After bedding her for the third time in four weeks, Saleemah hurt your ego. She confessed that though you were much better than her husband, you were no match for her late husband – the number of ladies she had seen around you had given her a false impression of your capability. Although she said it subtly, it broke your heart. None of your many women ever passed such a verdict, but regardless, you pretended it was fine.
“Gaskiya, your late husband must have been a sex machine,” you joked and burst into laughter.
“I think his other wives will disagree; he put me in this mess, but I won’t deny him the credit of being a real man,” she added honestly.
You immediately regretted helping her out – ‘Does she think I am not a real man?’ you thought, but what she said next pained you even more.
“How about your Bhallaladeva friend?” she asked.
You knew she referred to Emeka, but you feigned ignorance.
“Bhallaladeva?” you asked indignantly – you were losing your temper.
She sensed your mood change and wore an apologetic countenance.
“I am sorry if I said something hurtful. I thought you said I could tell you anything,” Saleemah apologised, caressing your bare shoulders.
You became rueful when she reminded you of your promise to support her through the therapy.
“I’m not angry. I just dislike it when you call Emeka Bhallaladeva. He’s my guy,” you lied.
“Brother’s keeper,” she joked
“He is hot in a villainy way,” she added.
“Na you know. What do you want with Emeka?” you asked.
“Well, he has the physique of my late husband,” she said, and her voice trailed off.
“Oh! You want me to talk to him about you?” you asked awkwardly, unable to believe she felt Emeka would outdo you in bed.
Emeka was your protegé – he barely knew a thing about ladies and sex until he met you. Yet, the ignorant and spoilt witch wanted him as a replacement for you.
“But, please don’t tell him I’m a married woman. He might disagree if he knows, and I want someone you trust,” she pleaded.
“Done,” you assured her.
You kept your word but did the one thing she begged you not to; you told Emeka she was married so he could say no, but he agreed – the thought of bedding a married woman fascinated him, contrary to your expectation that it would discourage him. Thus you were left with no choice but to become the bridge adjoining the two crazy adventurers, but you were sure that Emeka would not survive her bizarre standards.
“Emeka is perfect for the task. He learns really fast. His flexibility gives him an edge over my late husband,” Saleemah deflated your surety after meeting Emeka for the second time in five weeks.
You understood you were no more relevant to her, and the thought angered you, making you green with envy.
But the worst was yet to come.
to be continued…
Do you think Saleemah’s words to Hassan were hurtful?
Would you have spoken to Emeka if you were in Hassan’s shoes?
What else do you think?
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P.S: This work is purely fictional. Any semblance to actual persons (living or late), places, or events are merely figments of the writer’s attempt at keeping in touch with reality.