A dangerous turn
The previous eveningÂ
5:00 pm
Obinna cruised down the wide roads of Central Area, the engine of his black Mercedes GLE humming smoothly below the soulful melancholic notes of Miles Davis’ trumpet. The music floated lazily through the air, smooth and melodic, wrapping around him as he sat relaxed in the driver’s seat. His left elbow propped casually on the closed driver side window and his right hand resting lightly on the steering wheel of his car, he steered it towards Maitama.Â
The evening light bounced off the gold face of the leather watch he wore with the crisp, button down shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and toned chest, accentuating his attractive, handsome build. He took in the distant silhouette of the city skyline beginning to sparkle with early lights through thin rimmed reading glasses framed with a minimalist black metal.
The early afternoon meeting with the minister had dragged on till evening, leaving him exhausted and eager for the comfort of his home. He was approaching Transcorp Hilton when he first spotted it. At first, he thought nothing of the dark tinted black Toyota Prado SUV, sitting two cars behind him. Abuja was full of big vehicles with tinted windows. Yet, it had registered in his mind that the Prado changed lanes every time he did. He slowed down deliberately. The SUV slowed down with him.
His eyes on his side view mirror, Obinna tested it again. He swung the car left and took the next exit toward Garki. On Ahmadu Bello Way, he made a sharp left into a quieter residential street. The Prado followed. Another right, then a turn around back to old Federal Secretariat. Every turn he made, the black SUV mirrored it exactly. They were tailing him.
The realization caused a rush of adrenaline through his body, but he pushed it down and forced himself to think clearly. Instead of heading straight for Jahi, he began to head again towards Maitama bridge, then doubled back through a narrow service road he rarely used. He accelerated through a yellow light, weaving through lighter traffic with calculated risks. The Prado tried to keep up but fell seven cars behind at the next intersection.
Obinna kept changing routes, cutting through back streets, taking unexpected turns and using his knowledge of the layout of the city he had grown up in to his advantage. After ten tense minutes of cat and mouse, he finally lost them near the edge of Banex bridge.
He didn’t relax until he pulled into his estate in Jahi. Outside his gate, he pressed the small release button at the front edge of his car’s center armrest and picked out a small remote key from the front cubby where it rested among a few pens and loose items. The lid slid shut immediately after. The gate opened with a faint metallic groan and he eased through the wide gap. Once inside the compound, he sat in silence for several minutes, letting the pent up energy drain from his muscles.
He walked into his house and locked the door. Scrolling through his phone, he found the number of the Inspector General of Police, Segun Teribah. They had met at Transcorp during discussions about armed security for the Igbokoda asset.Â
Obinna dialed. It rang once before the Inspector General picked. After a short greeting, he recounted the incident in detail, describing how he had deliberately tested the tail and eventually shaken it off. The IGP listened without interruption. When Obinna finished, there was a brief pause.
“Well, I think you may have to come around to the office so we can discuss this better. In the meantime, I will arrange police escorts for you until we can properly assess the threat.”
“Okay.”
Obinna poured himself a neat glass of whiskey and took a long sip, eyes still scanning the quiet estate outside.
Who the hell had been following him?
And why tonight, right after the meeting with the minister?
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Utako
4:00 pm
Rachel sat in her office, eyes fixed on the Excel spreadsheet glowing on her monitor. She was deep into updating cost projections when her new boss, Laurent who recently joined the company from the headquarters in France, knocked lightly and stepped inside.
“Rachel, how you?” he said, his English heavily broken as usual. “I need you prepare full quarterly report for eh…board meeting in weeks eh…two. Two weeks. With charts and eh…variance analysis, s’il vous plaît. You can do that, non?”
Rachel nodded. “Yes sir, I will have it ready immediately.”
As soon as he left and closed the door, her focus slipped. She saved the file but couldn’t stop her mind from drifting to Obinna. It had been two days. No call, no text. The memory of how she had left his house so abruptly last time made the silence feel heavier. She picked up her phone from he desk. Her finger hovered over his contact.Â
Should I call? What if he does not answer?
With a deep breath, she pressed dial.
The phone rang twice.
“Hello?” Obinna’s voice came through, calm but slightly distracted. In the background, she could hear male voices laughing.
“Hi… it’s Rachel,” she said, her voice tighter than she intended.
There was a short pause. “I know. How are you?”
