
“I hope so too. Yea, so how are you? I hope you slept well last night?” she asks.
“I did, thank you”
“Well, I didn’t, thank you” she says
“You didn’t? What did I do?” I asked innocently
“More like, what didn’t you do?” she answered back
“Well, I’ve got a meeting to be at later this morning, and I’m trying to sort myself out”
“You don’t sound like you are in an office, it seems a bit noisy”
“Yea, very noisy. I’m at the airport”
“Avionics meeting?” she asks in jest
I reply with this big grin on my face, “Very funny! Just arriving Lagos for my meeting”
“You’re kidding me, you are in Lagos? You didn’t tell me you were coming to Lag”
“I thought I did”, knowing fully well that I didn’t. “Anyway, I’m right here in Lagos. I just dey reach” I continued
She heaves and after a few seconds she says, “Ok, now I’m not sure exactly why it felt like my heart missed a beat. Or two”
“Maybe it’s because you’re not sure you want to meet me after last night’s conversation” I say blatantly
“I so want to meet you, you have no idea, but there’s this very uneasy feeling about it, should I trust you, player?”
“Player! My dear, it’s totally up to you to trust or not and to what extent you want to take it. I shall not be held responsible for your mis-endeavours. However, you can trust that as long as it is within my reach, I shall pleasure you to refusal”
“You don start? I have not gotten over yesterday’s conversation. You have a dirty mind you know?”
“I do? You nko?” I replied
“This is really strange, I feel like I’ve known you my whole life”
“Then why you are scared of meeting me?”
“I’m not scared of meeting you?” she says sounding very sure “Just unsure if want to, just yet. Trying to be careful”
“Yeah, you know, I just might be a serial killer, trying to make a bag off your hide”
“Even if here na America, I no fear you” she says sarcastically
“It then means I’m seeing you today”
“Don’t even go there” she warns

After going back and forth about the impending rendezvous, we agree to do an early Friday evening. If her description is anything to go by, then I want to meet her today. Let’s get this show on the road. By this time, Eve had gotten her suitcase and we were heading for the exit to find the driver and make our way first to Onikan for our meeting.

“Alrighty then, see you tomorrow” she says
“Call me when you’re done, let’s see what happens” I hang up.

This time, piss no dey catch me.

Sunday, 14 October 2007

Completing Sentences

All thanks to Tyger for letting me use this from off her blog...

I am … not exactly what you think I am
My ex-girlfriend was … the best kisser ever
Maybe I should … shut my laptop down and go straight to bed
I love … my mother to death
I don't understand … what the big deal is about sex, really
I lost my… sense of smell, thanks to this never-ending nasal congestion
My current girlfriend is … soon going to stop being my girlfriend
People say I'm … a handful
Love is … the most misunderstood English word
Somewhere, someone is… getting some really good sex and I’m not
I will always … be me
Forever is … beyond your wildest dreams
I never want to … be caught in the middle of a mothafuckin civil war
I think the current President is … much better looking than the previous one
When I wake up in the morning … I go back to bed; snooze for a bit
Life is full of … shit
My past is incredibly … something I remain grateful to GOD for
I get annoyed when … people take me for granted
Parties are for … drinks, jist and women
Girls are … sometimes not worth the tribulation
Sex is … what makes the world go round
I wish … my father was so rich that I didn’t have to work
Tomorrow I'm going to … cook a full protein based 3 course (in 1) meal
I really want some … pussy
I have low tolerance for people who … are not smart, are planless or smell
If I had a million dollars … I won’t tell a soul
My job makes me … feel ensnared

... and I have decided that, what the hell, I might as well tag the following bloggers, Kokolette, Jaja, CallyWaffyBabe, Porter D’Harcourt, Lighty & Mrs Somebody

Thursday, 4 October 2007

Which Way Naij?

Ever heard the phrase, a fool at forty is a fool forever? What then do we say about a fool at 47?

Where are we driving madly to? Port Harcourt people, where una dey go? The traffic lights (speaking of the ones that work) are for my grandmother serenely asleep in her crypt. Nobody seems to notice the lights unless there is a uniformed man with a stick there to caution or punish disobedient drivers and act as a traffic man in case of the power failure that is definitely bound to happen.

