The plan was to spend a night with her in a hotel. I hadn’t seen her for 6 months, and all I wanted was a night together so we could make up (have šęx) for all the months we’d lost. But she told me, "My parents wouldn’t allow me to sleep outside. It’s holiday. No lie would work."
So we ended up meeting at a bar in the late afternoon. She looked dazzling, and all I wanted was to kiss her and do things to her beautiful body, I couldn’t take my eye off her b00bs and būtt but we were in a public place, it took my best to control my hard cucumber. Later in the evening, when she was about to go home, I told her, “What if I go home with you, spend some time in your room, and leave at dawn?”
She screamed, “You want my dad to descend on you? No, I won’t try that with you. Just go home. We’ll find a way someday.”
I wasn’t a man to give up easily. I told her, “Okay, let’s do it this way. I’ll go with you, but I’ll stay outside until everyone goes to sleep. Then I’ll sneak in. How about that?”
She reluctantly accepted.
At 10 p.m., her family was still in the hall watching TV. She texted me, “Don’t worry, Dad is dozing off. He’ll leave soon.”
At 11 p.m., she said, “Dad went inside. Mom is still there with my siblings, but they should leave soon.”
Then it was 12 a.m., then 1 a.m. I sent her a message: “Are you there?” She didn’t reply. I called her phone—she didn’t pick up...I was like what have i gotten myself into because of sex. Around 2:15 a.m., she texted, “Sorry, I slept off. Let me check.”
A few minutes later: “Hey, you can come now, but make sure your footsteps aren’t heard.”
I tiptoed silently like a shadow and entered her room. I sighed heavily as we hugged. Then we kissed, caressed, we then made love like never before, every bit of me riding her or she riding me was magical and i overslept.
The sun was already up when she hit me to wake up. She was shaking and whispering, “We’re dead! How will you get out?”
I jumped out of bed, threw on my clothes, and sat down. She went out to check. Her dad was already seated in the hall, watching TV. She came back and said, “You’re stuck. Let’s pray he goes out soon so you can run.”
Then her dad called out her name: “Sandra, tell your friend I’m here waiting for him.”
I nearly peed my pants. She panicked: “He knows you’re here? We’re dead!”
I stepped out with my hands behind me like a Catholic going for communion. When he saw me, he smiled. He asked, “How old are you?” I told him, “I’m 25.” He said, “When you were sneaking in at dawn, I saw you. I’ve been sitting here since you entered, waiting for you to sneak out. If you’re bold enough to leave in daylight, why did you sneak in at dawn?”
I didn’t answer—I wasn’t going to tell him I overslept.
He continued, “You look like a good boy. Don’t be sneaking around. It’s bad manners. Come home, greet us, and feel comfortable. My daughter is 23. I knew she had a boyfriend, so why are you hiding?”
I didn’t say a word, but inside, I was screaming and cursing my luck. He made me sit next to him. A few minutes later, I told him I was leaving. He asked me to wait and eat something first.
Six years later, when he sat in his chair, clad in kente, to receive our dowry, he told me, “I knew you were a good boy the day I saw you. Something whispered in my spirit that today would come to pass.”
I responded, “Thank you for believing in me.”