“I am fine.” Another awkward silence stretched. She could feel the weight of their last encounter hanging between them. “I just wanted to check on you.”
More voices in the background. Someone called his name. Obinna murmured something away from the phone before returning.Â
“Sorry about that. I am with some friends.”
“Oh.” The word came out flat. She hesitated, heart pounding. She wanted to ask if they could meet that evening, but the words stuck. “I should let you go then…”
“Rachel?”
“Yes?” Her heart slammed against her ribs. The moment she heard her name in that low, familiar tone, warmth flooded her body, a tingly rush spreading from her chest down to her toes.
“Can we meet this evening?” he asked.
“Do you have a place in mind?”
“My house. Something weird happened last night and I’ve been advised to lie low for a bit.”
Rachel exhaled slowly. “Okay. I will come.”
She ended the call and leaned back in her leather chair. The initial warmth faded as a pensive mood settled over her. She had to know where she stood with him. There had to be a way to get into his mind. As far as she was concerned, until she did, she would never be free of the doubts that had lingered since his mother’s unexpected visit.
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Jahi
5:00 pm
The five of them sat in the living room, relaxed in the sofas. The air simmered with the oaky notes of the open bottle of 2018 Château Margaux breathing on the coffee table. Crisp, colourful pictures from the massive 85-inch OLED television dominating the large console at the east end of the living room flashed, filling the space with vibrant bursts. The screen, showed a high octane car chase through a busy American street, pedestrians scampering to safety, but none of the five men were really paying attention.
Fresh from his shower, Obinna lounged in his sofa, legs stretched out and now wearing a simple white linen shirt with navy chinos. Edafe, George, Kunle and  Chike occupied the sofas opposite him.
They had just finished dissecting the black Toyota Prado incident. Chike, ever the cautious one, had suggested that Obinna hired a private security firm to investigate the incident.Â
“I don’t trust these guys to do anything.”
Obinna nodded.
“I will look into that, but at least I have those guys out there for now,” he said, gesturing towards the gate where the IGP’s escorts were already stationed.
The conversation soon shifted to simpler matters, before descending into decadent, ribald banter.Â
Edafe leaned back, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.
“This weather is getting chilly. I need to call one of my babes.”
“Jenny?”
Edafe scoffed and shook his head at Chike.Â
“Not that one please .” He took a small sip from his glass and switched to pidgin. “Last time wey she come my house, she wan use babe, babe, wound person. Any small thing, babe do you want this, babe where is this thing, babe I need, babe, babe…I wan crase. Who be your babe? Abeg wear pant dey go your house.”
George laughed. “She likes you.”
“And that’s the problem. I told her from the beginning, this just fun for me, strictly smash and go, no strings attached fun. But now, she is babe-ing the fuck out of me. I don’t want this.”
Chike clicked his tongue in sympathy. “I get you man. Had the same issue with this chick I was fucking. I told her I was fine without a relationship. I mean, I didn’t mind paying for her shit, and she came over maybe once or twice a week. Next thing I know, she starts playing house out of nowhere, talking about, baby what do you want to eat? Man, the speed I used to get rid of her.” He shook his head. “Women will ruin a good thing for some fucking fantasy.”
Kunle, married and the conscience of the group, shook his head.
“Slow down man. This shit has to be tiring by now.”
“Easy to say when you got a real one,” Chike replied.
“If you don’t give these babes a chance, how do you find a real one?”
Edafe scoffed. “Abeg. If na dat time wey person dey hustle now, I go believe all this babe, babe or I love you, one thing, one thing. But like this? Nah. They just love the lifestyle and the money.”
Obinna listened with half a smile, taking a slow sip of his drink. His mind, however, was on Rachel’s call earlier, on the way she had sounded hesitant, on the unfinished business from her abrupt exit last time. He checked his watch discreetly. She would be arriving soon. He barely finished the thought when the doorbell rang.Â
Obinna stood up, setting his glass down.Â
“She is here.”
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Rachel arrived just as Obinna’s friends were stepping out. This was her second time meeting them at Obinna’s house so they greeted her with easy familiarity.
“Good to see you again, Rachel,” Edafe said, nodding courteously. The others said quiet hellos. Obinna closed the heavy door behind them, the click echoing softly in the living room.
