Lust and Free Verses (5)

LUST & FREE VERSES 5

THE GIFT

Oleo Energy

Maitama

11:45 am

Rachel pushed open the heavy glass door of the single storey building in Maitama, her gift heavy on her wrist. She glanced down as she walked, admiring it. The gold bracelet was embedded with jewel stones that caught the light with every step she took. 

She walked under high ceilings that soared twenty feet or more. Dramatic recessed lighting and pendant fixtures with tectonic forms in brushed bronze and etched glass cast a warm, controlled glow across the space that made her feel slightly out of place in her simple black button down dress and red flats.

Her heart fluttered anxiously in her chest. 

I hope he is happy to see me.

She had come unannounced, hopeful that the extravagant gift delivered to her office that morning was his way of apologizing for the silence after days of ignored calls.

She stopped in the reception area, surrounded by supple leather sofas, a gleaming reception desk, and striking contemporary art pieces that spoke of wealth and taste. The subtle aroma of oud incense lingered in the air.

The receptionist smiled inquiringly at her, her well made up face barely moving.

“Good morning. Welcome to Oleo Energy. Who are you here to see?”

Rachel told her she was there to see Obinna. The receptionist gave her a smooth once over, reaching for the intercom on her desk at the same time.

“Is he expecting you?”

“Yes,” Rachel lied, and waited with bated breath as the receptionist spoke into the intercom receiver in hushed tones. A couple of quick nods and yes sirs later, she rose from her desk, her figure sleek and imposing in a lilac skirt suit ironed to perfection that it gleamed like an armour. She ushered Rachel straight into Obinna’s office.

Rachel stepped into a world so different from the one she had been in with him that she almost did a double take at the sight of him. Gone was the easy, playful demeanor that she knew and had grown accustomed to. It felt as though she was looking at a different person as he sat behind a large executive desk in a crisp navy blue suit, eyes scanning the single sheet of paper in his hand. He looked up once, his expression polite but distant.

“Rachel,” he said, lowering the paper in his hand to the table. “I was not expecting you.”

She smiled in spite of the tight knot of self doubt clutching her heart and lifted her wrist so that the bracelet sparkled.

“I just wanted to came and thank you in person. I like it. The gold, the stones… everything.” She sat in the chair he waved her into and continued, “after you ignored my calls, I thought maybe…this was your way of saying sorry.”

Her lighthearted tone failed to evoke similar warmth. Obinna leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. His gaze was steady and cool.

“It’s not an apology gift Rachel.”

The words hung between them, heavy with meaning. Rachel felt the next breath she drew catch in her throat but forced herself to keep her expression neutral and her voice steady.

“Oh? Thought it was.”

A sharp ache bloomed in her chest, spreading like cracks through glass. Heartbreak hit her in waves. Disbelief, humiliation, and a deep, hollow pain that made her throat tighten. The stranger before her sounded nothing like the Obinna she knew. He was colder, ruthless and looked like he couldn’t wait to be rid of her.

“Rachel,” the stranger said quietly, breaking the silence, “we cannot see each other anymore.”

The words landed like a physical blow even though she had been expecting them. Her breath caught, and for a moment the room spun.

A soft knock interrupted them. The attractive secretary leaned in, tablet in hand. 

“Sir, the jet company has confirmed your flight to Lagos at 3pm.”

“Thank you. Clear my schedule until departure.”

The secretary withdrew. 

“I will be leaving for Lagos soon,” he said to her again.

For a second, he seemed to still, his eyes boring into hers, as if searching for something and then finally, he straightened in his seat.

“Take care, Rachel.”

Rachel, still dazed and reeling, stood up on legs that felt like jelly and walked out of his office without a single word. In her car, her hands shook violently as she gripped the steering wheel. She dialled Zainab.

“Hi Zee. I am in Maitama. On my way to your café,” she said, voice cracking. 

She ended the call and phoned one of her supervisors. “Stella, I went for lunch and now I don’t feel good. I am not sure I will be able to return today.”

“Any outstanding tasks on your desk?”

“No. Cleared all just before Laurent left for the French embassy.”

Rachel rested her forehead against the wheel after the call, her eyes burning with unshed tears behind closed eyelids.

 

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

 

Guzape Hills

1:15 pm

A Toyota Prado cruised through the massive automated gates of the heavily guarded compound. Towering walls, surveillance cameras, and a few policemen that saluted sharply at the passing Prado, surrounded an intimidating white mansion with sweeping modern architecture.

