The car park was a bustling space, filled with various vehicles ranging from rickety taxis to sleek SUVs. The late afternoon sun cast elongated shadows across the dusty ground, and the air carried the faint scent of gasoline mingled with the earthy aroma of the surrounding trees.
Across the way, she glimpsed the weathered faces of Fulani nomads guiding their livestock homeward through the dusty fringes as she stepped off the bus, and was greeted by a whirl of dust swirling around her, painting the surroundings in a hazy sepia hue.
The buildings in the car park stood like faded memories against the gritty mist of the harmattan evening. Feeling a mix of curiosity and anxiety, she navigated through the haze, an active sort of stillness punctuated by distant voices and muted traffic sounds.
Drawn by the vibrant colours and lively atmosphere, she made her way to the largest building around, where Hausa vendors adorned in colourful showcased their goods out in front. Their melodious banter filled the air, adding a touch of warmth to the otherwise ethereal scene.
But amidst the lively chatter in a language she could recognize but not understand, Grace already couldn’t shake off the feeling of being a stranger in this new landscape.
Grace found a quiet spot in the park to wait, her few bags neatly arranged beside her. People were gathered in groups; some were deep in heated conversation, while others were rushing to get to their rides.
From little carts nearby, vendors sold cold beverages and snacks; their voices blended in with the odd honk of cars and the background bustle of city life.
Grace quickly texted her new employers, letting them know she had arrived safely at the parking lot, using her phone. She cast a glance around, taking in the sights, the traffic, the people walking past, the rows of cars.
Two minutes passed, and her phone buzzed with a reply. The message informed her that Abdullahi, the driver, was almost at the park to pick her up. According to the text, he would be a tall man arriving in a black BMW M5. Grace’s eyes darted around, scanning the area for any sign of a tall man or a black BMW among the waves of cars.
She stood on tiptoes occasionally, peering over the crowd, her gaze flickering from one vehicle to another. The anticipation tinged with a hint of nervousness as she awaited Abdullahi’s arrival.
As Grace scanned the bustling car park minutes later, her eyes caught a glimpse of a sleek black sports car, with the BMW logo pulling into the park. Her heart skipped a beat as she noticed the car slowing down, navigating through the rows of vehicles toward her direction. The driver seemed to notice her, but she waved anyway just to be sure the driver had seen her.
Her anticipation built within her, “oya na!” she exclaimed, psyching herself for this new part of life. Maybe her new employers were just as rich as the chief.
As the car came to a stop nearby, Grace’s gaze fixed on the driver stepping out from behind the wheel. Her breath hitched slightly at the sight of a good-looking man, dressed in a traditional Hausa jalabia that flowed gracefully around him.
Eh ehhh! Na driver be this? The man was a really tall, dark, and lean man, with a stern look to him. The long, flowing garment he wore was adorned with intricate embroidery, complementing his appearance with an air of cultural elegance. In a word, he was “fuckable”.
To her delight, he seemed to think the same of Grace, as she noticed his eyes studying her body, and a wry smile, as though impressed with what he saw.
“Eh, Grace?” He called.
“Yes o, na me.” he approached her at that, and ignoring her extended handshake, he picked up her bags and moved to place them in the car. Surprised by his action, Grace stood still until Abdullahi motioned for her to bring the last bag. She did, carrying the smaller Ghana-must-goo bag to him.
Soon they were on the road. After his rudeness, Grace had no idea how to speak to the man, maybe he wasn’t friendly after all. In her past, she had faced many sorts of people, many who had looked down on her, some had believed a maid would be of no importance, so they treated her accordingly.
What she had learned after years serving the rich and powerful, ironically, was to never gree for anybody; especially when that body was another help, and not even the chief help to boot.
“Eh Brother Abdullahi, you look like Metro too much.”
“You say?” Abdullahi didn’t get it, and neither did Grace. She had seen it while scrolling through TikTok and figured it was a way of paying compliments to beautiful men.
“I said you fine. You don de work for Oga for long?”
Abdullahi regarded the very attractive woman in front of him like he would view a dangerous snake, this woman the oga was bringing to serve as a maid was bad news to him.
“I worked for madam long before she married ‘Oga’,” he finally gave her in reply.
Grace was impressed. The driver sounded like all those boys she used to fuck with Nina; boys with rich fathers. But Grace was also street smart now, she understood many meanings from the simple answer. “Ehh, so our madam get money like that.” She assumed because she was seated in a vehicle only very wealthy people would dream of owning.
She eyed Abdullahi out of the corner of her eye, he looked comfortable in the driver’s seat.
“You don’t talk to fine girls? I sabi some guys like you, they too first proud,” Abdullahi glanced at the girl in confusion. “Sha one like only boys. Do you like boys?”
Grace did not know what had come over her. She enjoyed teasing men, but this one was personal. The fucking driver was putting on airs. Did he not realize he was in the presence of a goddess?
She resolved then to teach the man a lesson.
The man in question was having a hard time maintaining focus on the road. The vile ashawo had just questioned his masculinity! Little did she know. A maid! Abdullahi was livid.
“I was joking o. This one that you are looking like you want to eat me.”
“Eat you? Make you turn my belle.” Grace caught the insult and smiled. It looked like she was getting a rise out of him, and she wanted that.
If he thought he was slick, she would show him where his place was; kneeling at her feet, with his dick in his hand.
“Shey the house still far?” She changed topics, there would be time enough to get under his skin.
The air-conditioning was active, but she let a button open, stretching as she yawned.
“We’re close by,” he replied, glancing at her quickly as he did. “Did you enjoy your journey to Kaduna?”
“Ehn, no be say I like travel sha, but e no too bad like that. And eh, this place far o!”
Abdullahi didn’t know if she meant the distance of her trip to Kaduna, or the the Oga’s place.
“It’s like thirty-five minutes.” Abdullahi guessed she meant the distance to the house.
Grace, for the first time in months, was looking forward to working for a living in big house.
“Shey they get housemaid before?”
“Yes, but she got married and moved back to Ghana.”
“Okay, so just one. The work no plenty.” She asked
“The work is house maintenance, but the entire estate is under your care. Agnes wasn’t lazy sha,
the girl sabi work well well.”
“We go see how it goes with you,” there was scorn in his tone.
Grace sighed and resigned into her seat, she was both curious and excited about the new chapter of her life as it was unfolding.
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