THE VILLAGE GIRL EPISODE 1

THE VILLAGE GIRL EPISODE 1

He touched her and she recoiled, bending
slightly, folding her hands while a bashful
smile drifted down her face.
He was amused, again, at the awkward
show of whatever it was village girls felt
when approached by a fine Lagos boy.
He was fine, he had known since a long
time. Since primary school days when he
was chosen to partake in all school drama,
from the way Miss Ngozi’s long cane
always froze on her hand each time she
wanted to flog him and he smiled.
Adaora who was many years his senior
would sneak him into her room and ask him
to touch her bosoms.
He grew fast; starting to touch and suck
bosoms at 9, having his first sex at 11 and
impregnating a girl at 16. Chidimma was
her name and it was only after she nearly
died during abortion that he became wise.
He was now a successful banker, lived in
his own house in Gbagada Estate, engaged
and soon to be married. His relationship
with Cynthia, his fiancee, had blossomed
over the years despite the numerous things
she did that he didn’t approve of; her
extravagant spending, her complicated
make-up regime and her obsession of the
social media.
He has since resigned to patience for he
knew he had not always been so saintly.
Even now he yet didn’t think he was, but he
was well aware of the difference, the new
insertion of discipline and morality.
But something about this village girl he’d
met only two days ago fascinated him. He
was not sure what it was yet he felt for her
but he was marveled by the strength of her
hold on him. He has moved his trip back to
Lagos to Friday having lied to Cynthia that
the construction required he stayed for
some more days. His self-given penance for
the lie was tempered by his lack of any
sinful ascription to the meeting…yet.
He was staring at her now. Her dark skin
shone to his face like the gold cast of
setting sun. Though her slender cornrows
were not as sophisticated as Cynthia’s
near-natural hair wears, it still gave her
face that definitive ascent it needed to
glow.
A beauty so crude, fresh, raw, untainted…he
felt dreamy.
‘What cream do you use?’ he asked.
‘I use Vaseline, Sir.’
‘And it affords your face this lustrous glow,
impressive.’
‘You talking what, Sir?’
He smiled, that his smile that showed two
front teeth in a way that was strangely
attractive. He has wondered why Cynthia
always rushed and kissed him each time he
smiled like that.
‘You are beautiful, Mma,’ he said.
She smiled, bending away again.
‘Why do you smile?’ He knew, he just
wanted to ask.
‘The way you calling me, Mma, Sir.’
‘Is that not your name?’
‘No, Sir. I telling you that day that my
name is Nwa-amulu-na-mma, Sir, and you
saying is long and you shorting it to Mma,
Sir.’
He held himself not to laugh. He sensed her
discomfort in the silence that followed. He
worked fast to end it but she came through
first.
‘I going now, Sir. My mother looking for me
and not seeing me, she shouting to the
whole neighbors.’
He was as surprised as confused at the
extra thud her mentioning of leaving gave
his heart. He didn’t want her to go. He
couldn’t afford to allow her go.
‘Please don’t go. Stay with me.’
‘But we not doing anything here, Sir. Your
workers all gone home and we just here
alone.’
A thought hit him and his man organ
responded even before his mind could fully
process the thought. He took her hand.
‘Come with me.’
She drew back.
‘To where, Sir?’
‘Let’s go into the building.’
‘Doing what inside, Sir?’
‘I want you to help me do something.’
‘We staying here and doing it, Sir.’
‘No, it’s not conducive here. Come.’
‘But your car, Sir, people passing will
opening your car and stealing your thing.’
‘The car is safe. Come.’ He pressed a
button on the small remote attached to his
car keys and low clicking sounds were
heard.
‘Come.’
He led the way into a chamber of the
uncompleted building. He was passing into
the adjacent room which was darker when
she took back her hand.
‘I knowing what you thinking, Sir, but I not
doing it with you.’
He twisted his neck to her. ‘What?’
‘I know you wanting me to sleep with you,
Sir.’
Guilt splashed over his face, wilting his
features. ‘I’m sorry. I…I shouldn’t have. It’s
just I really like you.’
‘Okechukwu saying the same thing to me
every time when he coming from Onitsha
and buying me things but he running away
when I telling him I’m pregnant.’
‘You’ve had a child before?’
‘No, Sir, no child. I deceiving him to
knowing if he marrying me later but he
running away fast fast like uriri.’
He smiled and hugged her. He must have
pressed himself too tightly to her because
she drew back and said, pointing, ‘Sir, your
thing is standing.’
He looked down on the big bulge below his
waist. He has never looked so embarrassed.
His phone rang. He reached into his pocket
and pulled out a black, tall, slender phone.
He looked. It was Cynthia. He didn’t pick
it.
To be continued
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