The Boy Is Mine

Dike woke with a jump. His eyes quickly scanned the immaculately tidy room. He reached for the duvet and pulled it over his naked body. The door swung open noiselessly and Oyinda floated in, gloriously naked as well. She turned to close the door with her hip and his gaze traced a path down her body. Each of her curves took his eyes on an exciting journey. The dark chocolate of her skin glowed like polished mahogany. A thin band of black and white beads sat comfortably around her lean waist. The slivers of gold across her neck and ankles gleamed in the soft morning light. He drank in every inch of her body. The door finally clicked shut and she turned to face him. In her hands was a tray with two cereal bowls brimming with their usual; very sugary corn flakes. 

She settled the tray on the nightstand and fell atop him. 

“I was worried I would have to slap you awake”, she said, nuzzling her nose across his. 

“There’s much faster ways to wake me up”, he replied, kissing her good morning with a little grab of her toned backside. 

“Now isn’t the time”, she giggled. “You don’t want to be late, do you?” 

“Maybe I do”, he joked. “That would subvert the stereotypes, abi?”

She rolled off him, taking her bowl along to her side of the bed. 

“There will always be time for that”, she remarked as he picked up his own cereal. 

“Always.” He answered with a smile that told her he meant it. 

*** 

She came out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped only around her hair. He was fully dressed at this point. She slithered over to help him straighten his bow-tie. 

“You look so good in a suit”, she began coyly. “Kinda makes me want to rip it off you”

He laughed at her compliment. “Now isn’t the time, as someone said”

“Shhh, a woman can change her mind”, she purred, taking his hands and placing them on her perky breasts. His tempted hands lingered for a second but he held himself. He honestly couldn’t afford to be late. His gaze shifted from her nipples to her eyes and he let himself swim in their depth. The sun shone in through the large windows and illuminated her face, like heaven itself was smiling down on her. Why wouldn’t it? She was perfect in every way. His heart was locked away behind those brown eyes. 

“I love you, you know. With all my being.” She smiled and wheeled away from him. She knew. And she knew he knew she loved him equally. She noticed the red envelope and little bouquet on her dresser and the smile broadened. Same place, every year for the past three. But this year was different. She knew he’d already read hers because he was wearing the cologne that came with it. 

“It’s 10”, she announced. “Go. I’ll come soon” 

He waltzed over to place a peck on her forehead. “Happy Valentine’s Day baby” he said with a smile. And then he was gone. She ran straight for the envelope and skimmed through the card. This man had a way with words. And his words had a way with her heart. “I will love you as long as there is breath in me,” she mimicked his voice as she read her favorite lines. “I will be your rock and will crumble to dust before I ever let you down.” She blushed at the gloss paper. She knew she would hear him say these words again today. She let out a long sigh. ‘What kind of love is this?’, she thought to herself as she combed through her closet. 

***

Dike kept reminding himself to focus. He snuck a glance at his watch. The vicar had been droning on for what felt like hours and his mind was tired. He couldn’t even pick out the individual words of the message anymore. He peered over at his mother, perched in the front row like a proud mother hen. Her attire was white as snow and starched solid. Her big red head tie fanned out and threatened to interfere with all the cell phone signals in the room. This was all her doing and he knew he would grow to resent her for it. Her hands were locked firmly with those of his docile father. The man who stood by and watched this woman control both their lives. She had sucked the life out of him over the years. Dike vowed never to let that be his fortune. Oyin would be there to stoke the fire in his heart well into his old age. And just as his eyes began to scan the congregation, she walked in. His heart lifted as she strutted down the aisles, in a fiery red dress he had never seen before. She probably bought it specifically for the occasion. He chuckled to himself as the color returned to his world. Even from this distance, her smile shone its light deep into him, like a lighthouse steering a stranded ship landward. He snapped out of his reverie in time to hear the vicar calling his name. 

“Mr. Dike?”

“Y-y-yes”, he sputtered, gathering himself. 

The vicar continued. 

“Mr. Dike. Do you take the lovely Ms. Adaobi Anyanwu as your lawfully wedded wife, to love and cherish so help you God?” 

Dike looked down at the gorgeous smile of the former pageant queen in front of him.

