Category: Relationships

21 ways to keep your 21st century girl

Okay, before I begin, a few notes.

This post is not for lecherous old fellows or sick bastards looking for cheap ways to get 16 year olds. Nah. I spent time on this for the right reasons. That said, this post is for you there with a 21st century girl and for you the 21st century girl too.

You’ll be asking what a 21st century girl is right about now. This is the answer: a 21st century girl is typically a girl born within the 21st century (from year 2000) though this definition still extends to any girl below 25 at 2017. She is determined, exposed to the world, uninhibited, usually sexually active, headstrong etc. etc. Basically she is the pro-feminist, run with wolves, Arya Stark wannabe that Willow Smith sings about. Having a girl like that as your wife or girlfriend can be a bit of a task, and this post tells you just how to run through that task without killing yourself with 21 ways to keep your 21st century girl.

Guys, this is stuff you really need to know. Girls, this is stuff your #MCM has to know.

Alright, here we go.

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  1. Drop regular compliments

Sure, you saw this one coming. But let me explain. The 21st century man has forgotten how to compliment truly and if there is one thing 21st century girls love, or love to pretend they love, it’s the classics. They want a man that would drop the compliments as many times as possible. “Damn babe, you have got a great ass!”

“Damn! This boob fits right into my palm”

“Damn! That food was delicious. How do you manage to ALWAYS cook so good”

Yeah, just keep them going that way. They’ll love you for it. You know why 21st century girls are all over Instagram and Pinterest? Exactly, you got it. They want the regular compliments buddy.

man complimenting
“Hey babe, did I ever tell you, your hair is so…hairy?”

 

  1. Good surprises

Surprises can be bad you know. Like finding out you-still-do-weed-after-you-told-her-you-will-quit bad. Give her good surprises all the time, and they don’t have to be too expensive [yes, surprises are gifts, duh!]. Forget what pop culture magazines may tell you to sell their products, girls are not so much concerned about the cost, it’s the thought that counts. Surprise her with a bar of chocolate, tickets to the musical or the movie, pick her up from school straight to that fancy place you’ve been talking about for days. She’ll cherish those moments.

Image result for man surprising girl
“Surprise! It’s a wonderful thing you have always wanted…”

And here is a really important one. Surprise her at her house – that’s if you’re not married. Drop by unannounced. Nothing like not knowing when her boyfriend would show up to put Miss 21st Century Arya Willow Stark in the right place at all times. Oh, and let’s hope you are not the one surprised bud.

  1. Give her some space but draw lines

On the converse side, you should give your girl some space. You do not want to be crowding her. She wants to break free or at least have the illusion of doing so. You have to let her go out with her friends to see a movie, attend a dinner, go swimming at the beach etc. without you. It is important though that you draw a line somewhere eg. She shouldn’t be out with guys past a certain time etc. Let her dance with other guys at the club, but not rock that special move she gives you. The reason for this is it lets you maintain some authority over her, and 21st century girls love authority the same way they love BDSM and Christian Grey.

  1. Make her laugh

Money Comedy is the way to the heart, else Kevin Hart would never have found anybody. Make her laugh and she would be sure to stay with you. This works because her friends would also find you really cool and no 21st century girl is leaving her cool man with those vultures around.

  1. Don’t be like the other guys

Image result for handsome black man wearing briefsWhoever told you your girl shouldn’t be comparing you with other guys told a big lie. She will. And she should. That’s right, you want her to compare you to other guys. You want her to compare you with other guys and find out: “Wow, he’s not like any other guy!”

You’ve got to be neat, keep a neat wardrobe, clean clothes, nice house. Have a clean handkerchief, wear clean socks, change your boxers/briefs twice a day.

You’ve got to be time conscious. Always early, even when she will be late. It doesn’t hurt to have a schedule you run your life by – in moderation of course.

  1. Be creative

Can you sing, dance, write, have you ever made a funny Instagram video? 21st century girls want to be with men who are creative. Don’t ask me why. Ask Kim why she hasn’t left Kanye yet. Girls are attracted to the sensuality that creative men exude. “If he can be creative with words and pictures, then life with him will be awesome”. Discover your creativity and let her know about it ASAP.

Image result for black professional painter working on canvas
“Come here gyal, now take off ya clothes and strip for me gyal, lemme put my brush inna the canvas and paint ya lyka masterpiece gyal”
  1. Be careful when talking ABOUT other girls

Even if you are talking about Kim or J-Lo, there are certain attributes you should avoid talking about when it comes to other girls, except to laugh at. Sure, your girl or your wife may not be as talented as Tiwa Savage or Chimamanda Adichie, as hot as Kim or as athletic as Serena, but you do not have to say that or even acknowledge it ever. Which brings us to the next point.

  1. Tell a white lie every once a while

This is as self-explanatory as it gets. “You are not fat baby, you are bootylicious”

“I am not a boobs man”

“I think judging girls by their ass size is derogatory”

“No one needs to score perfect As to be successful. Look at D’banj and Kanye, both dropped out”

Image result for how to keep your girl

Etc.

  1. Share weaknesses

You know why Vampire Diaries, Twilight and the rest of these monster romance flicks are so much the rave among 21st century girls? Because of the sensitivity of the characters. They are so humane. Edward Cullen is so sexy because he’s so hungry for Bella but he has to keep his demonic spirit at bay so he can love. The Salvatore brothers are so awesome and hot because they are so bad and wanna be so good but it’s so hard. Etc.

Share your weaknesses with her, even it makes you seem like you’re employing an injured bird technique, but trust me, it will draw her (mothering instincts and all) in and bam! She’s never leaving.

  1. Put your relationship deets on Social Media

21st century girls need validation, if you haven’t figured that out by now. Change that relationship status to “In a relationship”, change your Twitter header to her photo, put up the photos from every time you go out on Instagram and watch her preen with joy and confidence.

  1. Get along with her friends and fam

No matter how strong you think your love is, if you do not have a similar bond with her friends and family, she is definitely going to leave someday – except she’s an only child and loner, in which case she is the exception and you are going to have to leave your friends and fam and be everything to her. 21st century Girls are very herd oriented. If whatever group she belongs to – family or friends, resents you, chances of you working out slips down the drain pretty fast.

