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  “Where did you say you brought me to?”

  “Mobolaji Johnson, Sir. Na wetin you call for me be that”

  A line creased the driver’s forehead suddenly.

  “Abi, Oga, na the old Mobolaji Johnson you dey go? Wey dey mainland?”

  Ifekunle felt frustration melt and smart in the corner of his eyes. The driver had taken him all the way to Lekki?!

  Unable to form words beyond his bobbing Adam’s apple, he tapped the driver’s headrest; signalled that he wanted to get off.

  He reached into his back pocket for his wallet. In its luxurious folds crisp naira notes sat, ripe for plucking. He fingered five thousand naira notes, gave them to the blundering man who was still insisting that Oga you for tell me say na the mainland one you dey go.

  Alone on the unknown sidewalk he expelled a ragged breath. He hadn’t found his phone back at this office. His car also hadn’t been in the parking lot. Now he was lost?

  Bloody aping perfect!

  Chapter 4

  Same old constellation/ Stars up on the sky

  But you know I’ve got a feeling/ They’re gonna look different tonight

  - Tim Odell, Constellations (Wrong Crowd)

  Rich scents perfumed the air. Subtle. Sensual. Powerful. Promising. Blue bulbs cast an indulgent glow over the lounge like waking dawn; nested lovers in cocoons of dreams and desire. Pendergrass crooned dark and husky in the background; asking a girl to turn off lights, light candles, and let him give her a special treat of love.

  Ifekunle smiled; a slight curve of his lips by the sweet kiss of nostalgia. He closed his eyes. Let the song fill his senses. Watched a gallery of other times and places in his mind’s eyes.

  He leaned back to cradle his head on the plush leather couch and stretched long jeans-clad legs out; the perfect picture of relaxation.

  “Ifekunle?”

  The voice was a musical souvenir, echo of distant daydreams. Ifekunle smiled. Lifted lazy eyelids.

  A shiny pair of smooth globes stared at him and he felt saliva pool on his tongue. He swallowed and looked lower. The mound was tucked in a shiny dark case. Primal hunger stirred in the pits of his stomach and his thumb rose in delight. Fell. His index finger followed suit and so did his other fingers. Like cadence, they rose and fell. Soft music.

  A coke bottle; shiny, curved full and oh so desirable.

  His lips titled left, curved upward in a smile. He was assailed by thirst. There was an almost irresistible urge to reach out. Take a sip.

  Damn

  Ifekunle closed his eyes back to catch a grip on slipping sanity. His hyperactive mind was tripping real good this time, he thought.

  “Who undresses unsuspecting women with their eyes while pretending to sleep? And in a club, no less?”

  Lounge. We’re in a lounge Ma’am

  His subconscious replied before his brain kicked in. Ifekunle’s eyes flew open.

  The bottle was still in front of him but, had it gotten taller? A frown creased Ifekunle’s brows as he craned his neck. Tailed the length of the bottle till...

  Legs! Legs man!!!

  His mind was panicking and he froze. Sent his eyes back down.

  The shiny dark case paused in the air and legs took over. Human legs.

  Oh. Shit!

  His head swung up and his eyes caught the cheeky smile of... hell no! Could the floor just open and swallow him up?

  “You look mortified”

  There was laughter in her voice. She was delighted with herself. Too darn delighted and at his expense, no less. He covered his face with his palms.

  How was a man supposed to recover after ogling clothes off his secondary school crush? While sitting slump like wilted vegetables? And a crush that had become hot, blazing hot woman; no less?

  He shook his head.

  She giggled.

  It floated like music. Started low, rose, peaked... fell in lingering waves that eased his muscles and stripped him of shame. He took his hands off his face. Sat straight.

  “Demilade?”

  She nodded with childish excitement and a wide grin. She was so happy, he felt his insecurities fade. His cheeks extended in a smile and he rose. Hugged her.

  “How did you recognise me in this light though? I don’t think I could have”

  “I was facing the door when you came in. I’ve always fancied I’d recognise your walk anywhere. I wasn’t sure though until you smiled at whatever you were thinking. I swear that smile is customized. I’ve never seen anyone else do it like you.”

  It was his turn to laugh; a sound that was the bass symphony of an excited playground

  “That hasn’t changed either”

  Ifekunle caught a wistful note in her voice but she was smiling when he looked. Had he transferred his melancholy to her? It would be hard not to, after the gross topsy-turvy day he’d had. Perhaps it could finally be redeemed?

  “Sit with me? I’ll love to catch up on the past... how many years has it been?”

  She giggled again. He decided the soothing music of it was her own thing. And that he really liked the sound of her laughter.

  “You’re not expecting anyone?”

  “No. You? Damn, I didn’t think. You’re with company.”