I have just gotten home from work and can barely hear myself because of my neighbour’s cassava grinding machine called a generator, right now, I have no reason to turn mine on. If you no pass your neighbour, then you are in trouble; by 11pm, my own trouble will start.

Is it possible by any means that potholes are tackled any earlier before they get outsized and cut the road in half? As I drive through the streets of Port Harcourt, from Eleme Junction to Borokiri, through Trans Amadi or Stadium Road, abi na Rumuola or D/Line, even almighty GRA, I know the exact position of every pothole and their previous sizes, bearing in mind that they will only get bigger.

Preventive maintenance cannot possibly be as easy as rocket science, can it? How else can they award those multi million naira contract? According to the infamous Pat Etteh, the money is for Upgrade not Renovations.

Why on God’s earth do we pay for trolleys at the international arrivals at Murtala Muhammed Airport, and some extra for a porter to help push it around? Talk about the busiest airport in Africa with only one working snail speed conveyor belt, bearing in mind that there are no seats to sit on and wait for whoever it is that is coming to pick you. Woe betides you, if your plane lands in the middle of the night. A colleague of mine had to stand for several hours before deciding to use one luggage as a seat and the other as head rest, because they landed by 1am, thanks to delays by the airline.

By the way, why don’t we have an airport in Port Harcourt? It is unless you are ready to pay twice the price; you are going to drive, almost 2hours to Owerri to fly to Lagos or Abuja? Mentioning not that it is meant to be an International Airport… anyway, that is another story for another day; let them re-open it first.

Why are there mobile policemen on the roads stopping cars and asking for licence and registration? Na their work be that?

What happened to the excess cash Nigeria derived from crude sales in the past years? And then what do we turn to when the crude oil finishes. For the benefit of those who do not know, crude oil is a non-recoverable resource.

My neighbours have not got running water in their houses, but I do. This is because I made arrangements to have a 1000litre tank sit somewhere very far from the ground, right beside my roof.

I have always paid my taxes yet I can’t be caught outside my house after 9:00pm.

There is only as much as I can say, however, I appeal to His Excellency the Executive Governor of Rivers State, DO NOT follow in the footsteps of your predecessor.

Your tenure shall not be known for road resurfacing, in Jesus name.

From start to finish over a glass of Smirnoff (Lemon Twist) and Campari, this post was written out of the abundance of my immediate vexation; it was not well thought over or re-edited over and over…read and feel me

Saturday, 1 September 2007

Phone Conversation II

6:00pm three days later, the phone rings and with this feigned disinterest, I pick it up and say nothing

“Hello”, the expected almost familiar voice said, “Is that Baroque?”
“Yes oh, na me, onye na eku” I replied with a quickened vigour in playful Igbo guessing who was at the other end.
“It’s me again, Nma, are you busy”, quite forward, I thought
“Nope, just got in from work and have been actually waiting for your call” I said smiling. I was actually hoping she’d call
“You were waiting for my call, huh? Then you must have been thinking of something while you were waiting”, she says with this very jolly tone
“Well, nothing fancy; if I wanted Fruit & Fibre or Indomie for supper or Garri, and at the same time, trying to picture what the lips from whence such a voice came would look like”, I sharply rejoined
“Ok, then, if you want to knock yourself out then do Garri but first let’s hear about the lips”, she said, ending with this flirtatious tone
“Wouldn’t you rather hear about my Jewish side or have us talk about our broken hearts” I said disjointedly referring to our previous conversation
“After you tell me what you were thinking” she says

I’m getting very excited; maybe it was the promising sound of her voice or maybe my present hornyness doing the thinking for me.

“I’m not saying anything because I was thinking about a lot more than lips; believe me sweetheart, you don’t want to hear my thoughts,”
“OK oh! More than lips?” she exclaimed, “Now I want to hear it” she continued
“You dey find trouble; I’ll tell you in person, over Shawarma and a cold beer” I say after a 3 seconds delay
“I take that as an invitation, but tell me what’s on your mind first” she said
“You’re already on my mind, if you want to get in any deeper, you’ll need more than a shield and buckler”. That was me flirting shamelessly, not like I care anyway
“Eheh! you dont mean it; is there anything I should be wary of, Mr. B?”

