In Full View pt 1 (THE UNPUBLISHED TALES OF A LAGOS PLAYBOY)

Story by LND

Three men walked into a market place stark
naked. When I say stark naked, I mean with
nothing on. No boxers, no singlet…nothing. But
each had an accessory on. The first had a belt
around his waist, the second had a pair of shoes
on and the third wore sunglasses. Now, which of
these was the most insane?
* * * * * * * *
Debbie was my coursemate in school. I first saw
her in Sociology 101, a stupid course that meant
nothing to me. I hated the professor and all
sociology students. don’t ask me why. That day,
it was hot and the tight class we were all
crammed in was pungent with stale breaths and
body odor. Professor Lité walked into the class,
started his boring lecture and halfway, he
stopped and said, “I can’t continue this class.
You are all smelling!” and with flared nostrils, he
bounced out. Debbie, who was sitting at the
front row, turned around in frustration and the
pen in my mouth dropped to the floor.
Daaaaamn! The girl was fine! She had one of the
most beautiful frustrated faces I have ever seen.
I have seen a few and yes, I was responsible for
the frustration—I say this smugly. Yeah, back to
the girl…Debbie… yeah, Debbie! Now, I’m no
romantic so I don’t waste time on her face. My
eyes slowly strolled down to get what I was
craving for at the moment but I don’t get the
chance to see the rest of the package when one
sordid mistake of a human being blocked my
view. I hiss and pick my pen and walk out. I will
see Debbie another day but right now, I had
other fish to fry.
That was a long time ago and right now I can’t
remember what year it was but I saw her again
in 2009. I was driving out of Silverbird Galleria
after breaking up with my girlfriend. With angry
thoughts having a ball in my head, I almost ran
into someone on the street.
“What the hell are you…?” I began but broke off
when I saw her. I didn’t recognize her at first
because I wasn’t looking at her face. I could
have sworn, it was the body of Beyoncé, Halle
Berry and Kim Kardashian all in one and I
almost hit her with my ugly, ugly car.
“What is wrong with you?” a shrill female voice
rang in my ears and it all came back to me.
Images of she and I together in school, at the
school café, at my place, in Love Garden, behind
the theater hall, in my car…
“Debbie?”
Her face also changed and she spoke my name,
“Leo?”
* * * * * * * *
We left galleria late that night and I walked her
all the way to a gated estate in VI, a very
exclusive place for wealthy people. Standing at
her doorstep, she told me her sad story of how
she was forced to marry this rich general who
was twice her age just because he was her
father’s friend. The general frequently abused
her and got pleasure from doing it, hitting every
part of her body but avoiding her face. She had
been married to him for six years and it had
been torture the whole time. She attempted
running away once but he caught her and
stabbed her eleven times. She survived but her
courage died. Seeing tears in her eyes, I felt
what she was going through and I just wanted
to hold her and comfort her. What was wrong
with that? After all, she was my girlfriend once.
However, I restrained myself, left her a few
comforting words and turned to say goodbye.
Then it happened. She pulled me back and
kissed me fully on my lips and then I
remembered……
“What’s your name?”
“What is my name?” Debbie asked, “why do you
want to know my name?”
“Because I want to kiss you and say your name
after – breathlessly.”
Despite herself, Debbie smiled that hot day in
February 2000. Yes, 2000! That was the year I
discovered, dated, deflowered and dumped
Debbie. And here she was again, falling into
another trap. Aren’t girls silly?
“Debs, we can’t do this. You are married…”
She put her finger to my lips and pulled me into
the house. Well, you know what they say about
stolen water and it being sweet.
We continued like this for a while and because I
was seeing two other girls on the side, I never
invited Debbie home. Her house was always the
pit of sin and it was always after dark. There was
no fear of being caught because her husband
was away and was not going to be home in a
while. However, I did a terrible thing. I
mentioned my affair with Debbie to the captain