The moment the lock turned, Rachel stepped forward and walked straight into his arms. She stayed there, pressed against his chest, breathing him in for several long minutes. Neither spoke. The tension from the past days loosened a little in the warmth of the embrace.
When she finally pulled away, she found herself backed against the wall, the front door only inches away. She stared up at him, heart racing.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” she said quietly.
A long, drawn out pause stretched between them.
“I had some thinking to do.”Â
She remained still, eyes locked on his.Â
“I thought about this a lot, and I feel like I don’t know you too well.”
One of Obinna’s eyebrows cocked in question.
“Hmm.”
“I want to understand this…I want to understand you better.”
Obinna let out a low laugh, shaking his head as if brushing it off. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“I want to see other parts of you Obinna,” she said, voice lower now. “The parts you keep hidden from me.”
He wore a curious smile, clearly wondering where the conversation was headed.
“I want to see you without the frills or the filter,” she continued.
The smile still playing on his lips, Obinna nodded. “Go on.”
Rachel’s eyes narrowed to sultry slits. She reached for his left hand, placed it gently on her neck and stood on a tiptoe to whisper in his ear.
“I want you to fuck me like you don’t give a shit about me.”
Her words caught him off guard and he drew back. Head inclined to the side, he studied her face.
“I didn’t expect that.”
She met his gaze unflinchingly.
“Fucking you like I don’t give a shit about you is supposed to help you understand me?”
Rachel shrugged.
Obinna shook his head, his lips curving into a downturned smirk.
“So,” she leaned in to whisper. “You can’t because you do give a shit about me.”
Obinna’s smile dropped and his gaze turned intense, the usual warmth in them fading quickly. He applied light pressure on her neck, his thumb slowly caressing the hollow at the base of her throat.
“Maybe I don’t,” he said, voice low.
“Prove it.”
Obinna stepped back slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. In one smooth motion, he turned her around to face the wall. He pressed his body into her from behind, one hand still at her neck while the other slid down and hiked her skirt up over her hips.
“Why?,” Obinna murmured against her ear, voice low and rough.
Distracted by the unmistakable feel of his hardness pressing firmly against her back, Rachel fought to concentrate.
“Why what?”
“Why now?”
A soft, involuntary sound escaped her as she wriggled her hips back against him, seeking more friction.
“Because I want to know,” she breathed, the words barely audible.
He said nothing. Instead, he applied very slight pressure on her neck with his palm, just enough to make her pulse jump under his thumb. At the same time, his other hand slipped between her thighs, fingers sliding inside her with deliberate slowness.
Rachel gasped, forehead pressing against the cool wall as heat flooded her body. She was already wet, aching from the days of silence and the weight of everything unsaid. His fingers moved with controlled precision, curling, stroking, teasing the spot that made her knees weaken.
“Obinna…” she whispered, pushing back harder against him.
He leaned in closer, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “You wanted me without the filter,” he said, voice dark and steady. His fingers thrust deeper, thumb circling her clit with just enough pressure to make her tremble. “This is what that looks like.”
Rachel’s breath hitched, her hands flattening against the wall for support. The light pressure on her neck combined with the relentless rhythm of his fingers sent sharp waves of pleasure through her. She could feel every inch of him pressed against her ass, thick and insistent, yet he still held back, refusing to give her everything at once.
“Tell me again,” he said quietly, slowing his fingers until she whimpered in frustration. “Tell me exactly what you want.”
She swallowed hard, trying to steady her voice even as her body betrayed her. “I want you to prove you don’t care….like I’m just something you take when you need it.”
Obinna withdrew his fingers, leaving her empty and throbbing, then used both hands to yank her skirt higher and pull her panties down in one swift motion. The cool air hit her exposed skin for only a second before he pressed forward again, the hard length of him sliding between her thighs, teasing but not entering.
“Maybe I don’t care,” he whispered, gripping her hip with one hand while the other returned to her neck. He applied a little more pressure this time, still controlled, still deliberate. “Maybe this is all you get tonight.”
Rachel moaned, arching her back to invite him in. “Okay, show me,” she challenged, voice husky.Â
Obinna paused for a heartbeat, his breath hot against her neck. Then, with a low growl, he positioned himself and thrust into her in one deep, possessive stroke.
Obinna thrust into her in one deep, possessive stroke, burying himself to the hilt. Rachel cried out, the sudden fullness stretching her in the most delicious way. He didn’t give her time to adjust. He took her hard against the wall, deep, relentless strokes that made her toes curl and her breath come in sharp gasps.