  She assured him she wasn’t which was good. He wanted more time than a random run-in. Two glasses of cocktails into their conversation the speakers boomed whistles into the lounge.

  “Dance with me”

  “Hunh? It’s...”

  His question trailed off as Demilade rose, pulling him with her.

  You know what to do with that big fat butt!

  Wiggle wiggle wiggle

  Demilade backed her butt into his pelvis and Ifekunle’s lips curved in a pleasantly surprised oh!

  Damn Man!

  Soft lushness ground against his jeans, thighs, and he groaned inwardly. Shut his mind against waking wild impulses.

  Erm, why are we standing like an abandoned log?

  Ifekunle frowned. Wished he could shut the scolding voice in his head up. He curved his right arm around Demilade’s waist; sending a quiet prayer to the heavens that she didn’t get upset.

  “This is dirty dancing, I think”

  But there was gaiety in her voice so he relaxed. Replied.

  “It was you, Eve, who tempted me”

  The sound of her giggle floated to his ears and he smiled. It felt good to hold her like this, he thought. Felt right.

  The lights went dimmer as the song neared its end. The beat transitioned to something slow. Sultry. The accompanying voice a man intoxicated by passion.

  Close your eyes, make a wish

  And blow out the candlelight

  “Dance with me Milady”

  Whispered into Demilade’s ears, the words were scarlet invitation. They raised goose bumps on her arms and shot electric currents down her spine. Thrilled her secret lady parts. She bit her lower lip. Exhaled. Konji was an eternal bastard.

  Ifekunle spun Demilade around so she faced him. His left palm found the dip of her waist and the right cupped her neck.

  “That was smooooth”

  “I’ve got moves, Lade girl”

  It was so cheesy, they laughed together.

  “Your laughter seduces me”

  Who the ape admits to being seduced by frigging laughter? Damn Man!

  Ifekunle would have chewed his tongue if it wasn’t too late. He had been thinking the words; true, but hadn’t meant to say them out. Now she probably thought he was a gamer or, worse, a no-game human.

  Goodness!

  Demilade’s face lifted off his ribcage and he looked down. Ready to apologise.

  “It does?”

  She didn’t believe him. That’s what her side eye and pursed lips said. Couldn’t she... his instincts took over.

  The palm at her waist gathered Demilade closer and he slid a thigh between hers. When her eyes widened at the feel of his wakened rod and her jaw fell, he planted his lips between hers.
/>   Chapter 5

  Strawberries juiced from her lips to his. Shot to his head. Made him lusty and hazy. Her tongue stole into his mouth and blood roared in his head.

  His palm slid lower. Splayed over her butt cheeks. Held her in place as he ground against the juncture of her thighs. He was losing his mind but he didn’t care. Desire was flooding his veins and, if the duel of her tongue with his was any indication, she wasn’t unaffected either.

  Whoever is watching be damned…

  Hunh? Whoever…? Oh shit!

  Ifekunle lowered his second palm to her butt. Eased his lips from hers almost regretfully. He rested his forehead against hers. Took deep breaths to steady his breathing. But her waist continued drawing circles beneath his palms. Stirring his crotch. And he was almost forgetting why they had to exercise restraint.

  “We’re in public”

  His voice was far from steady. A barely audible whisper really. But she heard and brows curved inward.

  “Fuck”

  She was certainly affected. The assurance made him feel good. But, did she want to be affected? Had he maybe scared her?

  “Should I apologise for that?”

  He leaned back slightly from the waist so he could see her face. He was still hard. Cushioned between his thigh and hers.

  Her teeth appeared on her lip and two lines between her brows. She was thinking about it. He tried to step back from between her thighs but she pressed closer. Held him still.

  “Demilade?”

  “You shouldn’t apologise”

  “But?”

  She shook her head emphatically.

  “I wanted it. I...”

  She exhaled visibly. Seeming to have come to a decision, she met his gaze.

  “I want you”.

  For many seconds her words echoed in his head and he couldn’t move. Couldn’t even blink. When he tried to speak his jaw moved mechanically but no words came. Eventually he lowered his forehead to hers.

  The voice in his head was mute.

  Who would have known the bugger could shush? Or that a declaration of desire from the girl who haunted his dreams would do the job? Or, more, that chilling in a random lounge after the most confusing day of his life would gift him, his first shocked gobsmack moment in three decades?

  Ifekunle lowered his head even further. Nipped the top curve of her ear. Demilade shivered. Held him so close, he felt the slight tremble of her body. He repeated it. Traced wetness and his breath on her ear.

  Demilade made small sounds and her lower body ground against his. Ifekunle’s left hand slid to her hip. Held her in place as he ground back. A small sound escaped her lips and she trembled again.

