I sat in the car, the windows all the way up and the A.C. at its highest. It was a very dry and hot afternoon. The type and time of day that made everyone scream for rain. A day that normally should suggest that there would be fewer people on the streets.
But, this is Lagos. People in this city defy every rule of conventionality. The street wasn’t entirely crowded, but it was not deserted either.
I watched as she crossed the street. She had that natural grace of a ‘hot stepper’, waltzing rather than walking. It was always a mini-pleasure to watch her…in her house, in her bath, from across the street; the little bulge already rising in between the ridge of my cotton pants attested to this.
Watching her was pleasurable. However, that was not all there was to it – that was not all at all.
She was about five-nine or five-ten, curvy and well-proportioned – not thin and not fat. She had enough flesh in all the right places and her contours were well-defined. The breasts were full and taut, not the obscene tautness that was aided by those silly contraptions girls prop their sagging kegs with. They were the right sizes and they stood firm and erect even without bras.
I knew this, because I have seen them myself.
She was dark-skinned and every inch of her skin was flawless and spotless. I knew that too, because I have seen every inch of her. She was like a craftsman’s perfect mahogany carving. Her mouth, with full sensual lips always promised more in her smile than the heart of undiscerning men could fathom.
In all, she was pretty. Her prettiness was unforced and unobtrusive, but you can’t fail to recognize and acknowledge it. The sheer power of that aura she carries with her when she waltzes around was magnetic as it was hypnotic. I have seen several men take second and third looks at her. Some men are even so undisciplined as to crane their necks backwards and watch her all the way out of view. Foolish men, those ones.
Me, I am either standing at the street corner not very far away or sitting or just strolling casually behind, watching her hips sway with that grace they have. Like those of a horse being put through her paces.
I knew what those other idiotic men didn’t know…..
She was not for them.
She was not for anyone.
She was all for herself.
I sat and watched as she crossed to the other side and proceeded to pass through the small gate that led to her three-room flat in a quiet area of Surulere.
She always got home at around the same time. In all the time I had watched her, she came alone. She cooked dinner, showered and then on some nights she went out, while on other nights she stayed home and watched all those porn films. She had loads of them, it was almost like a collector’s item.
I have been in there in her flat. I have seen them too, watched on her DVD machine while she was not there. I must admit the first time I was in there I was really scared. It felt like I was being watched and…. It is silly. I have been in there several times after that and the feeling of being watched had not been as strong as that first time.
I have also watched with her through the sitting room window while she touched herself and mimicked the moans and grunts coming from the muted TV. I have gone through her undies, smelling them and wondering to myself how they felt against the mound of her vagina. The silky little things were lucky bastards. They got that close, closer than any man had been…at least as far as I can gather.
I say that because I have not seen her with any man since I have watched her. I have also not observed her to have any lesbian or alternative sexual tendencies. She only administers to herself and that seems to mightily satisfy her needs, if only judging from the loud grunts and moans I hear from the window.
Her name is Ini Akandi. She is a graduate of Mass Communication from the University of Lagos. She was a good student and she had passed well. She works with one of the promising advertising companies in Ikeja. All these had been very easy to gather from Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Instagram, ReadMe…little bits and pieces of information here and there.
I have enough of her photos in my room, her in different poses – plenty she would not want another soul to see. She was like that. She was decent, yet not so decent. Her indecency was privately exhibited and it was contained. On the outside and to the outside world, she was a proper girl of twenty-four, who worked and paid her rents when due. Friends hardly came to look for her at home, not many female friends or colleagues and even less male friends.
That was my ninth quarry in the space of nine months since the devil took over my soul. I can hardly remember the tale of the previous eight, but I know for a fact that their story in this world has ended.
I can’t remember what I did with them in the end, but I know what I did to and with them before it ended. At first their eyes told me they were frightened, then it told me they were pleading, then all I can remember was the blankness.
I couldn’t hear them because the first thing the devil tells me to do with them is to cut out their tongues. They can’t scream and can’t talk….and the devil likes it so.
Quiet while it gets to work and takes what it wants from them. They were at the devil’s mercy once I get hold of them….
I say Quiet.
Those girls are gone. All of them almost as pretty, if not prettier, than Ini. They were girls who had satisfied the devil very much. They had only one thing in common, they were all young and lived alone. Now, they were all…
I check my clock on the dash-board, 7.43 p.m. It is dark, but it is not dark enough. It has been a long wait, but more is to come. Another two or three hours at most before it starts.
She felt all wrong. God knows she had tried to finger what could be responsible for her sense of foreboding. She wasn’t feeling unwell. She just didn’t feel right. And this feeling of “unrightness” had been growing steadily for the past few days.
As soon as she got into her apartment, she flung her handbag on the chair and removed her shoes – left leg first. She smiled inwardly, things people do unconsciously without giving it another thought. She proceeded to remove her skirt and her blouse, all these she left in a little pile by the couch in the sitting room. She padded barefoot in only her pant and bra to the toilet.
