Toxic Power

 

 

It was a Friday night and like all Friday nights in Abuja, partying was going on. The night club opposite the hotel was blasting Dorobucci and Tinuke couldn’t help nodding to the rhythm from where she lay in the room.

She reclined in bed feeling lazy, feeling rich, clad in the night robe the hotel provided. A glass of Chardonnay balanced on the bed stand beside her.

Life was good. Ordinarily she would have been out there with the others, bodies grinding on the dance floor, sweat dripping like water from their bodies as they boogeyed. In a way she missed not being where the action was happening.
On nights like these she’d be sure to meet some rich Abuja guy, a politician or some company man with pockets so large that he wouldn’t mind giving her a treat. Most times she didn’t even need to sleep with them to go home with a wad of cash; all she needed was give them her famous blowjob, the one that had made Chris call her a goddess two weeks ago and also led the Chinese man from the pool party to start stalking her.

As much as she liked the action, the teasing and the knowledge of what her body did to the men around her, she preferred being here; in the hotel room of Chief Adenuga. The man literally reeked of money and she’d followed that smell today in Transcorp. She had a keen eye for money; heck she’d been raised in money and even though her father had disinherited her because of her blatant refusal to study medicine, she’d been determined to continue her life of luxury.
She didn’t intend on living off anybody, least of all her siblings. So she had come to Abuja; the city of dreams.
She didn’t have the brains to take on something as tough as medicine but she certainly had the body and the beauty; all she had to do was flash some cleavage and thighs and the men were goners.

Whoever said women weren’t powerful hadn’t met Tinuke Afolabi.

She was studying Theatre Arts in the University of Abuja, acting was what she did best and that was something daddy didn’t want to hear.
My daughter in Nollywood? Over my dead body!

Daddy could be vehement about some things sometimes. He was stubborn, as stubborn as she was.

She had gone ahead to apply for Theatre Arts and when she’d gotten it, daddy withdrew his support, which meant he refused to pay her fees or even acknowledge she was in school.
It was Mummy who sent her some money, then Mosun her elder sister did her best too.
Still Tinuke knew it wasn’t enough, she knew the kind of life she was cut out for and it was one where she ought to live big. She wanted to go to Shoprite anytime she felt she needed new stuff, she wanted to eat out as many times as she could, she didn’t plan on living a life where she cooked with a rickety stove and got black soot all over.
That wasn’t how daddy had raised her. And even if daddy’s money was no longer keeping her comfortable, she wasn’t going to drop her standard of living for anything.

The first time she went out on a Friday night, it had been her roommate who’d persuaded her.
Have a little fun Tinu. We’ll just get some drinks and you know, dance. Rachel said.

Tinuke hadn’t needed much convincing, she was bored. So she’d gone and met an elderly man who’d promised to reward her beautifully if only she graced his legs with her glorious behind. Those had been his exact words.

Just to sit on your laps? She’d asked, intrigued.
And anything you can think of that will make me comfortable. He winked.

She spent the rest of the evening giving him a lap dance and had walked out by three a.m with fifty thousand naira cash and the man’s card.

Her eyes spun as she stared at the money. It wasn’t the magnitude of it that stunned her, it was how little she had to do to get it.
Why did women have to become prostitutes if they could make twice as much just letting a man feel you up?
Like seriously, why did they have to risk the real thing when men drooled at the mere sight of a heavy bum and full chest?

Tinu knew there was no turning back after that night, she’d seen an easy way to make some cool cash and also give her daddy a mental kick in the gut.
Money was power and then some. Daddy knew that and that was why he had cut her off when she didn’t do his bidding.
She was back in the club the next week, dressed in a red gown that left little to imagination, barely stretching below her thighs, her voluptuous ass jutting out with all provocation.
This time, the men were all over her as soon as she stepped onto the dance floor.
She knew she couldn’t be a sex worker. She couldn’t see how those women did it; having cold meaningless sex with different faceless, nameless men for a meager sum. She had class, standards; she was a woman trying to maintain her status quo of the good life and not some desperate chica.

Now look where she was three years later; a semi-graduate and a fairly wealthy woman.
She could count on both hands how many men she had actually slept with to get where she was.
Daddy had been wrong after all, she was smart. In her own way.
She had conned many-a-men out of large wads of money. Next to money, woman was power.
No, not the vagina; it was all of woman that was power.
If not how could you explain the willingness of the men to give out money for little things like blowjobs and sometimes a little bedroom ‘kinkiness’?

As her bank account swelled, she’d reduced her night club hangouts. Today she’d met Chief Adenuga at an end of year party held at Transcorp.
She’d noticed his eyes on her halfway through the party and when she had gotten close, his sleek Armani suit tugged at her money-sensor. He had a slight paunch that she decided she could forgive because of the Swatch that dangled on his wrist. Moreso he was clean-shaven in a way that made him look ten years younger than his fifty something years.