Mr. B? We are now on the nickname levels huh! I’m thinking to myself

“What do you suspect? You don’t strike me like someone that’ll scare easily”
“Why would you think so” she asked chuckling
“You’ve not given any reasons to think otherwise” I reply, feeling very smart

After about 3 minutes of inconsequential talk, I decide to spice up a bit and introduce some impishness and push it

“Gosh, I’m so horny; which kind life be this?” my very famous line that has brought me some sunshine in the past
“WHAT! What did you say?” she enquired. I think I heard her do a half smile despite her attempt to sound shocked
“My dear, nothing oh, was just thinking out loud, been a while since I got proper loving done to me”, I lied. Well in my books two days without sex is long enough for me to get to my horniest peak.
“Proper loving done to you? What the hell are you talking about?” she asks
“You won’t understand until we meet” I say convincingly, “Oh shyeet, my light has gone, NEPA, craze people, I’m using a cordless phone so it’ll go off in a minute or two, lemme give you my mobile number” I continue

“Ok then, give it to me, I’ll call you in 2 days when I’m in Nigeria”.

She says her cousin was coming to get her from the Owerri airport and that she would be in Aba for a few days, then be in Port Harcourt by weekend, I give her my mobile number and take hers, just before the phone dies.

Now that same piss dey worry me and I’m sure I’ll enjoy this one too, off to my pour out my bladder.

Thursday, 30 August 2007

Life Is Short, Make the Most of It

For goodness sake, I don’t want to enlarge my penis. Leave me alone. I might not be very satisfied with the size of it but I love its performance, and I mean, no matter the consignment I’m handling, big, short, small, tall, lekpa or orobo (no matter the volume!). It may have failed me a couple of times but most of those times were excusable.

Who the heck gave them my email address? They keep on sending me these rubbish ‘Enlarge Your Penis’ mails trying to make me buy some cheap drug, do I look like a guinea pig. What madness! Within the past half hour, I followed a link in a mail I got and I saw Before & After pictures. How crass is that? Very convincing. The annoying thing is that the members shown were not even good looking enough, weak and raggedish looking onyibo man thing.

How do they even know I’m a guy, abi na Yahoo!?

If no be ‘Enlarge Your Penis’ na “Are You Wanting a Bigger Penis’ or ‘Get More Girth’ or ‘No Pills, No Medication’ or ‘Be a More Confident Man’, the coolest though was ‘Life is Short, Make the Most of It’.

Is it all about marketing? And they do not fail to call it PENIS.

I deny not, however, that the thought to place an order has not crossed my mind before, more than once actually, but of course I don’t want a delivery tagged, ‘Enlargement Solution’ DHL'd to my house and have someone else receive it (I use my family address for deliveries because I live alone)…I might as well walk into a shop and like for a pack of condoms, ask for Penis Enlargement pills, or whatever it is they come in. shame no gree me abeg.

Back to the point! I have decided, I don’t want to enlarge my penis. I don’t need 9inches of manhood. I don’t want to be a porn star. My role model is NOT Lexington Steele, I’d rather watch not do. I don’t want to impale anybody’s daughter, although there’s this particular girl I would love to run through (she don show me pepper).

I know what my over-endowed friends suffer, there’s always a story to tell especially of how they finally didn’t go through with it. I love my sex and will do nothing to jeopardise that.

LEAVE MY DICK ALONE, YOU FRAUDSTER.

Monday, 20 August 2007

I’m Stretching...

