He did not speak a language I understood but still I heard him in English. It was as if I had a kind of internal translator. At this point I wondered why I did not just go to hell because this whole drama being its gate makes it look like my initial imagination of what hell would look and feel like will be totally off the mark. Zentha Lu’ Zuatha does sound like some Chinese name but this Zentha does not even look anyway human. His face appeared to fill what to me will be the skies of the gate of hell. NO MAN GOES TO HELL WITHOUT SEEING FOR ONE LAST TIME HOW HIS LIFE’S JOURNEY LED HIM MY PATH. NOW ONE AFTER ANOTHER YOU WILL SEE YOUR LIVES BEFORE YOU AND SEE WHY ZENTHA HAS NONE BUT ONE CHOICE. One after another? I was left wondering what Zentha meant when I finally saw six other people. From the way they were also looking around and at me, each of them also only just realised he or she was not Zentha’s only company. Here we have four men and three ladies. All the ladies did not look beautiful as I would be lying if I said that. They are beautiful. They probably were the ones men used as the epitome of beauty. Most ladies look beautiful but a select few help give meaning to beauty. These ones are of the top echelon of that select percentile. If this had been anywhere else I know I’d be with one or two of them tonight and the third by morning but believe me when I say that did not even cross my mind. My mind was occupied by what Zentha had just said. My life playing out in front of these folks will amount to an unending series of sex, heart breaks, abortions and all of those things that dominated my existence. How can this guy do this? Should I just plead guilty if this is some kind of court or what? Who will be the first to object? I know who won’t. I stopped being brave the moment I crossed the divide between life and death. Does it mean I will see these ladies getting screwed? If that is the price for being exposed to them it sounds like a good bargain to me. So who goes first? CHARLIZE MAROON, THIS IS YOUR LIFE AS LIVED BY YOU! As soon as Zentha said that, we found ourselves sitting in a perfectly circular room and right before our eyes was the Life of Charlize Maroon. All six of us apart from Charlize sat in a way that were you to draw a line from one person to the nearest, you would have drawn a perfect hexagon. Each of us was the vertex of a hexagon while Charlize sat in the middle.
Wherever you looked in the room you’d see Charlize’s mother kiss the young five year old Charlize good night. Two minutes after the mum left her, Charlize still thinking of how lucky she was to have her mum, heard the gun shots five times. Her mother had been shot dead but she said enough before she finally gave up the ghost. Charlize had heard enough to be a taker of lives. She was five.

My tears are flowing like the Brazilian Iguazu falls now but only within me. I felt the path of flow of my tears inside of me as pain gripped my soul. The army suddenly became one mass of fire ball as it gathered in size and intensity. It filled every space my eyes could see even as I said a prayer for the first time in a long while. Just kill me and get this over with for God’s sake. Amen!. I knew something was wrong with my prayer but I felt I had said enough for Him to hear me. Aren’t you closer to His throne when you are dead? Okay you might not know that as you have never been dead. I had a conviction my prayers had been answered when the ball of burning fire headed in my direction. I prayed for death even when I knew I was already dead but still I had an instinctive urge to run. I did not. I just stood there motionless waiting for the inevitable. This death would be the consumption of my soul and my spirit. When the ball of fire finally encircled me I burnt with fear and pain inside of me but I realised it was not the fire, it was the sound in the fire. I heard human voices wailing, shouting and crying. I heard voices but I could not understand anything they were saying. It sounded like the voices of men and women in agony wanting to be set free. I was not burnt or consumed by the fire but I was right inside it. My eyes saw nothing but the glow of fire but my spirit was disturbed by the lamentations of souls apparently burning in the fire, souls I could not see. If this was a game to kill me from within, it was working until the fire packed up and moved upward above my head. It gathered directly above me as I raised my head to look at it. It formed a circle over what looked like a sky dripping with blood as it boiled before my eyes forming bubbles of red. Suddenly, like a gathering of drops of water, it formed a calm single massive body . The mass began to take shape and I realised I was looking at the head of a man whose body appeared to be buried in the boiling blood. When I asked myself who or what this could be, I heard his voice clearly even as it sounded like the whole world was talking to me at the same time. I have never heard anything that loud and scary but they were not my only fear, I would take fear over looking at his face but I really could not die anymore as death seemed to be a baby compared to the fear I felt. He spoke a language I should not understand but my spirit heard it right and clearly…MY NAME IS ZENTHA, ZENTHA LU’ ZUATHA. THIS IS THE GATE OF HELL!!

