Naija Love: Episode 2 (If You Kiss Me, I Go Kiss You)

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Desire and confusion flashed in his eyes and I knew that he wasn’t intentionally taking advantage of me. He withdrew his hand reluctantly and apologized bashfully.

Cassandra I’m really sorry for that.

He didn’t seem so sorry because his eyes still lingered on my smooth thighs as my short skirt rode way up and clung to my hips. The look in his eyes was carnal and lustful, this caused my heart to start hammering again, what was wrong with me? Maybe it was because I had not had sex for so long but this sexy stranger looked ravishing. I crossed my legs and leaned back in the seat, silently exhaling through my mouth. His eyes followed my every move as he mercilessly heightened the sexual tension with his soulful eyes that shamelessly taking off my skimpy skirt stitch by stitch. I swear I’m not the overtly sexed female, infact I haven’t had some for ages. Not for lack of a partner but I have been so engrossed in my quest of gathering information about my mother that every other thing simply took a back seat. I had been celibate for almost a year.

I moved uneasily on the seat trying to stop the twitching I felt deep in my belly. His husky voice was subdued as he said.

We had better start going, it’s almost 8pm

I nodded helplessly not trusting myself to say a word. How could this guy affect me this way? He had an animal magnetism I haven’t felt before. What my friend Haley told me back in Washington when I had just started working came to my mind. “Cassie, be careful. These Naija guys are so smooth, suave and sharp, else in no time they will have you eating outta their palms. Many of them do that just to get US citizenship.”

Now I could feel the smoothness from him first hand. I shook my head lightly to clear my head, dude oozed sensuality. He drove in silence, nodding to an Eminem song drifting through the speakers. I broke the tensed silence between us in the car.

“So Muna tell me about yourself?”

He flashed his Morris Chestnut smile again. And said

“I’m your typical street kid, I’m a movie maker. I cover mostly music videos and advertisements for public relations companies.”

I liked him already so I prodded for more.

“So you are this influential music movie maker in the city?”

He laughed sexily. Okay by now I had come to realize that he wasn’t intentionally being seductive, his voice was just sexy. He said.

“I don’t know if I can be called influential, I’m what you will call a hustler. I do have my circle of influence though; it’s not beneath me to cover birthdays, weddings or events. Whatever gives me cheese.”

I was impressed.

“But you know back in the US, if you say you are a hustler? You probably sell meth or crack around or on the street.”

“I know, down here in Naija hustling means surviving. You see, I left home even before my bachelor’s degree so you can call me a self made man.”

I lowered the volume of the car stereo, our gist was getting really interesting.

“Self made man? I like that.”

He gave my arm a friendly pat.

“Cassandra can you speak pidgin”

I blushed, the way he called my name made it feel so special and mysterious. In US, my friend’s called me Cassie or Cass. I only knew few words in pidgin but I didn’t want to seem ignorant.

“Hey of course, I’m Nigerian you know.”

“Great because na pidgin me and you go dey yarn ooh. Do you need to pick anything from the mall? We are already in Garki Central area.”

I laughed heartily.

“No I’m good, just wanna go hit the showers. It had been so fun knowing you, thank you so much Muna.”

He patted my hand again.

“You are welcome, you made my evening.”

He drove into Chelsea hotel and helped me move into my room, he took charge and made sure that the facilities were all working. I looked at him suspiciously as I sank down on the sofa in the room; I blushed again and kicked off my shoes. He glanced at me.

“Babe what is it? Are you okay?”

I tried to hide my apprehension.

“Nothing, just that you are being too nice to me”

He looked at me as if I was from Mars.

“This is Nigeria; here we take care of our women. What I’m doing is what any man worth his onions here will do for any woman he likes. I know over there, ladies split bills with guys when they go on a date and are fiercely independent. Here our women let us take care of them, Naija love is different from any other. If I’m going to take you out 100 times, I will cover the bills a hundred times and it’s natural for us.”

I was blown away, this was different and old fashioned but already I was beginning to feel my feminine side peek out from behind the curtains. This guy made me feel like a woman, pampered and able to exhale.

