When I was twenty-one, I worked at a popular restaurant in Abuja. It was quite big: it also functioned as an in-house catering facility for big companies and government agencies.
I was lucky enough to have a job there when I was working my way through university. And by lucky, I don’t really mean that the work was so nice or the pay so great, though both were fine. What I mean is that the employees were basically made up of two groups. There was the “established” (cooks, management) in their forties and fifties.
Then there were the “caterers”, which consisted of university students putting in their time. Of the latter group, I was one of two guys with the rest all female.
To sweeten the deal, the girls ranged from cute to drop-dead gorgeous. Even luckier (for me, at least), was that the other guy accidentally sliced his hand one day on the job and, for sanitation and convenience, was let go.
For the sake of clarity, I will only describe two of the girls that worked there with me. The first was Bisola. She was a class-act girl and very pretty. I would say on average among men, she would score an eight, eight and a half outta ten. She would typically turn heads when she walked into the room, but she wasn’t the type to openly flaunt her sexuality.
The other girl was Nneka. This was one of those girls that makes a man hurt with desire. I will say for looks, she easily scores a nine. But then you factor in her personality, she shoots off the scale. And by personality, I’m not trying to say she’s got the soul of an angel to go with her looks. On the contrary, she was a little devil. She had to be the most charismatic and seductive female in town. I mean, this girl just oozed sensuality in everything she did, even when she wasn’t trying. And what’s worse for all of us, is that she knew it.
Now working with these beauties was a real treat for me. Naturally, when I first met Nneka, it was lust at first sight. I also realized very quickly that she was out of my league. Shortly thereafter I realized that a man would have to be mad to go with her as she would surely manipulate the best of them to be shit in her hands. Was I friends with her? Sure. Did we flirt from time to time? Yeah. But I never tried anything with her and she returned the favour.
Meanwhile, I did enter into a relationship with Bisola. We tried to keep it low-key as we didn’t want any gossip from our co-workers. Eventually, everybody found out about it, but it wasn’t a big deal because we kept the affection out of the workplace. This, however, is when the trouble started brewing.
See, once Nneka found out I was seeing somebody, my worth increased in her eyes. Now I was something worthy of being conquered. When I was single, I was no big deal. When I was with another girl? (And such a good-looking girl at that?) Well then, that sounded like fun to Nneka. Here was a girl who liked to break men just because she could. I don’t think she was really out to hurt anybody per se, but she was definitely just thinking about her own vanity and pleasure.
So as time goes on, she starts to turn up the heat with me. She flirts with me a lot more, brushes up against me, always finds excuses to be working on something with or near me. At first, I don’t really make anything of it. I’m just a man, right? I enjoy the attention. But I was naïve enough to think it was no big deal.
My girlfriend Bisola obviously saw things differently. She saw Nneka moving in on her territory and hated it with a passion. She knew Nneka was a heartless seductress. She knew Nneka could seduce a dead man to life. So she communicated to me in so many words that she would appreciate it if I didn’t let Nneka flirt her way around me. I of course tried to joke it off and assure her she was just being paranoid.
I never made a move for her before, why would I now when I have you? This put her at ease somewhat, but we both knew deep down she was still uncomfortable with the situation.
That was the state of affairs for a while. Nneka would flirt her best with me; not too over-the-top but enough to flatter and stimulate me. Bisola would notice and hate it. I would try to play down Nneka’s advances and show extra interest to Bisola (especially in front of Nneka) to establish that I was a taken man. This, however, proved to be a difficult exercise as Nneka did not give up, and Bisola became colder to me at work to show her displeasure.
I have to admit that, although up to this point I had fantasized about Nneka as much as any guy would during my “alone” time, I was otherwise still in control of my wandering thoughts. Now, however, I started thinking about her more. The worst part was after work, when out with my girlfriend, she would bring up the topic. “God, I wish Nneka would just stay away from you.
She thinks she’s so sexy, flirting with every guy just because she can.” Under normal circumstances I would agree in both word and heart with her, thinking that that type of girl was disgusting. But now, even at the mention of Nneka’s name (and especially when Bisola said it), I could feel my cock jump and the blood burn in my face.
This was particularly bad at times. Bisola, in her jealousy, would rant,
“Damn, I wish I looked more like Nneka! She’s got that sexy body with big breasts that every guy salivate over.”
Well, yeah, she was telling the truth. As I said, Bisola’s body was great; but so was Nneka’s. And hearing her remind me of how fantastic it was, did not help the situation. Although I would try to say,
“Settle down, you’re blowing things out of proportion. I see guys ogling you all the time…” It didn’t always work, and I would often betray a sheepish smile at the mention of Nneka’s sexy body. Then she would blurt out,
“See! I knew you think she’s sexy! Why don’t you go fuck her if that’s all you think about!” and then the night would be ruined as it devolved into a hopeless fight.
Her envy for Nneka only served to worsen the situation. As they say, we want what we can’t have. Well, I already couldn’t have Nneka, and now I couldn’t have her “worse”. She became my girlfriend’s rival, which only added to her forbidden allure. Bisola’s insecurity and constant bitching about Nneka was having the opposite effect of making her seem even more attractive.
Still, through all this, Bisola and I did have a good relationship. Besides the “Nneka” issue, we got along famously and were a great couple. It is for this reason that we both put up with the growing tension between us. It is also for this reason that I continued to decline Nneka’s advances (along with the reason that, by this point, I knew she was just trying to conquer me for sport).
I thought I was doing pretty well, all things considered. But one day, things took a turn. I had gone without sex, going on two weeks, due to the back-to-back disasters of Bisola’s period and a follow-up cold. Now I realize this is not that long, but I would like to remind you that I was a twenty-one-year-old guy, getting it on a regular basis, and working in an environment that was “sexually charged” to say the least. This in itself was not a disaster, but what happened next was.
I had to bring a huge crate of extra dishes down to the storeroom. This was a room down a long hall and locked at all times (this detail is important). I was also told that I needed to bring back a few boxes of extra cutlery. Carrying the crate in both hands, I backed out through the doorway and into the hall to fulfil the order. At the last minute, Nneka chimed in that she would come with me and help bring back the cutlery.
My heart both jumped in my throat in joy and sunk in despair. This was the duality of my dealings with Nneka. Part of me craved her attention and affection. The other part of me feared it immensely. Lately, it was even worse, due to the aforementioned lack of sex. And what would a seductress be if she didn’t have a sixth sense to notice that kind of thing? You can bet your last kobo she turned up the heat on her overtures.
So we’re walking down the hall, me carrying this huge crate and her walking along in front and beside me. She does that half-backwards walk that lets her face me as we go down the hall, forcing me to look at her. I know she’s doing this so I check her out, and I know she’s moving in that subtle way that is sexy but not flat-out pornographic. I’ve seen this a lot and I can handle it, although I admit I was getting hard.
Then she cheats. She breathes, ” It is hot today!” and grabs the bottom of her shirt. She pulls it up and wipes her forehead with it, revealing her long, flat stomach and most of her wonderful breasts, resting perfectly in a little bra. She makes sure I got a good, long look before she pulls it back down. I realize I’m still staring and shake my head away. My face showed embarrassment and I don’t say anything.
“You look sweaty too!” she smiles.
We get to the storeroom (the journey seemed to take forever). As I am still holding the crate, I give a glance to her and to the door, silently asking her to unlock and open it. She checks her pockets and gives me a bullshit astonished look, “Oops! I forgot my key. Do you have yours?”
I roll my eyes, “Yeah, in my pocket,” and I start to move to put the crate down.
“Don’t stress yourself, I’ll get it!”
I honestly did not intend for that to happen.