MICKEY JAY: MEMOIRS OF A LAGOS PLAYBOY (III)

July 7th, 2012.
05: 32pm.

What does is take to get an uptight woman to loosen up? It is attention and of course, good loving. That was the problem Nike had. A beautiful woman she was but her temper was legendary. Office gossip had speculated that she had been nearly married twice over the last three years but something always went wrong at the last moment, probably as a result of this super temper of hers. 

She was such a beautiful woman in her mid or late thirties and successful by all means; something that tends to intimidate most guys my age. She was smart and sexy and sophisticated. She had worked in my company for close to six years and in that short while, she had risen to the highly coveted post of supply manager in charge of West Africa. However, a new project brought our departments together and since she was very senior to me, she became my supervisor for the duration of the project.

I experienced first hand this legendary temper of hers at our first inter-departmental meeting. We’d had different ideas on how to proceed on the project at hand and she was probably used to every one deferring to her opinion. Well, definitely not this dude! The more she insisted, expecting me to give in, the more I insisted. Even when she pulled rank on me, I still refused to back down. Despicable words flew freely out of her mouth and I nearly lost my cool. One thing known about me despite my peccadilloes is that I’m good at what I do and it took my boss to make me quit my insistence. 

After that incident, we made sure we kept our distance. She had told me she didn’t like me and I simply said “likewise”. This attracted snickers from other colleagues who were still amazed at my boldness. I got not a few pats on the back for confronting her. That, however wasn’t the only victory I had earned. During our heated exchange, I noticed a lot of things about her. She actually enjoyed the fact that I’d stood up to her. Her no-nonsense facade gave way and exposed a kind of vulnerability that in a way, made me feel sorry for her. Also, I noticed that after that fateful day, she’d been secretly checking me out ever since. She’d been making clandestine investigations from colleagues about my personal life and of course, I would get feedback. Something was bound to happen soon enough.

However, “soon enough” came quicker than I expected. It was about a week after our ‘incident’. We had a presentation to make to one of our multi-million dollar client the next day which was a saturday by 10am and we’d worked late into the night. It was a few minutes after ten thirty pm. We’d gone over strategies and plans countless times and I was beginning to get quite frustrated. Our team gradually got smaller till it was just the two of us. I seized the moment and was about to bid her farewell when she mysteriously produced a bottle of Jack Daniels.

“You are not going to let a girl drink this all by herself, are you?” She asked rather jovially.

I wasn’t ready to be free with her just yet. We’d kept it strictly professional until now. A bottle of Jack Daniel wasn’t going to break the ice that easy.

“I’m sorry but I really have somewhere I need to be right now.” I replied as politely as I could.

“Come on…” she said, as she brought out two glasses and an ice pack out of the fridge. “Just have a drink with me. Let’s say its my way of apologizing for my outburst last week. You’re not still mad at me, are you?”

“Of course not.” I said

“Then please have a drink with me.”

She had filled both glasses. “Do you care for ice?”

“No, thanks. I prefer it straight.” 

I sat back on the chair in the large conference room on 16th floor of Randall Towers. She came towards me with both glasses; hers and mine. She handed me mine and sat on the table next to me and crossed her legs. She had on an above-the-knee-length skirt and her crossed legs exposed an even more generous view of her thighs. After a long, hard look at those fresh thighs of hers, I looked up at her. She was watching me with a coy smile on her lips. I took a large gulp from the glass in my hand. It burnt my throat a bit and made me wince but it felt good. My body was flooded with warmth. She sipped hers and asked,
“So where were you rushing to? The girl friend?”

“Home.”

“The girl friend?” She asked again, smiling.

“Haven’t got one.” I replied innocently.

“Really? Rumor has it that you’re quite popular with the female folk around here.”

"Like you said, 'rumour has it'." I said quietly and took a sip from my glass. She smiled and conceded.
 
“I’m glad we worked together on this project. If I had any doubts about your ability, you’ve dispelled them.” Shesaid, changing the subject.

“You certainly did have doubts but I’m glad they’ve been dispelled all the same.” I said smiling.

She laughed. She picked the bottle of Jack and asked to refill my glass. I nodded.

“So what are you plans after the project. Are you really going back to Kenya?” I asked, after she refilled her glass and mine.

“Yes. I may actually like the place.” She said.

“I’m sure you will.”

“You’ll come in early tomorrow?” She asked after some time. I nodded. 

“I’ll be so happy after the presentation tomorrow. I’ll have time to actually rest. Haven’t rested since we started this project.” She said rubbing her neck.

“And neither have I.” I added. I continued after a short while. “I told you though, everything is perfect. The numbers all add up, our stats and projections are up to date. We should give one hell of a show tomorrow. You worry too much.”

