To say she was stunning would be an understatement- a mere insult. This woman had me dumbstruck. She had skin the colour of honey, shiny and attractive. On her head was an elaborate hairdo whose name I didn’t bother to know.
Her musky scent tickled my nostrils and left my mouth hanging with admiration.
I could see she relished the effect she had on me. It was her body that captivated me the most; rather, her fleshy chest which she had barely covered had gotten my attention.
She was dressed in a tight red gown that scarcely kissed her knees. Oh my!
“People! Stop staring!” Femi’s voice snapped me out of my trance. “Meet my sister. Barbara Bode-Johnson.” He made a sweeping gesture towards her, a sanctimonious look on his face.
“Your…what?” I stammered. “Since when, Femi?”
“Step-sister actually.” Her voice was delightful. “Don’t be naughty Femi.”
“My popsy’s second wife’s daughter.” I could tell he was gloating. “Barbs, meet my crazy friends. That young guy over there is Jacob, and this prude chick here is Florence.”
I wanted to punch him. What sort of wiseass introduction was that?
“Nice to meet you, guys” She settled on the couch beside Femi.
“Femi, I don’t blame you. Me, prude abi? Yeye boy.” Florence glowered at him.
I shifted nervously; my uncharacteristic speechlessness in front of this lady was putting me at a disadvantage. I made eyes at Femi, communicating to him my interest in his step-sister; hoping he’d take the cue and set the ball rolling.
My good friend deliberately ignored me while laughing over something with Barbara.
“Barbara. That’s a beautiful name.” I eventually spoke. It was the ultimate cliché; the testing ground for an upcoming ‘toast’, but I didn’t care- I needed to do something to get her attention.
She didn’t even glance at me when she thanked me for my empty compliment.
I gave Flores a pleading look, begging her to come to my aid. She smiled fleetingly and rose to her feet.
“Femi, oya let’s go and get lunch ready. You promised to help with the cooking today, remember?”
I glowed with joy within me. Florence to the rescue!
“But…” Femi began.
“Now, Femi. Abi you’re not hungry? Get your butt into the kitchen now, jare.” It wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order.
I watched Femi shuffle reluctantly to his feet and I immediately took his place beside the couch.
Over the years I’d learned the number one rule of ‘chyking’ a girl; pretend like you care about more than what she looks like. Get her to talk about herself, feign interest in what she’s interested in.
From her conversation with Femi, I’d gleaned that she was into fashion, so my opening line was:
“How long have you been into fashion?”
This time she looked at me, fixing me with a bland look. “Six years.” She said.
“Interesting. My sister would also like to go into fashion. She always talks about it.” Big lie but something to nudge her into opening up more.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Ad if this is what fashionistas look like; I won’t mind having one for a sister.”
She didn’t blush or smile. She just stared at me.
“You don’t talk much, do you?”
She shrugged. I had the distinct feeling she was playing the part. Quiet my foot!
“Tell me about yourself.” I said, finally.
Normally, that line hardly worked. I was surprised when she took the bait and plunged into a diatribe. For the next one hour, I heard everything about Barbara Bode-Johnson. But mehn…she could talk ehn! All she needed was a cue. She glided from one topic to the other.
At some point I blocked her out and floated to an alternate universe. I only tuned in to the important things I felt I needed to know about her. I stored them in my archive for future reference.
The rest of the day went by uneventfully. I found myself watching her closely. Who was she really? Who was the lady behind the mask? I’d been in countless relationships and hadn’t gotten the necessary fulfilment from them, was I ready to pursue a relationship with this well made-up lady?
I have to admit she lingered in my thoughts for days, but he; that didn’t stop me from admiring the next girl that caught my fancy.
I met her exactly a week after meeting Barbara at a dinner party organized by the bank where I work.
I had come to the party alone which gave me enough opportunity to admire the pretty ladies in attendance.
The first time I spotted Sonia, it was from across the room and it was her boisterous laughter that caught my attention. She held a glass in her hand; her head thrown back while laughing in abandon.
“That’s Sonia Odeniran.” A voice spoke at my shoulder. It was a colleague of mine and he’d noticed me watching her.
“Oh?”
“She’s Chief Odeniran’s daughter.”
“Impressive.” Chief Odeniran was a major client in our bank.
“I think she just returned from overseas…I’m not sure where” My colleague continued.
I excused myself from my colleague and decided to take a position where I’ll have easy access to Sonia. I succeeded in inserting myself in their little group and joining their conversation, this also afforded me a chance to check her out up close.
While she wasn’t exactly the beauty Barbara was, she had her curves in the right places. She was plump and well-endowed with a generous amount of backside. A real Yoruba lady. I grinned inwardly.
“Hello handsome.” Her voice startled me.
“Hello.” I held out my hand. “I’m sorry I just couldn’t seem to stop staring.”
She let out a school-girl giggle. “I don’t mind. As long as you like what you see.”
I clasped her bejewelled hand in mine, marvelling at her directness.
“I do.” I made eye contact. “I’m Jacob Kojo. Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”
“Sonia Odeniran.” She smiled. “And if I may I say; I like what I see too.”
I suddenly had the feeling that somehow we’d exchanged places. Who was doing the hunting?
“So, what are you? Businessman? Investor? Client?” she went on to ask.
“Banker. Your father is one of our major clients.”
“Ooooh…banker. That sounds sexy.” She batted her eyes at me.
She was flirting with me!
“Let’s get a drink.” I said, trying to calm myself.
“You look shy. Makes you more attractive.” She tossed over her shoulder as we went in search of drinks.
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t think of a suitable reply. This was supposed to be my game. I was supposed to be in charge of situations like this, so what had happened? When had the tables turned?
“Are you okay?” She asked, after handing me a drink.
I liked her voice. Feminine yet strong.
“Sure. Why?”
“You look, well…overwhelmed. I’m sorry if I’m talking nonsense. I’m afraid my stay in the States has rubbed off on me.”
“Oh? I don’t think you’re talking nonsense at all. I love listening to you.”
She grinned at me; there was nothing coquettish about her.
“I’m doing my Masters in America. I just got back. Hey, let me have your phone.”
I obeyed. She punched the keypad a few times before handing the phone back to me.
“My number. You’ll need it.” She blew me a kiss, before walking away, her hips swaying provocatively.
I felt a rush of blood to my loins. What kind of girl is this?
That night I dreamt of swaying hips and a woman calling me ‘handsome’.
But I awoke with the name Barbara on my lips…
To be continued…
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