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#SocialLeague: Story Four

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Zainab is pissed.  She paces back and forth in her 10×10 room wishing she has more space to vent.  She picks up her phone and drops it.  She should never tweet in anger but what she had just learnt was burning in her soul.  “Calm down Tiger, calm down,”  she says to herself and then sits at the edge of her bed.  Her hand shakes,  she wishes she hasn’t stopped smoking.

The things she has discovered about the Social League over the past one week have been too much for her.  She is thankful that she has a medium to expose them for the true enemies of Nigeria they are.  So called intellectuals whose only concern is the food on their plate.  She hated being annoyed.  When she is annoyed,  she misses things.  She doesn’t want to miss anything this time. The last time she had missed something,  her best friend had died.

She opens her laptop and reads the mail again. One of the Social Leaguers was being sloppy.  Or maybe it’s not what she thinks. She runs her hand through her hair trying to figure out what this was all about.  Perhaps she should forward the mail to Akata. Akata would know what to do.  She clicks forward and hits send trying to ignore the feeling in her mind. Red flags are going up in her head,  she has to ignore them.

Zainab is aware there are now factions among the Social League  and that is partly why she has this mail but they were all still working towards one goal. They had all framed and pushed the narrative that led to the ousting of the last administration.  It is not as of the government did not commit grave errors themselves but they had a mission and the top four were paid well to get that job done.  That was what annoyed her.  As far as she is concerned,  it is deceit to pretend to be working for the people when you are getting paid by politicians.  This is why it is so important to her that Akata’s blog goes back up before tomorrow morning.  She had to break the story that would expose Uche for what he really is. Funny thing is he still thinks he is relevant. No one deals with a thief with no honour. So why did this mail come from him?

Zainab hated puzzles. She picks her phone and this time scrolls to a number she hardly ever calls. It is saved simply as SK but he is the only member of her family she maintains any type of contact with.

Zainab grew up as a troubled child.  Her father died when she was just four and her mother remarried less than a year later. Zainab had never forgiven her for that betrayal.  Worse still, he step father was anything but a decent man. He attempted to rape Zainab when she was 10 and she scorched him with an iron. He couldn’t explain that she had scorched him in bad faith but had convinced her mother to send her off to boarding school, a solution which further alienated Zainab from her mother.

“Hello, ” the bouncy voice at the other end of the line says.
Zainab loved the way her brother answers the phone and would sometimes call just to hear him say “hello”.
“Can we meet?” Zainab hates pleasantries  and discards of them whenever she has the opportunity. 
“In about an hour,” he responds and Zainab can feel him looking at his watch.
“Fine.”
She hangs up. 

That was settled.  If the content of the mail is really from the Presidency, SK would know.

She walks over to the tabletop fridge, pulls out a bottle of water and takes a long swig. No one on Twitter knows SK is her blood relation. He had an anonymous handle and his avi had not hatched.  Those Twitter babes would have orgasms simple by looking at his picture.  Zainab chuckles and finds that she has become quite relaxed.

She picks up her phone again and checks her Twitter. And then she sees Victor’s tweet.  “Fool”, she thinks involuntarily as her stomach lurches  in revulsion. She makes a mental note to make him the subject of her next exposé. People like him always have something about their past they dont want anyone to know of.  She begins typing a tweet about how shameless some overlords are,  has a rethink and discards it. There is no need feeding his narcissistic ego by acknowledging his foolishness.

She begins to get dressed slowly,  trying to go through all the information she gathered that day.  It is obvious that someone,  somewhere is ensuring that most of the news that gets to the media has been watered down . These days traditional media relied on social media for news and information. If social media is under anyone’s direct or indirect control so will the traditional media. It seems plausible enough but something about that email just doesn’t add up. 

Zainab turns off the light and will out of the room.  She has always had a feeling that Akata’s blog is being targeted for a reason  but going by the content of that email, this is a coordinated attempt as using blackmail to silence any voice that is likely to go against the Federal Government. She will talk to SK and then she will know what next steps will be.

(Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this series are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.)