…few days into my break…back on board trying to catch up with the latest jist on blogsville…besides pondering what the crap anonymous Jinx was dissing my dark woman Ide for (btw, i love what you've done with your blog) when Mr.Burntmelons’s lamenting about his second missing purse, and why ogbono_fishsticks hasn't got a blog...
…I’m trying to figure what you bloody Londoners call summer…thank GOD i don’t live here anymore…sun dey bright wan blind me, cold breeze dey blow wan freeze me, rain dey drizzle dey soak me…such rubbish weather...
…for the past weeks, my life had been a rollercoaster of work pressures, worries, emotions, anger, sex, bills, exam preparations, financial commitments, no blogging...
…now, I’m clubbing somewhere in Woolwich over the weekend and apart from hoping I don’t get shanked I am wondering (for whatever reason) if this guy I saw was some villager from blogsville, wondering what he was doing there…slept from 5am till 2pm on sunday...
…my people, the major agenda for the time off apart from blogging is SLEEP…considering I can’t get any of that back home…to many flying bullets…Porter d’Harcourt, Ubong Da and Jaja I hope you guys are cool, I’m sure you’ll survive the curfew, its only for a week...
…anyway, I’m back to blogsville…feeling like a very erect member that has finally found solace in a wet and juicy crevice...
…part 2 of Phone Conversation coming soon…

Wednesday, 25 July 2007

Phone Conversation

Trying not to loose the page I was reading, I stick my index finger in between the pages as I shift The Icarus Girl to my right hand, one knee on the ground, left hand on the couch, all in one motion I rise from the carpeted floor and make for the men’s room.

Heaving a huge sigh of relief as I drain my bladder into the sparkling and fresh smelling
Ariston bowl, I hear the loud and boring ring of my land phone. I was thinking to myself once again, 'how a good piss sometimes can feel a lot better than sex', as I headed back towards the living room, at the same time wondering why my father would be ringing me again, twice in one morning; eighty five percent of the calls on my NITEL phone are from my family house, no cheaper way to discuss family issues in proxy. I lift the receiver, and with my gravely morning voice I answered.

“Yes?” I said
“Chindu, Chindu!”, the caller hailed merrily
“Hellooow”, I repeat a lot slower, my right eye brow raised with my head cocked to the left side
“Ke kwanu?”, amidst the static, this distinctly silky voice of a female asks with a strong Igbo accent
“Odi nma”, I answer without even thinking, in my best mimic of the same accent
“Amara, o’ no there”, I hear her say after a small delay in Engligbo, a very innovative silver-tongued blend of the English language and the major language of the eastern Nigerian people, Igbo

The line was sounding unclear; guessing it was a network problem, I turn down the harmonious voice of
Robin Thicke, one of my new favourites, on heavy rotation on my home theatre, I catch her at the end of her question and say in a very polite tone,

“So sorry, I am not Chindu, I think you have a wrong number”
“E si? What? What did you say?” she asks politely with a lighter tint of the Eastern Nigerian tongue
“I said I think you have a wrong number, this is not Chindu, my name’s Baroque”
“Wrong number? Oh dear!” She exclaimed, “You sound like my cousin, Chindu” she continues apologetically
“Where are you calling from?” I enquired
“I can't hear you clearly!" she says, "Paris, France, but you are in Port Harcourt abi”
“Yes, I’m in Port Harcourt”
“What did you say your name is?” she asks and of course I didn’t miss the newly induced ‘britiko’ tone.

Considering that I was in no particular hurry to get back to the book about the obanje girl, I leave the arm of the only single seater in my living room and make for the ground, thinking to myself, ‘let’s see how this goes’.

“I never said. What’s yours? My name's Baroque”, I retorted in my own polite English inflection
“What? Barouge?, what kind of a name is that?”
“Baroque, with a Q not a G, its Hebrew. Yours?” I emphasise
“Its Nma”
“Nma, it’s a pleasure. Sorry you have a wrong number and I’m busy talking to you, taking your time and wasting your call units, have a swell day” I said, trying to sound regretful
“Pas de problem Baroque. Its not such of an emergency. I've got some time & you sound nice too”, I sense some patronising flattery and I’m thinking to myself, ‘this girl, take your time oh’
“Sound nice, hmmm! I try to, Nma. Thanks. Do you speak French?”, I reply smiling.

