Needless to say, I failed woefully and hopelessly to the chagrin of my mother. It was at this point that she began to discuss my options on whether I would continue to find a way to pass JAMB or pick a new direction for my life.
In my mind, I was done with JAMB, I began to consider a skill, that way, I could start a business, be my own boss and fuck whenever I wanted to.
But what skill was good enough for me, Apunanwu?
It turned out that my stepfather was going to be the solution to my mother’s problem, or so she thought. Whenever he was home, they spent at least 70 per cent of their time fucking, they were both insatiable, and I wondered how they could keep at it without worrying about me.
After I got my woeful JAMB result, the next couple of weeks were hell. My mother was livid.
“You mean after everything you still failed,” my mother screamed in our living room while dashing me slaps.
“You are 21 years old already and still failing JAMB! You will never be anything useful in your life! So what have you been doing in your coaching centre, ehn?”
I was on my knees in front of her, so I knew I was at a disadvantage. I also knew I had to answer her, or else more slaps would follow.
“Mummy, it’s not my fault o. The invigilators at our centre were telling us to pay or they will make sure we all fail. It is because I didn’t give them…”
I was still in the middle of my appeal when she interrupted me
“Shut up! Are you the only one who did not pay invigilators? Esther, that pepper seller’s daughter, that dwarf, was in your centre. Which money does she have? Do you know what she got on her JAMB? 300! I had to give her money when her mother told me. That stupid girl who has no stature.
“Do you see your life?”
I realised that my mother could not be reasoned with, so I kept quiet and allowed her to continue her tirade.
She took it to mean insolence, and she pounced on me and began to beat me again.
Thank God my stepfather came in because he rescued me from her clutches.
I escaped to my room ,both ashamed and angry.
For a couple of weeks, my mother watched me like a hawk, even employing nosy neighbours to watch and track my movement. I didn’t bother leaving the house except on errands for her, but I was miserable. She also proceeded to tell anyone who would listen how I was a complete failure who had no use.
She was so intent on completely discrediting and destroying my street credibility that she did not see how angry at her I was.
Two Saturdays later, it was my stepfather’s birthday. He came to the house to celebrate with my mum and a few of his friends.
While everyone was having fun, my mother made sure I was running around the apartment like a house girl. As I was washing plates, I was cleaning up, mopping the floor, and just continuously working.
By evening, I was exhausted.
Somehow, one of the fools in the living room began to speak of a legendary shawarma that was sold in our area. According to her, it was in the street just behind our house.
To get there, one would have to walk through the whole of our street and then through the next street to get there. On foot, it would take 10 to 15 minutes to get there, so the reasonable thing to do would be to board a bike to and fro.
But my mother, with her now constant mean streak, immediately offered them shawarma.
“Apunanwu can go and get it,” she said sweetly, while smiling at me.
I knew I had no choice, so I obliged.
“Yes ma, let me quickly shower then go,” I said, trying to get to my room.
Her loud voice stopped me in my tracks.
“Ha! There is no time for that. Collect money from Daddy and go now!”
I was stunned. Did my mother really expect me to go and buy shawarma in my housework clothes like a common maid? All I had on was a tank top, an old wrapper around my waist, and a pair of bathroom slippers on my feet.
Like a robot, I walked up to my stepfather to collect the money he gave me. He handed me N9,000 and told me to buy six at the rate of N1,500 each.
I thought he miscalculated, because when I counted everyone, including myself, we were seven in total.
“But there are seven of us,” I blurted before I could caution myself.
“And so?” My mother answered for him.
“Who told you that you are eating out of the shawarma? After failing JAMB, you want to eat shawarma? Will you get out of here!”
I was about to head to my room when she called me back again.
“What are you going inside for? Apunanwu, don’t annoy me this evening. I said you should go now,” she said, pushing me to the door.
Just before getting to the door, I turned and said “Daddy, you didn’t add bike money?”
“Are your legs not working?” My mother asked, answering on his behalf again. It was obvious she was out for me and this made me even angrier and more ashamed.
Without arguing, I opened the door to head to the shawarma point.
“Lock the door and take the key with you so that you can come in yourself again,” she yelled after me.
In the compound, I began to rack my brain on what to do. Instead of heading to the gate, I went towards the backyard where the clothesline was, hoping to find one of my clothes there. There was none.
But as they say, necessity is the mother of invention.
I knew that I could not walk through my street looking as I did. Me, Apunanwu James, never. But then, what was the alternative?