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Posted by on February 3, 2016 in Series

 

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#SocialLeague: Story Two

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He steps out of the Banquet Hall of the Eko Hotel and Suites and heads towards the car park to hitch a ride with one of his friends.  He remembers the first time he had attended an event here.  He had been so excited and had taken so many selfies which he had quickly uploaded to his Facebook page.  It is almost impossible to believe that he has come this far in the last two years, all because of Twitter and of course his mother.

He says a quick prayer for his mother.  The only person that really matters. He remembers the day over two years ago when after graduation he had gone to his mother for prayers. She had taken him to see one Baba.  That had been the beginning of good things for him.

He had watched young people like him gain relevance through social media. They didn’t have anything he didn’t, except maybe his body odour. He had promised himself that he will make it to the top right after the resident Twitter Troll had told him that he would never really amount to anything. He raises his hand quickly to smell under his armpit. He had used two different brands of roll-ons and half a bottle of perfume cos he couldn’t bother himself with a bath tonight. Anyway,  he was doing well for himself and if all those Twitter chicks who had got down on their knees and sucked his dick weren’t complaining, no one should. His biggest problem now is making money.  Plenty of it.

He has been with Victor for about two years now, doing his bidding and trying to grow in the ranks of the Social League but no matter how hard he tries he seems to be running around in circles.   He had noticed the past few weeks that Victor and the other three no longer contributed to their WhatsApp group conversations and even when he DMs Victor these days he does not even respond.  Maybe he has heard about his plans.  He and two other lower cadre Social Leaguers were offering someone in the Presidency a deal and they are going to demonstrate it tonight.

He sends Victor another DM.  He knows Victor won’t respond but he had to keep playing the fool until the thing with the Presidency works out.  It had to work out.  His mother had made another visit to the Baba and he had said it would work.

He arrives at the car park and sits on the bonnet of the car. He has come far from the days of his first phone. It was a Nokia E5 which his mother had bought for him in his final year at the university. He had wanted to skip university because he felt his mother shouldn’t be paying fees with the little she makes from her fresh fish business, but she had insistent.  All he wanted was to be a politician and make big money without having to really work for it.  And finally his time is almost here.

He taps on the Twitter icon and his TL scrolls out before him.  He checks his @s.  He had various people asking him to retweet one thing or the other,  mostly articles.  He wonders when they will realise he is not on Twitter to do their bidding. His eye rests on a tweet someone has tagged him on.  That idiotic troll was at it again. He should not allow the fool get to him but he can’t seem to help himself.  He sees Victor’s tweet is already riling some people.  In those days he would have automatically retweeted the tweet but these days he is careful about making enemies. Until he gets this job there is no need to make unnecessary enemies.  Someone in the Presidency had told him that Victor and his friends were growing too big for their shoes and demanding seven figure pay for services.  He was willing to start with five or six figures.  But he had to get them the same numbers.  He had recruited 10 others,  their combined followership was just about 100k but he was selling their ability to trend things faster and reach the grassroots Twitter who were more gullible than Victor’s elite. Grassroots Twitter would RT without arguing and quickly spread the message to Facebook without their having to pay extra for that.

His phone rings and he picks it at the second ring. One of his clients was at the other end.  She needed social media push for one of her products but couldn’t afford the big four.  He was willing to take the job and pass it to one of the lesser foot soldiers. He would help retweet and Victor would never know he got the deal. In the past, he would have refused to the deal with this client but not anymore… every man for himself.

He scans the area after the call.  Where was this friend of his? He had left a girl in the hotel where they were lodged.  One of the younger ones with just a few hundred followers.  They were the best to get into “hit and run”  relationships with. Them and those funny feminists.  He laughs as he remembers a one night stand he had with one of the Twitter feminists.  As it turns out,  she wanted the relationship to continue but he couldn’t stand her. She wasn’t even half as pretty as she looked in her avi. He had dumped her after she paid for all their food,  drinks and even hotel and she couldn’t even rant about it, because Feminist.

“What’s funny?”
Finally,  his friend was here.
“Nothing. Just reminiscing”
“Toh. Can we go now? ”
“Before.  No be you I dey wait for?”

