It took just three weeks to get them all out of sorts. Meetings upon endless meetings birthed sleepless nights where they had to come up with the yearβs calendar, embark on researches, build a system on the foundation of a pre-existing one with a mix of a totally new fashion culture to fit the market, and finally to emerge with fresh designs for a new era of Guru and Monet.
It was total madness!
What came as a blessing to all four guys was fast turning into a burden and they found themselves stretched beyond their limits.
For Madu who was in charge of public relations, he devised a way to lessen his load. Being the lastborn in his family, he was accustomed to having people do his duties, hence he simply thrust the bulk of his responsibilities to some young dude who was only too glad to be employed gainfully. While the boy went about Maduβs business, Madu concentrated on other things β like Guru. He was fast developing an unhealthy obsession over the twenty-eight year old.
Khalid, being a hard worker, charged himself into his duties to the extent that he surprised himself. Having been away from the fashion world for more than a decade, there was so much to get acquainted with. The market in Africa was a lot different from the one in Europe and to be able to find his footing, he wasted no time in using the privileges of his office to contact the necessary shakers of the industry. Fortunately, his team was made up of experienced, capable minds that knew their onions in fashion marketing and merchandising. Khalid hated the workload but he was very certain it was going to pay off in no time.
Bankole was by no means left out of the whirling pool of exertion. At first, it was difficult to understand his roles but the regional manager, a middle-aged man, who was sympathetic enough to all of them, helped him immensely. Luck had it that the man once managed Bankoleβs position under Monet back in London. He walked Bankole through his duties and kept him under a watchful eye in the first week. By the second week, the man had to take a trip to London and Bankole was left to work alone. At this point, he understood what was expected of him as he tackled duties on a roaster already marked out for him. It was tedious, no doubt, but he loved it. The downside was forced insomnia; the upside was the attention he was beginning to get from the opposite sex. Having dashing looks had never felt this good. From the ladies in the office to the ones he liaised with on the outside, everyone wanted a piece of him. His flashy car wasnβt helping matters either. He couldnβt help but muse every now and then how one minute his life was of no consequence and the next, he was a man of considerable significance. It felt like he was living someone elseβs existence; sometimes, he would slap himself to remind his brain that he was still Bankole Gomez, a nobody. He never felt full excitement over his new status; to him, it held no meaning without Beatrice. Three weeks after that cold morning, he was still heartbroken.
Guru. He was an enigma of some sort to everyone. Where he was concerned, there arose many questions. If he was the Guru in Guru and Monet, where had he been all these years? How come Monet never mentioned him to anyone? How can a twenty-eight year old have so much experience in fashion? Did he really come up with all those designs all by himself?
He held the entire G&M, home and abroad, in awe. Many in the former management and design team initially kicked against the idea of him being the new head of design, but there was nothing much anyone could do. Thence, they observed him, everyone waiting for him to fail. But the boy performed beyond expectation and antagonism. Madu concluded he was under the influence of drugs even though his process wasnβt hidden from anyone. They watched him create designs, inspire the junior designers and attend to his responsibilities right under their noses. His office, being the largest was turned into his workroom and there he buried himself, stepping out only to share brilliant ideas or to take short breaks. The breaks were always on Maduβs mind, and during that first week, he had employed someone to mark Guru closely. He wanted dirt on him. No one was that genius.
Guru was completely oblivious of the focus on him. So much had changed in his life over the past three weeks. Back in Cape Town, he was working with a top designer who made sure he remained in the shadows and yet created the best pieces for the line. It had been a brain-draining experience but in G&M, he was boss. He couldnβt believe he was taking over Monetβs place and often wondered if that had been her plan all along. There were so many questions he had for her that the short video she left for him couldnβt answer. Why had she thrust her world into his hands? What was she high on when she made that decision?
These were the things he often pondered on when he took his short breaks to clear his head. He would usually take the stairs down instead of the elevator, headphones over his head to avoid human interaction, and walk out of the five-storey building to get some air. He would pace in slow steps, hands tucked in his pockets as he headed down Broad Street in Marina. The famous street which was one of the oldest in Lagos, held both feudal and modern architecture and was listed as part of Guruβs favorite places in the city. He remembered when as a little boy, his father had brought him on his first tour there. He recalled the long walk they took and the stories his father told him about the area being part of the Brazilian Quarter where most of the slave trade returnees from Brazil chose to settle. The man conjured images in Guruβs mind that took him back to a time he never witnessed. It was Broad Street that bore in him his love for the vintage, a part of him that had colored every design he ever made.
