Life is beautiful. That was the everyday lie Femi told himself to get out of bed. It didn’t have to be an elaborate lie, but it had worked for most of his adult life and had gotten him out of bed countless times.
Only for the mornings. It only worked for the mornings because, at that moment, it couldn’t get him off his couch. On a night when debauchery seemed to fill the air, he couldn’t find the strength to get up. He reached for his phone again and scrolled down to the text starting this internal discourse.
*Hey, where are you? Am I going to see you at Hardrock tonight?*
Of course, he had no plans of going out tonight. The only thing he wanted to do was pour himself a drink and sleep. Phase one was already complete, but phase two was in danger of abandonment. He could fight all resistance, though, and see it through.
At that moment, his phone beeped, and the screen came alive with an image that could only be described with one word: SIN. He needed to get off the couch immediately. He checked the time—it was just a few minutes past nine; the night was still young.
He went to the bathroom for a long shower and spent even more time looking for the perfect shorts. For someone who had spent most of his life collecting jeans, shorts had surprisingly become his go-to outfit. Comfortable, and they also gave him the chance to show off his long legs, which might as well be his best physical feature.
The problem now was getting to Hardrock. He checked Uber, and the price was outrageous. Even though he knew it would be worth it, he just couldn’t bring himself to pay that much. There was only one option left, and he prayed it was still available. He texted Ariyo, hoping he hadn’t left the mainland yet. Luckily, Ariyo was just getting dressed and planning to leave the house. Sweet!
Thirty minutes later, Femi was staring out at the ocean as Ariyo sped down the Third Mainland Bridge. He couldn’t wait to feel the alcohol burning down his throat. On a regular day, he would have stayed home with a bottle and a nice TV show. Cuddling a fat ass would be a bonus. Yet, every time he thought he was done with the outside world and ready for a sane life, something kept pulling him back in.
Tonight, that “something” came in the form of Lara. They had met at a house party years ago. It was a lovely meet-up, filled with random conversations and a shared bottle. She was a thick lady with most of her breasts out on display, her shirt barely held together by one button—at her navel. He thought that was the extent of her appeal until she got up to use the restroom, and he saw what she had been sitting on. It was an ass carved and shaped for three women.
Her skirt could only be described in the fewest words possible. If she bent over, her ass crack and pussy would surely be in full view. Her eyes made sure that they had lost track of time, he just could not stop staring into them.
He could exactly describe them but it was grey with a touch of black all over. He definitely had not seen such a pair of eyes before. And the way she laughed was so infectious that he just wanted to be a comedian for the rest of the night.
They forgot about their surroundings until someone came up to tell her it was time to leave. She introduced the intruder as her boyfriend, and as Femi shook his hand, all his hopes of a booty call evaporated. Still, they exchanged numbers before she left, and they kept in touch with occasional texts. It helped that she lived in Lagos, but at the time, she had been on a brief holiday.
Keeping in touch had become a bother for him, especially after he ran into her at another party two years later. To his surprise, she accused him of keeping his distance, and he couldn’t fathom why.
Had she been expecting him to text her daily while she was in a relationship? It was then that she dropped a bombshell: Lara was in an open relationship, and she had been all this while. Suddenly, it made sense—how long they had sat and talked before her “boyfriend” showed up.
Open relationships and marriages never made sense to him, though he understood why some people chose them. Life had so many options to be tied down to just one person. But then again…
He overcame his shock and promised to keep in touch properly this time. She smiled and nodded, then informed him that she was leaving the country the next day. He cursed his luck but knew he had to keep in touch—for future purposes.
Tonight was that “future purpose.”
****
Traffic was surprisingly light around Victoria Island as they arrived at Hardrock. Femi got out of the car and waited while Ariyo found a parking spot. He secretly hoped the spot would be dark enough; he might need it by the end of the night.