PS: Follow me on twitter i.e. omojuwa
Any private enquiries mail japhangle@gmail.com
so, what do you think will happen next?

They disappeared just as quickly as they had appeared. I felt like I was sweating but I wasn’t. I couldn’t. I was so afraid. Very afraid . I’d rather find myself in a mass of burning sulphur than go through what my spirit feared would be a long journey to the city of torment. I looked around and all I could see was an expanse of what looked like a carefully designed landscape. No undulations, a perfect flat land. At the end of the horizon, I saw what looked like a city because there I could see light. I walked, I walked faster, I ran, I ran faster, I ran even faster but it looked like I was running away from the city. I stopped and it looked like I moved farther from the city. I did what a rational spirit would do in my situation. If running towards it takes me farther from it, running away from it would take me closer. So I took a 180 degree turn and ran as fast as I could. I ran and thought I was going to fly but I could not fly. I could not feel my weight so I knew I was faster than any man could run. I tried to ask myself if I was still sane but the thoughts disappeared as soon as they came. I stopped to see if I was making progress. I turned my head and thought I was getting closer so that encouraged me to keep running away from the city. When I turned to start a new race, I saw them again. This time they appeared to be dressed in blood. They stood there, motionless. If they did not see me the last time around, this time they all had their eyes on me. It did not feel like a million people were looking at me, it felt like one man was looking at me through a million eyes. When I looked into the eyes of one, I could see them all at the same time. I wish they could just kill me immediately because I was being tormented by the sight. I turned to run towards the city of light. It was ok to run towards the city and be farther from it as long as I was not anywhere near these soul tormentors. I ran even faster than before. I stopped to see how far from them I was. When I turned my face, I felt a burning sensation. Right before my eyes, looking into my eyes like I was going to be swallowed was this face of torment. I wanted to fall on the ground but I could not. The face held my face like some magnetic force. I turned to look elsewhere but I was seeing the same thing. I shouted but I could not hear myself except within me. I closed my eyes and that seemed to work because before I opened it again they were not any where close to me again. If I could die, I would have died a thousand times today. Today? I had no understanding of time and I knew time was not an issue here. They are coming again. Flying towards me like a million jet fighters projected to the same spot. Just as they were about to hit me, they went through me, all at the same time. I did not feel anything. They went through me at the same time but I could not understand how that number of creatures could go through me like they were one. I could see the anger in their eyes like they had not expected that they’d go through me. Now it looks like that got me into more trouble with them because all I could see on their faces was fury in the form of fire. It appears there will be a second death for me.

PS: What do you think of the story so far. Please don’t just read, find time to drop your comments and let’s enjoy the thrill together. It is more fun that way. Cheers. Japheth J Omojuwa
you can follow me on twitter @omojuwa .
cheers. I hope you are loving it.

Now my soul is alone and lonely.
My spirit trudges along this darkness of death.
A while back my body desired a glory.
Now all is lost as I lose the light of life.
I am cold yet I can’t fold.
I see nothing, yet the darkness thickens.
Alive, faith may fail, I always had hope.
Dead, hope is dead.
No future, yet I dread my final home.
Death I was told is an end but if this is it, then it’s no end.
It is real, more like a bend.
Forget the pulpit, the pastor and the preaching.
This is no place you want to be even if you die a virgin.
I entrapped myself in the maze of life,
here the pang of death bites my lifeless soul.
My Faith, my Fear and the faces I met.
My plans, my prestige and the places I went
All lost, all forgotten and dead.
As a new journey, another beginning I tread in dread
After death they say is judgement
Now I await my fate in a moment.