Image result for man hanging out with many women
Haha. Haha. I am so happy to be here and hanging out with all your friends and paying for all your movie tickets and food. Haha. This is not a fake smile. Haha
  1. Be willing to compromise

You can’t have your way all the time. Letting her have her way once in a while would go a long way for your relationship, a lot longer than you playing boss all the time. 21st century girls are headstrong, and while they crave authority figures, they need to have their way every once in a while. On that note;

  1. Let her be in charge sometimes

Not every time drive. Sometimes sit down in front seat and pretend you are comfortable with her being in charge of your lives and safety for a while. Let her make some of your mutual decisions. It doesn’t have to be formal, none of the things mentioned in this post have to be. It can be as simple as: “So bae, what would you love to eat tonight?”

“Where would you love to spend next summer?”

“I need your help deciding which design to go with for this building”[even if she doesn’t have your architectural degree].

  1. Don’t be predictable

Surprise visits, good surprises etc. should have told you this by now. You cannot be predictable. The excitement fades when she can predict you down to the second and two metres. That doesn’t mean she shouldn’t know where you are at every time, but if last week you got angry when she mistakenly broke a really expensive vase, maybe you should react differently when she mistakenly ruins the picture of your late mum you’ve kept for 9 years.

Okay, that’s tough. But c’est la vie. Such is life.

  1. Give massages on occasion

Another good surprise here. Massages relax the muscles, cause the release of dozens of endorphins (those chemicals released during orgasms) and always leave the person massaged really happy with the masseur/masseuse – except of course the masseuse is an Ijaw woman trying to massage that koko on your head back inside.

Image result for man massages womans bum
“So baby, where did you say you needed that massage again…?”

Whip out that oil or cream and stretch her out on the table for a massage without planning it. Or simply knead her neck when you walk past her, or while driving. This strengthens the bond of affection between you. And most importantly, you should not have to wait for her to ask for it.

  1. Show her you are working hard for her attention

Girls love guys who work hard for their attention, but how is she going to know how much effort you are putting in if you do not show it? It’s not easy for you to send her texts, flowers, serenades or any of a dozen other romantic gestures. She needs to know this.

“Baby, is that Mercedes Benz for me?” Smile and say: “Yes baby, it is nothing”. Then leave the receipt lying around for her to see, so she knows how much that shit cost.

Pay her rent – if you are not living together, and then ‘mistakenly’ let her see your now-sad-looking account balance all the while smiling and saying: “I’ll do anything for you baby”.

The thing is, it may not be that difficult for you, but she doesn’t have to know that. She will feel more secure in your love for her when she sees what you are willing to do for her.

  1. Take responsibility, eliminate your inner wuss

Related imageShut up! You have an inner wuss. You do not always want to fight the guy who scratched your car, but she’s right there and she’s watching so you gotta “be a man”. Taking responsibility means when she comes to you with that problem, you do not simply ‘leave it to the authorities’ to handle, you take charge. 21st century girls need a take-charge man. You have to know how to drive a truck, shave a bear (yes, bear, not a typo), change a blown wall socket, repair a car on an empty highway at night with a toothpick and three recharge card vouchers. Or at least give off the air that you can. It’s simple, all you need to do is create an image of who you want to be, then be it.

  1. Clear the air

It is really easy to think that since you are the guy, you shouldn’t be the one talking about your feelings without sounding like a jealous douche or the person trying to talk about the “problem” whenever you guys have a fight. That’s wrong bro. A lot of the time, relationships are messed up by unresolved issues built up over time because someone refused to clear the air. She was on the phone in the middle of the night, while you were supposed to be sleeping, and by morning the call log was deleted. Suspicious right? Talk to her and clear the air, keeping quiet about it would only keep you simmering till you boil over and everything sticky and smelly hits the fan.

In most cases, your suspicions were unsubstantiated.

If after a fight, you are still not okay with how things went, talk about it. Clear the air. You have a happier relationship when you feel secure.

  1. Send photos

No, I do not mean only nudes. Send photos of yourself at work, school, on the road, in the plane, working under the kitchen cabinet, in the car, bent over the bonnet, tinkering in your shed. Just send photos. Do you know there is actual statistical data that only 0.045% men actually take and send photos of themselves at work? And these 21st century girls want to see that.

Image result for man taking pictures at work
“Had to take a break from my cancer research just to send you this babe, thinking about you…”

21st century girls are literally the most visual females ever! And it is a really super-cute way to send sweet messages to bae. “Been thinking of you all day and now this work wants to attack me. Xoxo” then you add a photo of yourself swamped with dozens of worksheets. Totally guaranteed to get ‘Awws’ and an awesome dinner when you get home.

Sending these photos makes her understand that you think of her even when you are away.

  1. Let her win!

It is absolutely necessary to let your girl know you are really smart at arguments, good at playing games and an absolute terror at Truth or Dare, but sometimes sir, let her win. There is a subliminal reason behind feminism in this century that has to do with girls winning over guys. Letting her win gives a sense of accomplishment that cannot be faked. If your girl [literally] feels like she is winning in your relationship, that’s an A plus bro.

  1. Leave no doubts

All said and done, this is the most important thing you should do to keep your 21st century girl: you gotta leave no doubts, man. She should know at all times, that you love her absolutely and want to keep her. If she is ever in doubt, even for the tiniest smidgely second, there is a crack there. You should leave no doubts. Of the five love languages, the most effective remains Words of Affirmation. You should use this, a lot. Leave no doubts, and your girl wouldn’t leave.

So there they are, the 21 ways to keep your 21st century girl. Start practicing.

