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Michael Ogah<br />
The Indomie Man<br />
“I’ll see you when I see you,” I answer him, making for the door.<br />
He grabs me by one arm and follows now, all the way to door. I stop. He leans forward<br />
and kisses me s<strong>of</strong>tly then slowly lets go. I stare blankly into his eyes, heart racing as I am<br />
overwhelmed with the sincerity and gravity <strong>of</strong> the gesture. I push him. I push him back. I<br />
push him all the way back until we are both back in the bedroom and he eventually drops<br />
unto the mattress on his back. Then I kick <strong>of</strong>f my sandals and mount him. He is unbelievably<br />
quiet as I pull my skirt out <strong>of</strong> the way and spread my legs. In a split second, he locks his<br />
hefty chiselled arms around my waist, and switches our positions. Then he invades my<br />
mouth, tongue coiling and recoiling around mine whilst his hands fondled places. I moan<br />
and sway my hips beneath his mass determined to match his fire.<br />
He stops. Abruptly.<br />
“Spend the night,” he blurts out. “For once. Please. I’d love you to”<br />
“Oh shit,” I check my watch for time. It is 9.45pm.<br />
“I’m sorry. Maybe some other time,” I raced to the door with my sandals in my hand until I<br />
boarded a taxi.<br />
On the drive home, I mentally slap myself over and over. I can not understand why I go to<br />
see him in the first place. Also, why kiss him back? Now he’d probably think me easy to<br />
get, another loose girl just like the rest.<br />
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