His friend unlocks the car and they get in.  He drops his iPhone on the dashboard.
“Ogbeni,  e be like say you wan’ use your phone do sara this night.”
He quickly picks the phone up and puts it in his front pocket.
His friend turns on the car ac and rearranges the air refreshener.
“Wetin  dey happen for Twitter, ” he asks as he starts the car.
“Victor tweet something about Ekitigate…distraction.”
His friend nods in understanding as he weaves the car into the night’s traffic.
“Sebi na this night we go show those Presido people wetin we fit do?”
He nods, getting worried. He really wishes Victor had not chosen this night to tweet his distraction.

 
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Posted by on February 2, 2016 in Series

 

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#SocialLeague: Story One

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He stares at his Timeline,  a smile playing on his lips.  He certainly is achieving what he set out to do and the feeling is orgasmic. He had promised them he would change the narrative. He is god, whatever he says he will do.

He clicks on the tweet and views the activity.  It has not even been 30 minutes but he already has a tweet reach of over a 800k from about 300 retweets  He  should make a screen grab and mail it now.  He smiles as he sees the so called opposition getting riled over his tweet.  It often amuses him that they can’t see they are a great help to him. In fact,  he is yet to decide if they are not more help than those who latch on his every tweet.

His mind flips back four years. He had just lost his job and was standing under the bridge at Ikeja,  hoping that someone in the crowd gathered pontificating on Nigeria’s issues would buy the Guardian for that Tuesday so he could borrow and read the job placements section. If only he had not succumbed to the temptation of stealing from his employer, better still: if only he had known how to cover his tracks. They had been four involved in the deal but only he had been axed.

He was distracted by one of the debaters postulating about the disadvantages of the removal of fuel subsidy. He had heard talks about this but could not understand what the fuss was about. The government was right anyway but the people did not know this. What if there was some way of letting people know?  Information dissemination was big money. His last boss was into communication and that is how he bought his big car, big house and married the babe with the big tits. He had about 3,000 followers on Twitter.  That was more than all the newsletters his boss sends out in a year.

He tweeted at the Ministry of Information handle and received a follow back.  After a few DMs he knew he wasn’t getting anywhere. It must be an aide tweeting for the HMI. He had to reposition. He then saw one of his tweets go viral and it was one calling out a government agency for not supplying water. That was when he realised what powers he has.  The best way to get people’s attention is by attacking them. He made himself into a one man opposition squad  latching on the fuel subsidy removal brouhaha tweeting what the people on the streets think and following up with blog posts.  In just a month,  his followership doubled. He then saw one of the tweeps he admires unfollow everyone on his Timeline and he just knew that for him to really arrive he had to ensure that his followers to followed count was at the ratio 1:100 for starters. He woke up one morning and unfollowed all but 50 people in his followed list. And then he started tweeting against the information ministry. As expected, the Minister of Information invited him for a meeting in Abuja. He stopped searching for a job.

He gets a DM notification and clicks on it. One  of the Minister’s aides wants to know why he sent out only one tweet. He ignores the DM. All these twats that are trying to justify their pay. He will place a call to the minister himself later. This government is making too many mistakes and if they wanted to retain his services at creating counter narratives,  they’d have to pay more. His only annoyance is that he doesn’t have that much of a bargaining chip. All he and the other Social Leaguers had going for them is the claim that they had played a crucial role in bringing down the last government, but he knows that claim won’t stand strong scrutiny. They had to find something else to negotiate with.

He gets another DM notification. This time it’s a fellow Social Leaguer asking him to join the WhatsApp group chat. He hated being told what to do. He had been reading their chats in that group without contributing. He has been doing better than most of them and he is not unaware of the fact that there are cliques within their league. One group is presently trying to work out something directly with the Presidency- a deal he has already sent in a bill for. They were even offering to work for free for three months to demonstrate what they can do. Idiots! He will continue to use them until he finds other suitable people.  All the people he trains in this business eventually form their own group offering social media services. If only he could land that job as a Minister’s aide.  But for now, he had to work with his own group within the group…just four of them with a combined follower count of almost half a million. They were the ones who made things happen.

He can’t even work with the opposition right now. He had been too involved in opposing them during the last elections –  things had got too personal.  He only has two options,  find a way of getting a government appointment or set up an NGO.  He is getting tired of this tweeting business,  too much competition and you don’t even know when private conversation will be munched and put in public space which means he can’t even speak freely in private when he disagrees with certain policies. He is tired of acting to be dumb so as not to annoy his employers.