“I do.”

***

Oyin sat silently at the back of the church, listening as Dike reread her card to Ada in the form of his vows. There was not a pang of pain in her heart. This was all a formality orchestrated by his mother, who couldn’t stand the idea of a Yoruba woman in her house. At the end of the day, Dike was hers, and everyone in this church knew it.

Dance With The Devil

 I see you. I see you very clearly Mr. John Smith, or David Green, or Charlie Brown. The only thing brown about you is the bullshit you spew to our people and our governments and our businesses when you come to develop (read: plunder) our nations. Don’t think for even a second that I am at all deceived by your hearty cackle at the table of our delicacies. Unlike my peers, I am not swayed by your curled vowels; you can return your English to the Queen herself, for all I care. I can hear beneath the veneer of your boardroom buzzwords. You wouldn’t know the meaning of grassroots if I cut one up and  served it in your salads. I’ve caught you sanitizing your hands after shaking deals into existence. I’ve seen you dodge contact with the people that handle your luggage. I’ve watched your smile fade when backs are turned, ripe for a stabbing. And it kills me to watch my people offer themselves up for your taking. I see the women we come across wonder if your pockets run as deep as their privates. Can’t even blame them, might as well return the generational favor and milk you for whatever you’re worth. 

I loathe you. I loathe you deeply Mr. Bob Campbell, or Steve Carr, or Bryan White. With the white in your beard, the yellow in your teeth and the pink of your mask that hides the devil’s grin behind it. I hear how you talk about Human Resources and know you see us as just another resource to mine. I would say you treat us like dirt but I’ve seen our actual soil be even more valuable to your kind than our people. You delight in our cultures but their custodians are ‘barbaric’. I refuse to exist for your consumption. I refuse to repackage my reality for your comfort. I will no longer-

“That brings your total cut to about 7 million dollars if this all works out. How does that sound, Sidibe?”

...

I let out a long hearty laugh. 

“You’ve always been one of my favorite people, Richard. I knew this was a blessed partnership. That sounds just fine by me.”

And then I shook hands with the devil, my soul now sold to the highest bidder. 

My One Fear

They say failure is part of the process.

You learn from your mistakes.

You improve over time.

Practice makes perfect;

That is the adage, right?

Think about how scary that is.

I am not afraid of failure.

Never have been.

Because I believed in the process.

However, for it to be a process

There must be some progress.

So what happens when there isn't?

I am not afraid of failure.

I have failed many times before.

But how many more times will there be?

I would rather struggle with the mountain

Through hardship and strife

Than find myself on a plateau.

If practice makes perfect, 

Then the day it yields no more increase

Surely, it means you have arrived.

Thus, if that day comes before you hoped

Then it quietly signals

'Your perfect is nothing of note.'

That is what scares me the most.

The thought of just how imperfect

My perfect can be. 

I am not afraid of failure

I will fall if I must.

But mediocrity-

Mediocrity.

- terrifies me. 

Perspective II

There were rivulets of sweat running down his forehead now.
Gbenga was staring down at Ndidi under him; careful about how much weight he rested on her small frame.

He leaned down to kiss her open mouth and nibble softly on her lower lip. She threw her head back as he plunged his tool hard into her again, her breath coming in fast shallow gasps. He felt her nails digging into his skin and he smiled, she was simply urging him on. And so he obliged, pulling back and thrusting deep into her; again and again.

Faster now, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. She was screaming, faintly. With swift precise movements, he hit all the vital spots he could, drowning in the ecstasy of the moment and in her bodily fluids.

He saw her eyes roll back as she began to quiver. A guttural sound escaped her throat and she stopped and settled. He took in the view for a second… before withdrawing his tool from inside her, letting her liquid essence drip off of it.

Satisfied, he grabbed his shirt off a discarded pillow and wiped the blood off his knife before holstering it. He took one last look at Ndidi’s beautiful bloodied body, smile spread slowly across his lips as he admired his handiwork. Death was indeed very artful at times, he thought to himself.

Then he headed out, hurrying home to his wife.

