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    Saturday, 17 September 2016

    NKEM 3 - Tale of A Lady's Man (Part 3)

    She could not have said anything more before visiting the kitchen. “the world of a man is in his stomach and the other places,” they say.

    “Yea what were you saying,” I asked as if I was ready to have another narrative essay of Amaka and the suspected result of her escapades.

    “Nkem, even though I am disappointed that you could think about me this way, I wouldn’t blame you for being afraid to lose that which belongs to you. All I seek, I find in you,” was all I could utter as I reciprocated with an open palm running down her face to the chest and a warm embrace that lasted as long as was enough for the soup she kept on fire to get burnt to carbon black.

    “My God!” she screamed as she let go and headed to the kitchen. She then returned with a gloomy face – one which I was truly sorry for. “The soup is gone,” she said as though reporting the death of a loved one, with her hands wrapped round herself tightly, her mammaries beautifully suspended.

    I was worried because she had nothing to eat for the night. I had just finished the fried rice which was left in the afternoon. She was to make do with the soup and some semo while we took tea and bread the next morning. It was late to go out to the streets in search of fast food but I had to make some move so my lady can have something for the night.

    I made for the wardrobe, got my wallet and headed towards the door but she held me back and said softly, “no need, I was only worried about how bad you’ll feel about the burnt food.

    I was already belly-filled knowing that she had accepted the fact that what she suspected about Amaka’s condition was false. I was in fact fed up with having to hear that name – Amaka.

    I was not convinced that she will be fine throughout the night. I struggled to let go and moved towards the door. She reached for the door – before I could – and held the handle, removing the key from the door so that I had no option than to stay back. Resting her back on the door with both hands spread open in a way that sent an invitation for a passionate hug, lips pushed away from her face in a perfectly rounded shape, making two pinked-coloured halves – one above and  the other below –  she whispered, “let me eat you up and I will be okay for the night.”

    I stood still, eyes wide open, feet lifting, thoughts waning and strength failing, while the movie reel-rolled.
    The rest is story.

    fiction

    ©eval

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