In The Beginning...
 
Dear Lord, I promise to abstain from sëx if you deliver me from this shame! I would stitch up my punani until my wedding night. So help me God! Amen.

I prayed this fervently in my heart as I lay quietly under the bed in my boyfriend's plush bedroom in his highbrow Ikoyi luxury apartment. It turns out he wasn't just my boyfriend. He was also someone's husband. That someone who was at the apartment right now and who he was so terrified of, that he shoved a semi-naked me unceremoniously under the bed and told me to stay silent or his wife would kill both of us.

I could hear the low rumble of their conversation but couldn't make out their words. While waiting for the inevitable screaming from my lover's wife, memories came crashing through my mind of all the stories I'd heard about wives who caught their husbands' side-chick. How the side-chick was beaten within an inch of her life, stripped and paraded on the streets of Lagos as a husband-snatcher with entertained passersby taking pictures for the blogs and social media. I could see that as my fate; punishment for fornicating with a married man! Never mind that I never knew the lying fücking adulterous bastard hid this oh-so-vital piece of personal history from me. My preference for older men will surely be the death of me; me being twenty four and him being thirty eight. Before I lost control and started wailing at the heartbreaking images my imaginative and creative brain was weaving, I went back to my heartfelt confessions and repentance to any Supreme Being up there. 

Deliver your sinful daughter oh Lord and I will join a convent! Ok. Maybe not a convent. My mouth is likely too filthy with all the swear words to be deemed worthy of being a Reverend Sister. But I promise to be a nun in my apartment and in my heart. No sëx. Praying seven times a day. Going to mass as often as the church doors are open. Paying tithes. Helping the poor and needy. Oh! And no sëx. That's what got me into this mess in the first place. I will never look at another man sëxually again unless he's my husband.

After what felt like the longest hour of my life but which was most likely minutes, I couldn't hear the rumbling of conversation from the living-room anymore. The silence felt so loud, heavy and oppressive that my eardrums were thrumming from the pressure. I stopped breathing. Yes, I stopped my lungs from taking in oxygen. I stopped my heart from pumping blood. And I stopped my veins from carrying blood rushing all around my body. I had to for fear the sounds of these ignorant organs busy doing their jobs keeping me alive would expose my sorry repentant braless self hiding under the bed and cause my demise at the hands of an angry Lagos housewife. This was one story I would keep a secret till the last breath left my body! Be it tonight or when I was an old grandmother nun. Wait! Can I be a grandmother and a nun at the same time? I really need to get more knowledge about this whole nunnery and abstinence stuff if I was going to take my new vow seriously.

The door creaking slowly as it was opened halted my rambling thoughts and I tried as much as possible to vanish into thin air or melt through the ground into the apartment below. What I wouldn't give to have been a student at Hogwarts right now. The things I could have done with a wand and some magic spells. Hermione would have been green with envy!

When I spied his bare feet walking towards the bed and no other feet, especially of the female kind in tow, I breathed a soft sigh of relief and collapsed under the weight of the tension that had held me captive for the past few minutes of this nightmare.

"You can come out now. She's gone."

While my self-preservative instinct was to crawl out from under there with the speed and agility of a cat on heat, I was too weak to move and too pissed off to ask him for help getting out.

"Have you fallen asleep?"

Really? He could make a joke at a time like this? 

"Help me out. I think I'm stuck." Better to lie than admit the tension of the night had gotten to me. My game-plan was to play it cool, act all sophisticated till I got the hell out of here. Then I could really be the terrified little heartbroken girl I could feel bubbling to the surface.

He got down on his stomach, reached out to grasp my arms in his hands and dragged me out and into his arms. We lay there on the floor with me holding on to him, seeking his strong warm chiselled and sexy torso to gain some equilibrium. As soon as I realised his left hand was reaching towards my naked breast to resume where we stopped before his wife's interruption, I shoved him hard and scrambled to my feet.

"Are you fücking insane? No apology or word of explanation about a previously unmentioned wife and you want to grab my breast? Really?!"

"Come on, Titi. So what if I have a wife? It's no big deal. It doesn't change things between us. Or how I feel about you."

"You're joking, right? How do you feel about me, pray tell? And while you're telling, also chip in how you feel about your wife!" I felt an overwhelming urge to scream at him and throw something at his handsome cheating face. But I managed to use my indoor voice and restrain from spending a night or two in a police cell for assaulting a prominent member of society.

"Look, I'm not the first married man with a girlfriend. Neither will I be the last. You're also not the first girl to date a married man..."

I cut him off right there! "But I didn't even know you were married! You never told me!"

"And you never asked! In any case, it didn't matter. It doesn't matter. I like you. You like me. I take care of your financial and material needs. And you take care of my... companionship needs."