She had been at this long enough to know when words weren’t needed. Just one look, a flick of the thumb and Tinu knew he was in. By midnight Tinu was back in his hotel room.
There was something enigmatic about him that she couldn’t quite place her hands on, his eyes followed her in a way that spotted her skin with goosebumps. When she did her famous lap dance for him, he hadn’t seemed affected. He had not fawned over her like the other men did. She had gone a step further to strip to her lingerie then tease him, and still he did not seem moved.

And then he had left abruptly.
Order whatever you want, he said before leaving. It’s on me. I’ll be back.

She had only been too glad to soak in the tub and order herself Chardonnay.
Daddy’s favorite drink.

She was almost drifting to sleep when she heard the noise at the door.
He was back.

Come, he beckoned to her as she sat up in the soft bed.
He was not a man of many words, she noticed so she didn’t say anything as she moved towards him.
It was dark, she had switched off the light minutes ago.
She stood, facing him, wondering what he wanted, what she’d have to do to please him tonight.
You are a brave girl, he said. She noticed the coarseness in his voice then and felt her pulse quicken.
I like brave men, she rejoined.

Then he pulled her to him with a force she had not reckoned and began to ravish her lips with his.
Her response was quick, unplanned, like something programmed to happen. She kissed him back with equal fervor.
His hands travelled up her back to her neck and Tinu sighed in expectation, unconsciously.
This man, was good.

She leaned into him, wanting more of his cold fingers curling around her neck.

Ah, he likes kinky, she thought. A little dominatrix.

When his fingers began to squeeze, pressing against her throat, panic set in.

Her eyes widened, their lips detached.
The struggle began. Her hands clawed, fighting for freedom.
Nothing.
He was strong, his hand never loosing grip.
Please stop, she begged. No words came out.
She knew she was dying. And she thought about daddy and his money.

She was going to die like a dog with no one to witness it. No stage lights, no cheering, just the snuffing out of her life like a light bulb.
Her eyes pooled with tears as she felt her vision darken.
She had been mistaken. Neither money nor women was power; death was power because it could take everything away from you with one swoop.
It respected no one.
END

Mimi A.

Higher Bidder

Hey guys, it’s been a while. Been quite busy but hey, I missed y’all plenty. So this is a story that was written based on a picture on a friend’s blog. It’s a flash fiction and I hope you enjoy it.

If you do, don’t forget to drop those lovely comments of yours and if you don’t enjoy it, well, still drop me some comments. Would love to hear your feedback.

Gracias.

********

 

His eyes widened at the computer screen.
It couldn’t be.
He smiled, something sinister. He wanted to stand on his chair and dance a jig or something, he wanted to whoop as loud as he could and punch the air with his fist. But he didn’t. He couldn’t, after all he was still within the office premises and even though everywhere was empty, the cameras might pick his movement and suspect something.
He had just struck gold, the information on his screen was worth…what? Well, he knew his story was about to change.
What should he do about this info? Turn it in? Or sell to the highest bidder?
Mark pretended to think about it, even though he knew that beneath it all, his greed was larger than life.
It wasn’t a question of whether he should sell, it was who would be the higher bidder? NPP or APP?
Which political party was willing to grease his palms with just enough cash?
In all his years of being an investigative journalist, it dawned on him that he had made more money from the ‘investigative’ part than the actual journalism.
He had promised Izzy something sweet this year, she had been nagging him to resign his job. She said he didn’t make enough money at it. Now was the opportunity to prove her wrong. He would sell this information and maybe retire on the proceeds, for now. Then he would keep a low profile, because with what he knew, his life was worth something too.
Thankfully, he had contacts at both political parties ; one of the perks of being a journalist was that you knew people. And they knew you.
Quickly his fingers moved over the keyboard and he typed the message and sent simultaneously.
He waited, eyes skimming the pop-up on his screen. This was a freaking gold mine and naturally he was supposed to take it to his boss or take it public, do something heroic for the nation, but was the information worth anything when publicized? Would anyone thank him? Would they give him a medal or money?
He shook his head to clear it. This was the best thing to do. Maybe not the right thing but the best. For himself and his future.

He waited for the reply.
“What info?” came from his contact at NPP.
“Something you’d really like to get your hands on. Something the public shouldn’t know. Something regarding oil. Something big.”
He didn’t want to give away much and yet he wanted the info to sound juicy, he wanted to dangle it in front of them so they would bite.
“Confirm info.” the message was from APP
He frowned. These ones were usually harder to bait.
Immediately he made a decision. He took a screenshot of the information and sent. That was safe. They would not doubt him now and besides APP was the richer party, he would absolutely love to do this business with them.

He didn’t count the minutes that passed as he sat glued to his system. His hands shook with excitement, anticipation of wealth. He also did not notice the blinking light on his phone.
The last thing he heard was the rasping sound as the bullet tore through the netting and buried itself in his ear.

 

He fell face flat on the keyboard, his eyes lolled back in his head.
He did not live to see the black-clad intruder enter, pull off her mask and kiss him lightly on the temple before carting his computer away.
“You should have listened to me Mark. I’m sorry.” Izzy whispered before leaving.

Mimi. A. ©

A Sibling for Christmas.

