Cynthia swept in from work in her flowing white top over black jeans and dropped her bag on the rug.
“I am sick,” she said as she flounced into a seat.
I set down my glass of Martell cognac and sidled over to her.
“What’s wrong,” I asked taking a palm to her forehead. It felt a bit warmer than usual. “When did this start? Should I get pain killers?”
“No, I already took something. It’s my period and I have been having these cramps and it’s given me a fever. Sorry I can’t join you and the boys tonight,” she said as she kissed my neck.
We had planned to hang out at The Palms with my friends Dapo and Ikem and even though I told her I would stay home and keep her company, Cynthia insisted she didn’t want me to fashi my friends, so off I went.
We had dinner at Double 4, then retired outside with a bottle of Martell.
“She won’t move out, you know,” Ike said referring to Cynthia.
“Shut up,” I said a little too loudly because one of the ladies in front of us looked up.
I smiled and waved at her to say ‘it’s nothing’. She smiled back and went on with whatever she was doing with her phone.
“Oshoko is hooked but he won’t accept it,” Ikem said but by then I had heard enough.
My eyes were on the lady who had looked up. She was dressed in a body hugging black and white striped gown and her short dreads and round rimmed glasses gave her a bookish air but something about her told me she was someone I had seen before.
I picked up my glass, kicked Ikem’s leg out of my way and went to her table.
“Good evening,” I said.
“Good evening” she returned with a smile that revealed white even dentition.
“I am sorry I startled you. My friends were being assholes.”
My name is Oshoko by the way,” I said extending my arm.
“I know. Omo. We met at Social Media week two years ago.”
“Oh, wow. I did think you looked familiar. So, what do you do?”
She told me she worked for Etisalat then but had left to set up a VPN business.
“Can I join you? I am tired of those idiots.”
I bought her a drink and we talked. She had come hoping to meet a friend but her friend was stuck at the office.
“Glad you came over,” she said.
“I will never leave a damsel in distress,” I said tipping an imaginary hat.
“I know. I hear you love the ladies,” she said twirling her drink.
“You hear. Who’s been telling tales?”
“No one. We have a mutual friend. Jane. She used to work with you guys.”
“Jane Opene, yes. She was my person,” I said recalling the official trip we went on to Ghana and which we spent shagging like dogs but once we got back, Jane pulled that what happens in Ghana stays in Ghana gambit on me.
“Where is she now?”
“The US. Got married and relocated,” Omo said.
“Yeah, I remembered. She married this very handsome dude we all thought was gay,”
“Really, so when a man is very handsome you think he is gay?”
“No, he just looked too clean. A man should have some roughness.”
“Like you?” she asked and I bowed.
“Yes indeedy,” I said and from there the conversation switched to guys and girls and sex and by the time she got up and said she wanted to leave, we were already touching and holding hands.
She had the door to her jeep open when she turned around to say good bye and I just moved in and kissed her on the lips.
“You don’t waste time,” she said when our kiss broke.
“You want me to?” I asked but she smiled and got into the car.
She turned on the ignition and then wound down the window.
“Come in and get some more sugar,” she said.
Things got hot fast. From kissing, I unzipped her dress and I had one nipple in my mouth and my fingers playing banjo down there when we heard the tap on the window.
I looked up as she tried to make herself decent and glowering at me was a police man.
“You are under arrest for sexing in a public place.”
Continues next week