His walks would sometimes take him to a spot where an old Yoruba woman sold herbal mixtures to help cure an assortment of ailments. It was a tight space between an old stone building and a skyscraper. It held two long benches facing a table and Guru would sit and order for a cup of steaming herbal concoction to renew depleted energy. He never knew what the woman mixed together; all that mattered was that it felt refreshing. While he sipped, he would listen to the men there who came from a world different from his, share their livesβ experiences or just banter about issues bothering them. It was weird that they really didnβt like talking about politics, unlike the people in the office who had nothing else to do with spare time except argue over who was better between the president and his most formidable opponent. Being away from that environment occasionally was therapeutic.
It was during one of such walks that he bumped into an old lover from university. He was stepping out of the joint when a girl with full, natural hair, left to the mercy of the wind, wheezed past him, leaving a scent of eucalyptus and something floral. He hadnβt paid her much mind but had wondered about her peculiar style. It wasnβt something one saw in Lagos. She had on brown ankle leather boots over black woolen stockings that traveled up long legs disappearing beneath a mini skirt. He didnβt see what she wore on top as a brown jacket covered her torso.
He was turning away from staring at her when suddenly she stopped in her tracks like she had come upon an obstacle. The action also brought him to halt and curiosity held him standing. Slowly, she turned around and glared at him.
βRoy?β
His head didnβt process anything for the first few seconds. For eyes, she had geek glasses and her full hair took central theme of her face, thus he couldnβt recognize her. But the voice caught him somewhere that triggered a fuzzy memory.
βUre?β
She shrieked and ran up to him, wrapping him in a tight hug. The eucalyptus scent was stronger now and the floral just beneath the surface. Guru draped his arms around his ex-girlfriend and the feel of her in his hold brought warm memories to him. But she pushed away from him and blessed him with a nasty slap that caused passers-by to turn.
Guru said nothing. He knew he deserved the slap and even worse.
She kicked him in the sheen and hit him with her hand bag before she began walking away in anger.
He turned. βUre? Ure!β She ignored his calls. βUrena!β
She stopped and spun round. He pointed in the opposite direction.
βI thought you were going this way.β
Urena held an embarrassed look before she threw her head up defiantly and continued on. Guru ran after her and stopped her.
βIβm sorry.β
βYou broke up with me through a text!β
βIt wasnβt intentional, Ure.β
βIt wasnβt intentional? The phone typed the text by itself abi?!β
βIβm sorry.β
βA text! God! Youβre an idiot! Who does that?! I know sometimes your head doesn’t work well, but a text?! You’re just a beast!β
βI know.β
βAnd Iβm not forgiving you! Never!β
βFine.β
They both went silent until she spoke after she calmed.
βI forgive you.β
βThanks.β
βAnd Iβve moved on. Youβre not that important anymore that Iβll still be hung up on you like that. When I realized the breakup was real, I started dating another person.β
βOkay.β
They went silent again.
βSo how about you? Any girlfriends?β
βNo. None since then.β
βBoyfriends?β
He frowned.
βJust kidding.β
βYou havenβt stopped that joke.β
βJust trying to see if it still gets to you.β
βIt does.β
βSo have youβ¦?β she raised her brows slightly. He stared down to the ground. She was asking about his sex life. The last time they were together, they were both virgins.
βHave you?β he threw the question back.
βYep.β She smiled. βSo how is life treating you?β
He shrugged. βLost my dad.β
βI heard. Sorry.β
βI worked with a bank for a year and then moved to South Africa to work with some designer. How about you?β
βNothing much. Went to Vogue Style School of Fashion and Design in Ghana,β she said proudly. Β βCame back, started a small sewing business on the side while looking for a job. Iβm still on that.β
βWhatβs with the glasses?β
βWoke up one morning and realized everything was blurry. Thought it would go away butβ¦β she shook her head. βThe doctors gave me the glasses and things went back to normal.β
βDo they hurt?β
βThe glasses?β
βNo. Your eyes.β
βIf I take off the glasses, yeah.β
They went silent for the third time. Guru felt a gust of cold wind slap over his chest and wondered why he chose, of all days to underestimate the weather. Cape Town was by all means, colder but the harmattan in Nigeria gave a different meaning to the word βchillyβ. It was the dust it came with that he wasnβt comfortable with.
