Tade thought back to when he’d first met her in Coolidge nightclub two years ago. He hadn’t been in party mood until the DJ went mental with his old school mix. He spotted her shortly after, dancing and mouthing the lyrics to every song…
He’d stepped up to her, mind blown because she matched his every move. Five songs later his hard-on was poking into the small of her back and she gyrated deliberately, turning to smile naughtily at him every now and again.
at some point she led him into the bathroom and it was just a thrilling blur of clashing body parts and hunger and cramped spaces and the fear of being caught and satisfaction.
For the most part, working in Customer care is:
1. Having waves of malicious mouth odour wash over you by 9.15am when you are premenstrual and nauseous and want to lie down. Oh, and you have to smile through this biological attack and wait until the source is safely out of view before dousing yourself in air freshener.
2. Realizing that you are actually just a glorified errand girl/receptionist/nanny/mummy/court jester.
Seun checked the wall clock for the umpteenth time.
This was really disturbing. She picked up her phone and dialled his number.
She was pacing around the living room now, walking off her worry. He was supposed to have come home by 7:30, 8pm at the very latest. And he usually called or sent a message on bbm just before leaving the office. Why would today be any different?
She realized she was dialling his number yet again, and was a bit freaked out to see that she’d tried calling him 17 times. No answer again. She typed him a hasty text message; NOT FUNNY, CALL ME! and decided to distract herself for about 30 more minutes, else she’d go insane with fear and worry. Abi was kidnapping now a thing in this same Abuja???! Continue reading
First of all, hi guys! You must know that I love you even though I have a rather ridiculous way of showing it. Second of all, thank you to the few people who take this blog seriously and wander over here every once in a while to look at the pretty animals or even to cuss me out for being so stingy with posts. Mwah!
Towards the end of June this year, being of troubled mind and weary body, I decided to take a trip home to draw strength from the soil in which my umbilical cord is buried, so to speak. And so I set off home. For those who don’t know, “home” for me is Jos; since it is the city of my birth and the bulk of my life adventures. The journey was a long and bumpy road trip filled with self-doubt, a stressed bladder and drowsiness. Eventually I was welcomed into the bosom of my family with no mishaps. The process of drawing strength consisted, for the most part, of me moping around my sister’s house, eating, watching TV and coercing her children into playing with me every now and again. Continue reading
Photo credit: ihdwallfree.com
The border is the thin space
Between twin beds
The visas are willing bodies
In the oven of desire
The passports are
Lusty looks exhanged
Rolled over and inspected
Pictorial representation of underwire
Let’s cut to the chase.
Bras are a huge deal for women, especially women who are a little chesty and can’t afford to go commando for fear of the ensuing awkward wobbling. Also, if you are the least bit sporty or lead an active lifestyle, those babies need to be caged, to stop them accidentally falling into someone’s soup or getting caught under your elbow when you lean over a desk…
We all know how it goes, average day at the office, droning through the chores of the day with an eye on the clock hanging on the far wall. Life is made up of similar days of drudgery and boredom from which you try to squeeze fun and laughter. You are engaged in a serious activity, explaining real grownup forms to a colleague, when you raise your arm and faaaaaacckkkk.
Your underwire has worked its way out its protective enclosure, and jabbed you right in the sensitive flesh of your underboob.