Disclaimer

  • I have had several ruined relationships, and I am presently still uncertain if this makes me an expert on this topic or the worst advice ever
  • I actually interviewed several people to sample opinions for this post
  • I initially wrote this for TNC but it was rejected

Follow on Twitter @Stillweather

GOD bless Nigeria

  • Credit to Google Images for the image content

The Janusaneni Guide to know if you have found the LOYL

When I picked up my laptop this afternoon, it was to type something, anything. Just have my fingers play on the keyboard. You see, unlike last year when I practically lived my life behind a laptop screen averaging something like 80-100 words a minute while watching TV, since this year and my new job which only requires I handwrite descriptions, type the occasional email and spend the rest of the time relating verbally while reclining in ergonomic seats, I have not had to type as much. As such my belly has gotten flabby(-ier) and my fingers now make mistakes with every sentence, even though I am staring at the keyboard as I type. Smh. Thus I needed to write something, anything at all and it was not so difficult to find the right topic. Continue reading “The Janusaneni Guide to know if you have found the LOYL”

Leo

I never said

I taught you to roar

You always had it in you

deep in your throat

you just took your time.

But then I was there

when only meows and purrs escaped your lips

instead of the growls of a jungle beast

when all you did was run and pounce and fall.

I couldn’t carry you

so I just fell with you

wanting you to stand

so that you could lift me.

I cried your tears

because lions don’t shed tears

They only shake their mane and bare their teeth.

Now your growl is thick

Your roar is strong

And I am a doe

that must either become a lion

or get left behind.

My Coke and Fanta Gentleman

Sometimes

Just sometimes

I wish Adebayo drank

Just a little bit

so that when he kisses me

I would drink from his lips

and swallow his spit more eagerly

rather than lift a bottle

of Smirn-Off or Redd’s or Kagor

to my waiting mouth.

 

I wish Adebayo drank

Even if only a little bit

so that when we shake the bed

the flush on my skin would be redder

the bites on his shoulder deeper

and the clench of his cheeks tighter.

 

But most times, it’s okay

I can drink for us

I will drink for me and my Coke and Fanta gentleman.20160314_210654

Changing for Enore 01

The reflection holds power over the actual. Breaking the habit is more about what is given back to you than about what you do to destroy it. The luckiest thing that would happen to you is finding that person who would reflect a different image and thus give you the chance to break away.

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The first time is never the last time

turning and cycling,

a revolving door fitted in with mirrors,

the same event reoccurring in rapid successions of

mobile static reflections.

Continue reading “Changing for Enore 01”

The Nice and Similar Travails of Asemota Jane

Too be very honest, this story is not completely based off a true one. The operative word here is completely. However, it is really a cliched, Evil Irumi kind guy meets the Beauty type. You do know the story of the Irumi right? The one where the really handsome guy comes to marry the girl with all the money and then halfway on the way to the guy’s house, she discovers he is actually a monster with his face at the back of his head and she regrets rejecting the other suitors? Basically, the original African story from where Shakespeare’s modified Taming of the Shrew appeared from. Okay, too long an intro. Just read will you…

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The Nice and Similar Travails of Asemota Jane

When she first met Eric she had been sitting at the side of a pool in Sapele. It was a sunny day and she and her friends had decided to come out to play. It wasn’t often that the sun decided to shine in Sapele and whenever it did, everybody came out. Everybody young and carefree that is, most of those who did not care or had no friends stayed in anyway. The truly unfortunate thing when she thought back to that day was that she had been alone. Perhaps if she had been with her friends, a fully clustered bevy of buzzing bees, the young men would not have come to her. But as it was, they did, and for her, that is how most of the story began.

Continue reading “The Nice and Similar Travails of Asemota Jane”

Replying Chimamanda

I realise this post isn’t exactly going to earn me any fans, but like you know, on this forum I say what I will, especially if it’ll cause trouble. Hehe. Please read this, with as open a mind as you can, and perhaps I might convince – as I hope.

______________________________
Re: Why can’t he be like everyone else?

Since Chimamanda wrote her article a couple of weeks ago, I’ve been pressured to respond to the issue, both by people close to me, and my conscience also. I am a writer and a Nigerian, and quite easily, Chimamanda Adichie has been a role model, an example of some of what I can aspire to achieve, and after reading her post, you can imagine my sadness and disappointment.
A vast majority of the Nigerian youth idolizes Chimamanda, and rightly so, it is thus doubly agonizing to see her piping them, us, all the way over the cliff and into the sea.
In her article, she explains with a story, whether fictional or not, about a fellow called Sochukwuma and his ‘difference’ and why such a difference is no crime because he was too young to have chosen the lifestyle he was given, and there was no victim involved.

Very recently, in a conversation with a family friend, we examined Chimamanda’s position and he was very caustic. In his opinion, one carried by many others I must add, Chichi was suffering a malaise often endured by African notables who have experienced and become elevated in Western culture and thus, in a desperate bid to maintain that position, forgo their values and a bit of common sense.

Amusingly, according to her story, even at a very young age, she and her friends were able to quickly spot even then that Sochukwuma was “different” and “not like the other boys”. But we know, nothing can be hidden from children, and the truth is in the mouth of babes. Oh, they had no name for it, or they’ll have said ‘Gay’ and maybe Sochukwuma would have been hurt and not played with them again, and gone to another part of Nsukka or changed his ways. After all humans learn, and can un-learn bad habits. But Chimamanda says nothing of what happened to Sochukwuma or his alternate lifestyle after the boys threatened to throw him off a second floor balcony, but that does not concern us. Of course, Chichi would only have us bothered about how much of a crime against humanity it is to label an inhuman action, as a crime.

Fornication, adultery, human vices in all, and sinful things in every holy book, yet not crimes. And do you know why Miss Chimamanda? Because, they are very human vices. Polygamy and Abortion, also crime and non-crime, depending on the society. But since Western culture abhors one and extols the other, perhaps we should reverse and do also, democracy and freedom being nothing but the opinion of the civilised fostered upon the brute.
Tolerance is the African trademark, and in that you are right. Punishment, swift and merciless, for all things against the very nature of man is also our trademark. But this is not a question of what is African or what is not, it’s a matter of what is natural and what is wrong.

