Archive for June, 2014

The Thought

He entertained the thought; he felt that was his only offence.

Blows of cold air from the air conditioner hit him over and over again on his bare sweaty chest, sending chills through his body as the sweat trickled down to his round belly. He’s been fed to stupor by his wife, as evidently shown by his cylinder shaped belly. He clutched his head in his trembling hands with groans and moans from deep inside, wishing it was just a dream, wishing he’d never been there, wishing he had the balls to have never been there.

A bit of a workaholic, a bit of a snub, David relished the challenges that came with being a young successful consultant in one of the Big 4 financial institutions. He gets his dopamine released by overtime working and his unwavering ambition to rise to the position of a managing partner was his driving force. He wasn’t the type that relished the company of women, he married out of compulsion. And despite having a beautiful wife, still finds the allure of work to be more pleasing than the bosom of his wife; his sole importance was attached to his career ascension. At a point, the visage of his office excites him than the curves of his wife, and she was spoilt for curves; she was a trophy wife, a beauty he won with money like a memento on the wall. He didn’t mind, didn’t care, his mother wanted him married and he did just that so she’ll stop nagging him.

With a smile it started, with sweetened cups of tea it continued, and ultimately convoluted with the skirts getting visibly shorter and disturbingly tighter. He waved it off as an unnecessary distraction; he kept waving it off but his mind was being fed; one spoonful of detail at a time. The new receptionist would sashay her way across the hall, and from his desk he could see through the glass as her bulbous behind rolled in symphonous turns and he felt a literal thirst drying up his throat. “When did this one come? Who is this new girl and why is she walking that way” he thought to himself, as she was always only serving him his tea. Then he entertained a thought, he pictured her holding his glass desk with her slim long hands while he washed the window panes like he had never done before. He shook it off, “I don’t have time for distractions”. But she never failed to greet him with a smile; never.

On a Wednesday evening, he checked his time, saw it was 5:07PM and decided to work a little bit more when he heard a tap on is door.

“Are you going towards Maryland sir” Stella asked in a brisk wasp like voice, peeping with the door half open: Her cleavage peeping with her.

“No, I still have some documents to work on with the new project” was what he should have said.

“Oh yeah, you’re going towards there? I’m ready now” was what he said

He grabbed his car keys and walked a bit fast to his car, opened the central lock; then the devil stepped in: Stella too.

Every single move was sultry and seductive, from her pulling up her skirt to reveal the cleanest thick thighs he’d ever seen, to pulling the seat belt as the anchor slid slowly down her fair skin chest, splitting them into two as they struggle-lessly peeked out of her red camisole. His head was blocked, his mind was blanked, his blood pumped faster than it should; it flowed downstream.

David didn’t check the traffic condition of the road before hitting the road towards Maryland, a place he had no business in. There was a heavy traffic lockdown on his way and he was weary of it already, but Stella looked unconcerned like she was right at home; all of her extremities benefiting from his well-functioning AC. Next, a thought popped up in his head and he blurted it out “Why don’t we go get a drink at Newcastle and move on when the traffic goes down”

A dozen missed calls later, half from his boss, half from his mum, none from his wife, David woke up on a large white bed, evidently a hotel room and was trying to fill his mind with what could have happened.  Then he got an email, he opened it and saw pictures of the sex he had with Stella. He had no idea someone was taking pictures, his turning and theatrics and herculean showmanship all laid bare. With his mouth unclosable, he looked in shock and terror and saw in the email “Be silent in the face of whatever happens this coming week, and nobody would see these: Kenneth”. Ken was also a consultant, also ambitious, but dangerously unethical. David had suspected him of planning a huge fund fraud that could verge on the company going paraplegic; he planned to blow the whistle. Suddenly, everything made sense, from the sudden appointment of Stella to the timing of the fraud.

He clutched his head in his now sweaty palms as the cold air from the AC hit him on his sweaty chest, filling him with regret, penitence and anguish. He entertained the thought, that wasn’t his only offence; but it led to his undoing.

