Lifestyle

OGBENI LA’S MUSINGS: ONE NIGHT STAND (CONCLUDING STORY)

The Asun nite was billed as an all night event. But for some inexplicable reasons, the show was brought to an abrupt end. The announcement was made right there as I got to the stage. Commotion of students trying to find their way out of the venue began immediately after. I struggled to make my way back to our table. I didn’t see the new development coming at all.

My eyes caught Jummy in the rabble. I pulled her to my side and led her out of the Quadrangle. I made for the car park opposite the venue while carefully boycotting our table. She followed obediently hurrying after each stride I took. In truth, few ladies would have resisted a stronger male company that night. There were just too many students trying to exit the venue at the same time. There was a general ominous feeling in the atmosphere.

The time was past 11pm. Many wanted to go home if they could, to escape sleeping uncomfortably in the College hostel. The following day would be Saturday, the last of the month. Environmental sanitation. Free movement would be restricted till 10am. It was just wiser to sleep at their homes for most students staying off campus.

Jummy hadn’t found Shabba as at when I led her over. And she actually, according to her, planned to sleep at Shabba’s just opposite the campus. Her own apartment was a little farther and out of the equation.

We sat on one of the placement in the car park opposite the Quadrangle. We were shielded from the only source of illumination in the whole vicinity by a big tree planted in the middle of the park. She kept shooting darting eyes as students scrambled away from the Quadrangle in twos and threes. Her phone battery was flat. Thrice she’d forcefully put the thing on but the device stubbornly resisted. After the third attempt, I gladly advised her to quit trying lest the battery got damaged completely.

I persuaded her to come over to where I was lodged to boost her battery. But she was reluctant. Or merely playing girly. Meanwhile Ishola has kept my phone busy since I escaped to the park. I had the key to where he was going to crash. Actually I didn’t have the key in my possession. But I was supposed to be the one who knows and got the number of who did. I’ve been trying his number without success forever. He was supposed to have dropped the key when I went to sleep almost 3 hours ago. And God forbid I disclose where I was to Ishola. I still didn’t know the kind of relationship that exists between him and the Jummy babe and then wasn’t the time to risk finding out..

All I wanted to think of was how not to go back to the Guest house alone. But Ishola’s unrelenting calls was making it uneasy to think straight and work out a road map. And the bro code meant I couldn’t place my sexual gratification priority above his comfort. I kept putting a call through to the dude with the keys Ishola needed. His phone was either switched off or the network purposely mischievous. Even the babe noticed I kept calling an unanswered line as we sat there. I didn’t feel it was cool to bother her with my predicament when in actual fact I’m yet to make any meaningful progress in luring her over to my hotel room. Just then, a flash of genius raced through my mind. I suddenly realized I could play my present quandary to my advantage.

I was still pondering the best way to execute my new burst of inspiration when she picked Shabba’s voice from nearby. She called out her name into the darkness. Time was 10 minutes before midnight. Everywhere was relatively silent and voices traveled afar without effort. My heart sank when a female voice responded. She excused herself to meet Shabba who apparently had just strolled in from about somewhere not far from us. From the placement ,I could tell Shabba was in a group of three. Two girls and a guy. I couldn’t make out what they were saying clearly but I could infer it was about where either of the duo would spend the night. Shabba insisted she was sleeping in the hostel and advised Jummy to bury the thought of going home at such wee hour. At a point, she called out to me from where they stood.

“Uncle please help me to accommodate my friend. I leave her in your care”, She yelled jovially.

Those words made me conclude I probably didn’t hear what they had discussed as much as I’d supposed. But wait, who would ever thought Shabba was an angel all this while. Her morale booster worked on Jummy to my advantage. They both strolled back to where I sat. The introduction was swift. She was the Ishola and I thingy. Tall, thick and sexy. I couldn’t make much of her face due to the poor illumination.

Past 12 am. Jummy agreed to escort me to the Guest house under the mutual pretext that I had to go and look for the person whose phone I have been calling since lest some people would not have a place to pass the night.

Jummy the friend of Shabba entered my room at past 12:00 am. I quickly made her as comfortable as I could manage. Most importantly I fulfilled the promise of getting her phone charged. Afterwards, I excused myself to attend to the urgency that brought me back to the Guest house. Like anyone with useful experience on such matters would have done, I locked her inside like a secured asset and left with the key safe in my pocket.