Dropping my book on the floor but not after folding the edge of the page, unsure of what I was thinking at that moment, I ask, enquiring bravely,

“Do you live in France and are you married? Forgive me, but I'm forward like that”
“It's ok mister, fresh, out of a relationship, still nursing my broken heart, and no, I don’t live here or speak French either. I’m in transit, here for four days. Should be leaving the day after tomorrow” she answers with glee
“That makes us two. I mean the relationship part. In transit to and from where?” I ask again
“Back home from Ireland" she said. "Baroque, it was really nice talking to you. Can I call you back, say in three hours, if you’re up to it. I'm sure it wont be a wrong number this time. I need to call my cousin to get him to do something for me. Hey, who knows, we could hook up when I’m back in naija” she suggests

I’m thinking; that was fast. Well it was her idea; it’ll take her up on it.

“Call me back, Nma, I’m gonna be lounging the rest of the day on this couch, it’s a weekend and it’s been raining cats and dogs here”
“I’ll call and have you tell me about your Jewish side” she says

Laughing, she says good bye and I hear the receiver drop at the French end.

“Na so trouble dey take start” I say to myself out loud.

If I know myself well enough, (sometimes, I wonder If I do), I’ll be fantasizing about her until she rings me again, now I’m praying she calls again. I must be very easy to please, only after three minutes of inconsequential jabber; I’m hoping and praying for ultimate fulfilment of this desire.

Now I need to urinate again, i bet, this one will not feel as good as the first one.

To Be Continued Shortly, Please Don’t Adjust Your TV Set

Thursday, 12 July 2007

*Jibberish*

after that very unsavoury meal of garri & afang soup right here on my office desk, I’ve decided to post this thing I wrote one boring evening, 2 weeks ago... *except the last 2 lines*

...governments have changed, step from under the diplomatic immunity umbrella and see what happens *whether GOD no go punish you for this country, thief!*
...stop reading those raunchy mags and jerking off on your brother’s couch *which kind boy you be?*
...close that door when you enter, you met it shut *everyday them go dey tell you the same thing*
...come lets see the 2:00am recap of American Idol *Simon Cowell, the greatest*
...don't go on a boat ride with your uncle’s girlfriend *the one you can’t wait to undress*
...don’t throw stones here *this is a glass house, you idiot*
...he’s here again & she’s screaming her lungs out *maybe, he’s not using protection, again*
...making my usual trips in & out of other blogs, found time & created mine *finally, some achievement huh?*
...having a bowl of fruit & fibre *not before microwaving it*
...be right back *have got to fart this one far away from here*
...who emptied my rubbish bin on the ground *I'm surely killing my neighbours cat*
...you know I’m trying very hard to look at your face *but your breasts cannot be real*
...can I touch you there? *your boyfriend doesn’t need to know we did*

...one of my bosses just walked in *short man wey like to show power*
...sleep dey catch me *that garri & soup don knack me down*

Wednesday, 4 July 2007

FirstTimes...

...as my mother would say,” there is a first time for everything…” there is, really, as I have come to find out...even when it seems like it’s something you’ve done before…these moments give our lives its uniqueness and our individualities…you might not feel excited or very special as a first timer but truth is, you are…like the foremost moment cannot be relived so have you lost your opportunity to make the first impression…some first times are magical…some disasters…some we live to regret…or forget, until you start blogging

my first job; thank GOD for my father… after 2nd year, uni…got me my very first job (intern sha) in one of his friends company…me, earn salary?...excited…well, the amount wasn’t so ‘great’… learnt a great deal about my profession there…should buy him a special gift for this reason…love my father but dunno if I can ever tell him

first real kiss; after reading a whole lot about the union of lips and the mingling of tongues…practice with my mirror…it was like heaven with my then girlfriend…coincidentally her first too…she thought I was a very good…from years of practice…now I know I’m good…from obvious years of practice & reading…I have only improved since then…truth

