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Full Disclosure BY …Jude Idada

Full Disclosure BY …Jude Idada

It happened on Reeve road, Ikoyi.

In one of those seven story buildings.

Relics of the colonial era.

It was a chat on WhatsApp.

Between him and her.

He was flexibly married.

She was fashionably single.

It was at night.

Around 8.

He had finished dinner and was sitting on a large divan watching the Supersport channel.

Champions league.

Bayern Munich and Paris Saint Germain.

His wife was beside him.

She was grumbling.

What she wanted to watch was ROK TV.

Something dramatically indigenous.

Not twenty grown men without shame, chasing a small ball around the field like small children.

His phone vibrated silently.

He took it out and looked at it.

Careful to angle the phone, so that his wife could not see it even if she tried.

She tried.

Her eyes straining without her head turning.

She did not see it.

It was a message from her.

“Alone tonight. Wanna be spontaneous. Come over.”

He felt his body go warm.

Like a rush of blood had bathed his inside.

It had always been hotels.

Those rooms where they hurriedly communicated.


He never slept over.

Always had to come home.

He was a responsible man.

He knew he had to keep it that way.

Not just for his family.

But for work.

A senior manager.

In a multinational company that frowned at any whiff of scandal.

He couldn’t imagine being alive without the handsome remuneration and endless overseas postings and travels that was his for the picking.

And the more than handsome retirement package that awaited him at the end of his luxurious labours.

He was forty five.

Five more years to be eligible for the full retirement package.

50% of his salary at the moment of retirement, adjusted yearly to keep in step with inflation.

Full free medical package for him and his children under eighteen for life.

Amongst others.

So he had always been discrete.

He stared at the phone and at the television screen.



Her house.

No roommate for the night.

The invitation.

Be spontaneous.

He was a methodical, nit-picking, control freak.

She always complained.

He had a soft spot for her.

Unlike the others with whom he had been cold.

Never one to pay for sex.

But one to treat you so well, it was better than money.

To him paying for sex destroyed the fun.

So it was full disclosure always.

“I am married. I have kids. I will never leave my wife. I don’t believe you are into runs. So there is no money here being offered. But if you hang with me in all ways. I will treat you well. Open a new world to you. Give you opportunities. Leave you better than I met you. It is all left for you to decide.”

If she stayed.


If she walked.


If she put him on a long game.

He walked.

In all scenarios he kept it physical.

Never emotional.

It had helped him stay out of trouble.

But this girl.

This tall, fair complexioned, sultry, sensual, soft spoken, gorgeously beautiful vixen had touched something in him.

Deep inside him.

Something he never knew existed.

She had unleashed it.

A wellspring of youth.

A vigour and excitement that seized him like a hurricane and shook him so pleasurably that at the thought of her, a warmness suffused his body.

He had met her at 1089 in Victoria Island.

The nightclub of the bourgeoisie.

The I-just-got-backs.

The upwardly mobile.

The fashionable and trendy.

The socially connected.

The celebriratis.

She was with friends sitting at the table behind his.

It was her laughter that caught his attention.

She laughed with a British accent.

And ended it with a pronounced sigh.

As though the act of laughing itself was the most satisfying thing she had ever done.

Their eyes connected.

And instantly he knew that she was the one for him.

Ironically he didn’t think of her as a catch.

He instead thought of her as a long lost friend found again.

And they had instantly taken to each other, when he followed her to the ladies and hovered around until she stepped out.


She turned to him.


“You are the reason I came out tonight.”


“You see, I sat with my friends totally bored, wondering why I bothered to come out clubbing and then I heard you laugh before I saw your loveliness, instantly I knew. As though it was written in the stars. I was meant to meet you. That is why I am here. Fulfilling a purpose.”

She stared at him for a moment, before she smiled.

“What purpose?”

“Come sit with me and let’s try and discover it together.”

The music was pumping around them and they had been speaking loudly.

“I am with friends.”

“I am with friends too.”

“But you are the one who wants me to come with you.”

“You are the one who wants to come with me.”



There was an abundance of confidence oozing out of him.

She liked it.

So she smiled and followed him.

And that was how it had begun.

A whirlwind romance that was intoxicating and revelatory.

A love affair that was as much a friendship as much as a lustship.

He would have called it love.

But love was reserved only for his wife.

His wife who was seated by him.

Frowning as the match progressed on the LCD television which hung on the wall.

Just then this phone vibrated again.

He artfully raised it.

To the erstwhile angle.

A picture.

Scantily clad.