Another DM. This one is longer.  He clicks on it. This he must respond to immediately. One of those girls he has a thing for is finally ready to play ball. She wants a meet. But it can’t be tonight. He has to to get those his Niger friends to send him that mixture.  He recalls the first girl he dated and lasted all of three minutes.  Years later,  she found him on Twitter and tweeted about how he doesn’t last long.  He has been thinking of how to change that perception as his more recent girlfriends didn’t have longer tales to tell either. This is his chance.  His friend had told him how coffee, ginger and lime is a strong aphrodisiac but he would rather the Niger guys did it for him.  Tomorrow night he will try it out.  He will also have time to set up video recording so he can watch it later before he decides how to leak it. He picks up his phone and replies her DM.

(Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this series are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.)

 
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Posted by on February 1, 2016 in Series

 

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Another Sidechick’s Tale II, Episode 8

‘Hello’.

‘Hi…I’ve been trying to reach you’.

Silence.

‘Are you alright?’

‘Couldn’t have been better’.

Akward silence. Then…

‘Are you mad at me?’

‘Over…?’

‘Come on Chelsea, I told you that you are the only one I love… She may be pregnant for me, but…’

‘Is there a reason why you called?’

Exhales.

‘Is that a yes or a no?’

‘We need to talk’

‘What about?’

‘Us… The way forward’.

Chelsea should have ended the conversation there. But the more she listened to Akin, the more she knew she had to see him again…even if it was just one more time.

She did the dishes as the song line ‘let’s just kiss and say goodbye’ played over and over in her head. That was a beautiful love song if there was any. She smiled to herself as she remembers the crazy Latino girl who actually categorized that as a love song. Maria and her endless sex partners. She never used the term boyfriend with regards to any of the guys. Maria was the closest Chelsea had ever got to a nymphomaniac if there ever was one.

The endless comings and goings from Maria’s room. Chelsea would place a glass cup on the wall just to listen to Maria moan in ecstatic pleasure. Her moans connecting with her core and sending through her a shot of sexual pleasure. Just remembering it now made her wet. Her hand automatically moves to her breast and she momentarily abandons her washing and kneads absentmindedly.

She almost burst into laughter as she remembers the day she was so carried away that she decided to wank while listening to Maria’s moans…the shattering of the glass cup brought her back to reality…and Maria to her door.

A confession later got Maria and herself almost experimenting with each other. For some reason it was different with Maria naked and with her. Only her voice carried the magic. There was something about the way Maria moaned…

Chelsea forced hand back to the dishes but throbbing between her legs left Maria in her mind.Chelsea remembers Maria asking her to try out one of the guys she recommended. She insisted he is the best she had ever had. That certainly counted for something. Chelsea had been too much of a conservative to accept her offer. What would Akin think if he found out?

Akin.

Chelsea finished off her washing and headed off to bed. Tonight she would sleep. She needed her strength for tomorrow. Tomorrow she would see Akin and he would get her parting gift to him. Perhaps they would kiss and say goodbye…

 
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Posted by on March 23, 2014 in Series

 

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Another SideChick’s tale II, Episode 7

Chelsea would have a vague recollection of the next few days. The lines between day and night were blurred by the tears which never seized to pour. It was as if her tear ducts were working overtime. She had been waiting and hoping that Akin would show up and tell her it was just a joke , but each time he called she was too scared to take his call for fear of what he would say.

She finally made her way into the bathroom after day three without any decision but to wash herself as if the wash would clear her mind of the shock and grant her a brighter future. She crawled into the bath and started running water, she did not bother to take off her clothes. As the water slowly climbed and she got submerged she felt her sadness turn to anger. Anger at Akin, Anger at her father, anger at the world.

She angrily peels off her dress, tearing it off her skin as if it had forced itself on her. She flings it against the bathroom door with all her might and it lands with a thud against the floor missing its mark. Her breast heaves up and down and she could feel the stirrings of passion within her. “Not now”, she thought, but her passion had a life of its own. She runs her hand over the mound and ends with rubbing her nipples between her thumb and her index finger. her body responds with a shiver and she groans. The build up of passion could only lead to one thing.

