Things we do for love...and a Blackberry

Part one

“Dele....Dele....Dele now”..... Reading one of the dailies Dele grudgingly directed his gaze at her. “I’ve been thinking”, then she paused like a spoilt daughter about to ask her dad for the unthinkable. “Go on” he said, Staring back at his paper hardly listening to his acquaintance. “Dele you’re not listening to me” she grumbled. “Well that’s because anytime you think it always ends up having a negative impact on my pocket!” “Aha now! That’s not true” she retorted. “Ok correct me if I’m wrong it’s one of those frivolous things again isn’t it?” “No, not at all” Jennifer fibbed. “Oh really?” With his face brightening up, “then it must be a business plan or a proposal of some sort?”

She gave him a disdainful stare “dele please don’t start”. Obviously disappointed, he slumped back into the leather sofa and resumed reading the dailies. Massaging his shoulders softly she called “Dele.......”In a dour pragmatic tone”Yeeeesss.....” he replied. I....I...I need a blackberry she finally manage to pour out. In an apologetic tone Dele wailed “whatever for? Thought I just bought you a new Sony-Erickson few weeks ago. Gesticulating she responded “you know now”. He shook his head slowly yet vehemently. “If I pretend I do, I’ll be speaking the devil’s native language!” “Status now" she said...besides all my friends have it plus my reputation is on the line as a trend setter. I’m always first to get things and now I don’t have a blackberry” she continued. With a bit of disgust he interrupted “And? What status? You’re unemployed and rightly so because you’re still studying if for over 7 years, whatever is wrong with that? Why would you want people thinking otherwise? At this rate prospective employers would assume you own a chain of restaurants”.

“Oh Dele! What has a blackberry got to do with my life history now? hen?” She blurted. “Ok, how about that Alhaji that sent you that raunchy text message the other night? He interrupted again. An explosion rocked her torso as she felt it beneath her feet and fear caused her insides to congeal. But this was not a time to fall apart. How could she have been so negligent? How could she not have deleted that message? Oh well, she’ll have to compose herself and real fast she thought. She always does she said to herself. “Which Alhaji” she queried. “Oh, you didn’t know I read your message that came in when you were taking a shower?” “I have no idea what you’re on about”. Snapping his fingers in an effort to remember something “yeeeee....what’s that bastard’s name again.... after like 10 seconds, he had a sudden jolt of memory, “Yes!” he exclaimed. Alhaji Daudu. Calm, collected and bullish she reacted, “Oh that stalker? I’ve warned him to stop sending me such messages”. “Ehen? I didn’t know stalkers get a piece of the pie as well" dele quipped. Giving Dele an obnoxious gaze she replied “What?”

Looking rather stern he warned “Don’t give me that look”. I remember reading *I can’t wait to eat up that juicy*....eemmm...what’s that vulgar word he used in that message again, staring at the ceiling with his index finger on his lips, she cut the brainstorming session short. “Dele, that was long before I met you. I’ve distanced myself from the man ever since. Obviously unconvinced he replied with a modicum of sarcasm “yeah right”.

She then walked down in her Jimmy choo heels, locked the door and gave the knob a tug to double check it was locked. Turning around she smiled seductively lifting her dark conjoined eyebrows to make a letter "v". she tossed her jacket down south and started to unbutton her blouse to unveil her cleavage. Dele, bereft of speech watched helplessly as he swallowed his saliva hard and looked on like a mesmerised Pinokio staring at a watch swinging in a hypnotist’s hands.

Anyway she started to crawl on Dele’s glass desk (something I would call “ere gele” meaning dangerous play) like a pussy cat. Now Dele had for view two pristine succulent you know what dangling across his face. “What are you waiting for?” she asked the poor hypnotized boy. Still wearing her seductive smile, she placed both her palms on his cheeks and caressed his lips with hers. Taking his hands she helped him with what felt like water in two cellophane bags. Dele turned red and needing no second invitation obliged and grabbed them and held on tight. The room was getting hot! Dele finally murmured something that sounded like “wait!” Pulling off his shirt he rummaged through his wallet for the essential ruffryders because this was going to be one hell of a rough ride. “You know my wife, very inquisitive. One lip gloss stain, one unbearable month ahead” he quipped. They soon resumed where they left off with Jennifer seating on his laps all the while. I’ll let you tell the rest of the story.

Part 2:

Jennifer flipped open her Mac for the umpteenth time, pushing her lower and upper lip back and forth to even out the lip gloss. She scrutinized her painting through the micro mirror and took a deep breath as she was finally convinced it was just as perfect as Picasso's finest pieces good enough to fool Dele’s secretary and the poor visitors at the reception. “Can I have the money now?” Adjusting his pants “how much?” he interrogated. “A hundred and twenty grand” she responded. “What!” he exclaimed. “That’ll be tomorrow then, I’ll leave the cheque with my secretary. She then walked up to him, squeezed him and kissed him on the left cheek.

“You’re the best I’ve ever had” she lied. “And you’re the best ever as well” he lied back. Heading back to his sofa she unlocked the door. “My kind regards to your mum” he uttered. “Bye!” they chorused in unison as she swung the door open. She walked down the aisle and past the reception, keeping a straight face and looking crispier than ever. She barely stopped as she ordered the secretary “Mr Johnson will like to see the next client”. A spark of malevolence gleamed in the secretary’s eyes and Jenny cat walked past offering a view of her rounded calabash like “behind”. The waiting visitors gazed lustfully and chuckled as she strutted away, her hips swaying in perfect rhythm to the bob of her braids and the swing of her arms. They seemed to have forgotten how long they had been waiting. The sprezzatura of Jennifer; effortless.