“There must be a catch somewhere”

“No catch, don’t get me wrong. I would love to do all sorts of indecent things to you and make you moan to no end but Lady it will be at your time and no pressure so relax.”

He chuckled at the look on my face. His mention of having me moan endlessly had hit me by surprise. Again I felt the twitch and pull in my belly. I gulped.

“So you like me?”

“What do you think?”

“I can’t really think now Muna, I just want to tumble into bed. I stood up on tiptoe to give him a goodbye hug and he caught me in his arms like a starved man.
I looked up into his eyes, and again that look was there. Fierce desire and confusion, I felt a full blown hard on press on my belly and tried to push away from his embrace but he shook his head, his eyes drawing me in. his voice was like aphrodisiac.

“Cassandra, I’m really sorry that I’m this attracted to you. The last thing I want to do is frighten you away or hurt your feelings, but this Oga down here no dey hear word, it has a mind of its own.”

I searched his face for any hint of ulterior motive and saw nothing, probably like me he was a victim of our hot emotional and sexual connection. I wanted desperately for him to kiss me, to devour my lips but he hesitated and started pulling away.

OMG! Nah!! There won’t be any play of honor mister! Quickly I pulled his mouth down on mine; I saw the shock in his eyes. He was probably okay being in charge and playing by his own rules. As I kissed him, I could feel his control slipping away.

He groaned deeply and held me by the back of my head and took charge, backing me against the wall he kissed me until my eyes crossed. Then just as suddenly he broke the kiss and moved away inhaling deeply in frustration. It took seconds for me to find my bearings. What did he do that for? He said

“I’m sorry Cassandra, I… I should have more control.”

I was suddenly very weak and flopped on the bed; he came over and kissed me on my forehead. I pulled his mouth down to mine and kissed him again passionately. He held me gently by the neck and devoured my mouth hungrily and then he whispered.

“Sweet dreams dear.”

“You too”

I whispered back. He retrieved his car keys from the sofa and left. I could hear his footsteps down the stair and shivered from cold and desire. I couldn’t believe how eventful my whole day had been. Here I was in Nigeria at last and couldn’t wait to meet my mother the next day. At first my friends in the US thought I had lost my mind, coming to look for my mother after all these years.

Both my parents had gone to the United States in 1980; they both schooled in New York, my Mum dropped out to have me and according to my Dad took off before my 8th birthday. Her name was a taboo in the house and Daddy’s wife, Amanda “my evil step mother” a real estate white bitch from Cleveland claimed the mention of my Mum traumatized her.

Well I never really belonged there anyway, it was just recently that I learnt to be proud of my luscious hips, Amanda made me feel inadequate and fat throughout my teenage years in high school and college, now I’m my own person and I am ready to meet my mother. When I first told Daddy about my plans to come to Nigeria, I swear he had a psychotic breakdown. He ranted and swore darkly.

But all that was water under the bridge, my mind was made up. Here I am on the 22nd of July 2013 standing on Nigerian soil. I have done my research and I have my mother’s address, she stays in Utako in Abuja and is a sort of skin care doctor with her own beauty products.

All my mother’s pictures had disappeared from our house a long time ago and Daddy refused to talk about her, but luck smiled on me when I ran into Aunty Amara, one of our few old friends from back in the day at a child dedication ceremony of another of our Nigerian family friend. I cornered her with the intention of gleaning every little information I could from her.

“Hi Aunty Amara, how have you been? At times like this, I can’t help wishing that my Mother did not abandon me here to run to Nigeria.”

“Cassie you have never talked about your Mother before, what is going on?”

“I miss her, or who she was, I miss a mother in my life.”

“What of Amanda?”

“The witch?”

We both convulsed in laughter, it was a private joke. Amanda’s face is long and horse-like and we called her ‘the witch’. Aunty Amara became serious,

“What if Nse never abandoned you? What if she was the victim?”

My heart skipped a bit.

“Aunty what the hell are you talking about?”

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