Baskadia

It was 10:30 pm on a Friday when the gents and I decided to get a drink after a hectic day at work. As we were about to evacuate Oriental following countless shots of whiskey, there came the most magnificent creature I’ve ever seen. Her beauty was captivating with those mesmerizing smiles. I stared for minutes lost in thought, admiring her perfection and charm. Her blond silky hair glows like the bioluminescent sea at night. As luck would have it, she winked at me with those hypnotizing amber-gorgeous eyes. I said to myself, “You bastard, don’t miss this lifetime opportunity.” I sauntered towards her table majestically with the most pacifying voice ever, asking if she cared for a drink. Her soothing voice, like the whispers of Calypso, sent shivers down my spine that I was drowning in my fantasy. “I’m in room 69. Don’t keep me waiting for too long.” She whispered. I hurriedly rushed my shots of whiskey, getting ready to make love without screwing the pooch. I was ready to unleash the Johnny Sins in me, giving her ecstasy without psychedelics.

I ran to my room to clench the container of the Dior Sauvage cologne I left in the wardrobe. I wanted to make a very good first impression. Grabbing the bottle of champagne from the fridge, I sauntered to room 69.

It was like she had been anticipating these moments forever. The scented candles with a vanilla aroma filled the atmosphere. The floors were decorated with red rose petals laced with pink. Standing at the entrance staring at the reincarnation of Aphrodite dressed in Bordeaux lingerie left my legs numb for a few minutes, giving me an adrenaline rush. J. Holiday put you to bed and Jeremih’s birthday sex was being shuffled on repeat. My heart skipped a bit, glaring at her, watching her get rid of her undergarments and pieces of jewelry. A soft voice whispered, “Are we doing this, or is it going to be just me feasting your eyes?” I detached myself from my kaftan, ready to devour my mystery woman, for whom I don’t even know her name. Alas, the beep from my phone was about to ruin the moment. “Attend to your calls, Femi.” It wasn’t an issue how she knew my name because I felt she might have heard the bartender call my name while we were in the public room. It turned out it was Miranda that was trying to ruin the atmosphere. Miranda and I have been married for years and are expecting our second child. “What does this woman want again?” I pondered out loud. Yet my mystery woman wasn’t concerned about my issues. She was ready to get laid like a college kid on Viagra.

A part of me felt a certain type of way. The thought of betraying Miranda clouded my emotions and was affecting my judgment. “For better or for worse, till death do us part was my oath to Miranda; are you certain you want to do this?” I continue to soliloquy despite being around my mystery woman. “How can I not want this?” I said. She had the body of a goddess. Her skin was so soft it was like it was made out of silk. Her butterfly tattoo, crafted beneath her right bust, was detailed. My emotions were overwhelmed by her hourglass shape on a perfect body. I was ready to summon the beast in me. She giggled as I sealed a kiss and softly caressed her body. “Time to pop the champagne cork, as it won’t be the only cork that will be popped tonight.” She whispered. We were ready to have our way. I got her titillated to the point of no return. I was mesmerized by her amorousness. It was going to be an ocean of perfection.

The slow dancing to the pillow talks leads to the rumpy-pumpy like we’re animals with the copulation of a dominant. I was swimming in a pool of sugary satisfaction, reliving my fantasy in reality. It was the pinnacle of my wildest sexual imagination. Reaching climax felt like euphoria. Finally, the anticipation was over. I and my mystery woman drank ourselves into oblivion.

It’s 5 pm on Saturday, and my mystery woman is nowhere to be found. Did she think I botched it? But I had her entire legs vibrating. Maybe she faked her orgasm as well. I was more curious than the misery of Benjamin Burton. At least I had a swell time with her. I reached for my phone at the edge of the bed, trying to figure out what went wrong last night. “Buzz-buzz.” buzz buzz. The vibration of my phone went on repeatedly. I looked to see who it was. Behold my sweet wife, Miranda, worried about her dear husband. “Hello Femi, Thank heavens you’re fine. I’ve been worried sick about you. I called Ayo and he said he left you at Oriental last night. At least I deserve an explanation. To be honest, Femi, this is not life; you left me at home with Junior knowing my condition, which no responsible man does. I’m very disappointed.” Miranda criticized my lackadaisical attitude. I kept on stammering while listening to her nag over and over. My phone went off, and finally, I was freed of Miranda’s lengthy niggle.

I hurried to my room as if nothing had happened, ready to check out so I could be with my wife and kids, but I was still worried about my mystery lady’s sudden disappearance. “Maybe the switchboard operators would know about her whereabouts.” I kept on contemplating, trying to solve the puzzle of the sudden disappearance of my mystery woman. Unluckily, not one person had an idea of who I was referring to. It was as if she vanished from existence. I sat quietly in my Chevrolet Camaro reminiscing about my entanglement with my mystery girl, hoping I could relive every moment again and again for the rest of my life, but the Sherlock Holmes in me piqued my curiosity. I started my engine and turned on the stereo of my car, listening to the sweet sound of Marvin Gaye’s sexual healing while driving through Lagos while charging my phone with the USB port available. It’s 9:45 pm and I’m yet to get to Abraham Adesanya due to the congestion, which has become a tradition in Lagos. In a trice, my cellphone rang, and this time it wasn’t Miranda. “It might be my strange woman.” but we didn’t exchange contact. Could I have given it to her in my befuddled state?” Those were my thoughts before answering the call. It was Somto, our family doctor, who has been my buddy since elementary school. “I need you at Randle General hospital right now. Femi, it’s your wife. Don’t dilly dally for too long.” Somto has never spoken to me in such a manner. What could be happening? Without lingering, I made a U-ey, zooming through the asphalt.

My vision was clouded by what appeared to be hallucinations of an Echidna with the countenance of my mystery woman. Her snake-like tails were long and scaly. With her body covered in blood and thorns, Fangs is as sharp and gory as a leopard that has just devoured a gazelle. I could tell it was the end as the thought of not being with my wife and kids terrorized me. “Your soul belongs to me.” echoed in my ears, repeatedly “Sadly, my time is limited.” Who will explain to Miranda that I was lost in lust? “Will I blame it on the whiskey or my lack of discontentment?” I voiced it in a trembling tone.

Finally, the hallucinations were over, but I was yet to recover from the trauma of what could be a paranoid schizophrenic episode, for I could hear the echoes of my mystery woman calling my name repeatedly. Before I could say, Jack Robinson, I lost total control of the steering wheel, somersaulting continuously into the Lagos Lagoon with my phone beeping repeatedly.

Trapped in my car at the bottom of the ocean waiting for a miracle to happen, as it did in cell number seven, turned out to be an impossible task. Water was gushing from every angle, yet I could still reach my phone to answer what seemed to be the final call.

Behold, it was the sweet voice of Miranda whispering. “It’s 7:05 Femi, get your lazy ass out of bed, it’s time for Friday morning devotion and the new maid will be coming around this morning.”

“Oga Madam, meet Ekaete.” “Said the doorman.” It turns out she was the new maid my wife hired.

“Good morning, Uncle Femi,” Ekaete whispered in a familiar voice as she winked at me. As I took a gander to see who it was, my heart skipped for seconds as I fidged in horror, discovering Ekaete was the mystery woman from my nightmare.

Ijiola Abdulraheem