Hey there,

My name is Obiora Mbemelu, I’m a 25 year old chartered Arbitrator, vibrant apt barrister, morbid alcoholic, passive junkie, and oh yeah least I forget my lady friends call me “a good kisser”. It is 2 am in the morning, I’m standing on the ledge of the third mainland bridge about to plunge myself into the lagoon and end my life, and what I’m about to tell you is the story of how I got to my present position.

I work in one of the prestigious law chambers in Lagos State, Pearson Hardman and Akintola incorporated. I’m the youngest junior partner in the firm and also one of the only two chartered arbitrators the firm has, but as of this afternoon PHA incorp. just lost its second and most efficient arbitrator. Well this all started when I got back from my last hearing of the day and my secretary told me our most esteemed client, Engr Dajomobi, was waiting for me in my office. After a warm embrace from the elder statesman we went straight to business. After what seemed like an eternity of blabbing from the pot-bellied arrogant mediocre, whom I sometimes refer to as a money miss road, he began to outline the names of the cheap whores he has been sleeping with since his arrival in Lagos, and all of a sudden he mentioned the name of the love of my life, Funmilola Adekunle. Now after hearing her name, I reacted as someone just resuscitated by C.P.R. I jerked back to reality and asked the Engr to repeat the last few names, and he mentioned her name again, as though it was a reflex action, I landed a punch on Engr. Dajomobi’s face.

After realizing my action, and seeing the face of this mediocre, who was on the floor at moment, I snapped back to reality and ran out of my office like I just got the full hit of the powers of ekpoma witches. Just as I ran out, the Engr followed suit, shouting “get me that boy now!” but with the car key to my Mercedes-Benz CLK 500 in my hand I ran for my dear life. On getting to my car, I clicked on the unlock door button on the key pad, and hurriedly open the car door, got in, slammed the door shut forcefully, and turned my car engine on, and put the car into gear and drove out of the office complex onto the freeway. As if it were one of those blockbuster movies you only saw in the cinema, I had two mopol vans on my tail whisking through the array of cars on Admiralty drive with their sirens on to full burst, at that moment I concluded that I was a dead man.

It was a moist summer early evening, and dusk was not so far off, and I, just there lying on a the foamy cushion by the side of the swimming pool in the new dolphin estate house my first son bought for me. I’m Mrs. Lolade Jegede, a widow, ex-custom officer, elegantly old business woman, mild alcoholic, and a passionate lover. After my husband’s passing on 10 years ago, I trained my two sons solely and taught them to be very respectable amiable young men, chasing their dreams and always praying for them to be successful, to make a significant difference in their generation as their father, my late husband, did during his time. But in time I began to feel very lonely and in need of love and tender strong touch of man, and as though God read my mind, he sent Obiora Mbemelu flying into my life as the long awaited moose and lover. Although he was the same age as my first son, God gifted this young alpha male with the wisdom of an experienced titan, knowing the right words to say fiddle with my emotions and set aflame a fire long burnt out.

Today was Friday, as usual I wanted my after work special from my one and only moose. So still laying on my back and easing into the tingly sensation I usually felt every time I picked up my phone to call my young alpha male, Lord! He was a demi-god, my own demi-god. As soon as I heard the first “buzz” when I called his number the individual between my legs began its torment, and he picked the call…..

‘Hello baby boy,’

“Lola, see I will call you back later, this isn’t the best of times to speak, I’m in a very tight corner at the moment,”

My para-military psyche kicked into play as a result of the tone in which Obi replied me,

‘Obi, what’s the problem and where are you at the moment?’

“Lola I said I will call you back, I’m not  in the best of positions to answer that question”

‘Obi! Answer me now so I can help you,’

“Okay okay, I’m currently being chased by two mopol vans on Carter Bridge, and I’m heading out towards Obalende Bus Park”

‘Okay, I need you to drive straight to the gate of bonny cantonment, I would call one of my officer friends before you get there, to guide you to safety as soon as you get there,’

“No! I can’t, it’s too risky I would….,” and the phone line went dead.

I tried to call back, but all attempts proved futile as his number was not reachable, after 20 trials. Instinctively as a mother, I got down on my knees and began a belligerent prayer even though I knew it felt wrong, but I did it anyway, and as I asked God to save the only man who’s touch sent chills down my spine, I began to worry that this prayer might never be answered.

As I drove right under the bridge, I sped past what might have been the busiest bus park in the whole of Lagos State, and took a sharp left turn and another sharp right into the Fonte oil fuel station and headed straight for the car garage where damages cars were usually being fixed, came to an immediate halt, came out of the car, asked the mechanic if they had a trampoline which I could use to cover the car. As he helped me cover the car, I hide underneath the car in a hole in the ground made for the mechanics.

And as though it was time sequentially, the mopol men drove right pass the fuel station, without an idea that I was hiding there. After hiding there for about an hour and a half I stepped out and gave the mechanic a gratuity fee of N5,000 and said my thanks as I got into my car and drove off.

to be continued………