Here they come in their numbers, decked in black, I mean all black everything and looking extremely deathful. Their appearance like that of an army on a single mission , a mission to deliver death to their enemy. I no longer fear death, spirits do not die, so this must be a mission I do not have a part in. While it looked like they were marching towards me, they weren’t. They appeared to move with the elements because I heard no sound and they took no steps. They were like a wind in motion, only that they are in human form. They are not humans because despite the distance, I could see the coruscating glow of their eyes. Their eyes formed an uncountable number of fearful red lights as their body forms looked exactly alike. Same height, same size and I couldn’t differentiate them into male or female forms. If angels are what their fairy tales and several myths portrayed them as, then these ones are not angels. If you are dead and you are not met by angels, who meets you? But these ones do not look like demons, at least not like the ugly demons portrayed in movies and all. As if to prove me wrong, they suddenly developed wings and took flight in a perfect display of choreography. Their wings had scales and I could see arrow like tails on their back side. If I could die again, I would have died of fear hear and long before now, only I had not seen anything yet. It gets even more fearful.

follow me on twitter @omojuwa

I decided to open my eyes one last time, to see the object of my desire and death one last moment before the impact of the twin metals of death on her body. I wanted to die completely satisfied that this final act was worth it. Based on the trajectory of the bullets, I suddenly realised that only Mariah would die as the two bullets were moving in the direction of her head and her heart. The only way the bullets could hit me now is if due to the fact they were shot at close range, they’d go through Mariah and hit me, killing us both. This depends on the type of gun and the ones in the hands of this Death Messenger’s hands don’t look that sophisticated. The bullets will stop inside Mariah’s body. As the pictures continued to go through my head in slow motion, it appeared my thoughts did too. I could not decide whether to push Mariah away from the path of death or to just let fate decide for us. I thought to myself, if this man decides to kill his daughter, saving her to get myself killed will not prevent the inevitable, that is killing her eventually.
What if I push her and she finds a way to escape? I had to try as her death would not be an issue today if not for the perversion of my heart and the fact that I came into her life. With Mariah still doing the motions and very unmindful of anything else, I tried to push her but I could not because my hands went through her. My hands could not make impact with her body. This was when it dawned on me that I was no longer feeling the sensation of sex despite the fact that Mariah was doing her best to continue the oscillatory sexual movement. Granted I had a myriad of distractions, but having just decided to feel the sensation, I discovered it was not me having sex anymore, it was my body. I heard a pang in my heart and then I felt a sudden explosion in my head. What is going on? I pushed her again and yet again my hands went through her like she was not there. I refused to believe the speculations in my spirit. Are my dead? Surely not! Are my having sex with a dead body? God! Is she a spirit? A dead body! Isn’t that what happens when one dies? Living men lose the ability to touch you just as you lose the ability to touch them even when you can see or even speak with them. Suddenly my primary fear began to take hold of me. Are my a dead man? Can a dead man feel sex? As I asked myself that question, the bullets went through Mariah’s body just like my hands did, like she was not there. When the bullets went through her I immediately concluded she was dead. Dead? When? How? How else could a bullet go through you if you were not some kind of spirit? I didn’t have enough time to decide the implications of having sex with a dead woman when the bullets having gone through Mariah’s chin and belly region, hit me hard on my fore head and the other landed where it was probably proposed for, my heart.

PS: get quick updates of the diary of a perverted celibate. follow me on twitter @omojuwa