A couple of luxurious duplexes flanked the mansion, each with manicured gardens and separate entrances. The entire compound radiated old money fused with raw, dangerous power.

Inside the mansion’s main living room where bespoke leather furniture formed a large semi circle, a man in a simple gray kaftan sat on a deep sofa, lost in thought. A chilled bottle of water stood on the low table before him. Despite his modest appearance, those who knew him knew to not let their guard down around him. He was known to have a short fuse and an incongruous thirst for bloodletting.

Often, men in the corridors of power trooped in and out of his home with one request or the other, for he was a vital bridge between the shadowy underworld and the glittering halls of power.

The man looked up as his visitor was shown in. He made no offer for him to sit and the visitor knew better than to ask. His face granite and impassive, he regarded the visitor with glacial calm.

“Do you know why you are here?”

The visitor shook his head. “No, sir.”

“I heard you gave officers to that small boy who connived with Yinka to steal the Igbokoda asset from my people.” 

The visitor started to say something but decided the look on his host’s face was too dangerous to push his luck.

“Have you forgotten that you owe me?”

“No sir.” The visitor swallowed visibly, his starched uniform already showing dark signs of perspiration in the underarm areas . “I have not forgotten, sir.”

The host leaned forward slightly. 

“Then tell me why you didn’t reach out to me when he made that call to you.”

“I was going to, sir.”

The silence that followed was thick enough for a knife to slice through. Neither man spoke. The host sat motionless on the deep sofa, his granite face offering nothing, while the visitor remained standing, hands clasped behind his back in frightened deference. The only sound was the faint, measured ticking of a clock somewhere deeper in the mansion, each second falling like a blade. 

The visitor swallowed once, the sound embarrassingly loud in the stillness. The host’s eyes, dark and unblinking, simply waited, patient as a predator that already knew the outcome.

Finally, the host spoke.

“You have one week to sort this out.”

The visitor bowed low enough to suffer a torn seam at the back of his trouser.

“I will. I will sir. You can count on me.”

 

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

 

The Alchemist,

Maitama 

5:00pm

Zainab’s café breathed with a subdued but alive hum. Soft jazz curled through the air, mingling with the steady hiss of espresso machine in a tucked in counter manned by waiting staff and the quiet tapestry of murmured conversations. A few remote workers tapped away on laptops, creating small islands of focus amid the warm, coffee scented calm. 

Rachel sat hunched in a corner booth with Zainab by her side. Across from them were Chioma, Simi and Ronke. The trio had rushed over after her tearful call. Glass cups and untouched pastries littered the table.

“Babes, but he sent you a breakup gift in gold and precious stones,” Ronke said, trying to lighten the mood. “That’s next level rich boy dumping. My ex just ghosted me after using me to collect loan from a loan app.”

Simi laughed. “Kind of like what happened to me.”

They piled on funny quips and jokes, rubbing her back and offering hugs. Rachel forced weak smiles, but nothing eased the hollow ache in her chest. The jokes landed like distant noise. All she could see was Obinna’s cold face and the devastating finality of his words. Sudden involuntary shudders ran through her and she rubbed her arms desperately, trying to shake them off.

Simi looked at her with concerned eyes “Are you shivering?” 

“A little.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to fall sick because your fuck buddy dumped you,” Ronke said.

Simi elbowed her. “Seriously!”

Unfazed, Ronke shrugged. “Anyway, it’s just withdrawal symptoms. You will be fine.”

When her friends stared at her in confusion, she leaned forward, lowering her voice to a dramatic whisper.

“You heard Rachel, the man is very good down there.” Her eyes widened for emphasis. “And now, look at her shaking, it’s clear he has that heroin dick. You don’t get over that easily.”

Rachel let out a dry laugh and wiped away a tear that came from both pain and reluctant amusement.

“I think I fell in love with him.”

There was momentary silence until Chioma sighed. “Rachel, I warned you this would happen. People like him don’t end up with people like us. The rich end up with the rich. This isn’t Nollywood, babe. Do you think we are characters in a romance novel?”

Rachel looked away from her friends to the hands that continued to tremble in her lap.

“I am going to be sick.”

“Don’t worry,” Zainab said, rubbing her back. “He is probably thinking of you right now.”

 

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

 

Lagos Marriot Hotel, 

Ikeja, Lagos.

Presidential Suite 

That very moment 

Obinna opened the door of the presidential suite. A stunning lady stood in the hallway, having just come up from the room he had paid for two floors beneath his. She wore a sleek, stylish black evening gown that clung elegantly to her full breasts before flaring gracefully at her hips. 

