We always thought he was a beast. I mean a savage beast like a Saber tooth tiger. His name was… I feel fear cramps in my abdomen. I’m scared- scared to even say his name. I regarded him as devil’s vicegerent, because only one could behave the way he did.
He was tall, bulky like that ‘wrestler-turned-actor’, The Rock. He had a round face and his hairs are styled in a Mohawk almost all the time, and he was always clean shaven. He had a mark on his face, a scar sort of, that ran above his right eye to his head.
I guess Fela had someone like him in mind when said ‘Animal in human skin’ in ‘Basket mouth’
I feel confidence gather inside me. I mean the fear cramps are gone. His name is dog, sorry, I meant Emeka!
The room was dark and it had a tinge smell of seminal fluid. It was all quiet and the only audible sound was that of the ceiling fan as it distributed stale breeze around the room.
The man called Emeka sat upright on the bed, and a smile formed on his face. He could hear the laboured breaths from the nearly nude lady sleeping beside him. She was a contract prostitute, an Olosho, who had just fallen asleep few minutes ago.
In the last thirty minutes, the room was filled with activity and the bed was creaking loudly, contesting with the sound of the ceiling fan and the pleasure moans from the lady, as the ultimate sound lord for that moment. The lady increased the tempo of her moans and she held on tight to the bed sheet, with her hands, like her survival depended on it. Emeka continued with what made friends call him a beast- the more she moaned, the more energy he thrust into her. He reached cloud nine climax before she did, and when she finally did, they both fell backwards on the bed afterwards. She slept not long after that.
Emeka shifted a bit, and the bed creaked at that instance. He got off the bed and walked gently, tiptoeing, on the tiled floor towards the light switch. He switched on the light, and white light from the led bulb at the center of the room filled the room immediately. He wanted to go and pick the journal he kept at the back of TV set, but a glance at the now fast sleeping lady, who was almost nude on the bed save her thigh and legs which the blanket covered, exposing her flat tummy and deflated fleshy cones on her chest, made him act otherwise.
“She can wake up and see me. I better wait till she goes in the morning.”
He switched off the light and darkness filled the room again like when PHCN just did their usual job. He walked back to the bed and covered himself with the blanket. Then he began to think of the entry he would have recorded in the journal.
“132. Jennifer from Enugu- four rounds executed- no Viagra used”
He smiled as he remembered the contents of the journal- a book filled with the names of the ladies he had slept with. His eyelids battled to stay open. Soon it lost the battle and sleep reigned.
He was a fellow corper like me, and he was my room neighbour. Okay I have called him a beast right? Well he was the kind of guy you hate on sight. You might not hate him, but I did. I was in Batch A while he was in Batch B stream II, so he met me at the lodge.
He was a flirt, and he didn’t hide it. Fortunately for him, Opobo is a community that respects youth corpers, so NYSC basically helped his attraction to the rural girls. He would always wear his NYSC crested cap whenever he goes for his daily evening stroll to the waterside. Then he would scan for unsuspecting victims, throw them into a reverie with lies from his honey coated mouth, and bingo- one more lady under his belt. Better still, when he gets tired of these rural girls, he contacts contract prostitutes, Oloshos, and they spend a couple of days in his room engaging in long-winded sex. The worst of all and the main reason why my hatred of him always perked at high was that he was married, and his wife was pregnant at that time!
Peter, Wale and Muhammed were seated on the bench at the corper’s lodge, gisting, when Emeka walked unto them.
“Baddo,” Peter hailed.
“Na you sabi that one o.” Emeka was now at their front.
“That yesterday girl want kill me. All my waist is aching me.” Emeka was touching his waist and he was grimacing as he his hands touched his waist.
“Didn’t you use pills? I mean Tramadol.” Wale asked.
“Trama-what?” he burst out. He punched the air blows, showing his macho prowess. “Don’t you see, I’m naturally fit. I don’t need artificial pills to do my job as a man.” He wore a serious look, “Wait, so you folks use Tramadol?”