  ‘‘Baaaby, I wanna do all of the things your man won’t dooooooo, I’ll do them for you…’’. While the songs played on, my mind kept wandering like that of a nailed con artist. I kept asking myself if I had done enough since the wee hours of the day when I unlocked myself to Mariah till now when it looks all like I could finally go for the kill. I kept rubbing on her fingers and hands like I was not conscious of it, while my mouth was losing moisture faster than the Sahara desert. Like a dash of momentary insanity, I gently dropped my food tray, calmly helped Mariah drop hers and raised her hands as if to dance. When she finally got on her feet, I could see that she was altogether lost in the atmosphere. ‘‘Let’s dance baby’’, and with a voice that sounded like a weak whisper she said ‘‘what took you so long?’’. My usual tact and skill seemed to have deserted me. It must have a lot to do with the fear of death hanging around my quest to do the unthinkable. When I bent Mariah’s head over my arms in salsa-like fashion, my lips reached for hers and much like a saturated magnetic field, our opposite poles jumped into attraction. Her mouth was completely dry, much like mine. To achieve the ultimate I set out for, I had to get this move perfectly well. If I don’t kiss her long and well enough, enough to erode reality from her thoughts and translate her to a fairy tale fantasy world, that’d be the farthest I’d go with her, just the kiss. So I had to be very patient, gentle and dexterous. After about 13 minutes or so of kissing ( I counted the minutes because my mind was as much on the job at hand and my environment ),I acted like I wanted to pull away but I could feel her resistance. I felt the time had come to get my hands even busier. I needed to find her kill-spot fast if anything had to happen. While it looked like her lips won’t be far from her most-sensitive-part-of –the body list, I had more than enough experience to know that there is that spot that’ll help deprive her of the use of her natural senses to a state of unconsciousness. I decided to finally engage my hands as hers were already on my chest anyways. I reached for her breasts and pressed gently on them. She placed her hands on mine over her breast as if to say ‘‘squeeze harder ‘‘, but I did not bother. I am conducting the drama and this is my orchestra, I give the directions. I could not stop thinking of her ‘‘kill spot’’ because without that I would not be able to ask her one or two questions regarding my safety and also getting into my protective boots might be a tough call. My instincts concluded it will be one of two places, her ears, her nape, her navel or her nipples with the outside chance of her inner thighs. Of the named options, her ears were the closest to my lips as they were still very much busy with her face. By now we had kissed for some twenty minutes and we had generated more liquid than the Niagara Falls. Mariah’s pointed nose is one of the defining features of her sweet face and I kissed it like one of those ice creams I never wanted to finish when I was younger. I moved for her ears and immediately noticed a hint of hesitation which had to be an unconscious act as it was so subtle. It looks like her ears are the gate that will lead  us to that state of no return. Her hesitation is a reaction at not wanting to lose total control. It was an instinctive move. I stealthily progressed from her lips to her nose and finally to her left ear. While I was at it, I was simultaneously pressing very hard on her breasts and I heard her moan for the first time. That was a very encouraging sound and it was sweet too. Could it be because I had landed on the spot or because I pressed her harder. The only way I could find out was to relax one move for the other. I stopped pressing hard and instead sucked into her ear. From her pinna, to her lobes and I was sure my tongue was reaching into her auditory meatus. The moans were coming faster and louder now but they were beginning to scare me. I kept the ear sucking thing on as I pressed my turgidity in-between her thighs. She had to be as wet as the Atlantic ocean now and I felt we had both reached the point of no return. I withdrew a bit to look into her face and she looked down and out. ‘‘I think we are going to wake your Dad,’’ ‘‘Yeah, we will wake him and he will kill you.’’ ‘‘wow, I’d rather die trying to have you than live regretting I never tried and live a loser.’’ I quickly reached for her breasts again with my left hand, reaching for thighs with my right. Gosh, she was just so wet or should I say soaked. I will swim in this ocean knowing that any mistakes and I might be swimming to hell. It soon dawned on me that , the question had changed from whether I’d sleep with Mariah to whether I was ready to die by the gun doing so.  

PS: Chapter V is the sub-climax to this part of the book. It is for me the most engaging chapter. Please avoid reading further if you haven’t read chapter one because you just might get the wrong impressions. Explicit contents will follow here on. Thank you for reading and all of those messages. THANK YOU.

Mario says to you , Merry Christmas. I do too. Cheers .

‘‘ Mariah, I’ve got a confession to make !’’.‘‘ Mario, we are meeting for the first time and you already have a confession to make, interesting.ok then shoot ‘cause patience isn’t one of my virtues .‘‘ ‘‘ Really ? after you take my confession, I hope I will be in great position to take yours.’’ ‘‘ what do I have to confess to you? Well, let’s see, ‘‘I’m not a virgin!’’’’. She said this in a way that made her sound a bit mischievous. We both laughed a kind of what-do-you-expect kind of laughter, I was very thrilled by the ease with which she said that. For some moody, woody, thermoset girls, it will take  getting there to know whether you’d need to break in or just run on in like there never was a barrier in the first place.

