Hi guys! Sorry this is coming later than usual. It is due to unforeseen circumstances. Here is the new blog series by me that I hope you’d love. I look forward to your responses as usual.
“You still haven’t told me your name babe” he said in a husky voice as he took his position on top of her.
“How about we get on with business mister Fred” she purred, parting her just recently waxed and toned legs, giving him full access between her thighs.
“Tell me your name. Let me ask you if you’re loving it…”
Her moans interrupted him.
“Shhh fred. Just hit the spot would ya?”
“You asked for it, you got it!”
And like a bull charging forward, he sharply eased into her and watched in delight as she cried out in sheer ecstasy.
Malika Aliu sashayed into the beautiful, neatly arranged, wide clothing store and took her time to take in every detail in the room. She was standing in the ladies section which was divided into four large parts, First was the Casual Chic section which comprised of trendy female jeans, tops, jumpsuits, playsuits and dresses, next was the Rockstar section which comprised of biker jackets, leather pants, rockstar tees and tanks, third was the Afro Chic section which was filled with different african textiles/materials ranging from ankara to adire to wooden and the fourth was the Office chic, where she could see all sort of cute and and trendy office wears. Impressive, she noted. It wasn’t everyday she saw something this neatly structured and stylish, that belonged to a Nigerian in Nigeria.
“What can I help you with ma’am?” One of the impeccably dressed sales girl asked her as she stepped up to her. She smiled at Malika warmly as if she’d known her all her life and Malika loved the place already. Stylish clothes and friendly staff, amazing combination.
“I’m not here to shop” she said “where is your boss?”
“Oh there you are Malika!”
Malika looked in the direction the voice was coming from and saw walking towards her a stylishly dressed light skinned woman. She was wearing black leather skirt and a purple silk top paired with black pumps, she looked like something out of Vogue magazine. Malika recognised her instantly because she’d seen her face on television interviews and magazines. She marvelled at how well Kofoworola Akin-Bucknor still carried herself at 36. Most women around here lose themselves and their style once they were over thirty and married but that wasn’t Kofoworola Akin-Bucknor. She was a woman who walked and worked with style.
“Kofoworola Akin-Bucknor. Just call me Kofo” she said as she held Malika in a too warm embrace. The latter responded and Kofo topped it with a kiss on both cheeks.
“Welcome to K.A.B clothing store” she said in what Malika would call very polished english, the woman easily picked her words like Malika was sure she picked her clothes. “I’m glad to finally meet the amazing celebrity photographer, Malika Aliu. I must say your pictures don’t do you justice, you are one beautiful woman!”
Malika laughed. “You’ve got a nice store here Mrs Bucknor…”
“Kofo please” Kofo corrected with a smile.
“Kofo. Sorry” Malika laughed again. “I’m impressed with the whole place!” She added.
“I promise to give you a tour once we are done talking about tonight. That said, let’s get to business!” Kofo responded and dragged Malika along with her.
Malika Aliu had been known for one thing all her career life; Discipline. She was one hell of a disciplined photographer who took her job like she did her life. Whenever she had an event or a celebrity to photograph, she was always there on time, ready to work and she faced her work with so much dedication. Most celebrities knew her for that and even those who sometimes let their stardom get into their heads knew with her, discipline was key.
She walked into ZestVille cafe and nodded in greeting to the staff. Some of them seemed to recognise her as they smiled and greeted her. She was a twenty six year old woman who had given it all she could do to be where she was at the moment in her career and she was happy she did.
“Can I see the manager please?” She asked politely when she got to the counter. She was directed to the manager’s office. Kofo had employed her services to cover her wedding anniversay which was tonight. She had been married to her husband for sixteen years, with a sixteen year old daughter and like Kofo had told her, they were the happiest couple on earth.
“Good day sir” she greeted the manager as soon as she stepped into the small but neatly arranged office.
“Good day Miss Aliu. Please have a seat”
Once she was seated, she got straight to business “The Bucknors are using this place for their event tonight and I came in earlier to set up. Two of my guys would be here in about ten minutes to help with that. I just wanted to inform you of this so you wouldn’t be caught off guard”
“Oh come on. No problem. I’m highly honoured to have you” the manager responded happily. He seemed more than excited to be hosting the Bucknors in his cafe. Who wouldn’t? That was one sure way to boost business.
Malika nodded and was out of the door in seconds. Kofo had insisted she stayed there to take the pictures herself and had not minded the huge price she had to pay for it.
When Malika returned to the cafe later in the evening, she took her time to view the place. It was a beautiful place, but then what did she expect of a cafe inside Zest Ville, one of the most expensive estates in Lekki.
Two of her employees joined her and they judiciously set up their angles before guests started to troop in.
Malika wondered while they worked if she would ever have her wedding anniversary in a cafe but according to Kofo, her reason for doing so was because they met in this same cafe sixteen years before. It was a surprise event for her husband, she’d added and Malika respected the woman even more. Romantic women weren’t so easy to come by in Nigeria.
She took a quick look at her wristwatch, it was ten minutes to the event.
The event started twenty minutes after it was scheduled to and from where she stood, Malika saw the creme de la creme of Lagos troop into the Cafe. Some of them she knew personally, some she didn’t. Albeit, she stood where she was, away from the crowd but a good corner to get her pictures with help from her employees.
Music was blaring from the speakers, basically love songs from the nineties, guests laughed and caught up with each other.
Malika turned and saw standing beside her, the only man to ever make shirt and pants look so beautiful. He was slightly taller and even though she wouldn’t describe him as drop dead gorgeous, he could make women turn a second or maybe even a third time when he walked into a room.
“Korede Kuti” he said and stretched out a hand.
Oh. The Korede Kuti? Fine artist, photographer and music video guru?
She took his hand in a firm handshake.
“I know” he responded and she smiled.
“Hey everyone” and like that their attention was directed to the front, standing in front of everyone was Kofoworola Akin-Bucknor in a tight fitting red dress and nude coloured pumps. Her hair was let down and it cascaded down her shoulders, making her look so effortlessly beautiful. Malika took a shot of her. It was a moment worth capturing.
“I’m glad you guys could come tonight” everyone applauded her as she began to talk about her husband who Malika had not yet seen. Where was he? Or had she seen him without knowing it was him?
“One second honey”
Then she saw him or as it was, his back. He walked up to her and whispered something in her ears and with his back turned to the everyone, pulled her into the restroom.
Less than a minute later, Kofo stormed out hysterical, she looked like something terrible had happened to her.
Her husband followed, Malika watched him try to talk to her but she paid him no attention. Blood drained from Malika’s face as she recognised Kofo’s husband.
“Party’s over people. My husband just ended our marriage” Kofo announced into the mic.
Malika struggled not to drop her camera, but the same couldn’t be said of her jaw as she gaped at the man she’d just discovered was Mr Akin Bucknor. Kofo breezed past her on her way out, while Akin Bucknor struggled to catch up with his wife—or ex wife as the case seemed to be.
Malika, without thinking walked up to him and stood in his way, barring him from following his wife.
He was stunned as he recognised her. He tried to speak but that became instantly impossible as Malika’s hands landed heavily on his cheek.
“That is for conveniently forgetting to mention you’re married and for telling me your name is Fred!”