Homosexuality, is no benign difference, dear Chimamanda. It’s not the difference between aquamarine and turquoise, it’s the oddity that results in the end of the human race, a pervasion of the sexual relationship and the worst legacy you would leave your children.
The constant argument is that people are born homosexual, and thus it is not their fault they behave how they do. “If it’s so wrong, why were they created like that?” But people are born dyslexic, schizophrenic, manic-depressive and kleptomanic. Is it normal? Do we tolerate these ‘benign’ differences? Do we allow it fly because they are human beings also, or do we try to correct it?
If for some reason, you had recommended that appropriate measures be put in place in the corrective institutions the Nigerian homosexuals seem to be destined for, to ensure they are not merely punished but rehabilitated, I would have applauded you to high heavens and supported that course of action. But no, your very, very civilised mien and perhaps the image of fellow author Binyavanga Wainaina slimming while his green hair goes back to black in a Nigerian institution kept you from that.

Sir Arthur Clarke, anointed by the Queen and affirmed homosexual and atheist said, “One of the greatest tragedies of mankind is that morality has been hijacked by religion.” And he was right.
I am a Nigerian, living in Nigeria, and across the Atlantic and over the Mediterranean, I see societies where the true freedom is being practised; where a man cannot express his distaste at the sight of a cross-dresser without being persecuted as anti-democratic.
If I say I will not kill, or be promiscuous or lie, it is quickly assumed that I am a Christian or Muslim or belonging to some religious order which forbids such, forgetting that these are moral values. Human values. Things I am not supposed to do because they are wrong, by any standard. And thus in a bid to divest himself of religious leanings, so that one may be seen to be truly liberal, secular and freedom-loving, the 21st century civilised fellow becomes amoral.
The same man in the Senate or Parliament, makes laws which would not expose him to criticism by any liberal group, ensuring his re-election and popularity, and legalising inhuman activities in the process; since the forbidding of such activities may be interpreted as religious and thus unworthy of logical backing.
“Kill a baby in the womb! Marry same sex individuals! After all, your only argument against it is that is a bad thing. And we’re not Religious people here. We’re all about common good!”
Aunty Chimamanda, homosexuality is not wrong only because it is sinful and against the tenets of every true religion. It is wrong and unlawful because, it is immoral and un-natural and a very base activity.

Disclaimer
* I am not a card-carrying, gay-hating communist. LOL. These are simply my opinions on the matter, and open to discourse. Like the man said, it’s wiser to examine for yourself and decide, rather than loping with the gang. 🙂

Follow on Twitter @janus_aneni

GOD bless Nigeria. Peace.

Ruki’s Desire

What I’m about to write may be a little unusual, but I recently completed Stephen King’s Dark Half  and came out into the bright sunlight to see two sparrows take flight from the roof above my window. So I guess, there is a little George Stark in me right now, and I want to pen.

Ah yes..this contains scenes involving sex, violence and other quite disgusting stuff. For the sqeamish and innocent at heart, please stop readin now.

***___________________________________________________________________________________________________***

“ Are you going to be home tomorrow?” he typed

“Yes”

“Good”

“Why”

“Because I’m coming to fuck you..”

****

Peter was blunt. He was always blunt. It was a privilege afforded tall, handsome men with strong fingers and sensual  eyes. His lips, though full and inviting, were cruel and constantly parted in the most sardonic grins. But men found him sexual and were attracted to the danger he presented. So he used them, used those eyes they were attracted to, and beguiled and betrayed and dumped.

Ruki was shocked and annoyed and secretly pleased. She hadn’t heard from Peter in almost a month, asides a half-hearted “Happy Sunday” chat two weeks ago. And here he was pinging her now, for sex! Well, she had a boyfriend now, as she had informed him two Sundays ago, and he had one too. So leave me alone for gossakes!

But she knew.

She knew she wanted him. Knew deep within her, in that sweltering core that was slowly beginning to moist, that she needed him.

“Gerrawt jor!” she typed. “That’s how you’ll talk and you’ll not show”  That much was true.

He sent a ‘devil smiley’. “Tempt me!”

She grinned, her centre getting wetter, and told herself it was just harmless flirting.

“LOL,” she typed, and sent a ‘batting eyelashes smiley’.

“So, 10:00am?” he typed.

“Haba! Isn’t that too soon? I won’t have bathed even…”

“Better…I want you dirty even..”

She giggled then, and shifted her position, her body was beginning to get that warm feeling. An image coursed through her mind: she and Peter, naked, twisted among the sheets, as she clutched at his back, her centre thrust toward him, her neck arched back in desire.

“LOL..you’re just too horny..” she typed.

As she watched the message deliver. The screen suddenly dissolved to show an incoming call. The caller ID read ‘Nathan’. Inwardly, she groaned in exasperation, as the flow of hormones to her brain cut off suddenly. She thought about ignoring the call. But he’ll only call again. And then he’ll ask questions.

“Hello..?” she answered sullenly. Almost guiltily.

“Hello baby..” her boyfriend replied.

Fifteen minutes later, she ended the call. Her phone beeped with a new message. She checked. Peter.

“I just want you so badly now. You can barely imagine. Or maybe you can..’grin smiley’..wait for me, 10:00am”

And then later, “I’ll bring chocolate..and the pineapple flavoured ones…”

He meant condoms, she thought, with a throb of guilt and an inner warmth spread through her again.

Oh, Peter..

****

Two years ago, she was in 100l, a fresh student, new to school and innocent as a jay-bird in July. It was afternoon and she had been buying a novel from a stand in the shopping complex right beside her Science faculty. Till now, she wasn’t sure if she had been listening subconsciously, or if her ears had suddenly picked up on the sound of a particular word or phrase, but she suddenly wanted to know who the voice belonged to. And when she saw him, her heart gave one of those little flutters.

He wasn’t as tall then, and his features weren’t as chiseled,  but as he stood talking animatedly with his friends: two guys and a girl, about some author he had just read, she was taken. To hear him talk, Ruki found herself wanting the book, wanting his voice, wanting him. These were emotions strange to her then, and for a while she was both excited and puzzled. The girl with him, a skinny thing, kept looking with such rapt attention as Peter talked, her nostrils flared as though to drink in the very scent of him. Ruki found herself getting jealous of the proximity.