Sensuous flesh.

Under it written in text.

“Dinner is ready.”

He felt the rush in his loins.

And at that moment, he decided to go. to hers.

It was unlike him.

Usually he was the one who sent for her.

But something about her taking charge was even more intoxicating

He surrendered.

Turning to his wife he put on his “worry” face.

But she was already sliding over to him.

Her eyes half open.

Her tell tale face of desire.

“Lets leave this stupid match and go to bed.”

“I was just about to tell you that I just got a message to come to work. M.D is working late and needs me to explain some of the work I submitted to him earlier. He says he is lost.”

“Tell him your wife is ill and you are with her at the hospital.”

“He will call the hospital to find out how you are doing?”

“Tell him you took me to a different hospital.”

“You know we all use the same hospital, company policy.”

“It will be a quickie.”

“I will make it last when I return.”

“No now.”

“Come on, you know I can’t keep the M.D waiting.”

She pouted as she leaned back and opened her eyes fully.

“I don’t like you.”

“I am sorry.”

“Sorry for yourself.”

“I promise I will be back in two hours.”

“Don’t come back if you know you are not going to give it to me.”

“I will give it to you.”


He smiled and nodded.

“No say, I promise.”

“I promise.”

She smiled.

“Oya, hurry so you can come back in time.”

He laughed, stood up, walked up the staircase to the bedroom.

He needed to freshen up.

She sat there in the living room smiling to herself as she changed the channel to ROK TV.

A noisy overly melodramatic Nollywood film was showing.

She settled into watching it as she congratulated herself for her deft move.

Her husband was a one rounder.

One ejaculation and he was done for the day.

It took him over twenty four hours to recuperate from the virtue that left him.

If he was to make love to her, then he could not make love to whoever it was he was going to meet.

She knew it wasn’t the M.D.

He came down the staircase with a smile splattered on his face and leaned down to kiss her lightly on the lips.

She could smell the added perfume he had doused himself with.

He was now in a pair of jeans and a tight-fitting T-shirt.

Her stomach tightened and her chest hurt.

But she put on a brave face.

A wide smile.

“Come back quickly.”

“I will.”

And he left.

She sat there not wanting to think of where he was heading, who he was heading to and what she meant to him.

The only thing that prevented her from tracking him down was the knowledge that whoever she was, he would not pound her tonight. She had claimed his appendage for herself and the contents of his sacs. She had put them in a checkmate.

He drove into the compound on Reeve road.

Parked his car, got out and took the staircase two steps at a time as he headed for the topmost floor.

When she opened the door.

She was naked.

He rushed in her.

Lifting her high and slamming the door behind her.

As they kissed passionately.

He managed to whisper.

“She wants me tonight.”

That was all she needed to hear.

And she knew what to do.

First, she surrendered to him wantonly.

All wet.

All moaning.

All screaming.

He caressed.

He kneaded.

He licked.

He ate.

Until she lay spent and panting.

And when he lay down.

She arose.

To the full magnificence of her skillset.

Finely practiced.

And her fingers drew hot lines of passion all over his body.

Her fevered lips set the lines on fire.

She used it all.

The incense.

The warm oil.

The honey.

And it felt like there were more hands than her hands on his body.

More lips than hers.

More tongues than hers.

When she sat astride him and sunk his monstrosity into her moistness.

He gasped in unexpected pleasure.

And reached out to touch her nice moulded globes.

She gently pushed his arms to his side.

Held them there.

And moved with practiced perfection.

Unseen muscles massaging every nerve deliciously

He felt the pleasure in every muscle of his being.





A wave.




And just as he was about to explode into a million twinkling stars.

She stopped.

And slid over.

Then she whispered to him.

“Go show her who is boss.”

His breath was coming in gasps.

He knew what to do.

And he did it.

It took him less than twenty five minutes to drive from Ikoyi to Lekki.

And when he parked in a screech in his estate.

He jumped out of the car, bounded into the house, up the staircase and into the bedroom.

His wife was sitting up in bed with a bowl of ice-cream in her hands.

Her lips smacking.

The television in the bedroom playing another Hollywood melodrama.

There were no words.

He was on her.







Contorting from one position into another.

Until in unison.

As though pre-planned.

They screamed in orgiastic ecstasy.

And falling onto each other.

Bathed in glistening sweat.

Her heart still racing.

Her mind at peace.

She whispered.

“I love you.”

And he responded.

“I love you too.”


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Posted by:- on October 12, 2018.

Categories: Literature

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