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Bad Day At Work

I wish I had agreed to let this pig of a man to go with Sandy; but with business going slowly over the past few weeks, any client I got was special, I had to guard them jealously. This one was just one of those small fishes who wanted more for lesser money. I surreptitiously checked my ever-present watch: he had just two minutes before he would be done and my money would be in my hands.

He grunted and groaned, all the while muttering unintelligible words that I forced myself not to understand; I closed my eyes and saw my savings finally being enough to pay for Junior’s WAEC exams, and also settle the landlord. These thoughts helped me to bear the weight of the man on top of me.

Suddenly he stood up, brought out his manhood out of me and beckoned to me. I raised my eyebrows in surprise, spreading my arms in a gesture of being lost.

I wan mek you suck am,” he said, holding his throbbing dick, with his eyes glazed over with lust.

Oga, dis no dey our agreement oo,” I answered, looking at him like he was a goat.

I tell you mek you suck my gbola you dey shout? E be like say you no wan collect your money, shey?” He was now shaking with frustration over the fact that his orgasm was being delayed.

If you wan put am for my mouth, you go pay extra 2K, na so I dey work.

On top the 5K you don charge before? Why nah? No be to just suck am small till I come?” he complained, releasing his dick. The thing stood like a sentinel, patiently waiting to be sated. Sorry, little man, until your owner pays, you’re not finding your way into my mouth.

“I don tell you how I dey work. I give you five minutes mek you use knack, de time don expire. Now you want blowjob, you go pay extra nah. Abi if you go mama put to chop you no dey pay for meat?”

He was getting angrier by the minute, and with this look, he was more menacing. But I barely cared, my money was important, Junior and mama needed it.

I bin agree for the 5K because I tink say your toto go sweet, but e no sweet like that nah. Na why I tell you make you complete am by sucking my prick,” he said, edging closer to me.

I took two steps backwards before replying, “Oga dat na your business. Abeg pay me my money, I wan go back to my stand. Plenty customers still dey.”

He smiled devilishly. “Come collect money mek I see you,” he said as he went to the bed, wore his clothes and made to leave.

I was in his hotel room, yes, but I knew that he would not leave the room without paying what he owed. He made to open the door and I held his arm. “Where you tink say you dey go?

He looked at my hand on his arm, and without warning slapped me. I landed on the floor with a thud; my waist hit the edge of the bed and I gave a sharp yelp of pain. He stood above me for some seconds before pulling down his trousers again; he dragged me out a bit, spread my legs and positioned to slam into me.

I knew what he wanted to do. In this line of work, you meet men like him all the time—men who believed that the bodies of women were theirs to use as they pleased. I allowed him to slide in, to gain a rhythm, and to get lost in the throes of his passion before I struck.

It was easy because I’d done it to my father many years ago; the hairpin lodged in his neck helped the blood to spurt out faster as I rolled him off me. I stood up, went into his bathroom, washed myself clean, and left.

Oh, I also took seven thousand naira from the money in his pocket. I took the extra two thousand because of the extra service I offered which resulted in his death. He had more money in his pocket, but I am an honest person, I only take what I am owed.

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