Urena, on the other hand, looked well-prepared for the weather. Beneath her heavy clothes, Guru remembered a slim frame that wasnβt so curvy. She had small breasts, slim hips and a petite, although shapely backside. But she possessed a smooth, dark skin that was spotless and unbelievably soft. Her lips, too, Guru recalled, were luscious.
βLet me be going, Roy. My mom sent me to see a guy in that bank whoβll help me get a job. Hopefully, Iβll be lucky this time.β
βAnd forget fashion?β
She sighed. βItβs not easy jare. There are no jobs and Iβm not as rich as you to start something on my own that will go anywhere.β
βIβm not that rich again. When popsie died we lost everything.β
βAwww, sorry.β
βBut things are back to normal now, I guess. Heyβ¦what if I help you get a job?β
βHow?β
Guru took her hand and led her towards G&M. Something told him he was making a mistake, letting her back into his life, but his heart was beating in a way it hadnβt in a while. He had never stopped loving Urena even though for reasons he never shared with her, he had been forced to leave her. Both of them had unfinished business. She wasnβt just a friend; she was his muse. With her around, he would keep his head above water. The key was to make sure things between them was platonic. As long as they remained friends, he was going to be fine.
βSo do you have a boyfriend now?β he asked as they neared the entrance doors of Guru and Monet.
βJust one.β
Guru laughed. It was to be his first show of happiness in a while.
************
Bankole woke up with a sour taste in his mouth and a bad headache. He felt a chill over his body and realized that he was naked save for a white bedsheet over his legs.
He needed no reminder of what transpired the night before as it came rushing back to him unmercifully. He was going to regret it, for sure. Just a week before, he had gone to church to rededicate his life to God and to seek help to guide him in his new career. Now here he was, with a hangover, lying on a strange bed after a night with a woman he knew little of. If it had taken him just three weeks in the job to get to this point, what was his life going to be like in the following months?
He shuddered and exhaled. His companion for the night was having a shower in the bathroom. He felt it was a good time to dress up and sneak out.
It was easy not to blame himself. After all, the girls were all over him and it would take a eunuch not to give in to that type of temptation. But he remembered his mother always told him that temptation never barged into anyoneβs house uninvited and brought them down. It usually knocked on the door a few times until the person answered.
This had been his case. The lady in the bathroom was sent to him for a photoshoot. She was a professional model, the covergirl for the February issue of G&M magazine. Bankole was not into skinny females but the moment she walked into his studio on the last floor of the G&M building, he was held bound.
It was professional at first. She seemed to him a sad woman beneath her poses and smiles. At their first location at Elegushi Beach, she sat by while he set up equipment with a couple of guys on his team. From stolen glances, he discovered she was trying hard to remain emotionally stable.
The shoot began when the sun started to set. Initially, she was scared of the waves but he assured her that she was going to be fine, leading her to the edge of the ocean where the waters splashed about rocks set there to break unruly surfs.
In time, she relaxed and seemingly found succor as the foamy waters slapped around her legs and dug around her heels. She was great beneath the lens much to Bankoleβs relief. Of all the models he worked with so far, she was the best.
However, when a wild wave from nowhere, flounced upon her, surged far beyond its barriers and carried everyone off the shore, she lost her cool. Bankole had gone after and rescued her, helping her unto a mat on dry ground. Subsequently, he checked on his team and found everyone okay. Later on they would discover that her car key was washed with the waves. It was at this point she broke down and activated a diva mode so alien to Bankole that he stood by helplessly until she put herself together. He sent his team back to town and stayed with her to have a word.
She told him of her man and how he was upset with her because she wouldnβt give up her career as a model. She cried for so long and so despairingly, that Bankole hardly heard anything she said after a while. He basically consoled her and offered to drive her home. There was a second photoshoot at the studio the next day and he needed her rested and refreshed. That night she thanked and gave him a peck on his cheek in his car. When he left her house, with the help of a colleague, they found a mechanic that got her car out of the beach area.
The next evening, she was at his studio and back to her springy self. When the photoshoot began, she requested to be alone with him. Since models were known to make strange requests, no one fussed about it. The shoot went smoothly and in a short while, they were through.
