You are going to read my story for a long time so perhaps the best way to start is to introduce myself. My father named me Oluwakemi. My mother christened me Abolore because my father returned from a short sojourn the day I was born. My father chose that his first name, Dare, should be my surname so my birth certificate read Oluwakemi Abolore Dare. I hold first and second degrees in International Relations but I do not work at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs or any of such diplomatic posts. I am the Chief Overseer at House of Malaika, a coded night club where we cater for the sexual needs of men. Before you start wondering how I got into this, I will tell you. It all started when a man old enough to be my father asked me to open my thighs for cleansing and things changed forever from that day.
I will always remember how it started vividly. It was sometimes in June of 2011. My uncle, Ladimeji Alade, had given me his business card to give to his friend. Let us just call him Dimeji Johnson. He was into real estate and being a graduate of Estate Management, my uncle felt Ladimeji was the best bet for me.
I left my father’s house in Alagomeji, Yaba as early as 7am that day so that I would meet Mr Johnson in his office very early. I wore a black skirt suit with a white camisole. My feet were decorated with a black high heel. I wanted to look corporate and I was pleased with what my mirror showed me, but it did not take long before I realised my appearance sent a wrong message to Mr Johnson who started salivating immediately I entered his modestly-furnished office.
I remember being disappointed with the look of his office. It did not speak of someone who was successful at what he was doing. It looked more like the office of a typical Lagos caretaker. But, having stayed at home for three years post second degree, I was willing to try anything.
“I’m sure you will get a job here,” Mr Johnson told me, his eyes fixed on my big boobs.
“Thank you, sir.”
“No need to thank me, I’m sure you will show me gratitude,” he said, the look on his face told me he was going to grab my breasts if I moved any closer.
I escaped his lecherous acts that day. I resumed work the following day and the Mr Johnson I met the second day was a different man. He was very professional in his ways. We went to inspect sites under construction and he never showed any sign of interest in me. I smiled each time he showed a high sense of responsibility. He was this way for the next one month and he paid my salary on time.
In my third month, he asked me to come and meet him at an address I only found out was a guest house after I got there. The receptionist directed me to his room and as I opened the door, I almost ran back because my boss was only in his briefs, his aroused penis threatening to jump out of the boxers. He quickly closed the door before I could bolt.
“Are you a small girl?” he said, chaperoning me to the bed.
I was sweating in the air-conditioned room.
“Calm down,” he pleaded.
There were a few minutes of silence during which he used his eyes to remove my top, unhook my bra and thereafter got rid of my trousers.
“Please sir let me go.”
“I’ll take care of you, Abolore. Just cooperate with me. I genuinely love you.”
“Please let me think about this. Please do not force me.”
“Do I look like a violent man?”
“Just let me go. I’ll give you my feedback.”
He actually let me go that day and he never bothered me for the next one month. My allowances were doubled and I got regular gifts. With time, I started feeling there was no harm in giving him a chance. My last boyfriend was a disappointment, I found out he was cheating with a girl that was supposed to be my best friend.
In the fourth month of my working with him, Mr Johnson invited me again to the guest house. This time, he was not in his briefs so there was no shock that prevented me from taking in the details of the room. There was a kingsize bed, a 46-inch television was mounted on the wall and there was a work station. A sofa also stood not far from the bed. The room was painted white and smelt like menthol.
“Are you ready to open your thighs for cleansing now?” He asked distracting me.
“What?”
“Come and open your thighs for cleansing.”
I smiled, understanding the imagery he was painting.
“My thighs are not dirty.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
I moved closer and we started with a light kiss, but in no time every form of clothing on our bodies flew in different directions. I screamed wow on seeing his penis. It was huge, I had never had anything like it before. As if he read the fear in my eyes, he said: “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” And he was really gentle as I did a double bounce, doggy and reverse cowgirl on his dick.
From then on, we had sex regularly, even in the office when he had dismissed every other person. Soon I missed my period.
“What will my wife say?” was what he told me the day I told him.
“I thought your wife was long gone.”
The expression on his face showed clearly he lied to get into my panties.
