He's Good in Bed Unlike My Husband (2)

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After that day, the man named Lari became a regular customer in my shop. A bachelor, he lived with a younger sister who was a student at the University of Lagos. Lari was friendly and cheerful, with a smile that can light up a room. He had the kind of looks that I found attractive in a man- tall, slim with a nice physique like a GQ model. 

 So, it was no surprise that I was drawn to him right from the beginning. But as a married woman with a child, there was nothing I could do about it. Unless I wanted to cheat on my husband and that was something I did not have the heart to do.

 Maybe my background had something to do with it. My parents, who are dead were both very strict with me when growing up. Never allowing me to go out much or interacting with boys. I was thus a late starter relationship-wise, only having my first boyfriend at age 19 when I was already at the university. 

 My friends at school used to tease me that I would end up a virgin till old age if I continued to reject all the guys who showed interest in me. Maybe due to the peer pressure, I accepted to go out with Emeka, an engineering student who had been after me since my year one. Emeka was in his final year when we started dating and by the time, he graduated and went for the NYSC programme, the relationship fizzled out.

  I had just left school and was wondering what to do next with my life when I met my husband, 

 Robby. More about him later.

 Anyway, with his regular visits to my shop, Lari and I became very friendly. In fact, so much so that he surprised me one day by inviting me out for a party!

 "You are inviting me out on a date?" I asked in an incredulous tone.

 He shrugged.

  "Why not? Don't you want to go out with me?" he queried.

  Waving my left hand in his face, I stated:

  "In case you have not noticed, I'm married. With a son," I said.

  "So? Don't married women go to parties?"

  "Of course they do. But with their spouses," I reminded him.

  

 "Ok. I get it. Let's go out as friends then," he said, giving one of his trademark smiles that made him look even more handsome.

  I shook my head.

  "That's not possible. This is Naija*, married women don't keep male friend unless they are looking for trouble," I pointed out.

  "Ok. What about as customers? Come with me as a reward for being such a good customer in your store," he cajoled.

 "Lari" I said in an admonishing manner. He burst out laughing and I joined him. We stood for sometime chatting, laughing with a bit of flirting thrown in. It was obvious, Lari liked me. And me? I found him very attractive. But my proper upbringing, where the sanctity of marital vows had been drummed into me from a young age, made it impossible to do anything about it...

  ***

 Some days later, I took my three year old son, Jovi to the park in our estate to play on the swings. I sat under a tree, reading a novel, occasionally keeping an eye on him.

 "That book must be so engrossing for you not to notice my presence all this while," said a voice by me.

 I looked up to meet the smiling eyes of Lari.

  He sat down by me, glancing at the cover of the book, a new work by award winning Nigerian writer Chimamanda Adichie.

 "How was work today?" I asked, feeling suddenly warm at his presence.

 "Fine. I had a meeting with a client at Ikeja and decided to come home to finish up a painting I had been working on," he said. Lari, an architect by profession also painted as 'a hobby' as he termed it.

  We sat chatting for a while, talking about the novel which he had read when Jovi ran up to me.

 "Mummy, I'm thirsty. Can I have a blackberry juice? Or some ice cream?" he demanded.

 "Not now. You will get some when we get home," I said. But the boy insisted, in his usual stubborn manner in getting the drink right then.

 "I've some ice cream in my freezer at home. My place is not far from here; just a short drive away," said Lari, on seeing the distressed look on Jovi's face.

 "Lari, don't bother. We'll soon be heading home anyway," I said. But he insisted it was no trouble, so we got in his car and drove to his house, a street away from the park.

 "What flavor does your boy like? Banana, vanilla, chocolate or strawberry?" asked Lari, as he opened the large deep freezer in his kitchen.

 "Banana will be fine," I said. He handed a small cup full of ice cream to Jovi, which he happily began to eat.

 Then turning to me, he asked:

 "And what's your flavour, Madam?" 

 I smiled and stated:

 "Strawberry."

 "I thought you will prefer chocolate," he said, handing me the cup of ice cream, his eyes fixed on mine.

 "Why?" I asked.

 "So, I can pour it all over you and lick it all up," he said, drawing close.

 "Lari, stop it! My son is here."

 "He's too busy stuffing his face to care about anything else," he stated as he lowered his head and his lips met mine...

  

Note: Naija is a slang or nickname for Nigeria

To be continued...

Names have been changed to protect the identity of the narrator and other individuals in the story.

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