STORY: Love, Lust And Lost Season 1

Season 8 years ago

STORY: Love, Lust And Lost Season 1

A story written by George Adefemi (08189811807), Read About The Shortest Description of the whole Story, The Prologue, Owner of Story and its inception HERE

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The dark cloud hung up in the sky like mango leaves branches giving shade to the earth beneath it. Stars all dotted in it to show, it would not rain anytime soon, no matter how the weather might want to manipulate the seasons.

The Obalende road as fondly called could be seen immediately after the Ikoyi bridge, the Dordan barracks, – the St. Josephs’ church gate formerly known to be the State House gate etched at the left end of the wall. On the same road at the left ran about a 100 yards wall of the Ikoyi cemetery, – then breaking it on its 80th yard was another gate which led into the Dordan barracks. There stood mounting security checks on civilians entering the barracks, some uniformed army officers in their usual camouflaged outfit worn on their iron-sole combat shoes (boots).

Beside the gate was a transformer caged in burglary-proof. From the transformer running back to the tip of the bridge was; mosque erected against the cemetery wall, people bending; sitting on the pavement to perform their ablution for the 8:10pm Isha’a prayers. Some were setting down their trays of coconuts; trays of ‘kulikuli’ and big bowls of ‘suya’ with lantern placed in them hurriedly so as to be in time before the muezzin called all religious to start the ‘service’.

Refuse were scattered around the refuse dump kept in place by the Stable Cleansing Service as though fowls had carried out their food hunt there. The odour that emanated from the dump, the stagnant water that logged in potholes and spilled out of the drainage were offensive but people who were used to the environment went about their activities, some smiling, chewing whatever was in their mouth as if they were around a cake factory in V.G.C.

Taking continuous gaze on the right side of the road were erected structures of different kinds; bungalows; one storey buildings, mechanic workshops, and beer parlours with some 2-3 streets dividing them at a strategic point. The yellow streetlights could be seen visibly shinning, rather gloomy to reveal the different call-girls, call-women, ‘Ashawos’ ‘Aturu’ as some tribe would have it, ‘Poros’ as niggas would have them, prostitutes as an Englishman would rather have them called, in their mini-skirts; some without pants which was revealing with the way their asses clump and shake like tick pap. Cleavages showing in their singlet-like tops, spaghetti, halter-necks, and tube top, to entice feeble minded men passing by who took stroll of that area either to feed their eyes or to exercise their J0yst!ck.

“Bros come now, I go do you well,” a lady who appeared to be in her middle twenties, face very white as though it had been dug in sack of flour, – magenta lipstick gracing her lips said pulling the hand of a man that passed by her. A 5ft 6 man putting on a faded blue shirt that shone white in the night. He pulled his hand free and increased his bearing but what the other ladies in same profession but in different indecent dresses with the lady under discussion were

“Foolish man, na church you call this place?” a lady in a man-like voice asked rhetorically without expecting any reply.

“E no fit do!” another calabar ‘poro’ said.

“Him Moses rod too small, e be like crayon” another Idoma prostitute made jest as if she had examined the man’s J0yst!ck.

Others seemed to mind their businesses as some could be heard negotiating with their catch.



“How much you go pay if you want all those styles and I go add love?”

“I no get pass 600naira o,” the man said in his what could be seen as s*x starved face. The kind of man that would have gone to an alcoholic or herb joint for ‘mama 2 shot’ to make him last long and bang ruthlessly, – a desperate fellow!

“Shey na free to’to you wan f^ck?” the lady exclaimed rather offensively “abi this my to’to na for promo?” she asked practical in a Benin accent.

The man made to leave as the lady pulled him back and they went out of light, incoherent complaints followed their trail.

Outside the famoss guest house were plastic chairs filled with human butt0ckz; tables carrying the burden of beer bottles; 33, Star, Gulder, Small Stout, Malt, plate of pepper soup, bowl for hand wash on their heads. The On and Off interval of the decorative light of small red, blue and green bulbs added life to the merriment as the song of Blackface ‘Hard life’ blared out of the horror and hollow sounding speaker.

A short stroll after the guest house was the unnamed street; the second, – some distance apart was the Suya Junction. It was given the name because of the activities around the place. Nice smoke of ‘roasting’ meat took to the air as the A’bokis added groundnut oil to the suya or meat placed on the hot grill. Sweats cascaded down the sellers’ faces as they wiped with their shoulder pad, lifting their shoulder to the face.

“Hey A’boki! Me no go collect that suya for your hand o. why you let sweat dey fall inside am na?” a guy complained walking out of the mallams presence, with curses flying to catch up with him “Ubanka! Banza ni.”

