Behind Closed Doors – 3

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Grabbing onto the missus’ hand and pushing it away from his crotch, Ajo backed away quickly.

“Stop, P-P-Please ma”, he pleaded with a weary smile and a stutter, as he stepped back some more. A wicked smile curved her lips, as she giggled. She leaned back against the cabinet with her arms folded akimbo, scanning his body with her flagrant and lecherous eyes. Ajo felt trapped in his mind and body; the conundrum seemed too complicated for him. Quickly his mind went back to how it had all started.

“Ajo, come and arrange my wardrobe for me”, he remembered she had called out to him in a slurred-drunken voice, on that faithless day.

He had obeyed and gone inside her room. Dutifully he had begun doing what he was asked, when she had suddenly dragged him from behind and they had both landed on her bed in a thud. She was hysteric and drunk and laughed as she unzipped his shorts. He wasn’t drunk and yet somehow he couldn’t remember trying to resist. For days he was hunted not by the action, but rather by his inaction.

He had sworn it was never to repeat itself again until two weeks later. Same place; her unclad body sprawled on the bed while his mind and body literally enacted the moral dispute insinuated in R. Kelly’s famous song line “My mind telling me No…but my body…my body…telling me yeah”.

The second was the last, but every now and then, she would make passing remarks and even slap his buttocks in playful mockery. To the other occupants of the house, there was nothing to it, but he knew better. He also avoided his uncle like a plague all through that period –a man he had once thought to be the epitome of modesty. But everybody has needs, he reckoned, and sometime a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.

He was brought back into the kitchen by a familiar sound that also caught the missus attention.

“Useless rats”, he said out loud in a bid to distract her.

“Hmm”, she returned with a quizzical stare on her face, as she looked at the store room’s door for a moment before turning to look at him.

He felt a wave of nervousness sweep through his body like a flood; and his bones felt week. His palms were sweaty as he struggled to hold firm to the broom, albeit still trying to appear composed.

She smirked and shook her head as she sinuously moved in his direction.

“Ajo…Ajo…Ajo”, she called out to him in a soft whisper like voice, moving towards him; a smirk curved across her lips.

The bound-up end of the broom pricked at his sweaty right palm, making it difficult for him to hold on to it. Realizing that he still had the mop-stick in his other hand, a wave of his obvious stupidity flooded his sense.

Why I go dey hold broom and mop together, I be LAWMA, he quipped in his thoughts.

“Why are you running away from me, ehn?”

He let go of the mop-stick.

“Abi don’t you like thi–”,

Her face suddenly turned cold; the sultry smirk erased completely. He heard a clink sound and his too went cold with a shock. He followed her eyes to the floor. And right there, lying on the kitchen floor between both of them, in its silver shine, was a key. The storeroom’s key.

by Mifa Adejumo

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  1. Oh my my. Secret yaf expose, we don see the fowl yansh. I no dey there? ? ? ? ? ?

  2. This na real gobe…… Everybody has a secret to keep… How long will this suspense last? Can’t wait to see where it leads

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