As a sharp Sapele girl, to whom slacking is not an option, she called out in her best accent, and asked what novel it was they were talking about. He turned then, dark-brown eyes appraising her quickly; expertly. If he liked what he saw, he gave no sign. But he smiled when she said, she could have heard him from the other side of the campus, with the way he praised the book, and if she bought it and the author was no good, she’ll probably have no choice but to jump naked in a bowl of hot egusi.

“He is that good,” he laughed. His mind probably already imagining her naked, 5’5, narrow-waisted form drenched in oil. The other girl hissed in envy.

She achieved two things that day. One was exchanging numbers with Peter and the other was buying a copy of Janusaneni’s latest bestseller.

It wasn’t till a year after that they first fucked. After that night, she was completely smitten. She bought a new Janusaneni the next day.

Outside, Peter was sarcastic, malevolent and a playful tease. In bed, he was  nothing but a beast. He tore at her, devoured her in ways she thought impossible, leaving her spent and sore and always wanting more each time.

But it was never normal.

One time, he let himself into her room while she was in the bathroom, using his spare key. He then hid beside the bathroom door, waiting for her to come out. As she stepped out, oblivious, clad in only her towel, her shoulders and legs glistening with beads of water, he came up behind her and clamped a hand over her mouth. She nearly fainted from shock. Shoving her against the wall, he tore at her towel. Instinctively, her brain still reeling from the shock, her first reaction was to retrieve her towel and cover her nakedness and she bent over. Without warning, he stuck a finger right into her vagina. She tried to scream then, but his hand was firm over her mouth and all that came out was a muffled cry. Then he spoke in her ears, his voice a harsh whisper.

“I’m going to fuck you Ruki.”

Turning her around, so she faced him, he pinned her to the wall and bit her shoulders. His eyes were wild and crazy.

“Peter, sto..” she tried to say, but his hand was over her mouth again. She could smell her sex on his fingers, and impossibly, crazily, she began to get moist.

Peter? Peter was already naked and ready for action.

****

Are you going to be home?

I’m coming to fuck you!

****

She had had other men. Some were boisterous, some languid and sensual, but none of the experiences, none of the styles could hold a candle to Peter’s. Peter was an animal. There was no conventionality with him.

Once she was on the toilet bowl, taking a shit. They  had just come from this Chinese restaurant, and it was already obvious, from the groans and loud noises erupting from her anus, that any food prepared by a small yellow person was certain to disagree with her.

Suddenly Peter was in the bathroom, naked, his small member, swollen and throbbing.

“What the hell are you..?? Can’t you see I’m in the..!”

“I want to fuck you Ruki.”

And so he had. Right there in the bathroom, her head in the sink, her arms flailing to the sides, dribbles of yellow shit falling from her buttocks to splatter against the white floor tiles. He thrust into her, repeatedly, consistently, for hours it seemed. Till she was lost in a kaleidoscope of colours, and pleasure, and later pain.

He was insatiable.

He was coming tomorrow.

****

The next day, at 10:15am, the knock came on her door. Light and yet, insolent. Like he owned the place.

Peter.

She opened it, and there he was. First time she was seeing him face-to-face in almost a year.

“Hi,” he grinned shyly, his eyes twinkling. “That’s a nice gown. Chocolate?”

She loved him. Of that she was sure. Why she loved him? Why she loved this coarse, very dangerous animal? Of that, she had no idea.

She let him in.

All through the night and early in the morning, she had steeled herself. She was prepared for him. She was prepared to rebuff all his advances. She knew her desire might betray her and for that reason, she had set the stage to detract from such intentions. The curtains were wide open with the bright sunlight streaming in, and playing on her TV was The Hobbit, the most ‘un-sexual’ movie she had. But he made no pass. For all intents and purposes, he was there simply for the movie, and the chat from last night might as well have been typed by a mischievous alter ego. She decided not to bring it up.

They watched the movie, while he lay with his head across her lap, her hands unconsciously stroking his face. They were perhaps fifteen minutes into the movie, chewing on chocolates and laughing, when she suddenly stood up, walked to the door, locked it, and let down the curtains.

“Ah..a cinematic feel eh?” he started.

She straddled him, and kissed him, deeply and fully on his lips. For a second, he seemed to hesitate, and then he was kissing her back, but not in the usual hungry manner. He was kissing her slowly, almost sensually.

What was happening?

But she couldn’t help herself, she wanted him. Had wanted him for so long. Still kissing him, her expert hands flew over his shirt, unsnapping his buttons. In seconds she had his shirt and singlet on the floor. She was already naked. There was nothing underneath her gown.

“Fuck me Peter…”

“Ruki calm down. I…”

“Fuck me dammit!” she was trembling.

She didn’t care if he was in a homosexual relationship. She wanted his body. She always had. She needed that canine ferocity he brought into his lovemaking. Stabbing her nails into his naked chest, she scratched deep red lines on his skin, drawing blood.

Peter roared. Inflamed. Twisting around he slammed her into the bed and slapped her.

Yes..yess.. she moaned.

But still he paused. “Ruki, I shouldn’t have come here today. I just wanted to talk to you that’s all. I really can’t do this anymore.” He got up from the bed and picked his shirt off the floor. Ruki was stunned. Whaaaat?!!

Hell no! She scrambled up from the bed, her heavy breasts swaying, and grabbed his arm. “You wait here! Where are you going?!”

That was when he pushed her.

_____________________________________________________________

If you didn’t look at her head, she seemed to be sleeping. She lay on her left side; her right arm flopped over in front of her. Her head however rested at an unusual angle against the wooden side of the bed, her eyes open and sightless. Peter was stunned.

Oh my God! I’ve killed her! When he pushed her, there hadn’t really been that much force! It was the chocolate! It was the fucking Cadbury wrapper! When she stepped on it , she had slipped and fallen backwards while he looked on. Her head had struck the sharp end of the bed rest where it protruded towards the doorway. The sound it made had been sickening, like the sound of breaking coconut. At first he thought it was an ordinary bump until she slid to the floor with her neck at that angle. Then he realized, she had hit her neck.

