TRAPPED E6


image

Twenty-four year old Ahmed Garba is a peach of a gentleman. Tall, dark and athletic; the quintessential and eligible bachelor. He bagged a first class degree in Banking and Finance from one of the most popular and reputable private Universities in the country. He is the one and only son of Alhaji S.  Garba,  a foremost businessman in the state. His mum,  Alhaja Mardiyah is well known for her philanthropic gestures. He was pampered and it was very clear to see why. 
He worked at one of the country’s renowned banks not because he needed the salary, but because he had to put his certificate to judicious use and garner experience for when he takes over his father’s business empire.


°°°°
I wouldn’t say I was naive to fall in love with him, I just wish I had taken things a lot slowly.  But again,  it was so hard not to get dragged briskly along in his stride.  Let’s not forget I was sort of heart broken at that time too,  and his kind of sweetness and care would absolutely sweep anyone off their feet.  Sha,  I believe that things happen for particular reasons,  like who am I to contest the divinely chosen part my life was supposed to take?!  Come to think of it,  if I was to relive the whole experience, I doubt I would do anything differently.
°°°°

Our first date was a hit,  never mind my difficulties with the cutlery.  He wasn’t a tad bit irritated or flustered,  which counted as a good thing. We talked for a while after lunch and I actually didn’t want to leave his company. He had a bright smile on his face throughout and I felt absolutely comfortable in his company. He told me about his parents and how busy they were as well as the daily drama that plays out between the maid and the cook in their house. 

Both of them are Hausa according to him,  although he couldn’t tell exactly which Northern state they were from,  which I found weird.  He does seem like he doesn’t really socialize with his employees which seemed to be the case with all these wealthy people, hehe.  Anyway,  he told of how they would find something, anything to argue and fight over every day.  Sounded to me like an ego match up but I simply smiled through his narrations.

We left ‘Le Chatteur’  at about 4:46pm, and I honestly wished time would stand still and allow me spend eternity in his presence.  It didn’t, and I had to reluctantly go back to spinning slowly with mother earth.  He dropped me off at my gate some minutes to 7pm as we were stuck in a heavy traffic on the highway. He got out and helped me out of the car. 
“How gentlemanly,”  I thought.

That smile again!  That time,  with the sun sinking in the West beyond the horizon,  my legs caved in and I leaned into him.  He met me like he had been expecting it,  meeting my lips with a warm and enterprising kiss.  He tasted so sweet and it wasn’t the bubbly we had.  The sweetness felt engraved into his buccal.  It was honest and special,  what all first kisses should be like. 
The gate suddenly opened and I was startled back to life.  Dad stood akimbo,  staring tentatively at us as I fought to get free of his embrace. Ahmed greeted him as I stood there contemplating what to do next.  He didn’t respond to his greetings and just stared at me with disdain.  Ahmed walked briskly to his car and drove off,  leaving me to my inauspicious fate.

“Is that how you frolic around in school with boys?!” he shouted.
I was embarrassed but dare not move or speak a word.  He walked back inside cursing heavily under his breath. I slowly walked into my room,  ignoring my mum’s persistent enquiry.  She followed me to my room and demanded to know what ensued.  She castigated me for kissing a man in the public and said something insidious about my morals or something and how I should have conducted myself better. She told me he was mad at me for not informing him before leaving the house and coming back that late.  I was not in anyway perturbed though, the worst thing he could do was ignore me for as long as he could and ignore me he did! 

It was supposed to be an awesome weekend, it started thus but dad contrived to ruin it for me. I called Ahmed later that evening to no avail.  I tried him for the third and final time with no luck before I slept off. I wondered why he didn’t answer my calls even in my dream that night. Dawn took forever to appear as I barely had enough sleep even though I was physically exhausted.  I sent him a message as I rolled out of bed,  sore all over.  I spent the rest of the weekend nestled uncomfortably in my pink themed room,  keeping hawk eyes on my phone in anticipation of his reply which never came. No one bothered to call me out for church and I was genuinely happy that I was left alone.  I left my room to pick up breakfast as soon as my parents left the house. 

Did I mention I was the only child of my mum?  Yes, I think I did!

12.06pm and my phone buzzed as I took the first full dip of my bronze spoon into the large plate of rice delicately placed on my bed. I quickly checked my phone and it was him.  Warm relief traveled at light velocity down my bony spine!  I fumbled to quickly read the message, unwittingly pushing my breakfast away in the rush. I heard the smashing sound the ceramic made as it made an unfortunate acquaintance with the marbled floor.  Yes,  the sound was loud but my eyes didn’t follow the loud event. I read his message and I smiled, one look at my naked body and I knew exactly what to wear…

Advertisements

19 thoughts on “TRAPPED E6

  1. This Ahmed Garba character is suspicious…….keeping my fingers crossed sha!….nice one Alfa Heedriz….Ku ise #thumbsup

    Like

  2. I see 1k words isn’t satisfying after all cos you’re still gon’ leave us hanging… #arrggghh.
    BTW. I know a S. Garba. Yours wouldn’t be an old Prof. Cos I’ll really be pained at not meeting his Ahmed before leaving school. 😐

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I love this writing style, just as much as we enjoy enterprising kisses. #TeamEntrepreneur 🙂

    What’s the matter with Ahmed going on and off like the thermostat of an electric iron? Another Sweep-the-babe-off-her-feet tactic. Nna eh, fuck that shit (pardon my french). Babe breaking plates like a “Bàsèjé” while the guy’s doing God knows what. Hian!

    When she eventually starts making more decisions about her naked body, I hope wearing something would be involved. Or not.

    My case, I rest.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Jajajajahahajajhajaha! Uhmm, actually, I don’t wanna ruin the brilliance of this comment with an insipid reply of my own. So, I’ll just keep shut and marvel at your dexterity at coming up with too notch feedbacks.
      Yeah, #TeamEntrepreneur 😁

      Like

  4. Lol…all these Abokis 😉 “who am I to contest the divinely chosen path my life was to take” that is a thing a naija girl would totally say😂 well done Idris! Well written.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s