I’m lying on my bed in the dead of the night soliloquizing about how lonely I am and how deserted my body feels…
It’s a Monday morning
I wake up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. My roommates are up and about trying to get dressed and have their makeup done for an awaited busy day. I crawl sluggishly to the cold showers. The bathroom stall is stinky and the drain clogged. God knows I can’t deal with this, especially not today. I somehow manage to drag myself through the entire day, barely recalling anything of significance that will differ today from yesterday. I find myself solemnly waiting for the birth of a new night. My watch says 12 noon; the time says lecture period. My lecturer utters a thousand words per minute; my mind relays them in gibberish. My spirit is far away, bringing home new dreams. My body is aching. When last was I touched?
Why my mind travels so far is a mystery even I can’t uncover, but when I find myself amidst these thoughts, I close my eyes. When I close my eyes, I see my dreams; Daydreaming nonsense, a labyrinth of unholy thoughts. He touched me that day, I mean, he really did touch me.
I went over to the house he was staying at to see him as soon as he had arrived Lagos. He hugged me warmly and we got chatting about how much we had missed the other and every other thing that had occurred within the timeframe of our phase apart. I told him I had just learnt to lap dance amongst other things so he asked to see me dance. He turned the music up and for a minute I was lost in the rhythm. I found myself moving in strange but practiced routines, my body didn’t seem as though it were mine anymore and so he took it. Wherever my waist swirled to, he would catch it. The rhythm was ours and our bodies were possessed by the instant. One step, two step, click. I turned around and looked him straight in the eye. Our eyes locked, followed by our lips and I could feel a power surge. I could feel the electricity flowing through my body and into his. Our tongues touch and my heart melted instantly. I intensify the kiss, seductively holding unto his neck. His hands go up. To be honest, I don’t think I can hear any music anymore, all I hear is his heart beat faster and his hardened breath. He pushed me to the wall and raised my skirt.
The lecturer moved up to my face looking questionable. He is speaking a language different from what I want to hear. I have to blend in to avoid trouble so I scribble some letters on my jotter. “Karl Marx……the rules of negotiation…” I didn’t think he was satisfied so I settled for nodding. One step, two step, nod like the knot in my head was loose. I was ready to prove that he in fact was the most intelligent orator I had ever witnessed. I didn’t really understand how and why he was able to see through my vague face to know that my body was my only statute of representation. Slowly and yet steadily, my mind continues her stories of tongues and whispers. He raised my skirt…
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