I am thinking of you
In my sleepless solitude tonight
If it's wrong to love you
Then my heart just won't let me be right
-Mariah Carey (My All)

Demola hovered over me as he slipped my gown over my head. I felt like a gentle bell was ringing in my heart and he was controlling the melody. He drew my hands away, and pinned them beside my head when I tried to cover my lacy black bra and panties.

"Your body is amazing and you should never feel shy around me," he said huskily.

I felt tense and he kissed my lips gently. "Relax honey, I promise to be gentle. Tell me at any time if you want to stop. Okay. Breathe in and out. Slowly."

Alright. Breathe.

In and out.

In and out.

He told me to unbutton his shirt. Encouraging me to touch him as he was touching me. His body hard as iron my body soft as a delicate petal. His golden skin and toned body were exposed and making me feel emotions I had never felt before. Slipping off his trousers, I tried to take my eyes of his silky boxers.

When I withdrew my hands from his rock hard body, he pulled them back, gently guiding me where he wanted them to be.

"I want to see if you can keep quiet. You wouldn't want to disturb your neighbours, would you?" he whispered into my ear, brushing his sharp jaw against my cheek.

I nodded.

Demola kissed me, this time more passionately, and trailed the kisses from my lips to my chest. Going down lower and lower while maintaining eye contact. He paused at my waist. Perhaps, he was waiting for me to tell him to go ahead.

I nodded, eyes closed as I braced myself for what I had been waiting for.

I woke up. Sharply. Panting as my heart raced faster than a jaguar. It was already morning. Eight am to be precise.

Checking my calendar, I sighed. The red wave, that time of the month. No wonder I had such a crazy dream. Fortunately, I would have three days off. Enough time to bring my hormones under control, before seeing him again.

I lay in bed thinking about the evening I had spent with Demola, and tried not to think about what was next. Taking each day, one at a time was a much better idea.

He could be an arrogant jerk but he could also be very charming. I shook my head and smiled to myself, thinking about how he acted as if he wanted to kiss me but didn't. I felt like kicking myself because I had obviously wanted it.

Demola was probably sitting in his Victoria Island headquarter office right now, with his usual satisfied smirk on his face.
Then again, he might be playing golf or monitoring the stock market or doing whatever billionaires do in the mornings.

Deciding not to think to deeply about it, I read my bible, prayed and had a long, cold, shower. A cold shower is exactly what I needed after waking up with Demola on my mind.

I was getting dressed in a pink T-shirt and black shorts, when I heard a knock at the door. Rolling my eyes, I intended to ignore it when I got a phone call.

"Good morning, ma'am, I am at your doorstep and I have a package to deliver to you."

"I didn't order any package. Ogbeni Mister, don't call my-"

"Demola Davies sent me to you." He slipped an ID card under the door. "Kindly call him to confirm, ma'am."

I opened the door and a man in a green uniform greeted me. He asked me to sign for the package and left.

It was a breakfast tray. Complete with toast, bacon, sausages, and some pieces of fruit. He must have remembered how I said I liked sausages but only had them as a rare treat because of keeping my curves under control.

I opened the red card attached to it and smiled as I read it.

Dear Amara,
Thank for the amazing night you spent with me. Hope you enjoy the breakfast.
P.S. Your 'small' phone is on your dressing table.

I shook my head and smiled. It was a simple, but kind gesture. I really didn't feel like doing anything that morning so the breakfast tray was the perfect gift at that moment.

I also noted how the thanked me for 'spending the night' with him. What a tease! I didn't 'spend the night' with him. We had dinner!

*****

The afternoon was quite sunny and birds sang sweetly in the trees outside my flat. I opened the windows and a warm breeze blew in. I decided to do general cleaning of my flat and the laundry. My place was cosy, but designed minimally with a pastel green colour theme. Fortunately, it was on Balogun avenue, adjacent to CMD road. Close enough to Ikeja for shopping and work. Far enough from the hustle and bustle of Lagos to have enough peace and quiet.

I started in my living room before I finished with my bedroom. It was the only room that was furnished with violet tones. I sprayed my home with tangerine air freshener, and sighed with exhaustion.

I heard the washing machine timer ding and I took my clothes out. When I was spreading clothes on the washing line, my mind drifted to Susan.

It startled me that Demola was the first man that I had allowed to get to know me better. After what happened with her, I was so troubled, and in an unhappy state for years. Shutting all potential suitors out.

For years, I convinced myself that I hadn't found the one but truth be told, I had not been willing to give anyone a chance.

My eyes shone with unshed tears as I remembered everything that happened as if it were yesterday. She was my best friend. She didn't deserve what happened to her. Neither did I.

My family relocated to Abeokuta, my father's home city, and I was sent to Enugu to spend time with my mother's family during holidays after the incident.

Niyi, my brother, was kind and did his best to be supportive but I sometimes caught him looking at me with a sad look in his eyes. I guess he felt sorry for me but he felt unable to offer any real help.

Being told to 'forget about it' or 'move on' is not how grief should be handled. The bad, sweep the dirt under the carpet method.
Perhaps if I had been able to deal with my feelings, or talk about my pain I would have overcome it better.

Susan and I were only sixteen.

We had recently completed our O level examinations. All roads led to bright futures for us. She wanted to be a lawyer and I wanted to be a medical doctor. It was what we wanted all our lives.

Susan was a cheerful and brilliant girl. She was also quite good at sport too. Whereas, I was brilliant, reserved and more into STEM club.

I finished spreading the clothes on the line and went inside. The tears that I had been trying to control started to flow freely. I cried silently for some minutes, perhaps an hour.

At the age twenty seven, I knew it had been over ten years but the emotional pain was still so deep. My mum, dad, brother and Hope Church members kept asking me when I was going to get married and they had even started a special prayer for marital breakthrough on my behalf.

I once walked in on them, mid prayer and they swiftly changed the subject and left the room. One after the other.

Some nasty busybodies pointed out that my biological clock was ticking and I should 'swallow my pride' and settle down.

They told me that my age mates, Sola, Aishat and Chizoba, my neighbourhood friends, were all married with at least a kid.

The people coming to unfair conclusions had no idea about me or my past. No one cared to ask me if I had any issues I was dealing with. They just assumed that I was proud and my standards were too high.

Later that day, as the sun set and the stars came out, I realized that I had spent most of the day 'detached' from my surroundings.

I had missed ten calls and several had several notifications. I didn't even hear when my phone was ringing. I also realized that I hadn't eaten since breakfast. Strangely, I didn't even feel hungry.

I checked the missed calls and saw that my mum, dad, brother, church youth leader and some other person called 'Obim' called me.

I called them all back, except 'Obim' and gave excuses, the way I usually do when I get into unhappy moods, for not being available.

Who is Obim? I wondered. I was sure that I had not saved any contact as 'Obim' I used my caller identification app to search for the identity of 'Obim'.

To say I was surprised would definitely not be true. 'Obim', meaning 'my heart' in Igbo language was Demola. He must have saved his number on my phone when I was sleeping.

He sent a message after I missed his calls, to thank me again for caring for his father and that he had taken him home in the morning.

I had just met Demola and there was so much more to know about him, yet I felt so comfortable around him. As if I had known him all of my life. I knew that I should give him a chance, even if I would exercise caution. I mean, obviously, he was a handsome, single and wealthy man. Getting carried away and not using my brain would be a foolish thing to do.

As I responded to his message, my heart warmed at the thought of him and raced with anxiety at the same time. To take the risk, or not take the risk? That was the ultimate question.