And then she made a stranger request.
βCan I take off my clothes?β
Bankole, who at this point, was turning off the lights, paused.
βYou said?β
βI need to take a few personal nudes. I havenβt done so in a while. Can I?β
Bankole broke a sweat. He remembered his regional manager telling him models had no qualms going stark naked under the lens. The man told him to get used to it and also used to the fact that most of them were women of loose morals.
βIn fact, all of them are hoes,β the man had added with a sneer on his face. βBe warned.β
Bankole swallowed. βSure. Go ahead,β he told her.
He turned away as she undressed, and prayed to God she would change her mind.
βYou can turn now.β
Bankole heard a little voice in him whine as he faced her.
Damn! She was hot! His face shot down immediately.
βAm I making you uncomfortable, Bankole?β she asked.
βNo, no. Uhmβ¦β he went behind his camera. βHow do you want us to do this?β
He cringed at his question.
βI meant, whatβs the concept?β
βNo concept. Just nudes.β
βOkay, give me a moment.β
He set his camera.
βAre you ready?β
She nodded and he began. It was the most silent shoot he ever took. He gave no directions, stayed behind the lens and clicked off at every pose she took. After they were done, she walked up to him and gave him a hug.
βThanks. Youβre sweet.β
He recalled his bossβ words and stepped away.
βYour carβs in the parking lot.β
βOops! I forgot my spare key. Could you drive me home?β
βIβd love to but Iβm stopping somewhere for a drink with friends.β
βReally? Iβd love to go with you. Can I? Please? Iβm so bored and lonely these days.β
Bankole found himself trapped. She was too beautiful and too nude for him to resist.
βOkay. Just dress up.β
She walked to where she discarded her clothes and shimmied into her thong. Bankole didnβt know why but he stared and caught a glimpse of her backside. And he felt himself on the verge of an erection.
He hurried out of the studio.
**********
They hung out with a couple of his friends, the ones who had housed him when he first moved to Lagos before he occupied his new home. The guys were as smashed over her beauty as he was and urged him, when she took a bathroom break, to βenter her runsβ without wasting time and forget about Beatrice.
They had a lot of alcohol to drink afterwards, although Bankole kept telling himself that he wasnβt so tipsy. The night dragged on and by twelve, he parted ways with his friends and took her home. He was to say goodbye at her doorstep but she dragged him in and raped his lips with kisses. So many times, his mind begged him to stop but she was too intoxicating to pass up. How they ended up in her bedroom was a blur to him but the rest of what happened there was going to be etched in his memory. She was wild and gluttonous, like one starved of sex for years. Bankole, on his part, couldnβt believe he was having it that easy. Girls as beautiful as she never went after him, let alone give him so good a time.
He slept like a prince, sated and smiling. Surely, it had been therapy for his soul. However, he didnβt feel the same when he woke up, especially when he turned to the wall on his right and saw his boss in a picture hanging off the wall, holding the same woman he had just slept with in a warm embrace.
Bankole tumbled off the bed in fright. He gave the bedroom a quick tour and discovered he was in the private space of a married couple. He reached for his boxers on the floor and wore it just as his one-night affair appeared from the bathroom.
βHi Bankyβ¦β
βStay away from me.β He put a hand out, his chest thumping painfully. She gave him a puzzled look.
βWhy didnβt you tell me you were married?β
Her expression was maintained. βErmβ¦I did. The other day at the beachβ¦β
βNo!β
βYes, I did. I told you I was married.β
βYou did not! And youβre married to my boss?! You missed that part out too?!β
She rolled her eyes. βYou didnβt exactly want to know anything about me. You just wanted to screw me.β
Bankoleβs mouth fell open.
βWell, you got what you wanted. You can go. Heβs coming back from London today.β
Bankole was tongue-tied. Suddenly she seemed ugly to him. She wasnβt the same woman he had in his arms the night before.
βYou werenβt bad, though, for a fine boy,β she stated.
He wanted so badly to cuss at her.
βWho is Bea, by the way?β she crossed her arms.
βWhat?β
βYou kept calling me Bea yesterday. Who is she?β
Bankole picked his shirt off the floor. βSomebody you will never be.β
βOuch.β
She walked forward and lifted his jeans off the bed post, flinging it at him. He didnβt bother to dress up. He packed his belongings and headed for the door.