Relax…breathe slowly and relax.
It is time to move.
I silently got out of my car and approached the black gates. The bigger one is never opened as there is no one in the building who owns a car. The smaller one is also almost always left ajar, and tonight it is the case. I slip in silently and proceeded to skirt the house to the back.
It is usually quiet around the place at this time of the night, everyone having retired to their own flats and glued to their TVs, laptops, blackberry or other types of phones or in their rooms having quiet, boring sex.
Quiet and focus on the job at hand.
I move quietly to the back and scaled the short railing that mapped out Ini’s back balcony. I have observed several times that she doesn’t lock the back door until she is ready to sleep. Sometimes, she even forgets totally to lock up. It is a relatively safe neighborhood and the omission could be forgiven. I try the door handle and the door eased open silently. I slip into the kitchen and shut the door quietly behind me. I stand by the door for several quiet seconds, listening to the sound of the house and getting my eyes acquainted with the darkness.
Everything is as quiet as it should be. I couldn’t hear the TV or the sound system. That didn’t mean much though as she might have completely muted the sound. She is a closeted sex freak. She acted out all her fantasies before the TV. Why she had no boyfriend, I have no idea and really don’t care. In fact, the devil has admonished me many times over my “softness”. But, a girl with her kind of sexual imagination and libido needs a real man humping and grinding her all the time. She always seemed to need a good fuck.
Nights I have pitied her, and other nights I had almost torn down the door and given it to her till she was screaming for mercy. A fine girl like her surrounding herself with all those silly toys that will only scratch the surface of where a well-primed phallus will go.
She needed something more and today was her (un)lucky day. The devil was here.
I breathe in slowly and let out my bated breath, then I took my first steps towards my next quarry.
She heard the creak from the kitchen. It was tiny, but she’d had heard it.
Why she had heard it she didn’t know or even care. But, she’d heard it. Momentarily, her hazy mind focused and she was aware. She was aware only for a moment though, and that moment was quickly filled by fear than by any rational thinking that would have made her aware of other things around her. All that feeling of foreboding she had earlier came rushing back at her. It sucked out all the air in her lungs and made her temporarily paralyzed.
All she could think about was the noise in the kitchen and nothing else, but as soon as she thought it….
Someone was in the house.
Yes, we know. Let him come.
…her mind clamped up again and her eyes glazed over.
Her hand of its own volition reached for the remote and switched off the TV. She remained on the sofa with her panties and bra off, bathed in the semi-darkness of her living room and waited for whatever it was that was coming to get her for her sins.
I cursed under my breath; frozen in time and space as I waited to see if anything or anyone was going to move into the kitchen. I had stepped on something and that something had made an unwanted noise. I had been careful, but I must have gotten careless.
I told you to be quiet, you fool.
You will get punished for this.
The devil brooks no carelessness and I knew for sure his punishment will come. Rotten paper carton I’d stepped on was a Hollandia Yoghurt drink carton which must have fallen off the overstuffed waste basket. I looked down, making sure there were no more paper cartons of any kind to make any unwanted noise and that no movement or noise emanated from anywhere else in the house before taking the next step.
Finally, I made it to the door and paused. My breathing was coming evenly now and the throbbing in my neck and temple was the purring, rhythmic type that told me (without me even seeing) that the game was afoot.
I inch forward in my loafers, making sure my back was to the wall and my hands free to quickly grab whatever it needed for the evening’s work.
My hand pushed open the dividing door that separated the kitchen from the sitting room and immediately I felt and sensed the sweat, the smell of cum and that of fear before I even heard her.
“Please, just step forward. I am not dressed and I am not armed. I don’t know what you want, but I know what I can offer you. Please, switch on the light and come forward.”
All of a sudden, it felt like I had been poured cold water. My head was like an empty shell full of stones. I heard crackling noises that I knew not from whence they came. I felt light and heavy all at the same time. It was like I was snapping out of my mind.
The devil too seemed to have forsaken me. I couldn’t feel its strong voice, the throbbing push between my pants were gone. It seemed to have left me to my own devices as it was nothing but a limp, flaccid piece of rubber in between my legs as I stood in the cool temperature of the air-conditioned sitting room.
I didn’t know what happened first or how, but next thing I knew was that my hands had switched on the lights and I was moving towards her on the sofa. She was indeed naked, and she was indeed unarmed….
She was unarmed in the natural conventional sense….
My eyes opened wide, and continued to open as I walked towards her…unbelief stretching them beyond the points of endurance as I saw the three short, very dark imps crowded around her vagina hungrily lapping up her cum and paying me little attention.
I knew immediately I had lost my mind, because my feet kept carrying me forward till I was right before her and without hesitation I felt myself fall to the ground on my knees and join the imps in the feast.
============================== THE END =========================