  The feel of her body responding to his touch was heady. Ifekunle wanted to reward it.

  He walked the fingers of his right hand over her sequin short dress, lightly biting and blowing on her ear to distract her. His hand went below the dress’ hem and above; to naked velvet thighs. He inhaled sharply at the contact. Scattered light kisses on her face.

  “Ooh. Oh fuck!”

  The pad of his mid-finger found silk at the juncture of her thighs. Pressed against it. Demilade’s senses jarred and she tensed.

  They shouldn’t be doing this here. In public. She couldn’t let him. A muscle ticked determinedly in Ifekunle's cheek and he surveyed the area again.

  Their table was at the corner far end of the VIP section. They were partially secluded from everyone else by a walled column and the dimmed lights would shelter them from cursory glances. The few couples and parties of people on the floor were ensconced in dance and themselves. They were also some distance away and not so much as a pair of eyes roamed or looked their way.

  He kissed the curve of her neck. Pausing the stroke against her silk underwear till she relaxed against him again. His mid-finger shifted the flimsy piece from its guard post and the index slid into Demilade.

  Wet warmth sucked his finger in. Contracted against it. Heat slammed into his gut. Tightened his balls. Shot a bolt of raging passion into his erection.

  “Demilade”

  It was benediction. Hoarse acknowledgement of homecoming.

  His erection throbbed almost painfully; constricted in his briefs and the jeans holding it captive. Ifekunle took Demilade’s lips fiercely. Commanded by passion and the need for her to feel how badly she affected him.

  His mid-finger slid against her wetness. Joined the index to thrust up and into Demilade. Demilade moaned into his mouth, trembled, and his left hand against her hip flexed. Held her tight and in place.

  Ifekunle’s knees weakened and he backed Demilade into the columned wall. Her lashes flew open; sensual delirium in their dreamy depths. Indecision or modesty etched grooves into the skin between her brows and she bit her lip. Tried to fight against the force of pleasure swamping and filling her senses.

  Her hand reached to halt his hand between her thighs.

  “Ifekunle… I… It's...”

  “Sssh."

  His lips met hers. Touched briefly.

  "Yours, Demilade. I’m yours.”

  His fingers had withdrawn leaving just their tips inside her. He hooked them upward. Slammed them back into her.

  Demilade’s eyes rolled all the way back. Her waist arched off the wall and her face turned away.

  “Unh unh. Look at me. Let me see your face”

  Demilade shook her head. It was too much. The sensations assaulting her senses were too fierce. Too wild to control.

  Ifekunle ground his aching cock against Demilade’s thigh; unable to hold himself back anymore.

  His dick was pulsing fiercely. Craving her warm sheath. Seeking release.

  “Dammit Demilade! Look. At. Me!”

  The thrust of his fingers punctuated his words; thrusting knuckle-deep into her sopping deliciousness. He thumbed her engorged clit on the last word. Grimaced when her waist involuntarily whined over his fingers.

  He wanted to watch the pleasure he was giving her mirrored on her face. Needed to watch it. Her face turned back to him. Moulded in shock and desperation to find...

  “Please. Ifekunle”

  She wasn’t sure if she was asking that he stop or give her release. Every nerve in her body felt stretched to breaking. Her blood and consciousness all zeroed on his blatant possession of her molten garden.

  Ifekunle could feel his cum rising and knew he couldn’t stop it. He needed it. For the first time since adolescence he was going to spill on his clothes and he welcomed it unashamedly.

  “Let go, Demi. Come for me”

  Demilade ground against his fingers and he slid a third barely in. Hooked it upward to stroke the ridged wall of her vagina.

  Demilade screamed at the sudden bombardment of her senses. Reached out to grab Ifekunle’s shirt. It was too much. Too powerful. She couldn’t…

  “Oh gods. Oh”

  Ifekunle watched her lips shape in wordless exclamatory wonder. Her eyes pop even wider open. Then she was tumbling over passion’s cliff. Her muscles contracting almost painfully over his fingers.

  His pelvis ground deeper against her. More forcefully. His balls tightened. Butt clenched. And her name was worship on his lips as his passion exploded...

  A warm sea of sticky goo gushing into in his briefs.

  Chapter 6

  “That wasn’t… That shouldn’t...”

  Years of ingrained modesty returned to Demilade.

  She was shocked by her inability to be ashamed of what they had just done. What she had let happen.

  Certainly, 12 years is too long to still claim knowledge of anyone; isn’t it?

  How could she explain that she had split her thighs for a virtual stranger? And that she had loved every second?

  “Hmm?

  The husky, very masculine sound meant to prod her sent flutters straight to her pussy. Demilade bit her lips. This was all shades of very dangerous.