‘We Have The Whole Night’

Das’ penis, Caro noticed from where she lay on the bed, looked like a short banana. She had since undressed and had climbed the bed to watch him struggle off his heavy robes, then fight with the lace of his trousers. Caro had resolved to have an affair with Das after the humiliation she suffered listening as Chuks and others butchered her dignity with Tony whimpering in the background. The end justifies the means, she had assured herself. I will pretend he is Tony; I will pretend I am not four months pregnant. But when she saw this manhood, its shortness and blackness contrasting with Tony’s long drumming instrument, she knew the lie that he was Tony wouldn’t sell, and she feared for her pregnancy.

He climbed the bed with his shoes on.

‘Remove them.’

‘They won’t hurt you.’

‘Remove them.’ The coldness of her voice got him acting. It took him a long four minutes to remove his shoes and socks. He was still on it when Caro cried silently, finished, wiped her tears and planted a grimace which passed for a smile on her face. It was a hungry lion who came up the bed for her. ‘You haven’t said anything about my request.’


‘We have the whole night,’ he couldn’t conceal his exasperation. She parted her legs and he struggled to find her. She had to grab his thing which felt warm like a roast corn in her hand. ‘Forgive me, lord,’ she murmured as she slipped it in. ‘Ahhh,’ pain.

‘What?’ he demanded. His eyes, the eyes of a goat when you hit it with a rod above its capacity on the head. ‘Nothing.’ She further parted her legs till they nearly touched the sides of the bed. He began to pound, pound and pound and Caro began to get wet in spite of her feeling. The more he pounded the wetter she became until she was fully ready; he suddenly released a short gasp, shook like a cut-off tail of a lizard and collapsed on her. He was done.

Two-minutes man.


This is an excerpt from my novel draft


‘I keep wondering,’ Chuks says. He is lying on Folu’s bed, a careless leg her bare lap. They have just had a lengthy passionate release and he feels great, and loquacious. ‘What are you wondering? About sleeping with you?’

‘Yes. After the beautiful speech you gave me the other day.’

She smirks. ‘I wasn’t ready then.’

‘That handsome guy on the wall of the sitting room. He’s your boyfriend?’ This is a question, served in a bowl of accusation.

‘He was.’

‘He was your boyfriend?’

‘He was my fiancé. He still thinks he is.’ She sighs.

‘What happened?’

‘He’s not man enough. He’s been cheating on me.’

‘But most men cheat. I mean cheating makes a man a man. The guy’s man enough. Maybe a bad man, a coward, a heartbreaker et cetra but he’s certainly man enough.’

‘You don’t understand,’ she says.

‘Hmmm.’ He caresses her natural hair. ‘Why don’t you go for dreadlocks?’

‘Do you like it?’

‘I love it.’



‘You are such a violent lover,’ she commends.

‘You are using me,’ he says.

‘For what? To hit back at my fiancé? Hell no. I am just enjoying myself…. I am not thinking about him.’

‘But I am. If someone sleeps with my fiancée I won’t be covered with love and affection for him.’

‘But you are free to cheat on your fiancée?’

‘I don’t have a fiancée.’

‘Your partner.’

‘I don’t have.’

‘What if you have?’

‘I don’t know.’

She sighs. ‘Women are always the ones upholding the sanctity of any relationship. When men cheat it’s casual, it’s because she ties wrapper, she nags, she isn’t romantic; she is this, that and whatnot. People always go to the woman in search of reasons why the man cheats. But when a woman cheats, heaven falls.’

‘You are cheating, and heaven is standing.’ He yawns. He is suddenly tired; conversations he is not sure of winning tire him, bore him, and Folu is ready for this. She has been memorising, he is sure. He glances at her, she is staring at him; he tries to return the eye-fire but looks away when he catches something like hurt in her eyes. ‘We’ll be late for work today?’ He is trying to change the topic.

‘Today is Saturday.’

He grunts. He searches the atmosphere for a new topic. His head is not cooperating. ‘I am a sucker for dreadlocks,’ he says.

‘I know.’

‘Make it for me.’

She smiles. ‘You men are a funny creature. I thought you had sympathy for my ex-fiancé. Now I see, it’s every man to his manhood.’

‘It is you women that are funny,’ Chuks says harshly. ‘Just a moment ago he is fiancé, now he is ex. In less than one minute. Mehn, you people are just something else.’ He even manages to shrug his shoulders lying the way he lay.

She laughs, slapping him on the chest. ‘You are such a confused piece of work.’

‘Nonsense.’ He fumes. She laughs louder.

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This is my novel in progress. More than two years now and it is looking like I am going to remain on it till I am carried away with ‘sweet by and by’ playing in the background. Sigh, God, epp me, Sir.


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