”Tell me, when did you and Chidi get married”? i asked after the first round of Kisses. She said nothing. She just lowered her lips again and started kissing away.
Right there under Ify, i remembered the Biblical story of Joseph and Potipher’s wife. The story had it that Potipher’s wife wanted to sleep with Joseph but Joseph refused. She had gone to Potipher and claimed that Joseph wanted to sleep with her by force. As a result, Potipher had thrown Joseph in the prison.
Was i going to be thrown to prison if i pushed Ify out? The obvious answer was ‘No’. The only thing that could happen was to be asked to leave the house if Chidi found out. But the way i saw things then, Ify was unto something. She had always been looking at me strangely and invitingly. It was her golden chance to see Chidi traveled out of the country.
I had asked her when they got married because i expected her to give me a date, which will make me push her away with pretence that i can’t touch somebody’s wife, but her response shocked me.
They were not Married. She had come from Paris and met Chidi while looking for a house. Chidi had given her one room but since rat and cat can’t share the same room, they had started being intimate. Unfortunately, she said that Child’s Manhood hardly got up and that when it does, it would fall again in a minute. It was a pathetic story but i didn’t know what to say.
Her hands were already on my manhood and the entire sense of reasoning inside of me had left through the window. I was going to do it. It almost felt like doing her a favour because, She couldn’t just go outside and bring in a man into the apartment. She also couldn’t go and sleep outside.
The whole piece had started to come together. Chidi had planned that all along. She had intentionally brought me to the house to satisfy the girl or probably get her pregnant, which i believed they wanted.
I had decided to watch how things unfold. One thing i was sure was that Chidi as an Igbo man, knew that i would definitely sleep with Ify in his absence. He knew that Ify would trick me into sleeping with her and that i would not be able to resist that body. Little wonder why he had given her go ahead to study computer in my room as if i was Microsoft or IBM.
My entire cloths had been stripped off my body without my approval. She was going to rape Ozoigbondu. Maybe i should shout and attract people to come and help me or peharps go to the Police later on or even forgive her later.
Yea, that was it, i would forgive her later but at that moment, not even an Earthquake would stop me.
My entire system had responded to her touches and even when i remembered that i had no condom, i made no attempt at stopping her.
Her mouth had gone down to my private part and was squeezing it, my two hands had found two soft oranges on her chest and was doing justice to it too. My phone had rang but i made no attempt to reach it. I didn’t care if it was Escobar himself calling me from Colombia. Over forty minutes after we started, we lay beside each other on the bed panting. She was a sweet lady who knew how to bring out the best in a man.
”You understand you virtually forced me to do this” i said. She smiled and stroked my nose as if we were lovers.
”No, you forced me to do this. I have been wanting to do this for long but had no opportunity” she said.
We were still on the bed when Chidi called her from Zurich. He said he won’t be coming back in a week since he wanted to go to Madrid to check whether his documents were still working.
It turned out to be that all those with Spanish papers needed to find someone to work with those papers. If after five years, the authorities discovered that the paper they gave you didn’t work and pay tax, they would kill the paper and refuse to renew it. It would simply mean that you no longer possessed any legal documents. Therefore, the resident permit holders in Spain needed to always make sure that their papers were paying taxes by registering for a work.
Ironically, it also meant that i could get stuck with Ify for a month or even more. She would probably get pregnant by then since she had encouraged me to release inside her. It seemed she obviously wanted a child. Maybe she didn’t want to go the way of majority of the Nigerian ladies in Amsterdam.
Most of the Nigerian ladies i knew in Amsterdam were getting old without being married. Some were already in their 50s while some were heading to late 40s. These were women who came to Europe to look for money through prostitution. However, by the time they realised they were getting old, they would change country and start acting ‘good wife material’ crap. They were scattered all over Amsterdam, selling foods inside their apartments. Some even had children out of Marriage. I knew quite a few of them who still sold their bodies to be able to pay house rent. It was hell for them and sometimes i wondered why they chose to remain there. I would have preferred that they traveled back home to look for husbands but each and everyone one of them had her own excuses why she can’t go home. The Nigerian men in Amsterdam were also people who left one country or the other to settle in Amsterdam. The last thing on their minds was marriage. Since most didn’t have Holland resident permit, marrying a black woman there was a silly burden. The issue was that the Dutch authorities could invade anybody anytime and sent you back to wherever you came from. As a result, men were cautious to tie themselves down with such serious things as Marriage.
As a woman, if you give birth to a child in Holland without being a legal immigrant, your child would get no benefit from the government. You would be on your own. As a result, our women were just wasting their lives over there and due to what people would say if they returned home, they had decided to stick around in Amsterdam and bid their time.
It was left for me to find out what Ify and Chidi had planned.
” Its hard to wait around for something you know might never happen; but its harder to
give up when you know its everything you want.”