The luxurious fabric shimmered under the soft corridor lights, and a matching silk shawl draped loosely off one shoulder, revealing a hint of smooth skin. He didn’t speak. He stepped aside and let her wriggle past him, a sultry expression on her face.

Wound up tight from the unexpected visit from Rachel, the weight of the Igbokoda asset, and the threats circling him like sharks, he needed release and he needed it immediately.

Standing before him, the lady reached behind her back and slowly unzipped her dress. The sleek black fabric slid down her body and pooled at her feet, revealing smooth, voluptuous curves and dark, hardened nipples. 

He approached her, undoing his cuff links with quick, fingers before getting the buttons of his shirt. Piece by piece, his clothing joined hers on the floor. She backed away slowly making her way into the room, hips swaying and a teasing, playful smile on her lips.

He caught her before she could take another step, one large hand wrapping around her waist. For a brief second, he looked into eyes. They were dark, willing and empty of complications. Exactly what he needed. He turned her around firmly and bent her forward over the wide arm of the sofa in the room. She braced herself, arching her back. He rolled on a condom with practiced efficiency, gripped her hips hard, and thrust into her in one deep, powerful stroke. She gasped sharply at the sudden fullness, her fingers digging into the sofa cushion. No matter how many times she had been with him like this, the feeling of him inside her always caught her off guard.

He took her with hard, relentless strokes meant to purge the tension coiled in his body. His hips slammed against her, the wet, obscene sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the suite. One hand cradled her breasts, teasing her and rolling nipples just …enough to make her moan louder, while the other gripped her hip, dictating the pace. He pounded deeper, faster, chasing nothing but raw physical oblivion. A low, strained breath escaped him, but nothing more.

He pulled out, lifted her onto the bed in one smooth motion, and flipped her onto all fours. Without hesitation he drove back into her, deep and powerful. Her moans grew louder, unrestrained, filling the room as she clutched at his hands on her waist. She pushed back against him desperately, rolling her hips to meet every thrust with eager, needy rhythm.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Jaw clenched tight and sweat glistening on his chest, Obinna’s mind was blissfully blank for the first time that night. His hips continued snapping forward with bruising force as he drove into her from behind, her body gripping him like a vice.

He basked in the emptiness of it. There was no Rachel, no Igbokoda, no veiled threats from politicians or rivals. Just the tight, wet heat around him and the rising pressure at the base of his spine. He felt himself tighten until the pleasure coiled, unbearably sharp and unstoppable. His rhythm faltered. He buried himself to the hilt with a low, guttural groan and came hard, hips jerking as he spilled into the condom.

For a few long seconds, he stayed still, and then he pulled out, disposed of the condom, and collapsed on his back on the bed. The woman turned, still catching her breath, and tried to drape herself over his chest. He stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t,” he said, voice cool and final.

She didn’t argue. She simply slid off the bed, picked up her dress and disappeared into the bathroom. Obinna stared at the ceiling, chest still rising and falling, the temporary relief already fading. 

She came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, fully dressed and pouting.

“Two years and you never let me stay for the night. Why?”

Obinna reached for his phone on the bedside table 

“Work,” he replied evasively.

She gave a soft, disbelieving laugh but said nothing more. Obinna opened his banking app, selected her saved details and transferred a substantial amount to her account. The notification pinged on her phone seconds later.

“A little thing to cover your time,” he said flatly.

She checked her phone, smiled, and blew him a kiss. Obinna allowed himself a smile, jaw still tight. She slipped out quietly, closing the door behind her.

Obinna sat for a moment in the dim light, recalling his conversation with the Inspector General of Police.

We are still on it.

No, no, nothing has come up. We cannot say if it is them or just armed robbers, but trust me, my people are on it. You have nothing to fear. My boys are still there with you now. Are they not?

He reached for his phone and dialed his friend’s number.

“Guy how far?” Edafe said at the other end of the phone. “Me and Ofer dey lobby dey wait you.”

“Did you go through the basics with him?”

“I don tell am. Just dey come abeg.”

“Give me a few minutes.”

Fifteen minutes later, he was clean and dressed in a white shirt and black pants. He took one last look at his reflection in the room and played a move in his mind to the coming storm. 

D5….central break….e4 in sight. Watch flank. Pawn storm expected.

He flipped the card in his hand. It read.

BCI Advanced Security. 

Abuja. London. Tel Aviv.

© Umari Ayim

2026