He crouched beside her, afraid to touch the corpse. Oh my God! He wondered if the neighbours had heard her when she called to him. But he doubted it. It hadn’t been that much of a shout. He drew out her legs. Her head fell to the floor with a dull, lifeless thud. From her mouth trickled a thin line of blood. He stiffened. His penis stiffened.

He touched her lips, using his thumb to paint the blood on her lips. He got harder. He caught sight of the Cadbury wrapper, there was some chocolate still left in it. He took out the chocolate, it had gotten mashed up and coated his fingers nicely. He smeared some of it on her vagina. Peter smiled. Then he got naked.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

I can’t go on abeg..

Raw material..
Raw material..

Disclaimer

  • I love Cadbury’s Dairy milk
  • These events are not based on any real events, however close they may seem
  • I am not a violent man, nor ehm..lover. (¬_¬)

I hate abusive relationships. If you’re in one, GTFO of it!!! You will die.

GTFO = Get The Fuck Out. [I have no idea why I didn’t put that earlier]

Follow on Twitter @janus_aneni. Also follow the blog via the link below or at the top of this page, and like our Facebook page! 😉

Peace to Nigeria.

Tangles! X – Season Finale

First of all, I want to apologise to all who waited for this final instalment. The delay, and any others previously experienced were not entirely my fault. The rumours concerning my incarceration at a certain State CID cell are nevertheless, not entirely untrue. That haven been said, please read on, enjoy, have fun and uhm..yes, this episode is gonna be quite long..but then, it’s the last episode!

#np Skyfall – Adele

This is the end.
‘All things that begin, end, all flowers that grow, die..’ I read that somewhere once. I write it down now, so I shall read it again.. The writer scribbled on, the words coming in bits and spurts. The dim light from a Nokia Torchlight phone illuminated his orange diary, leaving his face in shadow. His mind churned, the gears whistled, and as the ink flowed, the characters lived and did and died.

These events occurred simultaneously between the seconds of 12:15:24pm and 12:15:49pm.

Festac

Paul dropped the i-Pad on the bed and twisted to get a cup of water from the bedside table. A cold and yet hot shaft of pain suddenly tore mercilessly through his back like the steel edge of a wicked blade.
“Arrrrgh!! Nurse!!” He screamed.

Ikeja

The car swerved suddenly.
“What’s wrong?” Tony asked sharply.
“I don’t know,” replied Rebecca. “If I didn’t know better I’ll say my baby kicked.”

Festac.

“Let me go!” She screamed, but all that came out was a muffled sound, the words choked behind the mouth gag. She squirmed in her bondages, he hands and legs well trussed and lashed to the burglary proofing on the window. The muslim man continued what he was doing.

CHAPTER X

It is advised that you read the previous stories that led up to this if you haven’t before. And here are their links..
Premiere
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX

Tangles! – a tale of twisted emotions.

The great Noetic scientist and crank billionaire Paul Temple, believed that thought processes rule the world. Freud also theorized that emotions are key to our individual and group psychology. He qualified this under sexual urges and quantified the force as libido. In the Bible it is called Faith. In this world I call it Fate.

Festac
12:15pm

“Nurse!”
He was frozen in place. To lean back was to invite excruciating pain, to lean forward any further was to suffer mind-numbing aches.
“NURSE!” He hollered again. He was out of breath. He couldn’t take in a single breath. To breathe was too painful and he could take no more. Two nurses rushed in, shocked and pale as white sheets. Somewhere in his pain-wracked mind, he realised it was the pretty one with the nice massages that entered first.
“15ccs Demerol,” the second nurse cried. “And call for Dr. Akpan.”
The injection was jammed into his neck and immediately he began to feel woozy. The pain vanished and then, all feeling went too. Before his eyes the faces of the nurses swam and his last coherent thought before he blacked into void was, Am I going to be paralysed?

Ikeja
12:15pm

“Your baby..” murmured Tony.
Rebecca glanced at him, her hands on the wheel. “What..?”
Tony grinned. She didn’t. She knew that grin. That was the grin for when he wanted to say something essentially foolish and he wanted you to think it was a joke.
“So you really wanna keep it?” He grinned.
Aha!
“Of course I wanna keep my baby! And don’t call my baby a it.”
“An..”
“Whatever.”
The car was in silence for a few minutes. Rebecca took the Oshodi turnoff.
“I’m sorry,” Tony apologised.
“It’s alright. I’m pregnant you know, all emotional, like PMS,” she smiled.
Tony grinned.
“So have you told the Senator?”
“Hell no! Not yet. Dad would kill me.”
“You do know you have to tell him sometime..”
Paul doesn’t know either, thought Rebecca.
Tony was thinking the same thing. How on earth did she plan to do this? Take her ex-boyfriend in tow while she broke the news of her pregnancy to the father of her unborn child as he lay on his sick bed. He would fall into a coma.
“What did you say?” He asked.
Rebecca trafficated. “Where is your mind? I said, I really wonder who Sharon is.”
Sharon?! “Huh?”
“Sharon na! The girl I told you called me with Paul’s phone. I spoke with her a couple of more times. Her name is Sharon.”
Tony laughed. What are the odds?
“What is it?”
“Oh nothing,” he replied. “Don’t worry your pretty head. She’s probably his sister.”
Rebecca sped up as the road cleared. That’s exactly it. As far as she knew, Paul had no family.

Festac
12:30pm

Dr Akpan pored over the charts. What had they missed?
The patient lay on the bed, the tortured expression on his face detailing that despite the sedative induced sleep, Paul was definitely fighting demons in that head of his.
There had been some strain on the spine as the patient was retrieved from the crushed vehicle, but the swelling had reduced.
Oh God! He should have ordered an X-ray.
Where the hell was this man’s girlfriend at a time like this? The visiting needed to be called off! Not today!

