July 21st, 2012.
“Every form of addiction is bad, no matter whether the narcotic be alcohol, morphine or idealism.”
― C.G. Jung
Its been almost a week since my highly erotic encounter in Asaba. I had lost my mind after I had Kemi…no, that’s not correct. I had lost my mind after SHE had me. Back in Lagos, re-adjusting to my usual routine proved most difficult. I don’t think I was able to sleep well at night since returning to Lagos. My head was haunted with flashes and images of that fateful night with Kemi. It was like I’d been infected and the powerful virus raged through my blood stream like a moving train wrecking my immunity barriers and nearly destroying my sanity, leaving me totally restless. I felt like a junkie in bad need of a fix.
Worse still, Christy was out of town to help me with rehabilitation. On Wednesday night, I was so depressed after trying unsuccessfully to reach Kemi on the phone that I drank myself aground to a stupor and fell into a sleep of the dead. I awoke late for work the next morning with an imperial hangover and while I groggily prepared for work, I had that brief spell of clarity that comes after a thick fog and remembered a line in Wyclef Jeans’ song titled “911″;
“If this is the kind of love that my mom used to warn me about; Men, I’m in trouble, I’m in real big trouble…”
Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not in love with Kemi. No, far from it. I’ve been in love many times so I ought to know. This was something different. It was physical…an obsession…pure and unadulterated lust for her body…for her touch. She was an exception to the “Calabar girl myth” and yeah, I’ve been with two or three Calabar girls. While they are hardly overrated, she made them all look like jokers. Kemi, for me, was the ultimate nympho…a sex goddess. Never in my life have I ever been with a woman who intuitively knew how to handle me and fulfill even my most perverted fantasies. All she had to do was look in my eyes and she acted out my imagination as a skilled actress would execute a perfect script. I needed her so badly that I was losing my mind. I don’t know what happened that night in Asaba but it felt like she awoke something in me…my most primal, animal instinct; an insatiable demon that had been lurking in the recesses of my loins, waiting for a provocateur. It was a hunger that was consuming me from within and I didn’t know what to do as this was novel to me.
This fatal attraction was worsened by the fact that it was like she had totally forgotten I existed. How can that be?! That kind of shit doesn’t happen with me? It usually is the other way round! I don’t like to brag but I’m greatly endowed and I make dexterous use of my endowment. Its the reason many ex-lovers still find me unforgettable and irresistible. My heart fluttered weakly each time I listened to the “burr-burr” tone when I dialed her number, half expecting her to pick up my call and knowing she wouldn’t and for four days, she refused to take any of my calls. It was torture of the worst kind; the classic plot of a Sirene – give me the time of my life and leave me with nothing but memories of that night while my thoughts ran riot. And with each riot thought, my subconscious elevated her from royalty to deity. She had by now, attained the status of Aphrodite herself while I had been transformed to the horny Baphomet.
I knew going after Kemi in Lagos was dangerous. The implications would be far-reaching for me if Christy ever found out, especially now that I had come to depend on her companionship. I so badly wanted to confess my sins to her in a bid to extricate myself from this deadly obsession but I was afraid of the results. I didn’t want to lose Christy and that greedy part of me felt just one more episode of unbridled and uninhibited sex with Kemi would release me from her demonic spell.
I carried on my duties around the office like one who was bereaved, a zombie. I wasn’t my usual boisterous self and even Papa Grand couldn’t cheer me up. It was so bad that my colleague, Malik Ibrahim who detested my life style and always tried to advise me took notice of my mood and showed some real sympathy. He made poor attempts to force a laugh out of me even as I refused to divulge the cause of my melancholy. The days dragged on and I found myself getting more miserable each day as I knew what I had to do to see Kemi again. I had to go to Christy’s office. I was already popular with folks in Christy’s office as I had become a regular visitor in recent times. I needed an iron-clad excuse to go there as Christy was away on training.
I managed to make myself presentable by getting a new haircut after I closed early on Friday. I went home, had a bath and changed into something nice and casual. By 6:30 pm, I was outside the bank premises waiting for a glimpse of Kemi from the revolving doors. I had to mock myself for resorting to stalking. This was desperate, even by my standards but the truth is bitter; I was desperate! It was a long wait but in all endeavors, patience is always rewarded. By 8:55pm she came out through the revolving doors. I felt that all-too-familiar rush of blood to the head again. She was wearing a grey trouser suit with a blue blouse. I decided there was nothing in this world she’d wear that wouldn’t accentuate that provocative figure of hers. She looked absolutely stunning. However, she didn’t come out alone. She was with another guy, probably a colleague of hers. He wore an ill-fitting monkey suit that hung loosely on his thin frame. They were talking and she laughed. As I saw her laugh, I felt a pang of jealousy. I wanted her to laugh only at my jokes. I hated the schmuck for making her laugh, for making me wait longer than necessary. But I exercised restraint and after a few minutes they parted ways. I was out of my car following her stealthily as I headed to the underground car park, dodging glances from people who might know or have seen me before. I knew she drove a white Honda Accord and I spotted it. I cut through a row of cars and got to where she parked before she did. She was searching her bag for her keys before she looked up and saw me. There was shock in her eyes but it passed as quickly as it came. In fact, I think I saw a hint of smug satisfaction. Hmmm.
“Mickey…” She said sweetly. “What a surprise!”
“You know what you’re doing. You know I know.” I said accusingly.
She laughed and her voice resounded in my ears with a tingle. “What are you talking about?” She asked, still smiling. She spread her arms at me. I looked around nervously, still bothered by the prospect of being seen by someone who knew about Christy and me. The coast was clear. I took her into my arms and soon, our lips locked in a tight embrace. My bottled up emotions exploded immediately as I felt the familiar bulge in my pants and grinded myself into her as I grabbed her backside violently. She squealed in delight. I felt her hands reach for my right hand that squeezed her buttocks tightly as if she was trying to discourage me. I released my grip and she clasped my fingers, leaving her car keys in my palm. I pulled back from the kiss and looked her quizzically in the eye. She smiled, encouraging me. Wow, I thought!
I opened her car door and she dumped her bag and crossed from the driver seat to the back seat. I opened the back door and joined her as she hurriedly took off her suit jacket. I slammed the door and faced her as she looked at me smiling coyly.
“Did you miss me?” She whispered, kissing my neck, kissing my ears. Her hand roved from my chest down to my bulging pants. I felt tremors going through my body. Unbelievable pleasure! My hands reached for her blouse and squeezed her breasts softly and she moaned. In one quick movement, my zip was open and my engine surged out as if seeking air. She kissed, massaged and caressed until her mouth went all the way down. I leaned back on the chair and let her work her magic as waves of uncontrollable shivers passed through me.
Nothing like a good fix of my favorite drug.
Malcolm O. Ifi.
Follow on twitter @saymalcolm