In a small voice I said to him "And I take care of your sexual needs. You can say it. That's what it was." It dawned on me then what I had become, what he saw me as; a prostitute. Someone who exchanges sexual favours for financial and material benefits. I had sold my vagina, not to mention other parts of my body, over and over again in various styles and positions for luxury trips, designer labels and a posh address. Feeling the shame like a thick cloak over my head suffocating me, I turned around and started putting on my clothes.

"Baby, you know you mean more than that to me. I never disrespected you. I never lied to you. I've treated you well. I know how my friends in similar situations treat their girlfriends. Did I ever make you feel like I was paying you for sex?"

At that point I couldn't help my notorious temper from throwing all thoughts of cool, calm and collected out the window. I exploded with all the anger, pain and heartbreak in my petite five foot five frame. "Yes, you did! Just now! When your wife showed up and you shoved me under the bed! Naked! Under the fücking bed like dirty laundry to be hidden away! And yes, you disrespected me and lied to me. Every time you and I were fücking and you never told me you were married! Every time we made plans for the future. Every time you told me you loved me and called me Wifey! You fücking lied and disrespected me Mr. Fücking Married Husband!"

I'd had enough. I couldn't stand here arguing with him. It was pointless and I was on the verge of breaking down. I grabbed my shoes, not bothering to put them on and picked up my Michael Kors handbag, a just-because gift from him. It was probably more a gift to assuage his guilt. Judging by his defence this night, he felt no guilt at his adulterous deception. The bloody spawn of Satan!

He grabbed my arm as I shoved past him and clamped his arms around me with my head on his chest just under his chin. My favourite place to be. Scratch that! My former favourite place to be.

"Let go of me Donald. We're done. I'm done with you." I wasn't sure he heard the thready whisper that was my voice but I was too tired to voice the scream that was in my soul and too tired to struggle out of his arms. The arms that had held me close for many days and nights for the past ten months with what I assumed was love and affection.

"I'm sorry. Ok? I'm sorry. I didn't tell you because my wife and I are having problems. We're practically separated. We don't even really live together. She doesn't make me happy. You do. Please, don't leave me. Give me a chance to make it up to you."

I had no idea when a light giggle escaped me. Then another. And suddenly I was letting out peals of laughter as I leaned back to look up into his beautiful brown eyes. How come I never noticed how shifty they were until now? "That is the most common bullshit married men come up with to deceive young girls into staying with them. That's your justification? I have never dated a married man. And I'm not about to start now. Go home to your wife. Or get another girlfriend. It's over." And with that I wrenched myself from his arms and pulled at the front door. It wouldn't budge.

"Donald, open this door right now!"

"I know you're upset and emotional right now. Let's sleep over it, in the morning you'll feel better. And then we can discuss this like mature adults." I could feel the warmth of his body on my back as he stepped so close to me his front was aligned with my back and I could feel his erection pressing into my lower back.

Ok! Enough was enough! This night had to end right now before I gave in to my baser instincts, forget my vows of celibacy and let him murder what was left of my morals! Whirling around I yelled at him punctuating each word with a whack of my precious handbag at any part of his body I could reach, too angry to care about any damage to my bag but intent on doing as much damage as my tiny frame could do to his almost six-foot muscled body which, until tonight, had driven me to extreme heights of pleasure.

"Donald fucking Pepple! Open this door right now or I will scream so loud your neighbours will call the police!"

At this he rushed to insert the key in the lock. There was nothing Donald hated more than embarrassing public attention. He didn't even like public places like bars and clubs. I used to think it was because he was shy and didn't like attention. Now I know it's likely because he didn't want to run into his wife or her friends. Punk aśs bïtch!

As soon as the door was unlocked, I put my hand on the knob and turned it while simultaneously turning my face towards him to deliver a parting shot. "Don't ever call me again. I don't ever want to see you again. I hate you for lying about your marital status and I can't forgive that. So, go home to your wife and stay away from me."

With that, I turned around and almost walked into the tall beautiful and well-groomed woman standing at the door with arms on her hips looking like how I suspected Goliath looked down at David on that fateful day! Though she had no sword, she had the advantage of height as she towered over me. Unlike David, I didn't have a stone and a sling. And I was sure I did not have the Lord on my side at the moment seeing as my prayers and vow of celibacy had obviously been ignored. Oh! Plus I'd been fornicating with her husband.

"So..." she drawled in a cultured, slightly British accented voice. "You're my husband's latest girlfriend."

Despite the melanin in my creamy chocolate African skin, I felt the blood drain from my body in shock from my box-braided head to my naked feet as I stood face-to-face with the very impressive Mrs. Donald Pepple; my boyfriend's wife.