-My Life On Campus

Must Read: My Life On Campus… Part 34

If You Missed The Part 33, Read It Here

She wants me to come, I said to myself. I quickly peeped on Sister Grace to confirm if the final answer my mind gave was actually correct. I was wrong. She was engrossed in the music so much so that she said out loud the lyrics. Notwithstanding, I planned to confront her because the level I was operating on couldn’t be surmounted without her help. One, two, three, I counted within, calmly walked in and stood right beside her. She still didn’t notice my presence even at that very close range, all because she wasn’t looking at my direction. My hand shuddered for some seconds longing to bring to fruition what my mind intended. My mind had calculated how soft the wiggling twinned pillows situated just beneath her back were. I let my hand into action. I moved my right hand forward with my palm spread open towards her posterior. I was almost touching it when she ignorantly turned. I quickly retreated my hand and stood like an effigy.
She was frightened to see me. “Jesus!” She shouted, disconnecting the earphone from her ears.
I gave a fake smile and calmed her down. “Shush. Calm down.” I said.
She moved her left hand to her chest to ease her panting heart. “Bro Banji, I never knew it was you.”
“It’s me.” I said and smiled again. “How did you get in?”
“Ehm—Ehm—I—He— Ehm.” She stuttered.
I cut in to save her busy brain in search of a lie. “Emeka opened for you, huh?”
She smiled and said, “yes. He went to get something downstairs.”
“Aww. And he left you all alone in the room?” I teased her.
“Yes O. Don’t mind him.” She said and smiled, trying to cover up her shame. I guessed she had remembered her expression the last time I caught her with him, painting the whole picture as if she was Molested.
“Since when has he gone?” I pulled her leg again.
She checked her time, paused for some seconds and said, “Hmm, I think thirty minutes ago.”
“That’s pretty long.” I purposely felt concerned.
“Abi ooo. Don’t mind him.”
“Have you tried his number?” I asked.
“Why na? Try it na.”
“Hmm. Hmm. Hmmmmmmm.”
“Hmm, what?” I said and laughed because I could figure out the meaning. “Hmm, you don’t have credit abi?”
She shyly replied, “Kinda.”
The reason chickens are fed is not because of the love we have for them but for them to grow fat enough to be eaten, I thought to myself.
She immediately adjusted her gown and sat upright as I chose to sit next to her. I marked that as my first move.
I wanted to display my caring gesture to Sister Grace so I gladly gave her my phone to dial Emeka’s number. She immediately took the phone from me and while she was busy dialing Emeka’s number, I was also busy weighing the size of her oranges with my weighing machine, my eyes. After proper examination, I couldn’t call those, oranges but pears. I instantly understood the reason why Emeka loved pear. I concentrated all my attention on the big dangling pears which sparked up again my already relaxed hose.
“He’s not picking up.” Sister Grace said, disturbed.
I smiled, knew fully well that Emeka was dead but kept my mouth sealed not to scare her away. “I guess he must be busy with something.”
“Ok. Thanks.”
Dead silence after some seconds. My heart was beating as I bowed my head to think of what to say. Should I ask her for exercise? Should I take it cool? Or Should I just go away? Thoughts bumping into each other on my mind. I can’t let you go after all the problems you had put me through, I almost said. I summoned courage to find my way to satisfy my selfish desire.
I smiled, bit my lip and nodded. “What’s up with you and Emeka?” I boldly asked.
“I don’t understand.” She said with a surprised look on her face.
“I mean, what is going on between you and Emeka?” I said, stressing each word.
Sister Grace nodded and said, “Nothing at all. We are just friends.”
“Just friends?”
“Just friends.”
“Nothing more?”
“Nothing more.”
“What happened the other day when you came here?”
She kept mute, pretending to be thinking and later said, “Oh! That day was a painful day for me.”
I nodded my head, signaled she was lying. “How painful? Romantically painful or which kind of pain are you talking about?” I boldly attacked.
“Brother Banji, please can we forget about that issue? It’s past.” She said.
I agreed to forget the past and started a new one. “Why are you dressed like this?”
She scanned through herself and questioned, “how am I dressed?”
“How are you dressed? You ask me?” I said and disgustingly looked at her.
She swiftly stood up from the bed to check her dressing again. She span slowly before me like a wife before her husband, displaying all her dangerous posterior and anterior departments for me to see. My nozzle had risen up like soaked ‘ijebu’ garri and my body was shaking uncontrollably like a drenched dog. She paused and looked at me, waiting to hear my response.
“Ehn, the cloth is not bad but turn around again.” I requested to gain sight of her backside again.
She twirled slowly and I totally lost it when I saw the twinned pillow-like objects again. My head was bowed trying to depress my obviously risen nozzle with my two hands but all efforts failed; die-hard nozzle. I looked up to see Sister Grace staring at me with my hands clustered in between my legs. I looked at my clustered hands at their position, sluggishly gazed back at Sister Grace, who quickly shifted her focus to the area my eyes were coming from. We both remained mute for some seconds and when she finally spoke, I almost blanked out.
“Do you want me?” She asked with a seductive look.
I guessed a man in my condition would not decline this golden opportunity, if actually it was golden as it seemed. I nodded my head like a two years old affirming the request of a biscuit. I let go my hand off my trouser, setting the stubborn instrument free. She moved closer to me, caressing my head with her left hand and was gently pulling out her pant with her right.
Knock! Knock! Someone was at the door.


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