Another Night

Tick

With every second

In every minute

The silence loudens

The darkness deepens

Tock

With every breath

And each heartbeat

The haunting grows

And the shadows creep

Broken

I lay

Both body and mind

With nowhere to run

No solace to hide

Clocks

Stare down at me

And echo my shame

Their jeers and their taunts

Lodging deep in my brain

Won't 

Let them win

And tear me apart

Never again

I say to my heart

Stop

Trying to fight!

They scream right at me

Your demons have won

Just cave and let be

Shit. 

I am weak

And backed to the wall

My strength is all gone

I'm about to fall

Fuck. 

I spring up

And blink at the lights

Having barely made it through 

Another such night

Tick tock

These broken clocks

Won't stop

Shit. Fuck. 

Ignorance Is Bliss

I have tried and failed
And failed again
I have flown and fallen
And have felt the shame
I have loved and lost
And I understand the pain

The pain that comes
From knowing and having
Only to lose what you held
Sometimes I tell myself
I would have preferred
Never to have known at all

A Quickie (Part III)

....

Chris hoisted Jenna out of the shower leaving the water running. He threw her down on the bed and swooped down atop her, the heat of desire radiating from his core. She loved it when his inner animal came out but it was wilder today than she had ever seen. She lay back on the soaked sheets and let his eyes drink in her nakedness; from her long slender neck to the gentle curves of her hips and thighs. He descended slowly, picking a spot on her neck just below her jawline for his lips and tongue. Her hands met at the nape of his neck and she drew his face into her. His lips and tongue working furiously to rob her of her sanity. She moaned and squirmed, running her nails down his back. He sunk lower on her chest, his lips grazing her skin gingerly during his descent. He kissed her breasts ever so gently and wrapped a hard nipple in his mouth, suckling it. Then she felt the cold of his teeth press against it and her skin erupted in goosebumps. Her thigh quivered as he bit. Painful, but pleasurable. He let go of her tit and the tease in him smiled at her. Slowly, he placed his throbbing member at the gates of her paradise. On a regular day, Jenna would have appreciated the playfulness but tonight, the aching in her left no time for such. Closing her limbs around him, she grabbed his firm toned bum and...

...She pulled him in.

Both their heads flew back. Jenna exhaled sharply as Chris filled her up snugly, her walls expanding to encompass his mass. At that moment she lost all reserve. She did not want to make love. She did not want just sex.  She wanted her savage needs to be met. She wanted to be ravaged. "Fuck me!". She surprised herself by shouting but as soon as the words left her mouth she agreed with herself. She clawed at his shoulders. "Fuck me Chris". Her words must have had an effect because suddenly, the devil entered his eyes and he poised himself over her. He supported all his weight on his bulky arms and he began to pump. 

Pump...

Pump...

Pump...

Like a piston.

Her eyes and mouth dropped open as Chris shifted into a gear she had never been blessed to see before. She let out silent screams and reached above her head. Her arms flailed as she reached for something. Anything. The pillows. The sheets. He lifted her legs and placed them on his shoulders. He suddenly felt bigger. And she was loving it. Her brain was liquefied and could form no discernible thought. Sweat dripped off Chris's brow as he worked deep into her. He placed his hand on her lower belly and stretched his thumb down between her thighs, placing it against her swollen clit. And he began to rub circles around it as he pounded. Her thighs convulsed wildly as she erupted, squirting  a jet of juices over his thighs. Don't stop, she thought. Don't stop, she wanted to say. But only moans emerged from her mouth. But somehow he heard her pleas.

He flipped her, stopping momentarily to admire her backside. He ran his palms up her thighs, still slick with her fluids. His palms tracing the topography of her buttocks. His fingers closed hard against her buns as he grabbed her ass.  One of his hands dipped below her cheeks towards the warmth of her womanhood. Slowly, he caressed the plump lips of her pussy, teasing with his fingers, spreading and stroking them. She shuddered as her skin erupted in goosebumps and this seemed to reawaken the bestial desires within him.

She felt his weight resting on her and spread her legs for him, inviting him into her. She closed her eyes and waited for the his organ to pert her lips and nestle itself deep in her. She mentally prepared herself for the impending pleasure and her vagina re-lubricated itself.

"Hurry up", she beckoned.

"Take me, she begged...

... as he sunk hard and deep into her.

* ... to be continued ... *