“No.” The three of them answered in unison.
“So you guys don’t fuck?”
They all stared at each other. Silence sealed their mouths.
“Well, that isn’t any of my business,” He cracked his knuckles, “But I can assure you that you guys are missing out big time.”
“Missing? I don’t know of Peter and Wale, but I no dey miss anything.” Muhammed defended.
“Siddon there dey fool yaself,” Emeka adjusted his legs a bit, “did you see the lady that came yesterday?”
“You mean that one that came around the time council gave us light?”
“We saw her. We were gisting when she walked past us.”
“But she looked innocent,” Wale added.
“That one looked innocent. O boy, better shine ya eyes when you wan marry o. No let one yeye Olosho use you for maga o.”
Wale shrugged. Peter wore a serious look. “Wait sef Emeka, how do you lure those girls?”
“Shey make I help you arrange one? Na chicken change o, but them get levels. Petty ashewos na N500, but Oloshos are a bit higer considering they are mobile.”
“So like how much?”
“Starting from N1500, but you will sit and thrash the terms and condition with her. The no of days she will spend, feeding and the accumulated amount at the end of the show.”
“Dey dere. I’ve even arranged one that is coming tomorrow.” He brought out his phone, a Samsung S3, and began to scroll through its pictures. “Here is the girl.” He stretched the phone to Peter.
Peter collected it. The lady that filled the screen was dark complexioned and slim. She was clad in a bikini and she had her derriere facing the screen. Her wide hips stood out distinctly like an albino in the midst of black people. In fact, she was lust crafting.
“Don’t you have another picture where she faces us?” Peter asked, licking his lips.
“That’s the only one available. She doesn’t need to show us more than what she did. Her hips are her selling point and that what she has shown us.”
“So she is coming tomorrow?”
“Yup, we agreed tomorrow.”
I was there, alongside Peter and Wale, when it all happened. Muhammad had gone to Tai-wei to buy foodstuffs, so he missed out on the nature revenge.
I got the gist early that morning that Emeka was anticipating the arrival of a local rendition of Kim Kardashian. I measured high on the curiosity meter, awaiting her arrival.
Unfortunately for Emeka the LI summoned him to the secretariat. Before he left, he gave Peter his phone and room key with the instruction that he should pick the lady up and that he should entertain her till he returned.
No sooner than Emeka left the lodge, his phone, now in Peter’s hand, rang. The lady had arrived. Peter left the lodge with flash speed, only to return with the most cherub-like lady I’ve ever seen. To say she was beautiful is like calling a mountain a mole hill. This lady was more than that. She was simply outstanding. She smelt of musk, and she occasionally winked her eyes. That lustful action almost drowned me in a lagoon of lust. I was a minute angry with Peter when he took her to Emeka’s room without proper introductions.
Emeka returned not long after. He was out of breath when he reached the corridor. He has his tongue out and he was panting like a German Shepard.
“Has she arrived?”
I hated him for that question. Why should a beast like Emeka have a pulchritude reeking lady like that? It was not fair at all.
“Yes she has.” It was Wale that answered.
He breezed past us to his room. I was still sucking on how unfair nature was playing when Peter came to meet us.
“Yawa don gas o.”
“What? Wetin happen?”
“E be like say Emeka sabi the girl o.”
“Sabi as how?”
“The lady is Emeka’s cousin!”
I was an America finally watching my USSR disintegrate. Excitement began to rise inside me like water seeping into a dry well. I could hear something that sounded like a heated argument from Emeka room. The intensity of the sound was increasing and it looked to turn to a physical fight soon. I smiled, Wale and Peter smiled too.
That day, they both earned my respect. They did what I wanted them to do without asking them to do it; they neglected the fight and went to Ifeanyi’s room to play PES’14 on his laptop. I simply returned to my room to continue reading ‘The Dog Of War’ by Frederick Forsyth.
Nature was at work and it was best if we left it undisturbed.