‘‘My turn now… I guess-erm, during our mid night gist, I had a hard-on through out, I felt really guilty about it but some of the things we spoke about could not stop me from imagining things.’’ ‘‘ Guy, aren’t you such an interesting one, you want me to tell you I was completely wet during the same period, innit ?’’ ‘‘well yes, I was wet, but it had nothing to do with your seeming sweetness or perceived eloquence, I was wet because you were so boring I felt like in a nightmare and I could not stop sweating.’’ Is this lady ok? I asked my self. I started having snake bites in my stomach. When Mariah was saying all of that, I was transported from hopeland where hope was rich in abundance to the depths of the dungeon of hopelessness. My journey has halted before it has even started. She looked so angry and pissed off saying that. I was about starting a round of apology before she started with a chuckle, a full smile then an unrestricted laughter. ‘‘ Mario, I was wet, wet because you sounded really sweet and the peace and calm of the night only made the experience even sweeter. Again, in the spirit of sincerity I should also say I am really and absolutely dry now so we can both be cool with just gisting and getting to know ourselves even better.’’ Wow, I could almost hear my heart’s relief. This lady is an enigma of a character, a real deal. She couldn’t have been more sincere and I knew the part of her being dry was true too but that’s why I have to earn whatever I achieve with her today. That is the reason I am Mario Da Costa. I earned that name not for begging my friends to sleep with me by singing desperate songs but getting them to sleep with me in turns. ‘‘ What do you care for my hard man?.’’ ‘‘ Have you got bananas, some milkshake and yums yums?.’’ ‘‘ That won’t take me more than five minutes. I guess you will focus on the TV while I am away.’’ As she left, I tuned the TV channel to DSTV’s super sport, only to see that cerebral Arsenal manager, Arsene Wenger talking about the ‘‘ spirit and belief ‘‘ in his team. They had just won their seventh consecutive league game. As a devoted Manchester United fan, the Wenger thing did not appeal to me not least because they had beaten us at Old Trafford in that long run, so I switched to MTV early enough to see one of my favourite artistes, Corrine Bailley Rae doing her lovely track ‘‘breathless’’. Like a dash of lightening or should I say Usain Bolt, Mariah was already right behind me. I chose to be quiet. After the video, she said, ‘‘ CBR is my favourite, it is another reason I love Asa. Corrine is not really known in this climes but dear or dear she is nothing but a legend.’’ Could that be a co-incidence. ‘‘ Corrine has been one of my favourites for the past four years or so and I have followed not only her career but her life, I have autographed copies of her Grammy winning albums.’’ ‘‘ Mario, that sounds really cool. You! A Bailley fan, very cool.’’ She excused herself again as she moved to get my orders.
Even if Corrine Bailley was not a favourite, I would have lost valuable points not to say she is because I could the light on her face watching that video. She concentrated on the video like the redemption of her soul depended on it. Some four minutes later, she is back with all I asked for and more. This time around, she sat closer to me on the two seat sofa. After thanking her for her troubles, I asked her if she had any of Joe’s videos. ‘‘ Joe? I have virtually all of his videos in a collection.’’ ‘‘ I’d love to do the meals listening to him then if you don’t mind.’’ ‘‘As you like it my lord.’’

When everything finally got set as I requested, we started eating and paying a little attention on the videos. Then there was this silence between us that was louder than the sound of the TV. For me, say I am mad but that silence could only mean one thing: My host is thinking, thinking in a forgetful way, lost in the sound of the atmosphere and in the images of her thoughts. I could stake my reputation she had sex on her subconscious mind if not her conscious one. I suddenly felt an instinctive need to go for the kill. That first move is all-important and crucial. I reached for her hands and they were limb and relaxed. If you don’t know what that means, you may be too young to be reading my diary. This feels really good now but could this be a set up or is this lady there for the taking already?

PS : I appreciate all the support for these work, THE DIARY OF A PC. The mails, the one-on-one commendations and of course the ones I love most, the comments after the notes. They are the best and are always as sweet if not sweeter than the work itself. Merry Christmas. It is the last in this decade. Congratulations because not every soul that witnessed the turn of the Decade, Century, and Millennium are will be there to see the new decade. You should be thankful to God even if you feel aggrieved with him. That you can feel anything is a grace and privilege in itself. It’s been great with you guys this year. Next year the readership will get much bigger than this by God’s grace but you guys will always be the reason I write. Thank you. Thank you so very much. Cheers .