First,I had to call Ishola. I had left him stranded at the Quadrangle while I’d surreptitiously escaped with my prize earlier. He was already on his way to the Guest house when he received my call. He arrived three minutes later.He apparently had company; The chubby babe! It was a huge relief for me to see he won’t be spending the night idle. The moral burden of playing a fast one on him was palliated instantly.I excused him from Chubby and laid my cards bare. I had to. There are many things a one-night stand isn’t worth and one of it is ruining an old friendship.

Although we still couldn’t reach out to the dude with the key, thankfully the asshole left his own room key with the receptionist for a room service earlier before he disappeared. We decided on the room as other rooms had been occupied due to the next day 50th anniversary event. Co-incidentally, the room was the one beside mine. Whoever said God doesn’t work in mysterious ways?

It took me less than 3 hours to bring a shortie back home after relentlessness got the better of me in the Guest room. And I thought I’d lost form…

I consider it needless to bore you with the details of how it all went by the time I was through with Ishola. I met Jummy sleeping or pretending to be. I tried to apologize for coming back a bit late but got no response. I shrugged off the silence that welcomed me and went for a needless shower (the night was cold already) . I’m renowned for hatching my best plans when I’m using the toilet or bathing.

There’s something about those two activities that help me get things into perspective. As at when I emerged from the bath, the babe hadn’t moved an inch still. I was not bothered. If anything, I’d done the hardest part of the night’s task by getting her over. I climbed the bed and positioned myself as close to her as I can. I had only my boxer on now. I didn’t make the mistake of switching on the room’s light all along. You know what they say, with the proper background, a woman could do anything! I brought my Nokia torchlight to examine her. She was as dressed as she’d been all night. Not even her earring was removed. Bad omen. I peered at her eyes with the same device and was satisfied she was indeed asleep.

Well, it was near impossible to have peered at her face without bringing my gaze a little lower. Her massive jugs made a tourist center of attraction. Immediately I set my eyes on the bosom, every common sense I’d managed to put together in the bathroom evaporated. Being so close to the milk factory personified the whole essence of my lust in crazy details. Though the jugs were firmly housed in the comfort of her bra, her cleavage was transparent. She’d to be a DD cup size. What I saw was irresistible. It was a temptation I didn’t want to resist anyway.

I stretched my hand forth. It landed on her bare chest. I skillfully turned it sideways and slid it towards the thin strap that joins the cups to the bra hook. From experience, you’re closer to bliss once it is displaced from the shoulder to the side. This is achievable without fuss by deftly getting your fingers in a palm down position underneath the strap and lifting it slightly up before redirecting off the shoulder. The only alternative to “without fuss” being undoing the hook from the back or the lady helping herself out of it. A good lover must have an impeccable knowledge of the bra.

My little stunts woke her up. She didn’t adjust what I’d undone but rebuffed further attempt as I strayed towards the other shoulder. I didn’t bulge. The left cup housing a pair had slacked off from my previous effort. I could gain reasonable entry to her left bosom now. I contented myself with caressing that and was shocked to find out her protest came in a lame “please let me sleep nau, I’m feeling sleepy”. I have never felt more encouraged. In situations as this, experience suggests one pays more attention to the lady’s actions than her words.

I did not have the right words for her weak plea. Again, like any playboy worth his onions would admit, in such blip or flip scenario, it is unhelpful to pay attention to what the lady says. Her body language will tell all that’s really needed to be known. And since I wasn’t getting an absolute negative vibe, I decided to become more adventurous. I traced her jean’s zipper with my idle second hand. To my advantage the jean was a low waist. It was as low to the ‘Garden of Eden’ as any man could wish. To my dismay though, I found buttons instead of a zip. Now buttons on a lady’s jean are hardly something to be excited about. They are fucking killjoys especially when a man’s motive is to sneak in a fast finger first. In contrast, zippers respond quicker. One firm draw downward and voila!

I ran my fingers lightly over the buttons to determine how many the obstacles were. One.Two.Three. One relies more on his fingers than the eyes in a typical one-night stand. I tried unbottoning the first among the three. It didn’t come off without a mild struggle. It would be taking comedy to a farcical level if she’d given the impression of being unaware of my latest exploits. Not surprisingly, she caught my arm and lightly pushed it away from her the buttons.

“Why nau…I’m tired”, she moaned.

The words fell completely on deaf ears where they belong. One gone, two to follow.

She readjusted herself and this time I was back to square one. Her face was to the wall taking her bosom completely off my sight. My restless left hand was also no longer anywhere near her jean’s button. It was not yet uhuru.

The Abrupt End.

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