“Ginika, sweetheart, I don’t have a clue what to do here, either. This is a strange situation. I probably should have directed you to one of the other men who work for Mrs. Dami. But I’m glad I didn’t, because I’m very happy I met you.
But until we know where this is going, I’m not prepared to stop working. I have some very regular clients and I make a lot of money. I’m saving for my future. When I do decide to stop, I’ll be able to do whatever I choose with my life. I originally planned to go back to school, but now I’m not so sure. I think I would rather find some sort of business to start up, but I don’t know what yet.”
We were holding hands, feeling unsure about several things. “I don’t like the idea of going behind my mother’s back, especially when were finally getting along again after years of distance between us. But I want to have some sort of relationship with you. Do you have regular clients on Sundays?”
“No. Sundays I almost always have open if Damilare has a new client or an existing client who asks for someone different. Sometimes I don’t work on Sundays at all.”
“If I asked you to stop working Sundays, to set it aside for us, would you do that?” Her pretty eyes searched mine, hoping for my acceptance.
“I could do that. I would love to, actually. But then I would have to work on Wednesday nights. Right now, I’m off Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays. So to make up at least some of the difference, I would probably work on Wednesdays. For now, will that work for you?”
“I guess so, Kayode, but I don’t know how I’ll feel about this whole thing. I know you don’t have emotional attachments to these women, but if we get close, if things develop for us, I don’t know how I would handle this. And that doesn’t even count my mother into the equation.”
I lifted her chin so I could kiss her soft lips. “I get the feeling if things develop well if we become very close, I would have to quit my job earlier than I planned. Much earlier. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s take it one day at a time. We’ll see what happens.” I kissed her again, a deeper, sensual kiss. “Can I call you Tuesday night? Just to say hi?”
“I like that. I like YOU, Kayode. I haven’t felt like this about anyone in some time. I like to see if we have a possibility.”
“So would I, Ginika. This is going to be a challenge. I can’t say if this is going to be more than casual, not for now. But anything is possible. I’ll call you on Tuesday night. And I’ll make sure I keep my Sundays clear.”
Ginika walked with me to her front door, and before opening it, we turned to each other and kissed a few times, a few short kisses and one longer, sexy kiss. “This was a pretty great day, Ginika. I’ll talk to you Tuesday.”
“I’ll be looking forward to it. And I had a great time as well. You’re very sweet, Kayode, and very sexy.” She playfully grabbed my ass, and I jumped a little, with a smile on my face. “Good night. Talk soon.” With that, I was walking down the street and on my way home.
On the taxi, I thought about Ginika, and about whether I was ready to change my life. Too soon to say, I said to myself. Way too soon to say.
On Tuesday I called Ginika, about 8, and we had a nice chat. Friendly, no mention of Chiwendu or other of my business. She didn’t want to know, and as I’ve said, I don’t talk about the women, in any aspect. One of the things I’m paid so well for is discretion.
We talked for over an hour, nice and easy, and we confirmed plans for Sunday to meet early and start out bicycle riding in Freedom Park. We were both very physically fit and worked out regularly. I didn’t ride often, but my legs were strong from swimming and using a step machine, and you could (and still can) rent bikes at various places in the city.
After we rode, we would keep our options open.
I told Damilare I needed to keep my Sundays to myself for the time to come, and I would work on Wednesday nights instead. She didn’t ask me why; I had taken a Sunday here and there for personal reasons before.
I’m sure she suspected why I wanted to stop working Sundays, that it involved a woman. She was certainly no dummy. I’m sure men came and went in terms of working for her many times over the years. No one can do that job indefinitely. You get older, you can’t perform like you did in your 20s or 30s, your looks fade, and there are always younger men coming along.
Sooner or later, the time came to move on in life I knew I was one of her best employees over the years (she had raised my fee a year before due to how much I was in demand), no drama with her or her clients, though I was possibly about to change that.
Ginika was the daughter of one of her clients, after all. And I had the brains, and now the means, to do something else with my life. Not all do.
On Wednesday she set me up with someone new, a woman named Omotola. A matriarch of one of Nigeria’s wealthiest families, she had been widowed for several years and had never used Damilare’s service before. One of her friends recommended Damilare to her, and she had a very personal story that Damilare shared with me, so I knew what I was dealing with. It was kind of heartbreaking.
“Before you say yes to taking this job, you need to know a couple of things, Kayode” Damilare said as we sat down in her office that afternoon. “She’s older than most of our clients (the typical age range was mid-30s to 60 or so, but there were exceptions).
She’s 75 and she told me she was happily married until 4 years ago when her husband died suddenly. She told me they had a good sex life together (Damilare knew how to talk to clients and keep them from feeling embarrassed about hiring us), but when he died, she figured that part of her life was past. A few months ago, she was diagnosed with a terminal liver illness. She has time still and right now she feels good most days.
But she knows her time is coming, and she wants to enjoy sex again before she’s too sick to do so. Is that something that will bother you, Kayode? Will you be able to give her whatever she needs?” Damilare’s eyes showed real empathy. I appreciated that about her.
I’m also a very empathetic person by nature. God knows why, since I didn’t grow up in the most loving home. I must have gotten it from my grandmother, Kikelomo, whom I was close to when she was alive. She made me appreciate the charms of older women as well. “I’m sure I can, Damilare. I’m sorry she’s sick, but it sounds like she’s ok right now. I’ll treat her right. You know me.”
“I do. That’s why I want you to take care of her. You’re my best man. In three years, I’ve never had an issue with you. Never a complaint. I wish I could clone you.” We smiled at each other. I appreciated the compliment; I also thought she was trying to make me forget about the possibility of leaving. We’ll see.
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