His Little Black Book
So I wrote this a while ago and posted it elsewhere. I actually dumped the story because the male character got on my nerves and everything I did to change him didn’t work. He is actually one of my main characters in a series I’m writing but for obvious reasons, he pissed me off in this story.
Today, however, I have chosen to resurrect him; reason being that my blog is swarming with spammers because I haven’t posted in a while. I’ve not resumed yet but expect me soon.
Before I go on, I want to say a Happy New Year to you. You guys made my 2013 rock! I got 38,000 views on this particular blog from October to December! Yep!
I want to hug and kiss everyone who stopped by here, especially those of you who shared and commented. Times when I was down, you guys uplifted my heart.
God bless you immensely.
This is a new year. Keep coming, keep sharing, keep commenting. And I’ll keep doing what I do best to make you smile.
Better enjoy me now o. When I become a celeb I won’t have time for free posts 😉
Enjoy His Little Black Book
I’m inclined to believe that every unmarried man who loves women has a little black book where he keeps a catalog of the females he has had and desires to have. don’t get me wrong, it’s not really a book-book; it’s just a repertoire of doable daughters of Eve. Could be stored in his head or address book on his phone, bbm contacts but never a book. If you do meet a guy with a literal black book, run! He’s a manwhore.
In the case of my boss, I am his little black book but he has no idea. I never really wanted to be a personal assistant to a hotel mogul. It just sort of happened as I sat down lost amongst a throng of sexy girls viable for the position in his secretary’s office. I had come for the systems analyst job because computers are my thing. But somehow I lost my way and ended up in his office.
Physically, I am a geek and very, very uninviting but I caught his attention the moment I got there. I tried to explain that I wasn’t there for the position he was offering me but he told me, in a casual manner, that he wanted somebody he wouldn’t jump right into bed with and I fit the profile perfectly. Not that I understood what that fully meant. But all the same my pride was bruised. When I go home that day, I cried a little because it hurt and because it wasn’t the first time I had been viewed as asexual. Yet I took the job the very next day and came in fully clad in my Ugly Betty attire (without the excess colors and glasses).
It was difficult at first, to fit into the job requirements but my boss wasn’t demanding and he eased me into the role slowly. As long as his social life was not disturbed, we were good. On the bonus, the salary was enough to make me stay.
And stay I did. For four years. And I am still here. I have seen women come and go but I am yet to be noticed by him the way I want.
But hey, let’s not be sidetracked here. This story is not all about me and my insane crush for my boss. It’s about him as well. You see, my boss can get any woman he wants with absolutely no commitment and keep her on all fours, literally wanting more. I’m not mincing words if I call him a legendary ladies’ man. There are only a few who can do what he does and come out unscathed.
I will share some of his stories and you self-acclaimed players can learn a thing or two about this brother (name withheld) who is real and not a fiction of my imagination.
Bad to the Bone
No matter the age, occupation, orientation, status, every woman loves a bad boy. Or so they say. If not all the time, at least once in her life. Why? Do I need to be redundant and tell you nice guys finish last? Obviously they’re tedious. They always ask women how they are feeling, if they want to talk about it, where they would want to have dinner, blah blah blah. yawn. A woman would rather have you say ‘I know you’re still feeling balmy after last night. Shhh, don’t talk about it right now, wait till after dinner at my place tonight. By the way, you’re cooking.’
Those were borrowed lines, in case you are interested in knowing. I remember them word for word because I overheard my boss saying them to the guest executive chef who had been invited to train the kitchen staff for two weeks at the hotel. When she first began working, no one knew she was female underneath the double-breasted, baggy white jacket she always had on. Even her hair was hidden beneath one shower cap looking thingy and there was a debate over if she was bald or cone head. By day, she was a standard black mamba in the kitchen; by night, she was a lonely bat like me. But no one knew this. Well, except for the only bad boy we had in the building.