Her hands instinctively reached backwards, trying to touch him, to pull him closer, to feel more of his body. But Obinna caught both wrists in one strong hand and pinned them firmly on the wall above her head.
“No,” he growled low in her ear. “Hands stay here.”
The restriction only heightened everything. Rachel moaned louder, pushing back against him as best she could, taking every powerful thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixed with her breathless whimpers.
After several intense minutes, Obinna pulled out abruptly, spun her around and lifted her. In a few quick strides he carried her to the wide leather sofa in the living room and laid her down on her back. He came down over her immediately, covering her body with his own, face to face now.
He used one hand to pin both of her wrists above her head, his grip firm and unyielding. With his free hand he guided himself back inside her, then drove into her with brutal intensity. Long, hard strokes that bordered on painful yet sent waves of sharp pleasure crashing through her.
Rachel gasped and arched beneath him, the angle letting him hit even deeper. Every thrust jolted her body, the mix of pleasure and slight pain making her eyes flutter and her moans turn into broken cries.
He didn’t slow down. His eyes stayed dark and locked on hers, jaw tight, as he thrust into her without any of the usual tenderness he sometimes showed. Rachel’s moans grew louder, her body trembling beneath him as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside her. The slight edge of pain only sharpened everything, making every thrust feel raw and overwhelming.
She tried to move her pinned hands, but his grip was iron.
“Fuck… Obinna…” she gasped, legs wrapping tighter around his waist.
He leaned down, forehead almost touching hers, eyes dark and intense. His breathing was ragged, but he still held back, still controlled. Still distant.
Rachel came first, hard and sudden, her walls clenching around him as waves of pleasure ripped through her. Her back arched off the sofa, a sharp cry escaping her lips.
Obinna followed moments later, burying himself deep with a low groan as he spilled inside her, his body tensing over hers.
For a few long seconds, the only sound in the room was their heavy breathing.
He slowly released her wrists and pulled out, rolling off her. They lay side by side on the couch, skin slick with sweat.
Obinna stared at the ceiling for a moment, then turned to her. “Are you on Plan B?” he asked, voice calm but direct. “We didn’t use protection.”
Rachel blinked, still catching her breath. “I will handle it.”
He nodded once, guarded as ever, then stood and offered her his hand. “Come on. Let’s clean up.”
He led her upstairs to his bedroom in silence, the earlier intensity fading into careful distance. In the bathroom, he handed her a warm towel and fresh clothes from his drawer without much conversation. Rachel watched him closely, the way his jaw stayed tight, the way he avoided lingering eye contact.
Later, as they sat on the edge of the bed in loose robes, making small talk about her day at the office and the quarterly report, Obinna finally mentioned it.
“Something happened on my way home this evening,” he said quietly. “A black Toyota Prado was tailing me from Central Area. I shook it off, but I have police escorts outside now. The IGP arranged it.”
Rachel’s eyes widened slightly, concern flashing across her face. She had seen the police van parked outside and the men that appraised her coolly as she drove into his compound and wondered about them. She tried to press him for more details but he did not elaborate further. After a few minutes, he stood. “I have some work to do in my study. Make yourself comfortable.”
He left her in the bedroom and walked down the hallway to his study. Once inside, he closed the door and sank into his leather chair. His mind drifted back to what had just happened on the living room, the raw way he had taken her, the way she had demanded it. She had played her hand and he had been too blinded by lust to see. He had been forced to confront his feelings and he did not like what the evening had revealed. Things had taken a dangerous turn and he had to make a decision soon.Â
Obinna sat still in contemplation, his eyes staring into the distance. Then he broke out of his trance and picked a pen from his desk. The thing with Rachel had to end.
Just then, his phone buzzed on the desk. A message from Mina.
Hey! Long time. I would like to see you. Soon.Â
Obinna stared at the screen, jaw tightening further. He pushed the phone away, but after several minutes of staring at the blank pages of his work journal, he picked it up again and typed a short reply.
Why?
Her response was quick.
We need to talk.
Obinna remembered Rachel’s little game again and rubbed his temples, suddenly feeling a burn out. Chike’s voice rose, unsolicited, in the silence.
Women will ruin a good thing.
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© Umari Ayim
2026
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