I was born the year the Evil Genius took over power from what was in itself an illegal but didactic government. The 10th of  March,1985 is the day responsible for unleashing this being , responsible for several heartbreaks ,abortions (foetal and dreams) and everything that comes with living the life of a hugely notorious Casanova. The legend of my promiscuity has been and will be told by mothers , shared by fathers (out of fear and envy) and dreaded by virgins .Still I was what every beautiful, classy and fast girl would love to go home with because they all wanted to see for themselves what their friends and my myth had told them. They probably heard I made the ladies sing high pitched, noise laden songs and yet beg for more while they groan for pain and pleasure in response to my fullness inside of them through every hole available in their bodies. I did sisters (I once dated four sisters at the same time) ,I dated friends most of whom enjoyed the sin of having to share a man with their friends especially if the said friend had been stupid enough to share my prowess between the sheets on the mattress or wherever. I’d admit I never had it going for not-so-beautiful girls , much older women and juveniles. I once read about a wannabe player who described himself as a veteran of the game  , I was more than that ,I was the game ,the typology of perversion itself. I did all of this for a long time until the age the world expected me to actually start…21 years after my birth  ,many things happened that signalled to me that : I either put a stop to the skirt ( oh and pants and of course jeans trousers) chasing dream or the chase itself would put a stop to my dream. Did I mention that I was learning to be a globally renowned actor (strictly Hollywood). The series of epiphanies got me reduced from a teenager who did sex virtually every other day to a young man who avoided it altogether . Today it’s been some 30months (78 weeks) since I last tasted the apple of lust , passion and sin. It’s been  some 13100 hours since I last travelled through the road to perdition (perdition for me because that was the path my old way was leading). In those thousands of hours ,I have had centillions of temptations from the opposite sex I never imagined them capable of . I did not know desperation had a face and a heart until I experienced the quests of not a few women just to have me get their backs on the ground and my chest on their breasts. I have been assisted by my resolution to keep off danger and the fact that once my mind’s made up , it would take something more  than just an experience I can describe in a myriad of ways to change my decision because for me there’s just no novelty with sex anyhow. I won’t go all spiritual by telling you I don’t miss some of that experience especially not having to hear the repetitive rendition of my name in a ring tone no diva  ,Beyonce ,Rihanna or even Celine Dion and the likes can render it, except they share the experience  of being lost in the thrust that brings about a certain feeling of fulfilment as they wriggle their backside to the symphonic movement of my physical demonstration of the orchestra, and I also miss the irony of ‘‘ No please’’ that always meant ‘’Yes please’’ as the shy ones try to excuse their obviously naked desire on my persistence.

The purport of this diary is not about what happened in my sex active days but what is happening now as I walk through the valley of the shadow of death ,seeing the luscious holes yet denying myself of atleast one more shot. I have always believed only neophytes share their experiences of how they slept with thousands of girls ( I mean, why share what we all know and do ),so this is about what we all don’t do and it’s why I know my diary will interest you. This is for you only and I hope I can trust you not to share its content. This is the life of a celibate , albeit a once corrupted one. My name is Mario da Costa and I am a celibate…(Chapter One ).

PS: This is purely a work of fiction. Apologies to anyone with the name or some semblance of experience as the story  . This is a fiction!.

Japheth . J . Omojuwa  (cc)

When you have been involved with something for more than a decade, something that had turned out to be a part of who you are, it will take more than an intention to take a new turn. That was the case with me and sex. A few things happened before I finally put a stop to a game that had brought me so much notoriety, influence and fun. Unlike sportsmen though, it did not bring about wealth while it had its toll on my health.