βYouβre not going to tell my husband, are you?β
She made him stop.
βWhy would I do that?β
βJust making sure.β
Bankole gripped the door handle.
βCall me.β She blew a kiss just as he walked out and slammed the door.
βShit!β he swore. His phone rang. He stared at it. Mrs. Tunji was calling.
βGood morning, ma,β he answered.
βHow are you?β
βIβm fine.β
βYou remember youβre having lunch with me today?β
Bankole shut his eyes. He had totally forgotten. βLunch?β
βYes, lunch. Youβre meeting Monetβs daughter today.β
βOh.β
β1pm. Donβt be late.β
βYes, ma.β
The line went off. Bankole dressed up in a flash and left the house, the weight of what he had just done heavy on him. He needed to go to church to purge himself.
**************
Mrs. Tunji put away her phone and stepped out of the elevator. The offices were scanty, being that it was a Sunday, but she was certain she would find Guru at work. She opened a glass door which led her to the design and creative wing that held several cubicles with work tables. Most of the tables were neatly arranged except for the ones that had people working on them. Mrs. Tunji nodded to the greetings of the staff and proceeded to their bossβ office.
Guru was lost behind his sewing machine. She stood for a while and watched him with a bit of warmth, remembering her son whom she hadnβt seen in quite some time.
βHow are you?β
Guru took off his headphones and stared in her direction.
βMorning, ma.β
βHow are you?β
βGreat. One minute.β
He freed the piece of cloth he was sewing from the machine and strolled to her. He gave her an unexpected hug. She stood coldly in his arms.
βWhy did you do that?β
βI was trying to know your size.β
βWhat?β
βI want to make you something. Heard itβs your birthday next week, so I hugged you to know your details.β
The woman wasnβt so sure how to react to him. βBy just hugging me, you can tell?β
βI can tell by just looking at you but I get an accurate fit with a hug.β
Her face turned back to stone. βNext time, use the tape.β
βYes, maβam.β He smiled. She was fond of the boy. He was easy to love, never given to the things that worried everyone else. He was dedicated to his job. Hard to understand or relate with but possessed a good soul beneath. Anyway, three weeks was too quick to conclude. Children of these days often turned out as disappointments in the end.
βI was told you hired an assistant.β
βYes, I did,β Guru answered.
Mrs. Tunji looked around his scattered workspace like she expected to see the assistant hiding in some corner. Instead she found lifesize graffiti of curvy, faceless women in spicy lingerie on the walls.
βGoodness! Roy, what is this monstrosity?β
βInspiration. You donβt like them?β
βNo. Please, get a painter to pain over them.β
βIβm sorry. I canβt. They talk to me.β
Mrs. Tunji raised her brows and saw that he wasnβt joking. She sighed. Monet had warned her about his oddness and added that he was not to be hindered to do anything he desired.
βIf he wants to come to work in his briefs, let him be. His demons are weird like that.β
Mrs. Tunji sighed once more. βLunch is by 1pm. Hope you remember?β
βYes, maβam.β
Mrs. Tunji lifted the side of her lips in a smile but let it down again.
βHow are you feeling?β she asked.
βIβm fine.β
She lowered her eyes into his and uttered in a quieter tone.
βI know about your HIV status.β
Guru slowly pushed his hands into his pockets. βShe told you.β
βYes. And it was good thing. Such information is very important. And trust me to guard it with my life.β
Guru smiled blandly.
βBut I do hope it wonβt be a problem for us, here?β
βNo.β
βGood. It should never leak out. Never.β
Guru gave her no reply.
βSee you at lunch.β
She walked out as silent as a ghost.
Guru remained standing for several minutes. When he finally came to, he returned to his sewing machine, listening to Jhene Aikoβs Bed Peace.
Lord, Sally can I spend a week in your head? Please???
Lol! You’re allowed!
This is the only thing that brings me to this blog. Your writing. I’m sorry and no offence to other featured writers here, you write on a different wavelength. If I were you, I’d stop giving it out for free. But I know nothing good lasts forever. I dread the day you stop posting, Sally. Until then I’ll enjoy your work.
Nice piece…I kinda love Guru’s energy and Bankole better rid his head of Beatrice.
Madu I kind of dislike a lil, Mrs. Tunji forming hard woman while she’s actually soft inside, tho I never wish to have her type as my mom.
Thanks again Salz.