 

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Perhaps we will

Cute-couplesPerhaps we will be together in many places, in many phases of our lives: Chatting with friends, dancing to slow jams in different places, competing in sports for fun, enjoying intellectual and deep conversations, sitting on the beach, enjoying various delicacies from all the ends of the world (yes we will eat food), wrestling with the rhythmic motion of our bodies intertwined. Perhaps through all these times, places and phases, you would grow to love me and trust me, to know in your heart that I will never hurt you. In your own chosen time and in your own chosen way, you may be willing to let me into your heart. To see, to touch, to feel the deepest part of who you truly are; the part of you that is precious, that is soft, vulnerable and beautiful. I would sell my soul to the devil to have this opportunity. Letting me love you is the most valuable gift you could ever give me.

Perhaps, at the same time, I may be willing to trust you wholeheartedly; to let you into my hard outer shell I put up to keep me safe inside. Yes, I’m scared too. Yet I don’t want to keep myself too safe, because I don’t want to be too distant. Both go hand in hand, both are cousins, when you trade one, you trade the other.

Will you promise not to laugh at me when I need you to hold me? Will you promise to listen and not judge me when I feel sensitive? Will you promise to feel with me when I have enough courage to share vulnerable feelings with you? Will you promise to confront me when I step on your toes unintentionally? Will you promise to argue with me when necessary, and stand up for yourself when I’m upset with you? And then be willing to reach a mutual agreement that is good for both of us? And, after that, will you rejoice with me in our relationship that says it’s okay to have conflicts and it feels so good to get them out and get them resolved?

I really desperately want to let myself feel free with you. If I don’t, you and I will have missed a valuable, beautiful experience. I hope we let the flower of our relationship unfold, let it grow at its own pace. Just let it go, let it flow. I will continue to enrich your life as you continue to enrich mine.

Thank you , because I know you will love me.

Raining Sunshine

The wind after the heavy rain is never warm.

Storm clouds gather over the city of Lagos; looming, threatening, and looking like it would pour with unrepentant and unyielding venom. A lot of people going about their business, wary of the rain about to fall often find themselves stuck in its middle; some armed with their umbrellas, a handful feeling hapless, desperate and ready to enter the downpour of heavy laden precipitation without regard for whatever consequences may result: A decision some regret longer than others. Cough, cold and productive catarrh are definitely not enough to convince the vigilant and the virtuous to take such daunting and unreasonable risk.

Sometimes, when you notice the assembling thick dark clouds, the blinding lightening, the deafening thunder, it is best to remain indoors, lock the main door and close a couple of windows to prevent the chill from getting to your chest. Often times you only learn after you’ve been soaked to the point of dripping, each falling droplet from your body reminding you of the decision you made rather poorly. You always know when the fluffs in the sky are gathering, you see the warning signs but choose to ignore them, maybe because you attach more importance to the party you want to attend than to the damage the cold is capable of doing to your own self.

Once in the rain, it’s irreversible: The visual stimulation of the lightening and the emotional detachment of the thunder. Your feet get wet and your shoes get soaked, they suffer for it. Then you suffer for it. You know better than to walk into what could turn you into ashes of fluid, the ashes would vanish but the chill will remain. Your moral and puritanical upbringing serves as a warning, a prophecy way before the rain falls, before all the rains would fall.

Sunshine warms the skies when it appears, and it is the best time to do anything you need to do. It has all the trappings of safety, comfort, sensibility and security. And it is the time to remind you never to get caught up in the storm. It may look like a small cloud that would drizzle and be over quickly; it never is. Almost every time you expose yourself the harsh darts Mother Nature shoots at you, a part of you changes: some parts die and some parts awake to the realisation that some parts are dead. You make Paracetamol a premium selling product.

You get wiser after being beaten by the rain? No you don’t. You think you do, but you don’t.

After the rain, the sunshine doesn’t just magically appear. No: Just the wind of cruel bitter realisation that the clouds could have passed without a drop of water touching the sole of your feet. Just a cruel bitter realisation that the rain didn’t have to fall.

I wasn’t talking about rain.