50 Shades of Afam: Bottom like a Watermelon

 Last Weeks Offering: 50 Shades of Afam: The Intro

I look at Kasali with a little bit of a smirk, and shrug. It pleases me to see him completely subdued. She holds her office door open and motions for me to come in. As I make my way towards the open door I could feel her eyes on me. It isn't uncomfortable per say. I'm just not used to such intense open scrutiny.

She closes the door and runs a hand through her hair. She only succeeds in making it more tangled, but it suits her. I start to speak but she beats me to it. "Sit" she barks with an authoritative air. I feel my muscles comply without my brain telling them to do anything. It's like she's got a direct hotline to my central nervous system. "Control yourself! Afam" I sit on one of the abstract white chairs that face her large hard stiff wooden mahogany table. The chair's so abstract that it hardly resembles a chair. It feels like I'm sitting on art. The chair brings my eyes level with the curve of her bottom. I'm completely mesmerized by it. It's not that it's big... No it couldn't be larger than a size 4 (I worked for a tailor for a while so I am quite familiar with sizes.) It's just so shapely, like half a watermelon.

She takes perfect strides to her desk, and I snap my head up. It won't do for her to catch me. Maybe she already has. She's got a smug look about her. "So, you've got questions for me?" Her accent is crisp, sweet, like a candy cane. I know immediately that she like Ade has been to school abroad. Her voice itself is a husky alto. I blush again. I need to control myself.

"Yes, let me get my sheet out" I say while fumbling through my bag.

"I haven't got all day."

"I'm sorry is it okay if I record our conversation." I ask pulling out the dictaphone.

She flicks her wrist like a Victorian noble in acquiescence, then she leans across the table and grabs the glass in the corner, displaying that unbelievable figure. I rub my mouth with my arm to catch any drops of saliva that accumulate from my drooling.

"Aren't you a little young to be running a school?"

"No, I don't think so. I provide a vital service for my boys. It's a unique service. That's qualification enough."

"So what gave you the idea?"

She pours herself some Brandy and downs it.


I look at her, completely puzzled and she returns the look albeit with an amused expression.

" Daywaterman was the first of it's kind. At first I was impressed that it had a market, then I realized that it hadn't gone far enough. Instead of hot chocolate machines why not hot chocolate specialists? We provide the most comfortable school experience in the world. "

"But is this necessary?"

"We have a waiting list as long as our driveway! If society deems us necessary then we are. If we weren't you wouldn't be in my office."

She reaches into her desk and pulls out a bottle of ground nuts.

"Would you like some?" She asks while pouring a small amount into a bowl.
I gulp and blush, "No. I'm fine thanks."

"How do you choose your students?"

"I interview them all, personally"

She looks at me with hooded eyes and my breath catches in my throat. I blush again.

She's breaking all my preconceived notions of womanhood. I'd thought that a 26 year old woman especially one as foine as her would be married and knocked up. So many dudes must want to lock that shit up! My next question isn't one on the list.

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"No. I don't see men."

"Are you... Are you gay?"

I'm careful to say gay, not a gay. Ade has told me that this is very bad grammar.

She looks at me with a surprised expression.

I blush and shiver in my seat. I can't believe I asked that. It doesn't matter. There's no way she'd be interested in me. It took me a while to notice the modus operandi of Nigerian girls. If you
A. Have no money.
B. Have no accent.
C. Drive your father's Peugeot 504.
D. Say Tin Dem Dos instead of things, them and those
E. Have a surname like Odiachi
F. Have no connections
G. Do not understand the distance between peruvian and yaki hair

Then you won't find it very easy.

On second thought B, D, E and G can be overlooked if A and F do not apply. However E will always be an insurmountable barrier when the candidate is Yoruba. I don't really need to worry about any of that. I'm sure that Mama Afam is vetting some girls in the village as I speak. But what if I don't want a village girl?

"So what do you mean by you don't see men?"

"You'll know soon enough."

"Tell me about your family. How did you grow up?"

I want to know her. Sod the bloody interview.

"Did you do any background work on this? Surely you should already know the answers to that one."

"Sorry. I didn't have any time to prepare."

She pushes a button on her table and shrieks, "KASALI!!" We hear a bump and a muffled yell. Kasali must have been a little over enthusiastic about answering her call. I smile at his clumsiness. Kasali walks into the office and hands me a package.

"That's everything you need to write a decent expose Mr Afam." She barks while getting up.

I reach for my dictaphone and she bats it aside.

"That thing, however is staying."

"You really like to be in control don't you?"

She looks me straight in the eyes and whispers huskily "Yes."

I turn and walk out. I can feel her gaze penetrating me. I blush yet again. I think I might pay a visit to general hospital. I haven't blushed this much since I told a girl in secondary school that she was as sweet as fried meat.


bobby ezidi said...

As sweet as fried meat, hw did that go for u?

Afam said...

It didn't go very well. I didn't know that comparing a girl to fried meat was a bad thing. I was heavily influenced by a story I read as a child, "Walter and Salt"

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