As I looked around, confused, I spotted the small gate that was at the back of the house that no one ever used. It was a tiny pedestrian gate with a rusty latch. Overgrown weeds had also taken over most of it from lack of use.
The reason no one used the gate was that you could only open it from within, and even then, it was so difficult to open or close.
As luck would have it, I was able to open it. Before I stepped out, I discreetly wedged a stone in it so it wouldn’t close completely, and I would be able to find my way back in.
As I stepped onto the street, I realised providence was with me. Our unused back gate was just beside the empty, abandoned lot that the shawarma sellers built their little kiosk on.
The street was not as busy as ours, but I saw that they had a bustling business.
They had a few chairs and benches in front of the stand outside their kiosk, where customers also queued. There were at least 20 people there and I knew I would have to wait.
But it was still amazing. A journey that should have taken 10 to 15 minutes ended with me simply stepping out of our compound in seconds. God was definitely good to me.
Another reason I was so happy was the delicious smell that wafted into my nose. I had never tasted shawarma, but based on the aroma of the ones being wrapped, I knew I would love it.
There was music playing from what looked like a Bluetooth player placed strategically on a bench. It wasn’t too loud, but it created a lively atmosphere.
I stepped closer to the stall manned by two tall, very fine-looking men. Just one glance my way and my pussy was wet. I was salivating for their shawarma, and my pussy was salivating for them.
As if they could sense my need, the one wrapping the shawarma close to me gestured to me to come closer. He pointed to his side, meaning I could come and stand beside him.
It was like he used a remote controller because I walked right up to him.
He was at least a foot taller than I, so I only came up to his shoulder.
He looked at me and said, “Fine girl, what do you want?”
“Ssshh — shawarma,” I answered, stammering. I didn’t understand why I was stammering. But his voice was so rich and deep that mine sounded like a squeak.
“How many?” he asked.
I forgot to answer. I was too busy staring at his biceps… the veins that stood out on his strong arms reminded me of a thick dick.
“Fine girl, how many?” he asked again.
“Seven,” I said in a rush.
Remembering my stepfather’s instructions, I quickly corrected myself, “No, six, sorry. Just six.”
He chuckled and said, “Don’t worry, I can give you seven if you can wait.”
“Sorry, I only brought money for six, that’s why,” I explained.
“Haba, don’t worry. A fine girl like you will get one free. Just stay beside me, okay?” he glanced at me, smiling.
I didn’t realise Nigerians could blush, but that was exactly what I did, I blushed. I also stepped closer to him just so he understood that I would stay for an extra shawarma.
While I waited, he introduced himself as Demola, and the other man as his brother, Dekunle. The shawarma stand was their joint business because after finishing at the polytechnic, they could not find jobs.
He asked if I wanted to eat my extra shawarma while I waited for my six to be ready, and I said yes. He then proceeded to quickly make me one.
While he was wrapping, his arm ‘accidentally’ brushed my nipple and my chest shot forward.
He glanced at my face when he saw my reaction, and then glanced at my shameless nipples poking their way through my top.
For the next couple of minutes, while he wrapped me a shawarma, his biceps would graze my nipple ‘accidentally’. By the time the shawarma was ready, my chest was firmly planted against his arm.
His brother, Dekunle, had become suspicious and was looking at us both. But they were definitely an effective pair because they never stopped working, even with the distraction I provided.
When Demola handed me the shawarma, he also got me a chair to sit in, and handed me a cold bottle of drink.
Because I had spent the entire day working, I was famished. It took me less than three minutes to wolf down the shawarma… it was the best thing I had ever tasted. I was so grateful for it that Demola proceeded to make an extra one to add to my order.
In a few minutes, a total of seven shawarmas were ready for me, and it was time to leave.
One part of my hunger was sated, but the other was like a slow-burning fire that would not be quenched with my nighttime masturbation.
I really wanted to show Demola my gratitude, but a new set of customers was in the queue again.
As I thanked him profusely again, he whispered in my ear.
“We close 10, 10:30. You can come and help us clear up if you’re still awake,” he said.
I didn’t agree or even respond; it was a date for me, and I was not going to miss it. I just walked away towards our back gate. When I looked back before pushing the gate open, I saw him casting furtive glances in my direction, and I smiled.
I knew this time would be different from my Baba Londoner dealings, but I also knew I would take whatever enjoyment I could get in whatever form it came.
Written by Riskysolar
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