Chelsea allowed her mind to stray as she strokes both nipples absent-mindedly. She tried pushing Akin out of her mind to recall Kelvin. They had avoided each other after the botched session the day Akin called. She would have loved to take it further but she didn’t think it was right to hurt him like that. They never even returned to being friends. Days became weeks and weeks months as they slowly drifted apart and then stopped talking all together.

She saw Kelvin in her mind. His flawless teeth smiling at her. She squeezed her nipples harder and felt it tug somewhere inside her. She imagined Kelvin walk into the bathroom. One hand slipped down as she propped up one leg. She runs her hand over her V area and then pulls off her undies. She opens her legs and allows the water wash into it and then she slowly rubs soap over it using the soap to tickle her clits. She sticks her fingers in as she washes off the soap building on the tension of it all. She wanted to reach the heights of passion, yet she wanted these moments to last forever.

She slips two fingers in and goes slowly on herself her toes curling in ecstasy. She spreads her legs open giving her fingers deeper access, working her hips and moving it to the rhythm while kneading her breasts and groaning in sheer pleasure. Hips rub against porcelain faster and faster as fingers go in and out. Just when she is about to hit the point she pulls out and tortures herself for a bit. She lets the water run out of the tub and then raises her legs placing one leg on either side of the tub. She then puts in one finger and lets it in deep until she finds the spot and then she moves her finger in ‘come hither’ motion until she feels the passion wash over her as she gets there.

She lies in the tub for a while feeling the adrenaline wash off. She gets out of the tub and looks at her naked body. Something about the size of her nipples was always a turn on for her. She slowly runs her hand over her nipples as she feels the stirrings of passion all over again. She sits at the edge of the bath tub and spreads her legs open taking in the full picture of her clits. She begins to rub slowly working herself up and then she finishes up with her hair brush.

Dinner was large. She was grateful for the fact that she had wrapped away the remains of a left over chicken and she had some yoghurt in the fridge. She ate those while she waited for the pizza she had ordered. She was on the last slice of pizza when her phone rang. It was Akin. She finally had enough courage to take his call.

 
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Posted by on March 16, 2014 in Series

 

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Another SideChick’s Tale II, Episode 6

Chelsea remembered one time, last year when Akin had called to tell her he lost his job. He had sounded so horrible and suicidal on the phone. All her instincts told her to get on the next plane and head back to Nigeria.

She and Gabriel had been thinking of a quiet wedding. Before Akin made that call she could have sworn that she no longer felt anything for him. Three months of a whirlwind romance and she was ready to jump the broom with Gabriel. Akin had told her he would support her decision if that would make her happy. She was sure it would. But after getting that call…

She and Gabriel broke up. It was a very hard time for her but in that one week, she saw sides of Gabriel she never knew existed, and she hated them. She came to understand that her feelings for Gabriel were based on an ideal that never really existed.

Chelsea came back to Nigeria. Akin had not lost his job. He had just pulled an April Fool stunt on her and she had fallen for it…and fallen right back into his arms.

Her nipples stiffened as she remembered that day.  Akin took her to a hotel, initially claiming the company had kicked him out the residence. As that evening wore on and Akin slowly revealed the plot she got angrier and angrier right up to when he told her why he pulled the stunt.

She went into the shower to calm herself. And Akin joined her. The toilet seat was surface enough for a make shift ‘cow girl’. As Akin held her waist with both hands, her breast bouncing close enough to his face for him to suck on one nipple and then another, the thrusts getting deeper and faster with each movement, thoughts of Gabriel all but vanished. This was home.

This was not April 1st.

‘Please believe me, I didn’t mean for this to happen’

‘When did this happen?’

Akin looked away from her face

‘Don’t look away from me Akin. Tell me how far gone she is?’

‘Eight months’

Chelsea could not believe her ears. That was just after they made up and she left to finish up her studies.

‘Did it start while I was with Gabriel?’

Perhaps somehow it would make sense. If Akin had been with this girl while they were on the temporary break. If she was with someone else and he was with this person, then it can be ticked off as indiscretion. It would be easier to handle.