...first wank; end of junior secondary…even before I learnt of the word ‘masturbation’…happened by mistake…the fluid was still clear…sure it couldn’t fertilise nothing…GOSH…I’d never felt so sick in all my life…& then did it again soon after…& again

first shag; for more reasons than shall be given…at a brothel…my cousin ‘detoured’ us one night from our journey to get milk for our new puppy…well, I can now give my sex fibs some substance…won’t be so inexpert when the time for the ‘real’ one comes…prove to my cousin that I was a big boy…terrifying event…still wonder how I attained & maintained an erection…I must have been a bad boy

my first 4 times in one night; December 2004…thought I was gonna die after the 2nd one…she came twice…well I finally arrived…about 1½hrs later, BJ & another go...number 3…wild & windy…repeat broadcast…another go...number four…fleeting & to the point…passed out…barely stayed awake the next day at work

my first 4 times in 1 evening; I boast not…on second thoughts…why not…na something to boast about…anyway, I was totally drained that evening…sometime between 7pm and just before midnight…in her brothers’ room…her folks were away on a golfing cruise…no 4, I was at the door…she ripped my clothes off…GOD, GIVE ME MY LAST POWER!…she was HOTT!…no better way to commit suicide

first car shag; twice as nice…the two bouts of straff…& it wasn’t in my backseat…car neatly parked behind a dead trailer on a lonely GRA street…lived with my parents then so what did you expect…me, straddled on the reclined driver’s seat…she scraped her left knee a bit…ended on the passenger’s seat…number 2, backed up against me, standing by the open passenger’s door…she had the loveliest tits ever...at least until 3weeks ago

first time arrest; one Sunday, 8.00pmish…wasn’t a real arrest anyway…my hand inside her top…her hand on junior…both of us fully clothed…bright lights from the yellow combi bus…OMG, I don die…to the police station...after so much diplomatic ‘yarnings’ & sweet-talks… over ½ an hour later…money changed hands …discharged & acquitted…to serve & protect with integrity

my first blow job & near miss; away on holidays…teenager…woke up to a half erection… could feel the heat from ‘HIS’ breathe on my dick…WHAT D’F?!@K...pretended to be asleep…enjoyed every moment…he probably stopped when he realised he wasn’t gonna get any ‘loving’ back…in the morning, nothing happened…he was my cousin…nevermind, I don’t feel abused…not the slightest bit

my first love; 2 years older…kinda into older women…she was created for me…she liked everything I liked, especially, the music…she had all the cd’s I wanted…spoke better English…with an slight ‘britiko’ accent…denied it, said I was the one that spoke with an accent, like an ‘aje’…infrequently read the dictionary like me…lovely voice but refused to sing…very cute bum…BEST KISSER EVER…never more sensuous sex have I had…she sliced tomatoes in a funny way…but the stew always tasted good…I still use some of her phrases to date…never told her I was in love with her until she went away…I think I’ve gotten over her…not sure though...still BEST KISSER EVER

first near miss; 8.30pm ish…on the steps to the shed behind the state director’s house…NYSC camp…no lights…NEPA…her nipples in my mouth and my fingers in her core…my right ear in between her lips…muffled whimpers of pleasure…all of a sudden…footsteps, light from a hand held torch heading in our direction, from the other side of the shed…James Bond & Pussy Galore…dodging in the penumbra until outta sight…camp official walks on by…we continue...SENSELESS LOVERS… the guy returns 10mins later with company…one of us, fellow Corp member…this time directly facing us…we ran…laughing…DESPERADOS…we found a darker surer spot…that wasn’t all we found…co-offender too…corpers of the night…we all shared the darkness

my first ménage a trios; of course I wasn’t man enough, how can I be when the other jimmy was twice mine in size, I was gonna go for sloppy seconds or lousy firsts…not on your life, or mine

Thursday, 28 June 2007

Do Me Please?!

...please do me

please let me touch your breasts,
why won’t you let me cup your breast?
i promise, i won’t squeeze too hard

let me scintillate your nipples
geez, those nipples; such solidity
i promise, only tenderly shall i lick

i can almost hear the drippy sound
from the essence of your womanness
as you move your thighs; such wetness

rock hard and solid have i become
swimmers dampen the tip of my shaft
veins sprouting like aerial roots

let me make you feel like a woman
do to you what you can never tell
make you cum, screaming & biting my arms

just this one chance
i promise, to make it last forever

too much blood has left my brain

i must not be thinking straight


...WELCOME TO MY BLOG