Continuing…
“P…k eater,” he sneered, his face twisted with contempt.
I was stark naked.
In that instant, it felt as though my entire world was collapsing. My mind raced back to my undergraduate days — to a chapter of my life I had buried so deeply that I had never shared it with anyone, not even my husband, despite the closeness we enjoyed.
It remains one of the darkest memories of my life.
I would not describe myself as innocent, but I was a decent young woman. Like many ladies of my age, I loved adventure and occasionally embraced new experiences.
One day, my friend, Titi, invited some of us to a party organised by one of the leading banks in the state to celebrate staff who had recently been promoted to the rank of Assistant General Manager (AGM).
She selected 12 female students from our campus to attend.
“I don’t think I want to go,” I told her.
“Bimbo,” she called, giving me a puzzled look.
She tried hard to convince me, but I refused to budge.
“Once you hear how much is involved, you’ll change your mind,” she said, twirling her hair.
I remained unconvinced.
“Babe, it’s N500,000!” she blurted out.
The moment I heard the figure, my resistance melted.
“Wetin I dey do wey I no go go?” I exclaimed excitedly.
Everything was perfectly arranged. An e-hailing cab was booked for each of us.
Throughout the journey, my imagination ran wild. I kept calculating what N500,000 could do for me — the debts I could clear, the things I could buy, and the financial burden it would lift off my shoulders.
The party was held at the biggest nightclub in the state.
The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfumes blended with alcohol, creating an atmosphere of luxury and excitement.
“These are the girls,” Titi announced as she introduced us to a broad-shouldered man with braided hair and gold earrings.
Without delay, we were ushered into an exclusive VIP section.
Everything appeared carefully choreographed.
One after another, Titi paired each of the 12 ladies with a man seated around a large table. An empty chair beside every guest had obviously been reserved for us.
Within minutes, each of us had been matched with one of the bankers.
Soon, the celebration began.
The first song that filled the room was Attack Me With Your Love by Cameo.
I danced with reckless excitement, feeling as though I owned the world.
Across the room, Titi watched with a mischievous smile, exchanging knowing glances with the organisers.
The music, laughter and drinks continued until about 2 a.m., when everyone gradually retired to separate rooms with their assigned companions.
“I’m Steve,” the man with me said as he began unbuttoning his shirt.
I couldn’t help noticing his well-built frame and broad chest.
He smiled.
“Aren’t you going to tell me your name?” he asked.
“I’m… Bimbo,” I replied softly.
Even as we spoke, he continued undressing.
“Why don’t you take a shower first?” he suggested.
I hesitated.
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” I answered.
He frowned slightly.
“No one goes to bed covered in sweat,” he said.
The truth was that I dreaded stepping into the bathroom because the air conditioner had turned the room unbearably cold.
Eventually, I removed my clothes, keeping only my underwear, and walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind me.
Moments later, I heard a knock.
“Excuse me, I need the cream on the bathtub,” Steve called.
I ignored him.
He repeated the request several times, sounding increasingly impatient.
Reluctantly, I unlocked the door.
The moment it opened, his eyes travelled over my body.
To be continued.

It was a beautiful Sunday morning; I had just returned from the office after a long night’s work.
Suddenly, I heard repeated knocks on my door.

The initial feeling was not to answer since I was not expecting anybody to visit me at that particular time; more so, my family members had gone to church. But the insistence and curiosity made me.

“Who is that? I asked.

“It is me,” the person at the other end answered.

Instantly, I knew the August visitor.

My mind raced; why would this man be visiting us at this time of the week? I knew the last time we met, my husband and I did all we needed to do, and there was no reason for him to visit us.

As I moved towards the door, many things were going on in my mind. I became agitated and jittery. I couldn’t figure out why I was feeling that way.

Some metres from the door, the knob of the door moved; the person at the other end was trying to force open the door.
It was then that I realised that I was naked. I ran back to the bedroom and covered myself with my wrapper.

“Open the door now, open it! Don’t you want me to enter?” the man at the other end said.

I really can’t remember how long it took me, but what I can remember is that I opened the key and my August visitor entered my sitting room.

“Good morning, Landlord,” I said smartingly.

Rather than answer me, the man just kept mute and transfixed. He started mumbling, with his gaze on my chest.
Suddenly, I realised that I was wearing a transparent wrapper, with my two breasts showing.

“Sorry, madam. I saw your husband drive out, and I decided to check on you,” the landlord said.

I knew he was lying. He kept looking at my breasts. I was confused, thinking of what to do; I was torn between running back to the bed room and dress properly, or tell him to get out. I couldn’t gather my thoughts.

I knew I had to make a decision fast because the man would not take his face off my breasts.
Suddenly, I turned towards my bedroom.

“Are you going to walk out on me?” he said with a tone of disdain.

I was enraged and turned back, faced him, but instead of talking, I lost my voice.

He moved towards me. I tried to keep my distance. Yet he kept coming towards me, ogling.

Sweat was coming out of his bald head; he started secreting a type of scent that I can’t really describe.

The last time I perceived that kind of scent was in my university days when we went for a party outside the campus. It was a day I hate to remember.

Suddenly, there was a flashback. The thought of what happened to me in the past made me summon enough courage to try to run back to the room.

As I made for the room, he pulled my wrapper from behind; I tried to hold it, for a reason I still find very difficult to remember; it fell.

*To be continued.

‘I refused the pastor’s advances — then my life became a nightmare’ (3) (more…)