The first time he spoke to her was in a staff meeting. She had come in late and squeezed herself somewhere discreet but he had picked her out.
The instant he looked at her, I saw something familiar in his eyes and I knew he was going to be hitting that thing in less than forty-eight hours. No, scratch that and make it thirty-six.
Sporting all black on that hot Monday morning indicated he was either really, really pissed or in the mood for mystery. Mystery it was and the moment the meeting ended, the games began.
He asked me, when I walked into his office, “Anna, do you think I should start seeing someone again? I’m trying to remove the dating fatwa I put over myself for the past four months. I need a woman that is down to earth, easy going and very crazy in the sack. Know anyone like that?”
She’s standing before you.
“Sir, are you asking me? I’m not a lesbian.”
He looked at me from top to bottom and said in serious tones, “excuse my language but you do have a vagina, don’t you?”
I almost stumbled over the floor I stood on. His brashness always had that effect on me. I pretended not to hear him.
“Sir, that chef woman has been waiting for you for the past twenty minutes.”
“Oh! I forgot!”
That was a lie.
He got up and followed me out to the waiting room, apologized to her for keeping her that long and with all the charm of a gentleman, asked if she could teach him to prepare a light but exotic meal that he could use to win a woman’s heart. Her thin lips spread into a smile and I knew she was on her way to being hooked.
That night, as I stood by as kitchen assistant, I watched him shamelessly creep into her mind. She had no idea what he was doing. He turned the humor on and had her ROTFL like they were old friends. I caught the occasional casual hand on his thigh each time she wanted to emphasize a point. The chemistry was way over the roof and I felt they were going to do it right on the kitchen table. But halfway, with no prior warning, he apologized and told her he had to attend to a scheduled business meeting online.
After he left, she asked me if he was coming back and I shook my head. My guess was that he was up in his suite watching football. I informed her I was also leaving and she asked where she could find him so she could send the food up to him afterward. I told her.
Two hours later, 12 am exactly, while doing my random strolling thing around the hotel, I spotted her pushing a trolley into the elevator, heading for his suite. Ten minutes after that, she returned. He was not in, she told me but I was sure he was curled up in his bed, snoring away.
Deliberately, he made himself scarce the next day and after work when she finally caught up with him in the elevator at about 7 pm, he apologized with an unexpected kiss. Of course, I was there and I waited to see if she would slap him or kiss him back. Without shame, she opted for the latter and that was it for me. I got off on the third floor which was totally not my floor because I couldn’t stand watching him kiss someone else. I don’t have the full details of what happened after that but the next day, she came to work wearing a dress and a very annoying smile on her face. I was stunned. Ada was definitely a girl. And a very sexy one at that. At least, someone proved she had a vagina.
That night, in front of her – and me as the kitchen assistant again, he prepared the exact meal she had taught him and though it tasted terrible in the end, she was in giggles like a little girl, throwing herself all over him. I slipped away unnoticed by them and went up to my room. After a shower and a light dinner, I added Doreen (not her real name) to the little black book.
To be honest, his methods intrigue me. He is a pro. He got Doreen by doing the unpredictable and with a little teasing.
I switched on my laptop and his picture came up on my screen. 253 days more to go. It was a long wait for me but nothing would stop me from getting him. I would have him one way or another.
His Little Black Book 2
Now, little black books are tedious things. For those of us who carry them around, it is a lot of work to keep them updated. For example, look at this entry:
Marianna, the ex- X
Idowu from Addax- X
Bukky from NSE- X
Ochanya, the waitress at Raddison Blu- X
Laura Haynes, the white chick in Presidential Suite A- X
Shiva Varun, the Indian homeopath in Presidential Suite B (she said she was curing him of his deadly sexual issues)-X
That was my entry on the 19th.
Fast-forward to two days after that and I spotted a certain restless look in his eyes that said ‘I want more’.