“I know.” She said. “I have nothing else to worry about so I worry about my work.” She forced a weak but empty smile. In that moment, she’d said it all about her life.
She turned her attention to this picture behind me on the wall of the room with this far away look in her eyes. I imagined the great debate going on inside her head. All those rhetorical questions women ask themselves when caught up in a delicate situation. I felt really sorry for her now. The rumors were indeed true. She was a walking time-bomb of sexual frustration and tension. She needed an outlet. We were both stressed, tense and horny and alone but she more than I. We needed to let off steam. What better place than at the office? The janitor would probably make rounds soon and I didn’t want to pass up this opportunity.

I stood up and she focused again on me, glass in hand. Her eyes were a mixture of trepidation and excitement. I moved closer to her. I took her near empty glass from her beautifully manicured hands and emptied the contents down my throat. There was this look that crept into her eyes. I couldn’t fathom it but at this stage, I was past caring. I held her slim waist and looked intensely into her eyes. My face moved closer to hers and stopped. She met me half way without hesitation, her hands going around my neck. Our lips joined in so passionate a kiss, slowly and gently at first and as emotions flared, more probing and violent. I was out of breath in a few minutes as it felt like her lips were draining out my very essence. From then on, it was a blur of lightening speed movements. Her jacket and blouse was off; my belt flew out of its belt holes; her bra unstrapped at my expert right hand while the left lifted her skirt; my trousers fell loosely to the floor as her hands probed the contents of my underwears. Her glass which I’d dropped on the table dropped with a soft thud on thick rug as we settled more comfortably on the mahogany table. My lips went for her beautiful and soft breasts which seemed to relish the attainment of freedom from the stifling bra. Her nipples were hard and swollen. She moaned with delight pulling my head closer to her chest as I worked both breasts with my lips and fingers with skill and equal attention. Through all this, she fondled my rock-hard equipment as my fingers slid from her breasts to her wet triangular pleasure place, tingling and roaming till she could take it no more. With expert skill and gentility, she guided me in and we rocked rhythmically, gently at first till we worked ourselves to a frenzy. The only sounds in the room was the quiet hum of the split unit and the creaking of the table. Suddenly, the table felt uncomfortable so I lifted her powerfully while she clung to me, struggling to rip away the buttons of my shirt. When we hit the soft rug, my shirt was off and my singlet was in all states of tears as she violently took it off me. On the rug, the rhythmic movement continued and gathered momentum once again till we peaked, making all sorts of noises that brought us to our true nature and lay beside each other exhausted and out of breath.

“Wow!” She said, after a few minutes of hard breathing and panting.

“Couldn’t have said it any better.” I said, my eyes glazed and feeling spent. There was a long and uncomfortable silence. There was no need to say anything so I just lay back and counted the rows of designs on the ceiling. Just when I imagined some form of resentment and guilt trip would creep in as is often the case in these situations, she reached out for me again. I thought I would die for I was spent but as she touched me, energy surged into my blood from nowhere and as she mounted me, I sighed in relief. The motions began again and reached a crescendo when we heard the “cling” of the elevator. Damn! It was the janitor and we’d forgotten to secure the door to the conference room. I tried to get her off me to lock the door but she wouldn’t have it.

“The janitor is here.” I whispered as she continued to ride. Her face was a mixture of bliss and satisfaction. She didn’t respond and as I made to get her attention, she covered my mouth with her right palm and continued to ride without a care in the world.
Oh well, I thought. Papa Grand was going to nab me again. Wouldn’t be the first time though. The jovial seventy year old who had been the janitor for our floor in the building was much loved by everyone for his witty story telling and he loved me much and had told me on many occasions about how I reminded him of his younger self. He was going to have a new story to tell on monday starring me…again! *sigh* 

Nike continued to ride with eyes closed, her beautiful breasts hopping as she did while I kept my eyes to the door which was open a crack. Papa Grand cautiously peeped in. I waved and he nodded and smiled knowingly and stepped out shutting the door with a silent click. Nike came long and hard and I didn’t (thanks to Papa Grand) and collapsed on me, whimpering and sucking furiously on her thumb. I held her close and we remained like that for a while before she said, “Michael, can you please take me home. I don’t think I can drive tonight.” The first time she’d ever spoken my first name.

“Of course.” I said. Without another word, she got off me and we dressed up hurriedly. It was a couple of minutes to twelve am. We passed Papa Grand on our way to the elevator who was vacuuming the corridor and I squeezed a thousand naira note into his hand. He nodded without even looking up.

On the long and silent drive back to her place, she said again, “Will you stay the night? I could fix you a nice snack.”

“I don’t know. I’d rather not push it.” I said, rather uncertainly.

She kept silent. Hmmm…I thought to myself, grinning. So I’ve tamed the iron lady that now she wants to cook for me? Ok…

What a day…what a motherfucking day!

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Follow on twitter @saymalcolm