“Sannu oga madam,” another A’boki welcomed his customers cutting 2 chunks of meat called ‘tasting or customer hospitality’, dipping it in suya-pepper, and placing on a newspaper table-mat in front of them.

Some A’bokis were raising large suya up so it could be examined by their customers, stretching it on the grill to show it worth the prices they gave. Stalls of various structures stood with chicken stretched thighs-wide on sticks; tomatoes and cucumber stuck in them. Meat-fats and red beaten meat on their stalls.

Another part of the road accommodated the stalls of some A’bokis that made local sandwich or rather burgers out of Agege bread, salad leaves, cucumbers, onions, mayonnaise and fried eggs. Flies hover around lamps like customers going about their various shopping. Idle men who didn’t have money on them but ordinarily taking in (perceiving) the aroma that rouse the atmosphere, could get their stomach filled – walked around aimlessly.

Izuchukwu, a chubby boy of 19; very shy and timid; had just finished his Junior Secondary School WAEC(WASSCE) – light skin with somewhat red eyeballs being the most attractive feature in his baby-face round head. He wore a 3-quarter black trousers beneath his green T-shirt; his stomach slightly bulging out to reveal his recent hobby of visiting beer joints.

Izu for short, though not bright in his academics and through his ‘pick-a-pick’ speech in Igbo accent, one could easily recognise how dull he would be faring in his studies, but what he couldn’t make-up for in his studies were used in his footballing abilities. Though a bit chubby, it made for him a perfect advantage to use his body to attack opponents first before a pass got to him and then attack the ball with no man marking, which earned him a quick entry into the school team in his JSS 1. He didn’t seem to bother being in the same class with people of 11, 12, or 13 years of age as he had people of his age too in same class as to compare himself with.

Followed closely behind him was Theresa, a girl of same age and body but with different colour of the skin. Theresa was ebony ‘black’ with some dark spot all over her body; her eyelids were appealing to anyone who gazed at her. She was not a girl who could have declared intention to represent her state Imo at any beauty pageant as she was just beautiful in her own world. Her beauty could not be compared to quarter of Stella Damasus neither could her ugliness be partnered with any beast, but was okay to Izu who not in his, was handsome but a guy without a choice. His ‘Boniface’ only gave him an upper hand to get Theresa as his girlfriend.

Izu was living with his parents in their makeshift Shop-house apartment A.O 36, Ilubirin Mechanic Village while Theresa on the other hand was a maid at the house of her Aunt’s friend. She got treated like a daughter and had everything she wanted as her bosses were rich. Although she didn’t attend a private school like their children but was satisfied she was being educated, which wouldn’t have been the case if she were still working on the farm at Eshimeshi, Owerri north.
She wasn’t quite bright but pursued average unlike her dull-headed boyfriend who cared less whether he was average or not, so long he was getting promoted and kicking football until he gets picked to represent Nigeria or any foreign base club.

She tried to examine what she wore by gazing from her sandal and ran her eyes upward as she walked behind Izu, she wore a long skirt like a deeper-life parishioner on a red and white rose flower designed blouse which covered her medium calabash-size b0s0m, well packaged in her underwear.

As he took a left turn into the Daniel’s compound well known to people as a small and affordable hotel, she wanted to take a halt as it came to her mind ‘why didn’t I ask Izu where we were heading?’ but she hesitated and followed suit, taking her left turn, “well, he is my boyfriend and wouldn’t do any harm to me” she soliloquised.

She seemed to be so overwhelmed by the love he showed her. He was the best ever she had met because on her first day at school, Izu had walked up to her and asked in Igbo what her name was “kedu bu afa gi?” which she replied “Nkiru.”. From then, their love adventure had started.
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The way he spoke one word at a time like someone who was going to stutter or practicing public speaking perhaps, not to fumble in the presence of his audience, made her love him so much, – she had affirmed in her solitude that he couldn’t hurt an ant if he were given the order to.

Her gaze met people on the left just coming out of a room sweating profusely and another man and lady entering hurriedly into same room as though they’ve not had s*x some decade’s ago. She imagined the room still boiling heat, foul odour of sweat, Pour and K!ttyC@t fluid concoct the unventilated room, even the fan of it would blow heat due to continuous thrusting and battle between s*x organs of both gender.

“I would rather the heat die down and they sprayed the room with air-freshener” she thought scornfully as they burst out of the compound to the Obalende road, Izu already waiting for her so they could cross to the other side of the road together. She caught up with him as they walked two abreast to cross when no vehicle was in sight. Izu facial expression conveyed what might be going on in his mind, – his mission at their destination which beclouded Theresa’s thoughts.

We hope he can’t hurt an ant as she vouched!.

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