There are certain paths to life. Each man is born at the fork of the road. The path which he takes is his choice and his alone. But a man must be decisive and choose his path or with the flow of other travellers it would be chosen for him.

Silver Cross Hospital
12:33pm

“Shh..” He murmured even though he knew she could make no noise. “Stay still, you don’t wanna ruin this do you?”
Sharon’s eyes widened as she saw what he was holding.

2 hours earlier…
The thought had been paramount in his head.
We are who we are. We do what we do because we must. This is who you are. This is what you must do.
Then she stepped into the vehicle.
“Silver Cross Hospital,” she said.
She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Her hair glistened in he sunlight as the strands wafted in breeze as the taxi zoomed down the streets.
He had muttered prayers under his breath, seeking answers to his weakened resolve. And finally the voiced heard him.
“Silver Cross Hospital,” he heard himself say.
Perhaps it had been the way he said it, but whatever it was, she had become spooked. He could see it in her eyes; distrust had suddenly begun to radiate off her being.
His new life had begun a few years ago with a bump to the head. Not everyone can claim they joined a fascist militant group after being hit by the car of the benefactor, but that was his story. Two years into the group and it was his first mission. The Muson Centre. 2:00pm. But that was before he met this girl. It was a sign. He would be used as an instrument to return the sick souls to his bosom.
Abdul spliced two wires together and plugged them into a socket. The digital readout came on. It was armed.

Silver Cross Hospital – Upstairs
12:34pm

The tunnel pulsated with an eerie light and the sound of rushing air and water, such as one hears when listening to a sea-shell. He couldn’t see his feet, maybe he had no feet, maybe he had no body, but somehow he knew, somehow he was aware. Childhood flashed by in a blur and he was reminded of all achievements, all joys, all losses. Love, guilt, fear, sadness and triumph flowed through him as one and his heart beat rapidly. Or maybe it didn’t. He had no heart. But there was a severe pain in his chest and he suddenly felt breathless.

Dr. Akpan pounded his chest again.
“He is flatlining!” yelled a Nurse. The pretty one.
The doctor was flabbergasted, but he kept his cool. Already, the patient’s face was beginning to look gray and pasty. Recognising the signs of suffocation, the doctor opened Paul’s mouth, tilted the head at an angle and blew air down into the man’s lungs. The EKG whined.
Warris all this?

Mile 2 – Badagry Expressway
12:33pm

“We’ll pass this way,” announced Rebecca.
Tony nodded. His phone rang.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.” It was her. The pretty girl.
“What’s up? I don’t have this number.”
“I know, I’m calling from a payphone.”
“Okay…” Tony frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t go with her Tony, I think something is about to go wrong.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If you go with her, your ex, something bad will happen.”
Tony rolled his eyes; jealousy.
“Nothing bad would happen, okay? I think I wan control myself reasonably enough. I’ll talk to you later.”
He ended the call.
“Who was that?” asked Rebecca.
“A jealous chick,” he replied, staring out the window at the Festac boulevards.

Silver Cross
12:50pm

Abdul strapped the vest on Sharon. The bands of wires twisting from every corner, red, blue and green, ending in circuits which were connected to fused diodes. The fuses in turn encircled the two sticks of dynamite and plugged into the 20g C4 explosive. The satchel lay on the floor, empty.
Sharon wept.
The tears flowed freely out of her eyes as she contemplated the end of her life. Oddly in those moments, she didn’t think of Paul or of Tony or of any of her previous boyfriends. She didn’t think of GOD or Jesus or attempt any prayer for salvation. Despite her hardy outlook on life, she didn’t even envision escape or make any such plans. And it never crossed her mind to wonder at the loss of life that would be evoked in the hospital, or the carnage which would ensue as her body exploded. Sharon thought of her father, the Bishop. For no reason at all.
As the tears slowed down her face, her misty eyes imploring the muslim man, her hands tied helplessly behind her, her thoughts bent to her father. For no reason.
She didn’t remember him playing with her, or dancing or even talking. She just remembered him. Frustration tore at her very fabric, she was helpless in her fate. She would die this day.
Abdul saw the tears. They didn’t move him.
“Tears are a part of life. They are the last proof we are human. When we cry we cleanse, when we cry we purge, but most importantly, when we cry we regret. You are past human, my son. You have been mandated by God. You cannot regret. You do not know tears.”
Taking out the gun, he checked the magazine. It was full. Twelve rounds. It was enough.
“Let’s go.”

Upstairs
12:46pm

The patient snorted. Dr. Akpan sighed in relief. One of the nurses fainted. Another nurse blurted “Halleluyah!” But Paul was back online and breathing, although shallowly.
The door opened and an orderly wheeled in the respirator machine. Dr. Akpan just glared at him.
“No more morphine!” the doctor barked.
Until the understood the reason for the crash, this patient was staying off all barbiturates and painkillers.

The lights of the tunnel had vanished. All seemed calm now. For some reason though, he felt he had to wake up. Wake up from his dream. There was something to do. Someone to see. But who?

Downstairs
12:52pm

Sharon regretted. Instinct had warned her right from the can, but she had ignored it. As she stepped out of the cab at Silver Cross, he had followed her. She had heard his footsteps closing in as she walked down the corridor behind the staircase. As soon as the corridor was empty he had grabbed her from behind, clamping his hand over her mouth to cut shut the scream. He then dragged her into an empty room. Her head had crashed against the door jamb and she blacked out. When she came to, she was lashed hands and feet to the burglary proofing with a gag over her mouth. Try as she might, no one could hear her scream. The door was locked and he was making a bomb.

Silver Cross
12:56pm

The doors opened and Tony and Rebecca strode into the lobby of the hospital. The air was saturated with disinfectant and the sickly smell of drugs. Upstairs, Dr. Akpan watched his patient breath raggedly. Suddenly a woman screamed. Tony looked up and saw Sharon wearing some sort of bomb vest, a bearded man in a small prayer cap stood beside her, holding a gun. The sight of the bomb on Sharon and the image of the gun had barely registered when the muslim man raised the weapon and fired at the orderly beside the door. The report was deafening. In the ensuing silence that followed, broken only by the sound of the orderly sliding to the floor, his body leaving a trail of blood across the wall, three things happened at the same time:
Dr. Akpan cursed and ran for the door; the patient, Paul, jerked suddenly and in Rebecca’s stomach there was a violent jolt as her baby seemed to kick.
All this while, Tony stood transfixed, staring across the lobby at Sharon’s tear-streaked face, her mouth gagged, her eyes imploring.
The muslim man shouted; “Allahu akhbar!”
Tony lunged.