He was seated facing her table like one of her pupils. His eyes were water that calmed her burning anger, still she fought to express her rage. She was his little cousin’s school principal.
The kid’s parents had travelled abroad for medical reasons and my boss was left to saddle up with the responsibility of guardianship for a whole month.
Big mistake. The kid and his brother automatically turned into smaller versions of him.
Today’s mischief was that the boy had kissed a girl on the playground and made her cry all day (classical case of Georgy Porgy). Thus this had my boss in the hot seat – and he was enjoying it.
I was bewildered by his behavior because the woman sitting before us was not his type. She wore this black, velvety scarf over her hair and had no earrings on; her dressing was very uptight and I imagined she had religion crammed into her head. One word for her: Touch Not my Anointed. But he wasn’t seeing what I was seeing, he was looking beyond the whole conservative appearance.
I was sitting beside him because he asked me to join him. Why he had developed a habit of always wanting me around him, I couldn’t tell. Of late I had become his confidant and go-to person for everything, and last week he even took me and his little cousind out. Not that I enjoyed it because he hooked up with some lady at the cinema and they made out during the entire movie while I had to keep the restless urchins from running round the whole theater.
Oh! And that reminds me…
Lady at the cinema – X
“This is a church school, sir and we don’t tolerate such behavior from our pupils. I am afraid I have no option than to suspend him,” Ms. Conservative said and my boss raised a brow.
“But he apologized. I made sure of that.”
“Still not good enough.”
“He’s six years old,” he persisted with a puzzled smirk. “He was just goofing around. Boys do that.”
“A six year old kissing a girl is ‘just goofing around’? I’m thinking maybe he saw a much older boy goofing around shamelessly in public.”
My Boss laughed in an easy manner and got up.
“I’m not done with you, sir. Sit down.”
“It is still work hours and I have a meeting in a short while. May I be excused?” he requested. “If you want to suspend the boy, go ahead but you will have to face his mother. My work’s done here.”
“Fine!” the principal grumped and proceeded to pull a blue A4 paper to herself.
“My P.A will get the letter,” my boss replied. “Have a nice day, ma’am.”
He left a smile dancing in the dense atmosphere of her anger and walked out the office.
“Ma’am?!” Her voice was raised. She was glaring at the door after he was gone. “Do I look like a ma’am to him?” she asked me. I shrugged. “Is he always like this?”
I shrugged again. “He likes you.”
Believe me, how that got out of my mouth still baffles me till date. I could have said, ‘yes’, or ‘no’ but I had to say that.
I waited till she was done with her impromptu suspension letter but she didn’t hand it to me. Instead she stood up and walked to the window where she could spy the parking lot.
“He’s still around,” she said, her voice dropping its edge and taking on surprise, “and he’s playing with the kids.”
Now this I had to see. I got up and walked to the window and true to her words, I saw him playing with not just his cousins but other children who had formed an excited crowd around him.
Oh, this guy was good.
“I will take the letter to him myself,” she said as she slipped the letter into an envelope and walked out. I followed her and stood at an eavesdropping distance.
“Here’s the suspension letter,” she told him, trying hard to revive her anger.
“You came out yourself to hand it to me,” he replied. “I must be a very bad boy.”
She slammed the envelope on his chest and walked back in.
Back at the office, when work had slowed that day, I dared to ask him what he saw in her. He looked at me, smiled that knowing smile of his and began. “When she met us at the hallway that led to her office, I saw all I needed to see. As a man who wants a woman, you have to be a mentalist and look for what others won’t see. You can’t just follow your pointer. If you do, you won’t hit your mark.”
“But isn’t the pointer what you men follow?”
“No, Anna. Not all men do that. I, for one I’m different.”
“What is a mentalist?”
He twirled his pen in his hand and answered. “God gave man a brain first, then eyes. The merry jack in the box comes later, hence, order of positioning. A pickup artist always has to be very observant and look for telltale signs that reveal a woman is readily available.”