and I think that was where kasala started
brewing. He said nothing but smiled one of his
devious smiles and passed me a glass of brandy.
It was a Friday, and against all reason, I went to
Debbie’s under shining sun to scratch an itch; I
was willing to spread my net in the full view of
the birds. Debbie received me with open arms
and didn’t hesitate to lead me to her bedroom.
Doing it on her husband’s matrimonial bed was
her way of getting back at him. To me, it was my
way of getting back what I had missed. I nodded
pleasurably at this thought and smiled up at her
as she sat astride me. She looked down at me
with lustful eyes. She didn’t love me; I didn’t
love her. It was just sex that was going to end
smoothly when her husband got back……
Hahahahahahahahahahahaha! How true that
was. He did get back. Oh my crazy goodness! It
was like slow motion. Not slow motion where a
guy and a girl are running in the field with
flailing arms and floaty expressions! No, not that
one. Slow motion like Matrix. Debbie and I were
lost in our world when the door slowly opened.
At first, I saw no one behind it but it pushed
open fully and lying on my back, I saw this huge
image of a man standing at the door with red,
blazing eyes. Debbie had no idea what was about
to happen as I saw him, in Matrix slow motion,
lifting his gleaming hand to my direction.
Gleaming with a weapon, that is, a 9mm Beretta.
I did not wait to wonder if it was loaded. I know
what a Beretta can do. With my right hand, I
shoved Debbie off me and while I was doing that,
I was already off the bed and to the floor,
landing on my other free hand, and with a
spring motion I tapped the floor with the tip of
the soles of my feet, lifted my boxers with my
right hand and sprang up again. The window
was my destination as I laid my left hand on its
frame and hoisted my whole 85kg up and over. It
was then I heard the click. It sounded almost
silent against Debbie’s terrified screaming but I
heard it and still in Matrix slow motion, a bullet
wheezed past me, missing my earlobe by a
breath. I was now in the air and I heard shots
and bullets flying by. Instinct made me dodge
and miss one but I thank the Lord for gravity. If
I hadn’t landed to the ground below, I would
have died.
Above me there were still shots and screams but
I no wan know. I just dey run for my life because
that man was ready to take me out of the estate
in a military rucksack. Imagine the sight! Me,
Leonel, one of Nigeria’s youngest billionaires for
no reason, hawt playboy, psychologist,
professional hypnotist running with nothing on
but my bare skin, the way my mama born me.
Chai! Leo, you don chop the one wey pass you.
But na today?
I ran to my car and thanked God it was a
convertible. No time to open the door because
with my back eyes (I have four and a half of
them) I spotted the general coming after me… or
was it Debbie? She was naked too, running for
her dear life, jumping over flowerpots and
screaming out my name. I could have laughed
but I just wanted to get out of that estate ASAP.
I jumped into my car and I love my car, people. I
think it was waiting for me already revved up. As
I flew into it, it just drove off. After I passed five
houses I dared to glance into my rearview. I saw
nothing and no one and heaved a sigh. Yet, I
kept on, the breeze blowing my… I looked down.
Where are my boxers? I was sure I took them out
of the house. How did I lose them? I was
approaching the security gate now and had
nothing on to cover my jewels. What to do…
what to do… I asked as I lifted the hood of the
convertible over me. What to do…
I saw a pair of sunglasses on the passenger seat
beside me… Hey, don’t blame a guy for trying. it
was all I got. Slowing the car as I came to the
gate, I lifted the glasses to my eyes and slipped
them on. I mean, I can wear it on knowing no
one has to see the embarrassment in my eyes but
I could see theirs.

similar posts –> Better Served Cold, Parts 3-8

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  1. Pingback: Better Served Cold pt2 (THE UNPUBLISHED TALES OF A LAGOS PLAYBOY) | Moskeda Blog

  2. Pingback: TO ALL MY COOL PIPS!!! | Moskeda Blog

  3. imotolab2014 Reply

    oh boyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyym

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