But hadn’t Akin sworn that all through that time he had been faithful to their love? Hadn’t he sworn that he so believed in their love that he just knew the temporary insanity with Gabriel would pass? Had he just been lying to her and if he had how can she trust he is telling the truth now?

‘No. I met her about a month later. At the Moscow conference. We were both..

The Moscow conference. Chelsea remembered how Akin had complained about the cold. How many times had they skyped. How many times had she put up a show for him, running her hands freely over her naked body just the way he wanted it, fingering herself for him, watching him grow hard and then use soap and water to work himself to a climax. Yet, he still found time to…

Chelsea noticed he was still talking but she could not hear the words.

‘I think you should leave’

‘Chelsea, I…’

Chelsea got out of the bed unsteadily and headed for the door. She opened it and walked out into the living room. Akin was forced to follow her.

Chelsea made it all the way to the front door. Her legs feeling so weak and wobbly she wondered later how she managed it. She held the door open.

‘Good bye Akin’

Akin walked over to the door. He hesitated for a minute just by the door and looked straight into Chelsea’s eyes.

‘Never forget, you are the woman I love’.

Chelsea shut the door after him. And then her legs gave way as the sobs racked through her body.

 
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Posted by on December 2, 2013 in Series

 

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Another Sidechick’s Tale II. Episode 5

Chelsea slowly opened her eyes to farmiliar surroundings. She knew the picture on the wall from the first vacation she and Akin took together. It was two weeks of bliss in  Calabar. She. enjoyed every bit of the carnival…and every frame if memory she built with Akin.

Akin. Chelsea tried to get up and realized she was a littl light headed. She recalled the conversation. Akin was wedding someone else. Chelsea sat up, willing herself to get out and run. Every fibre in her body told her that was the best thing to do.

Akin walked into the room. He was carrying a tray. She recognized the mug from her graduation. A gift from Akin. She had kept it all through her stay in the UK.

Akin smiled at her. But it looked like a forced smile. It seemed he was in pain. Chelsea could swear that Akin had a plan. He was too methodical not to. And if he had a plan, she was willing to hear it.

‘Chelsea, you know I love you, don’t you?’

Chelsea stared down at her hands. The calmer side of her told her to hand Akin back his ring and say goodbye.

Goodbye

The word sat cold and alone in her chest. How could she just say goodbye to a six year investment and all without so much of a fight? Why would she let this girl, whoever she is, just strut in and take Akin away from her?

‘What do you want to do?’

Chelsea’s tone was surprisingly calm. In less than five minutes, she had evaluated her situation. Life without Akin flashed through her mind and she just knew it was a life she didn’t want. It was a life she couldn’t live.

‘I know this might sound crazy, but hear me out’

Chelsea was willing to listen to anything, no matter how bizarre. Anything to take out this emptiness that was creeping into her heart. As long as Akin still loved her, she was willing to do anything to keep him. There were no options really. She simply could not live without Akin.

‘I will marry her for the sake of my baby. I am marrying her in name only. I will have absolutely nothing to do with.her afterwards’.

Akin paused slightly, allowing his words to sink in. Chelsea pretty much had her emotions under control. Her countenance betrayed nothing.

‘In two years, maximum three, I will ask for a divorce. That is if she doesn’t leave herself before then’.

Chelsea could not believe her ears. That was it? The grand plan involved her giving up Akin for three years? And what would be her status during this period. Chelsea knew the word but could not get herself to think it.

Chelsea tried to get off the bed, Akin stopped her. His hand brushing her arm sent a tingling sensation through her spine. Chelsea could not imagine her body betraying her at this moment. Suddenly, all she wanted to do was pull him close and make him suck her nipples one after the other while fingering her to ecstasy.

‘Chelsea, I’m sorry…please don’t push me away. You are my life, my all…’

The floodgate of tears broke. She hated Akin seeing her cry. Crying was for weak women. She was Chelsea, strong, independent…the tears kept coming.

Akin turned away.

Chelsea just wanted to get away from him. She just wanted to crawl under the covers and cry herself to sleep hoping that by tomorrow this will all turn out to be a dream. Akin would just call and tell her it was a joke. Chelsea automatically thought of the day’s date. And then it struck her.

 
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Posted by on November 10, 2013 in Series

 

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