The first wind of change blew me when I met Mariah. Mariah was introduced to me by her friend during a phone conversation after a forced holiday from school. When I spoke with her she sounded really cool but I was not going to fool myself into thinking that a cool voice would translate to a noiseless face. While money had its influence in my success with the opposite sex, my strongest and most persuasive factors were my looks and most crucially my eloquence. I can speak a dead wood to life. I used the latter to full effect in my phone conversations with Mariah. For the first two days, I made the calls and I spent unusually long minutes with her. I said a couple of things that made her request to talk to me on MTN’s xtracool. She said she wanted to hear how I sounded in the dead of the night. I told her my voice would bring life to any dead night. For me the arrangement was more than extra cool, more like super sweet. After a 3 hour marathon of fun, laughter and sexy talk, she had lost every form of defence and all she wanted in her entire life was to see me and that she did that morning. Five  hours after we spoke, Mariah was standing in front of her house, resplendent in a  free-flowing gown that did everything to show the shades of her undergarments and little to show her curves. If I was a sane mind, I wouldn’t have noticed the fact that the gown she was wearing was a touch transparent but sanity is the farthest word from describing  me especially when beholding a lady that had invited me to her house smiling with all the allure of her beauty and I couldn’t help but reciprocate the smile with the regality of my own smile. When we spoke that morning, Mariah had expressed her desperation to see me and did not show any feminine decorum in making that request. In replying ,I told her coming to her house would be a risk as the sweetness of her voice alone would be enough for me to want do stuffs to her. She said that’d never happen and in her dad’s house that would be an attempt at achieving the impossible in a world of impossibility. When I stepped out from my car and saw Mariah in front of me, the aura of her presence engulfed me and something  inside of me  stood with a strength and turgidity that’d dwarf the Zuma rock in Abuja. I knew one thing without a doubt, I’d sport with this lady today, here and soon. Today na today. After the usual girlie ‘‘I thought you said you were a short dude,’’ ‘‘is this really you?,’’ and all of those tua tua that make you wonder if  they just intentionally decide to stop the use of their brains when greeting. ‘‘ Is captain at home?,’’ I asked, referring to her dad who serves in the Nigerian navy. ‘‘Yeah, he is with mumsie upstairs. They are yet to recover from their jet lag.’’ Her parents only returned from Canada a few hours before I came. There was a question I needed to ask but I wanted the answer to come in the midst of our conversation. ‘‘Someone told me every rich man  in Ikoyi has a gun, does that include banana island ?’’. ‘‘Mario, I am sure you don’t believe the ‘every’ part but you’d expect a high ranking naval officer to have one, don’t you?’’. I laughed, assuming that to mean her dad had a gun. Baaaaad news men. That was not in anyway pleasing or encouraging but with the massive increase in the danger of what I was planning to do, came the conviction that I had to do it. For me this was more than a quest for sex. Though it feels puerile now, it was a quest for bragging rights. This was all a game and the more the danger, difficulty and risk, the sweeter and better.

Mariah would not take me to her room though as she said guys were not allowed beyond the sitting room. My quest was getting clearer and more difficult by the minute : I will have sex with Mariah on our first date, in her territory, her dad’s house, in his sitting room with the convenience of  knowing the man is upstairs and with atleast a pistol as you would expect a captain in the Nigerian navy, especially one in the security team of the president of Nigeria.

The stakes even got higher. This seized to be a game the moment I caught a glimpse of Mariah’s cursory glance. It said either of two things

(a) I can’t stop you  or

(b) You can’t do it.

Whatever that glance meant, the colour of the game had just moved several notches from ‘‘win or lose’’ to ‘‘do or die’’. This had become a matter of life and death. Fate would choose for me either life or death, but as for whether or not to do some sex stuff with Mariah , that had long become a dead question. Sex is all I got on my mind and I just signed my death warrant. I closed the distance between us just when she asked me to repeat something I had intentionally not said out loud enough. Will I truly risk it all on a moment of sweet sensation (hey no pun intended with the eatery so named). The first move was made when I crossed that massive gate into Mariah’s house. Now that I am in these babies house, we had better start the process of production. On this count there is  no going back…

PS: to the uninitiated, tua tua means yarning dust. Yarning dust means talking gibberish, talking gibberish means……..

Remember :This is a work of fiction. Any individual with a semblance of the names or actions depicted in this piece should understand it is a coincidence.

Japheth J Omojuwa ©