The about to be broke bitch… or something like that.
That is what I would call my current predicament. That and the fact that I was still trying to get over the shock of being publicly humiliated for the first time in my entire life.
I was curled up on the floor in my large bedroom, a bottle of red wine somewhere within my reach and my phone a few spaces behind me.
I was tipsy from too much drinking and I was fucked up from being humiliated and the lack of anywhere to go.
My phone buzzed, I cussed and ignored it.
I had received over ten calls since the incident the day before and as at the last time I checked the phone an hour before, I had thirty unread IMs and fifteen missed calls.
I was also aware I was on the two major Nigerian gossip blogs and most blogs had been writing quite interesting pieces on me.
The last one I saw was, Five Reasons Why Having A Sugar Daddy Is A Bad Idea, Ask Kelechi Mbah. The idiots even had the nerve to copy my Twitter handle and tag me on Instagram.
The thing with someone like me was when I fell, I got back up and I made sure my present was better than my past.
My phone rang again, why won’t the bitches leave me the fuck alone?
Yes, my expensive dress got torn and I got embarrassed, with pictures to show for it, so? Move the fuck on.
I have always said Nigerians are Nigeria’s own problems.
For instance, how could anyone explain why I was number one trending topic on Twitter and my photos were constantly generating memes when insurgency was reigning supreme in the country?
I raised my head, irritated at the phone that would not stop ringing.
My head felt light and I instantly felt dizzy the moment I raised my head.
Fuck, I’m screwed
I had been drinking for hours on end and that was why I was not surprised about the lightheadedness and the sudden surge of nausea that followed.
I grabbed my phone, I was going to turn the damn thing off and severe communication with the outside world.
If they couldn’t reach me then they would back the fuck off.
But it was when I picked the phone that I saw who it was.
Why was Akin calling me? We had not spoken in at least one year, the last time we had a real conversation I had embarrassed him publicly in a bar in Ikeja and had called him broke in front of his friends.
Oh wait, was the idiot calling to gloat?
Well, there was only one way to find out and I was not taking that way because, I did not want to find out.
I groggily found my way to the bathroom, lifted the lilac toilet lid that matched the walls and the tub in the bathroom and lowered my head – everything I had ingested came pouring through my mouth into the Toilet.
My body moved in violent spasms as I let wine after wine out through the toilet, my hands grabbing the toilet seat for support.
When I was sure I had nothing left to give the lilac guy in front of me, I pushed the flusher and wobbled my way to the sink.
I rinsed my mouth and my face and then as I slowly lifted my head, I paused and stared long and hard at my reflection in the mirror.
My ombre hair was rough and I looked disheveled – unsurprisingly. My eyes had also puffed up and I honestly would run if I ran into me in an empty hallway.
I threw my head back and laughed, sometimes your life changed in an instant and threw you off balance.
Then, you, who had thought you had shit under control became clueless.
I ran my manicured hands over my wet face, my neon green artificial nails digging into my flesh.
Then, I covered my mouth and screamed.
I was thoroughly fucked.
Ever had spaghetti and efo riro? Perfect combination.
And that was what I made and dished for myself a few hours later, after I had been able to soak myself in my tub for thirty minutes, brushed my hair and pulled it up in a ponytail.
I was sitting on my kitchen counter now, dressed in tiny shorts and a grey tank with no bra.
Where do people go when they’re looking for a sugar daddy sef?
Ever considered that?
Like if anyone were to wake and consciously search for a sugar daddy, where would she go?
I swigged the bottle of cold water in front of me and relished in the refreshing coolness it gave me.
My phone was ringing again, I had forgotten to turn the damn thing off.
Irritated with myself for forgetting something as serious as that in this moment, I grabbed my plate and water and made for my bedroom.
It was Akin Thomas calling again.
Out of curiosity, I picked this time.
“Kaycee!” He called, was that excitement I sensed in his voice? “Kaycee, how are you?”
I was silent for several seconds before I answered, “why are you calling me, AKT?”
He sounded disappointed when he spoke next, “Kaycee, that’s not fair.”
“I am not in the mood to talk…”
“Please let’s meet up at The Palms, Kaycee. I’m leaving my Office now, I would see you soon. Please.”
“No. I am not doing public places right now.”
“Okay, a friend owns a bar somewhere in Ikoyi, we can pick a private place and talk.”
After a long pause, I said, “Okay.”