“I forgot my wallet in church.”
“Oh no, Tolu. Not again.”
“Baby, I’m sorry.”
“Now what?”
“I have to get it. I have my ATM cards and all in it.”
“Aaaaw baby. On Christmas day of all days?”
“I  won’t be long I promise. Just get lunch ready and I’ll be back before you can blink.”
“Well, I just blinked.”
He kisses her. “I love you my precious. I’m sorry for being sloppy. I’ll be back soon.”
“Just go.” She taps his butt playfully.
She listens as the car drives off, shaking her head at her husband’s forgetful act.
Well, she thinks. I might as well make use of the time and get lunch ready.
An hour later, the table is set. Lunch is ready. The  living room is beautifully decorated  and Christmas carols filter into the air. Her husband isn’t back yet.
Now she worries, the church is only a drive away; it shouldn’t have taken him so long to go there and back in thirty minutes.
She dials his phone. It rings but he doesn’t pick. She tries again, the results are the same.
What now?
Two hours and sixteen phone calls later,  she’s now worried sick. She paces the living room, pensive.
Ten minutes later, the doorbell rings.
Ah. Finally! She rushes to the door, flings it open and gets reay to scold him. But he isn’t the one standing there.
It is a serious looking man.
At first she isn’t bothered until he opens his mouth and identifies himself.
Ten seconds later she collapses to the floor. She’s just heard the worse news of her life.
Her husband is dead. A car crash. There are no survivors.
The day is 25th December.

******************************************

The first time she set eyes on the tiny bundle, she fell hopelessly in love with her. The nursemaids could see it in her eyes.
When the woman had come in six weeks ago, she’d had a blank look in her eyes, like she’d taken enough beating from life. But today was different.
Curiosity made the nurse to ask;
“Your first child?”
She looked up, now. A sad look crossed her face and the nurse couldn’t help marvelling at the beautiful face that the woman had. “No. I lost my first baby, stillbirth.”
“I’m sorry. What about your husband?”
A pause. “He died two years ago.”
“Oh my. I’m really sorry about that ma’am.” The nurse cringed to think that she’d been right; life had sure taught this woman a hard lesson.
“In fact it’ll be exactly two years on Christmas day.” The woman continued in a shaky voice.
Silence.
“So you see, I need this baby. I’ve had so much tragedy in my life for the past two years.”
“I understand ma. When would you like to sign the adoption papers?”
“Do you work on 25th December?”
A bewildered look. “Yes, yes we do.”
“Good. I’ll like to sign the adoption papers that day.”
“B…But why?”
“I want to trick fate.” The woman kissed the baby tenderly. “I’m naming her Christmas.”
The nurse wasn’t sure she wanted to hear more. The woman was obviously troubled. Naming a child Christmas! How strange! What would her life be like with a name like that?
But of course she couldn’t ask all that. The woman obviously knew what she was doing.

A week later, the adoption papers were signed.
Christmas had a new home.

**********************************************************

“Hello ma!”
“Hello, you don’t remember me, do you?”
“Eh…I’m trying to recall where I’ve seen this face before.” The nurse squinted.
“Well, it’s been sixteen years. I don’t expect you to remember but let me ask, is it all the time you get people wanting to adopt babies on Christmas day”
“No…ah! It is you!  I remember! Well, you’ve aged quite well. And who’s the lovely lady with you?”
A smile. “This is my daughter, Christmas.”
“Oh my! You really gave her that name? Honey, how are you? You’re so beautiful! You even look a bit like your mummy!”
“Thank you ma. She’s the best in the world. And my friends call me Chrissie.”
“Chrissie. Lovely. It’s not all the time we get visits from our adoptive parents. So, how can I help you? Or did you come here to catch up on old times?”
“Hahaha. As much as I wish to Mrs Bola, we’re here for serious business.”
“Oh? Tell me.”
“We want to adopt another baby. Christmas needs a sibling.”
The nurse laughed. “You’re a funny woman ma; you and your daughter both.”
“Yes, I know. But you see, ever since Chrissie came into my life, things changed. She’s very symbolic of our Saviour Jesus to me and I know that sounds a bit blasphemous but you have to be in my shoes to know what I mean.”
Mrs Bola stared at the two women before her. She could literally feel the connection between them, she saw the look of love that passed between them and she smiled. For the first time in a long while, her heart swelled at being able to give these two people hope.
“Of course. Let’s talk. I’m sure we’ll find a baby that suits you both just fine.” As she turned to enter her office, a thought occurred to her. “Have you made your peace with fate?”
The woman grinned. It’s easy to see that she’s happy. “I’ve made my peace with God.”

The End.
Written by MIMIADEBAYO

I KNOW THIS ISN’T YOUR TYPICAL CHRISTMAS STORY BUT ALL  THE SAME MERRY CHRISTMAS AND AS WE CELEBRATE, LET’S NOT FORET THE REASON FOR THE SEASON.
CHRISTMAS COULD BE FICTION BUT THE FACT STILL REMAINS THAT A SAVIOUR WAS BORN TO SAVE US. SO, SPREAD THE LOVE AROUND.
CHEERS!