Memoirs of A Repentant Slut 8

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It rang 6.00a.m. sharp. . . Nothing’s constant like the precision of my alarm clock waking me up when it needed to. Rising from the bed isn’t one of my favourite to do list events but staying too long on the bed could make me sick. . . Right! But staying on the bed all day long is Amaka’s most hideous hobby. She calls it ‘beauty rest’! lmao! How I wish that was really true; lazy Igbo girl!

The whole compound was silent except for the glorious sounds coming from Mama Seun and her husband’s quarters and that could only be one thing. Well, I am impressed Mama Seun could make him sound that way but I guess I make him yell!

“Really, early morning sexual fantasies?”

It was as if I was Riggan and there was a birdman voice but the difference was that I wasn’t tormented but bullied by a voice not an inch closer to Birdman’s but very much similar to Amaka’s.

“What?” I said facing her.

“Water. . . You make him yell!” she said spoiling her whole face.

“Never knew I said that out!”

“Well you did!”

“And I thought you were sleeping. . .”

“And I was until you started becoming weird. . .” she fired back with her big eyeballs rolling.

“I wasn’t fantasizing, I was just. . .”

“Devil, I bind you. Commot here abeg! Shoo!”
. . . And she literally shut me up.

“Well, I am not going.”

“Well, you will!”

I could see her aiming for under the pillow, whatever she was gonna bring, I don’t want to wait to see it, I dashed out with my phone in hand, jamming the door behind me. I could hear her hysterical laugh.

“I’m glad you fear me babe cos I wasn’t going to bring out anything under that pillow except for my hair net which I forgot to put on last night.”

“Go to hell!” I opened the door slightly and screamed back at her.

“I love you too!” she replied.

I hit the showers and that’s the only thing I love about the house apart from the kitchen. It has a ridiculous structuring; a self-contain where me and Amaka stays, more or less like a one-bedroom flat, it has a boys-quarters with five rooms at the back where Mama Seun, her husband and two kids shared a room, Mama Titi and her friend’s husband, literally, now her husband stays in another, Papa Chinyere, Mama Chinyere and Chinyere in one, Okon, Amaka’s unexplored virgin friend who I’m sure Amaka would end up deflowering one day stays in another and finally, Eliza who I think might be experiencing sexual abuse from his father with all those breasts dangling around stays in another with him. . . What a house setting I must say!

I laid in the Jacuzzi, soaked myself in bubble baths with my strawberry shower gel and my headset tightly held to my head, I hit the play button with Omawumi’s “Love Wantintin” blasting through my ear drums and it felt like heaven. Listening to her makes me soul come alive. She has this voice indescribable, I call it a designer-voice! If you hear Megbele, you’d know it’s her!

I was in this position enjoying the cool massage coming from the bath and shuffling songs between Omawumi’s “Stay Alive”, “In the Music”, “Niger Delta 1” and “Megbele” for like 45 minutes. . . Maximally satisfied, I ran a cold bath; I love a cold bath after a long-stretch of warmness. I made for the room, Amaka was very much sleeping, she doesn’t pretend but a little side talk or comment wakes her up, she comments and trips off again.

I massaged my body gently with my luscious body lotion. It’s my most expensive beauty routine item after my clothes and heels. I slipped into a jean trouser, a crop top, tied my hair in buns and I made for the sitting room. It was already fifteen minutes past 7. I plugged in my phone to the speaker and I was blasting Mocheedah’s “Destinambari” featuring the king of Alobam, Phyno with all other songs waiting in line after it. I made for the kitchen which was only separated from the sitting room by some fine carvings of wood work in a cute and sexy way.

One thing was sure, I was hyper-active this morning but guess this was the good type. The only craving I had was scrambled egg, bread and coffee. I set to it with my Beyonce shaking to every blasting song. In less than five minutes, my scrambled egg was ready and in another two minutes, my coffee was ready and I never forgot to plan for the devil’s meal with mine. . . Making the necessary cleanings, Kesha’s “First Kiss” was blasting and I couldn’t resist the sweetness but had to switch on my dancing skills. . . That song makes me feel seventeen again.

