The fragrance from the air diffuser reminded you of a life you once lived; rich, innocent, full.

You sat on the bed and felt the sheets in your palms “pure cotton” you whispered.

“Only God knows how much he paid for this room”

You raised your face to the painting that hung opposite the clock.

“Molech”, you got up to have a closer look. Teddy always talked about the significance of paintings and drawings. You remembered he once described Molech as the image you could see in front of you.

But Teddy was an illusion, everything he ever said is.

Sam is everything you want in a man. Way older, sound, and soft-tongued, Yoruba, and he isn’t potbellied. Except, he is a cheat and you didn’t want that. But then, you shouldn’t be having specs for a man, especially when he’s another woman’s husband.

You liked how you felt around him, how he looked at you, how he said your name, paying attention to every syllable, “Hyeledzira”, his attention made you feel special.

He had taken you around his city, Abuja, a city you’d often known as a hub for fake people before taking you to the hotel to rest.

You were almost sleeping off when a knock came at the door, you were sure it was him. You hastened to open it.

“You didn’t even ask who it was.”

“I know it’s you. I saw it in my head.”

“Your witchcraft game must be figo.”

You both laughed and he handed you a bag. He bought all the stuff you said you needed, and more. You thanked him, dropped the bag and settled in bed. He joined you.

That time, you rested your head on his chest without hesitating as you’d at the cinema. You closed your eyes and relished the peace of the moment.

“I can hear your heartbeat.”

“I can hear yours too, loud and clear.”

Your raised your face to him and asked him what he thought of the Catholic Church. A totally unnecessary question, but you liked his response. It started a debate which ended with him asking if he could kiss you.

“But that’s weird.”

“Kissing you? I’m sorry if I’m crossing…”

“No, you asking me if you can. If you want to kiss someone you just go ahead and do it.”

He smiled.

“These days, one can’t be too careful. I’m sorry if it put you off.”

“It’s fine. And yes, you should kiss me.”

He stared at you for seconds as if he was unsure, but you were anticipating it, the feel of his lips, and his hands on your skin. Your heart was racing, you closed your eyes and waited.

It came, it came, like iced water on the tongue of a marathon athlete. No one had ever kissed you like that. You didn’t want him to stop.

Soon, he was running his fingers over your face, and caressing your neck. You arched your head backwards, receiving every bit of pleasure, smiling, moaning.

A voice in your head was telling you to wait, to ask him to stop, he is married but you’re not the kind of girl who spits out sugar when it has already touched your tongue.

When you woke up in the morning, he was gone. There was a note on the drawer and a wad of naira notes. You wanted to scream.

“This idiot thinks I’m an ashawo. He left me note and money. I’ve suffered in this Abuja.”

You cursed and cursed but reminded myself again that he was another woman’s husband and that you hadn’t even read the note.

“Had to leave, didn’t want to wake you. Thanks for letting me into your life. Can we hang out later? At any place of your choosing. The cash is in case you want to get anything. Beep when you’re awake. Love you.

P.S You snore, LOUDLY”

You laughed at the folly of your thoughts and at the revelation that you snore.

You’d known him online for over eight months, if he was scam, you’d have known.  You picked your phone to dial his number and met a text from Teddy.

To be continued…

By Farida Adamu