Always interesting..tank you Sally
Sally! Sally!! You are one of the few writers I read every word you write without any temptation of skipping some lines. You are awesome!!!!!!!!
Banky,I pity him,
hmmm, niceeeeeeeee. Thumbs up Sally
Sally dont you think its time we contributed the needed resources to take you to the next level????I mean you are good,carry go joor,nice one
Ur genies no b from here oooo..i wonder where de brin ur inspiration from… thanks salz..Grt week
Whoa!
Guru has got HIV? π
Wow.
Banky has just gotten into a mess. Why do I feel like that model is all shades of trouble?
Can’t wait for the next episode.
I’m itching to meet the daughter
I was here and I enjoyed every word.
Held spellbinded by Sally writings. The way you weave your stories makes me pondering if its really fiction or some true life story.
Sally, this is great. It just has a very different twist to it. Very retro and a sign of versatility. Welldone
sally you are very GOOD.. there is a way u paint your characters vividly that i feel like am watching a movie. please write a book.
Nice one Sally! Well done.
What r u planing Monet oooooo.
The way she write is so inspiring, just as if we r watchin all d characters on a tv station. I pray God continue 2 bless u dear, may ur ink never runs dry. Amen
Very interesting as expected…I kinda like Guru in a way, I thought Bankole will be the best among them, I guess I am wrong…great work sally!
Weldone sally,u’re a genius
Ur write ups gives me pleasure in ways I can’t say!
It was so good that I didn’t know when I got to the end… So good that I didn’t want the episode to end….
Sally, YOU ARE AN AMAZING WRITER!
Awww HIV? Was that y he had to break up with Ure? Banky just go set hinself up like dat. Let’s meet d girlβΊ
Sally,sally I solo wana be like you when I grow up.. Enjoyed this piece
Cant help but love guru(roy)….and sally what ve yu gottwn bankole into. I kinda like khalid. Seriously dont know why. Just hope he has a chance at redemption over his past act. And the man we all love to hate. Madu. Will really want to know his story. I hope we meet this mysterious daughter soon. I am sure she’s gonna blow our mind away….Thanks Sally for giving me a wonderful end to this weekend.
that guru had HIV,that is d hook,well done sally.
The twist and turns,good work Sally
Nicely written Sally,have been waiting all weekend for this post. I think am going to like Guru…sadly he has HIV. ? I hope he’s the father also. Well done Sally. ?
You are an amazing writer. Wish the very best always. You are going places Sally.
Wow…intriguing set of people these are! Wow, too wonderful piece, please keep it coming!
Good job Sally….thanks.
Good job as always Sally. Totally loving ds story. God bless you, always.
Great work ,Sal
im in love. sigh dreamily…… boys with toys. the author of master pieces dearest aunty sally. biko! one day in your head is all i am asking for. this is so beautiful……..i love thiss story already.
Thanks Sally for the post. U are blessed.
Guru is good. This is lovely
Hey Sally,Happy New Year. Your emails have been going to my spam and found out today and rectified that.
Wow! Whatever inspires you? I enjoyed this new series and like ever thumbs up my sweet Sally,am hooked forever,lol
Wow! Guru is HIV positive? Bankole has entered “one chance” with this model. Sally is so good. The way you twist your stories leaves me spellbound. Thank you!
N she spoiled my Banky for me o!
Madu, Khalid, Guru and Bankole… I’m loving this. I think Monet’s daughter is a special child
jolly jolly read
As interesting and engaging as any Sally writing.
Madu won’t ever get right with me going by his persona.
Banky? A wrong shag, I mean absolutely wrong shag, and to make it worse, his boss’ woman. That doesn’t turn out without drama.
Guru is a weirdo, but one with a positive energy. I’d like to read more of him.
Hopefully we get to meet the lil’ girl Monet left behind in the next episode.
Big ups Sally. Thanks for giving us Boys With Toys
Lovely as usual, I particularly love that bit about temptation knocking on your door for a while before opening it, its a great lesson. Thanks so much.
Sally!sally!l luv d way ur mind works,u re a genius, d storyline is sooo brilliant, typical of ur wrks. Weldone
interestin, am enjoyin it
What the fuck? Slly, why did you give Guru AIDS?? π better give him a cure o! What is this nau
I’m gonna spend my whole day reading #boyswithtoys# total bliss