“But she didn’t look available with what she was wearing.”
“To begin with, the absence of a wedding ring indicated she was single.”
“What if she’s married and forgot her ring at home?”
“A woman dressed that conservatively will not joke with such things. Secondly, her long, red nails contradicted her overall buttoned-down appearance.”
“She had long, red nails?”
His smile was smug. “Then, I noticed the red stilettos too and I knew instantly that she had more to her than met the eyes. In addition, her skirt was very tight despite being below the knees and then when I shook her hand and made to withdraw, she lingered a second longer. Finally,” he leaned forward, “the last one I think must have got me were her lips. They were freshly glossed in brown and pink, meaning that this woman took her time with her appearance this morning, which structures my hypothesis that what she was wearing on the outside was just a façade; maybe something to help her keep her job.
“Now about those lips…” he sighed with an aching. “Sadly, they were not bruised or puckered. And that’s a sign that they are suffering from lack of stroking. Anna… that girl needs a man and she needs a man bad.”
I need a man too.
“Of course, I won’t bore you with the way she couldn’t take her eyes off me or how she undressed me right in that chair,” he said casually but with a massive dose of hubris.
“How was she undressing you?”
He ignored my question and asked to tease. “So you, what do you look for in a woman?”
“Sir, I am not a lesbian. I’ve told you that so many times,” I replied and got up. I remembered I had unfinished work in my office.
He looked at me searchingly and said: “virgin, then?”
“Well, whatever seems to be the problem, I’m here for you. I can help.”
Was that an invitation? One of his famous I-will-free-you-from-your-cocoon moves? If it was what I was thinking, then it was going all wrong. No, I didn’t want to be one of his conquests; I wanted him all for myself. I had to go back to the drawing board fast. He was bored and if he didn’t get something to occupy his mind soon, he would turn his attention on me. I decided to devise a plan to steam things up.
“Oshoke,” I called the naughty little kissing boy the next morning with two hundred naira dangling in the air, “I will give you this money if you go to Uncle and cry and tell him that you want to go back to school today.”
“But I don’t want to go back to school ever!” The spoilt kid stomped his foot and I got out a five hundred naira note.
“How about now?”
“Aunty, can I have two of them?”
“No. You either get one or none.”
“Okay.” He sighed. “But I don’t want to cry.”
I flashed a Vicks balm container and grinned. I set the plan in motion. By break time, Oshoke was back in school. By afternoon, I was making dinner reservations for two somewhere in town. By 5am the next morning, I got a groggy phone call from my boss to come pick him from Ms. Conservative’s place, that his car had broken down.
How it had all gone down, I had no idea but when I saw her weeks later, I could hardly recognize her. The black scarf was gone and replacing it was a trendy hairstyle. A bandage skirt and a revealing shirt did nothing to hide the voluptuous curves on her which I was noticing for the first time. As I fellow female, I had to admit that she was hot! I heard she lost her job but then again she didn’t seem to mind; my boss was well connected to get her something better.
I, on the other hand was back where I was—unnoticed.
No, not really. I became his new best buddy and wing man and at that rate, I believed I was climbing the ladder to his heart. Very soon, like every man his age, he would stumble into some moment of deep evaluation of how meaningless his life is and it would be I who would give some meaning to his existence. For now, I’m stuck in the Wing Man Zone
In other news, I would have loved to take credit for hooking him and Ms. Conservative up but I would be a liar because two days after that first encounter at the school, as I cleaned his office at the close of work, I found the blue ‘suspension’ letter she had written and this was its real content:
15A Gbaja Street, Surulere. Second floor, house on your right with the pink doorbell.
Ping before coming: 27GF****
P.S: Oshoke is suspended for just a day. He can resume next tomorrow.
I had missed a lot in the office that day. Obviously, it was all about body language and he must have read it well.
I opened his Little Black Book:
Ms. Conservative- X