“Shoo! Na dance be that? What are you even good at sef? Sexual fantasies and scrambled eggs cos that definitely smells nice.”

“Speaking of the devil some few minutes ago, I never knew she would be up so soon.” I fired back at her making my way to sit with my portion of the breakfast.

“Na me be devil o! but I won’t forget. Big sisters let things slide. . . Anyways, the dance wasn’t that bad. You tried.”

“Thanks. . . What’s up with waking up early?” I turned to face her only to discover she was off to the kitchen.

“Have you forgotten I have an appointment today? The event planning proposal I have to deliver. You know I am not the only one hoping to be awarded the contract.”

“So what time is your presentation?”

“10am and thereafter I am coming back home to sleep my head off. It’s just an hour presentation or even less than. ”

“You eating without brushing? No wonder your teeth is off-white.” I said going to the kitchen to drop my empty plate and cup.

“You know I tried to be so intimidated but I couldn’t be. You know why? Cos you don’t need a filter for these teeth. It’s whiter than your white pant!” she said, opening wide her canine and molars. This girl is so disgusting, chai!

“And by the way, scrambled eggs and coffee is like kissing to me. You don’t remember brushing your teeth when you wake up in the morning say 4-5am and you slam your partner some crazy sloppy kisses. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do. The bathroom is waiting for you. Countdown to 10am.” I replied her.

“Lest I forget, your coffee sucks, you need to learn from the best, and I am the best, queen of coffee.

“Well, I am glad that sucked coffee fed your belly this morning and remember to tell your future husband when you feed him coffee as breakfast, lunch and dinner that you are the queen of coffee!”

“I need not do that, you can do that when you meet him for me. Crazy ass!” she said hitting me throwing splashes of water from the sink at me as she went off to the bathroom.

“Wow! Looks like someone treated herself to a wonderful bubble bath. . . and all those love songs you playing. . .”

“That was mere coincidence.” I fired back.

“Definitely!”

Then she stopped talking and all I could hear was splashes of running water. In less than five minutes, Amaka was out; the fastest ‘bather’ I ever know. The highest she ever spends in the bathroom is 5minutes 60seconds and that’s approximately six minutes. Then she came out all dress in a white no-sleeved jumpsuit with her 7 inches braids all in black tied in a bun, makeup and brows on fleek and her feet perfectly rocking a 3 inches blue heels and a neutral coloured purse, Amaka rocks into the sitting room like a queen. It wasn’t only the makeup and brows that was on fleek, the jumpsuit put the nicki minaj behind her on fleek.

“Awwww! You gorgeous darling.” I said.

“I know that.”

“You are a fool, you can just say thanks and stop feeling yourself.”

“You know I meant thank you and by the way, your Beyonce is beginning to compete with my Nicki these days, are you taking something for those kids?”

“You’re crazy!”

“So, what’s the deal with you and Jide again? You’ve always liked the guy since the days of cray-cray at the restaurant but you’ve also always turned the guy down. . . And now he’s back, one date. . . What’s the deal?” She asked sitting beside me on the sofa, facing me like she wants to lie-detect me.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” I said slightly smiling and trying to avoid her eyes.

“Okay. . . what me I sha know is that, what you are feeling for this guy is Ebola! No cure for am! Is either you date him, that’s if he still wants to or stop wasting each others time but take it is easy though.” She said like a young mother advising her teenage daughter.

“Craze dey worry you. I swear.”

“Anyways, we would talk more about this when I get back but you have my full support in whatever your heart requires and cook something before I get back.” She stood to leave.

“Well, I have a date for 4pm and I might not be at home not to talk of cooking for you.”

“Date 2? Well, that’s good. Make sure you have fun only if you remember to bring another KFC.”

“No be only KFC, na CFK!. . . But it’s not yet 10!”

TO BE CONTINUED

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