Ariyo walked up to him, and they headed inside. The place was already full and buzzing, just as Femi had hoped. It would be easy to get lost in the crowd. As expected, he bumped into old acquaintances and a few friends, with the usual greetings:
“This guy, where have you been hiding?”
“Ha, Chairman! How’s everything?”
“We suppose link up one of these days, oh!”
It was always the same routine—Lagos nightlife hardly ever changed. Ariyo found them a spot to sit and ordered a bottle of wine. Femi shook his head. He could never understand Ariyo’s drinking habits.
The guy only ever drank wine, no matter the occasion. Femi shrugged and ordered a whiskey sour, his new favourite. He picked up his phone and texted Lara to find out where she was.
*In the compound. We’re looking for parking.*
The word “we” stood out. She was probably with her boyfriend. Part of him wanted to believe she was just with her friends, but then he remembered—she was in an open relationship. It didn’t matter.
“You dey expect person abi?” Ariyo’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
“At all, I just dey check if anyone’s here,” Femi replied honestly.
“You wey I sabi, you don get plan before you even comot house.”
Femi had no response. He just smiled and accepted the whiskey sour that had magically appeared in front of him. DJ Baddie, a popular Lagos DJ, was in his element tonight. Femi wasn’t a dancer, but he found himself nodding to the beat. His phone beeped.
*I’m at the bar, find me.*
The smile on Femi’s face was so wide that Ariyo couldn’t help but shake his head.
“Woman don buzz you, abi?”
“That’s none of your business,” Femi replied, finishing his drink. He put the cup down—it was time to find his purpose for the night.
“I dey come” he said as he stood up and walked through the crowd toward the bar.
Her ass was practically begging to be freed from the tiny skirt imprisoning it. Femi knew he was going to be its liberator. He owed humanity that much, at least. She saw him and flashed a mischievous smile. She wasn’t the prey tonight; she was the hunter.
As he went through the crowd, nodding at a few familiar faces, he realized that was the problem with Lagos nightlife—or rather, his nightlife. He couldn’t go anywhere without bumping into people he knew.
She parted her legs slightly, in a way that only he could notice, and he took the bait. He moved closer, his hand resting on her thigh.
“So, what are your plans for the rest of the night?” she whispered.
“At the moment, you are my plan,” he replied smiling. She returned the smile and took a sip of her drink. His hand worked its way further up her thigh, and with each movement, her legs parted even more. She leaned forward until there was barely any space between them, her mouth by his ear as she whispered,
“Careful, I’m not wearing any underwear.”
His hand paused. This was already shaping up to be far better than he’d imagined. He grabbed his drink for a brief escape. The DJ was now in full swing, and the venue was dark, with only a few strobe lights flashing intermittently.
His mind went to the craziest idea. He looked around, checking if it would be visible enough to pull off. When his eyes met hers, it was as if she had read his mind.
“No, you are not going to fuck me here,” she said, her face so serious that Femi almost burst into laughter. He accepted the challenge, but his hand went as far as it could. He signalled to a bartender with his free hand.
“Whiskey sour, please. Make it strong.”
The bartender looked between Lara and Femi, then turned away with an understanding smile.
“Where are your friends?” Lara asked, her voice too soft for him to hear over the music.
“What?” Femi asked, leaning forward so his ear was by her mouth, their bodies almost touching. With that move, his hand found its way to her pussy, and to his delight, she hadn’t been lying—she really wasn’t wearing underwear.
And she was already moist. That was a detail she hadn’t shared, but he was glad to discover it on his own.
“What did you say?” he asked again, his voice low enough for her to hear.
“I was asking if you had a car nearby and where it’s parked.”
He pulled back, ensuring she could see his face as his eyes widened. He nodded, motioning for her to wait a minute. She watched him disappear into the crowd.
Less than two minutes later, he was back just in time for the bartender to set down his drink. Femi downed it in one go. To his surprise, Lara pointed her card at the bartender and paid for both drinks before standing up.
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