TO GOD BE THE GLORY..hehehe

Appreciation
(In no particular order)
Miss Azee
@Mii2prwiti
@Obee_007
@harkinfash
@ebubay
And every other person who might have helped one way or the other with the creation of this story so far.

Disclaimer
* I never really knew what I was doing with this piece. The characters just seemed to grow by themselves and well..I hope we had fun.

Thanks for reading!
*sniff sniff*

Peace!

Tangles!: Episode V

Hello, my name is *insert name* I play Paul in Janusaneni’s Tangles! I’m a banker, love driving and well…speeding. In the first episode, I escape an accident and then fall into one. I am then knocked out for an entire episode, and only recover in the third episode, when I am rescued. In this episode I am in the hospital. Uhm..*voice from backstage..”The tangle!”*..oh yeah, I’m so far the love interest of one lady in the story, and the assumed love interest of another. Uhm..keep reading Tangles!

Tangles! – a tale of twisted emotions.

CHAPTER 5

Bonny
8:15pm

The beat of ‘Nawti – Olu Maintain’ boomed out the speakers and the crowd hollered.

“..love me or hate me, can’t stop my delivery
they feeling me / buying everything, like it’s monopoly.
I keep it drama free, why’re you tryina embarrass me,
You f**king up yourself B..!
Love me or hate me, can’t stop my delivery,
they feeling me/ buying everything like it’s drug money..”

Before him, the crowd was on their feet and shouting. The lights were in his eyes, but he could feel their presence, see their hands, hear their voices. He felt light. He felt happy.
“And that was T-lion!” the MC shouted over the din. The crowd kept screaming and whooping as Tony walked off-stage. It would be nice to get used to this.

Festac
8:12pm

They had swaddled him in bandages and everywhere there was lint and wires and blood patches. His body was broken. His beautiful body was in pieces. A memory flashed through Sharon’s mind. It was a year ago, and they had been in the gym. Paul had dropped the dumbell and walked towards her, his movements were smooth, casual and powerful. His sweatshirt was wet with sweat and stuck to his skin, and you could see the ripples as he moved. “You gotta keep your body fit Shae. You exercise your body, it will stay beautiful. Like mine.” He winked. He was the first person to ever call her Shae. Tears came unbidden to her eyes.
“Is he going to be okay?” She asked Dr Akpan.
“Right now he is heavily sedated, but his bodily functions are alright. There was minor injury to his spinal column when he was being pulled from the vehicle, but…”
Sharon heard the doctor but her eyes were fixed on Paul, who twitched suddenly. Would he hear her is she talked to him? “What did you say Doctor?” The doctor took no offense. He was used to it.
When the taxi carrying Paul’s screaming body arrived the Emergency section of the hospital, the doctors immediately swung into action. After a quick session in the theater, they had him injected with enough morphine to float the Titanic, wrapped him up, like a mummy in Antarctica, and wheeled him into a private room.
“…has been ringing with calls from a particular number. As his Emergency contact, I thought you’ll like to know so as to reply these calls,” Dr Akpan said softly.
They were seated in the doctor’s office. On the table lay Paul’s phone, a white Blackberry 9800. Sharon took the phone and scrolled through the missed calls. Becks. A business partner? She dialled. Then she remembered her phone.

Akoka
8:25pm

“Hello?”
A girl’s voice?
“Hello?”
“Is this Becks?”
Only one person ever called her Becks.
“Yes, this is..”
“Okay, uhm..Paul is indisposed at the moment, and would not be able to come to the phone.” What?
“Why is that? Is he ok?”
The concern in Rebecca’s voice must have been evident and whoever she was speaking to must have realised that because, when the reply came, it was softer. “Paul has been involved in an accident dear, but he is recovering..”
The world suddenly spun in a dizzying cycle. Rebecca clutched the edge of the table to steady herself. “Accident? How?” She cried. The flood of emotions and worry came rushing back.
“According to the doctor, he is stable now. There was a minor altercation with a truck, but he is okay now. You should not worry,” came the insistent reply in that female voice. The tears swam before her eyes, and her vision blurred. Truck? “Which hospital?” She managed to croak.

Bonny.
8:20pm

“Nice one man.”
“Thanks,” Tony smiled at the afro-haired guy in glasses. The geek walked away, squinting through his spectacles. Tony took out his phone again, there was still no message from Sharon, though five messages awaited him on BBM. He slid open the phone and navigated to his Twitter account. “Awesome show tonight fam! Thanks for the support guys..” He tweeted.
On his timeline, the topic was mainly about an accident in Festac which had messed up traffic and caused a build-up on the Lagos-Badagry expressway. How does this concern people who are in faraway Bonny?
He closed his Twitter page.

To be continued…

Olobo

The writer sits at a desk in the staff room of the school. His fingers are  caked in chalk dust and up on the sleeves of his shirts and in his hair, the tiny white grains flutter and settle and flutter and settle, in time with his movements, giving him some sort of halo in the afternoon light. As usual, he scribbles into the pages of an orange leather-bound book. His thoughts are in his story and for the moment, he is lost in the world of his characters.
A student approaches the desk timidly. The writer looks up from what he is writing, his piercing eyes gazing at her with a bored expression. “We have you now sir.”

Disclaimer
*Any similarities to persons living or dead is purely coincidental or intended as some form of malice. Do take offense.
* T-lions lyrics supplied by Ohdes, @Ohdes_so_goon, copy and paste link http://www.hulkshare.com/dl/wu0q0wfyt9l9 and download his hot single “Nawti freestyle rmx”

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