A brief update on Akin “AKT” Thomas; We had gone to OAU together and he was that fine sweet boy every girl loved but no girl really gave much attention because he was broke. In fact, AKT had three shirts all through school. Okay, four shirts because I remembered one came in two different colors. And he had only two pair of jeans to go with it. He was clean though and he was brilliant. But he had been more broke than a broken mirror. I met him in my year three when I was trying to not fail a course the second time and begged him to teach me. I would buy him lunch in exchange for the lessons. We became close and one day, after studying together in an empty class in AUD 1, one of the most popular reading areas in school, we ended up kissing. Then, it moved to touching and one day we fucked somewhere in motion ground. He was my first. They say the woman got emotional about who popped her cherry but it was the other way round for AKT and I. He wanted us to literally be together forever. But I did not want that. He basically spent the rest of his life chasing me up until a year ago when I had called him broke and he’d been too hurt to speak to me again.
Until tonight that is.
I parked my car when I located where we were meeting. I hoped for his own good he had something sensible to say.
I was about to dial his number when my phone rang. He was standing by my window, dressed in a sparkling white shirt, a slim gold chain glistening around his neck.
He looked as handsome as ever, his hair well groomed and his body well taken care of.
I might not have wanted him but I had missed my friend.
I got down from the car and threw my arms around him. He hugged me fiercely and kissed me on the forehead.
“I missed you” He whispered and I whispered the same back.
I did not even realize how true the words were until I said them.
“Come, let’s go inside.” He said and took me inside the bar.
We ordered barbecue and chapman, I had enough alcohol in me to make a brewery jealous so there was no need to ingest more.
We caught up on old times and barely spoke about my recent embarrassing episode.
Hours passed without me even noticing and I wondered later if it was that good company or I had just missed having someone to talk to.
We eventually left the bar and stepped out.
“I want to take you home with me tonight.” He said to me and for some reason, I did not argue.
He stopped me from getting into my car and said, “Let’s go in mine”
And that was when I saw his Maybach, he must have noticed the visible shock on my face because he gently tugged at my hand and pulled me along.
He opened the door for me and helped me get in, like the gentleman he’d always been.
And as he joined me in the car, all I was thinking was, did this one do blood money?
If the Maybach had left me stunned, the house in Banana Island had left me momentarily dazed.
It was a huge structure that we had to drive five minutes from the gate to.
Oh I’m not kidding, it was surrounded by heavy gates and guarded by mean looking hefty men, the entrance to the gates looking like something off The Great Gatsby.
We drove through a bend towards the main house itself, which was a beautiful structure that left any normal person breathless the first time they witnessed it.
You heard me, witnessed. You witness this house, you don’t see it – It was a miracle, an happening, a grand show.
The house was surrounded by what I knew was well tended lawn, an aisle created by flowers ran up to the front door.
We parked the Maybach in a Garage made of glass and as before, he held me to his side as we walked to the door.
A uniformed help – some olive skinned Puerto Rican looking guy who had eyes that made the blueness of the sea seem basic, helped with AKT’s suitcase and jacket, and bowed his head slightly in greeting to me as we entered the house
I looked around the massive sitting room as AKT rolled up the sleeves to his crisp white shirt and led the way up the stairs with silver railings.
I was lost in this world and God knew I did not want to be found.
Puerto Rican Help disappeared as soon as he dropped AKT’s things on a sofa in the room.
My bedroom was massive but this place was basically half of my entire house.
A large bed sat in the middle, neatly dressed with white sheets and pillows, an open closet was close to the bed near the wall, a plasma screen was on and three different mirrors stood in specific places in the room.
A gold chandelier hung from the ceiling, something I know must cost millions to buy.
AKT stepped closer to me, his breath felt by my skin. He held my waist with one hand and raised my chin with the other.
“I want to kiss you but…”
I kissed him and we soon tugged at each other’s clothes like horny teenagers.
He undressed me in a matter of seconds and removed my matching set of lingerie.
Then he placed me on his bed, removed his shirt and placed his head in between my thighs.
His tongue found my clit, teased it and then, gently found his way to my opening. I moaned, especially when his hands found my taut nipples and played with them.
He raised his head and dedicated the next few minutes to my nipples.
Then he stopped. “I want to eat you so badly but first, let’s eat dinner.”
Ladies and gentlemen, Sugar baby just found herself another Sugar Daddy.
– Tomilola Coco Adeyemo