Heartshaker (Part 1)




They all moped at me as I walked the length of the lobby towards my latest Mercedes Benz car; none of them would ever approach me to tell me that what I just did was wrong, even though it might be. I'm not really sure about what was really right or wrong; not that I cared about such moral hogwash. My motto was: if you're making some money and deriving some form of happiness from it, by all means, don't stop doing it. I know some sanctimonious people would have my neck for that, but they've not really seen life. Not like I have.

I entered the car, started the engine, and it revved to life, the sound of it acted like an aphrodisiac. It was ironic that few minutes ago, I was under that old hippo who barely lasted for five minutes, and wasn't in the least turned on. Now, I was seated inside this magnificent car, and the reverberations of its powerful engine have put me in the mood for sex. I hope that my next client for today will be able to satisfy me; if not, the one after him surely would. The first time we'd been together had been gratifying.

You might be getting the wrong ideas about me. Please don't have such notions, I'm not a bad person. In actuality, my work is that which helps men find comforts lacking in their lives. See it this way: supposing a man has so much unreleased sexual tension, I'll help him out find a release for them. For a price of course. So, in a way, you could say that I have a company that caters for special needs. 

I'm the second daughter in a family with five children. We have two boys and I'm the third child. I studied Computer Engineering, and it was during my time in school that I found out what lengths men can go to in order to have sex with a beautiful woman they desired. It had started with my lecturer who wanted to sleep with me before I would pass his course; I had refused at first, but he was very insistent. I also had to pass that particular course, so I let him have his way with me. After that, I needn't read for his courses again, all that was required was one night with him.

After school, I spent two years job-hunting with no results. Most of the men in administrative positions wanted a piece of me before I could get the jobs they advertised for. At a point, I got tired of it all, and decided that if they were going to get a piece of my gorgeous body, they would have to pay for it. Surprisingly, they did pay for it. And with huge sums. That was when I fully went into the business of making men happy in exchange for money. In a way I'm some sort of a comedienne, just that my work requires a more physical entanglement. 
I would have loved to tell you how my life had become better since I started making good money, but I've arrived at the expensive hotel that is the venue of my next meeting with a client. I'll continue later; business before pleasure, they say.

*******************************

Ah! Finally I was back in my apartment after such a long and stressful day. My last client had exhausted me, but at the same time, he had sated all my cravings. I can remember that my worthless boyfriend back in school had always complained about my sexual appetites and proclivities. He never understood me; so I never had second thoughts about making love to other men while I was dating him. You should have seen his face when he saw me with a popular commissioner in the state. That had been the end of our crumbling love affair. Good riddance, if you ask me.

Where was I in talking about myself? Yeah, I was about to tell you how I had changed my life with proceeds from my business. My first real contract after I decided to go into this business earned me five hundred thousand naira. It involved a night with a young businessman who had just returned from Dubai. I sent three hundred thousand naira back home to aid my mother in catering for my younger ones (by then my father had died). My mother had already accepted both the money and my explanation about its source; I had told her that I finally got a job at a major tech firm. That worked well until my ever-inquisitive, self-righteous and church-addict of an elder sister learnt of the money. She had called me first, making inquiries into something that was entirely my business, and not hers.

“Ugochi, I've been hearing unpleasant rumours about you and the kind of lifestyle you now adopt. I hope that money you gave to Mama is not a fruit of such a lifestyle?” she had said. 

“Sister, you just said now that they're rumours, therefore, the money wouldn't have come from there.”

“That's good to hear. Where did the money come from then?”

“I was involved in a business that paid handsomely.”

“What kind of business?”

“It's a legit business, Sister,” I answered, trying to make her understand that she should let the sleeping dogs lie. Instead she preferred to keep them awake, and disturbed.

“Why are you being vague? I know my suspicions were correct. You're now a shameless prostitute. Is that how you were raised Ugochi?”

I never replied that question. In the end, she had informed our mother who called me home and wanted to confirm the whole thing. When I got home, my sister, Nneka was seated at the right hand side of my mother—that spelt doom for me. My mother went straight to the point, asking me if I was a pleasure girl. The way she looked, coupled with her pleading eyes tempted me to lie to her (at least to still maintain her faith in me), but on a second thought, I decided to come clean with her. She was my mother after all.

“Yes Mama. That's the job I do,” I said in answer to her question. “But it's not what you or Sister Nneka think. I'm just trying to—”

“To do what Ugochi?” That was my sister blabbing. “So you don't have any modicum of shame in you? And obviously, you do not have any respect for Mama or our dead father.”

Why did Ugochi always know how to strike the low blow? Her mention of our father’s demise had it’s intended effect—making our mother cry. I crept closer to my mother, and tried consoling her. Instead, she shied away from me, as if I had the dreaded leprosy. Then she hit me with the bomb.

“I want you to leave this house and never return. Not until you have changed your disgusting lifestyle.” 

I stared open-mouthed at her to ascertain if she was joking; but she was dead serious. I had been banned and excommunicated by my own mother.


... To be continued...


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