BISI THE OTHER WOMAN EPISODE 4
By Jon Doe
Panic replaced shock. NO, no, no, no this can’t be happening Namdi thought. What cruel God would toy with him like this, writing again into his life such low hanging fruit glistening with a sweet fragrance just asking to be plucked. He began to step in the opposite direction. The woman in the chair saw this, an amused smile appearing on her lips. Namdi cursed giving up all sense of decorum, preparing to turn tail and run. It would be the second time he would be running from a woman in his short life. Ada, a shiver running through his body as he thought of his primary school bully. His mom had said it was cause she liked him; he should try talking to her. Taking her advice and asking Ada what her parents fed her to make her so big did not help matters. He finally had his chance for revenge years ago. It had not gone as intended.
The slowly moving door finally reached its end, exposing one more person in the room.
“Ahh, you recognize me. This celebrity status is useful shaa. If I had known I would have set the fire myself long ago.”
Seated in the only other chair in the room was the owner of the furniture store. Stopping his retreat Namdi’s analytical skills began to work in overdrive connecting the dots.
“I dey play oh, before you decide in your head na me do am.”
Namdi silently thanked the man for assuming his moment of silence to collect himself was him weighing his likelihood of guilt.
“Mr. Aliyu, if I may call you that. We will be waiting for the report from the fire marshall before blame, if any, is assigned”
“Ahh, call me Baba Aga-tele, it’s what my friends who saw me on the television are calling me.”
“Alright Mr. Aliyu”
Namdi said, completely ignoring what he thought was a silly name. Briskly he walked towards his desk, on it was a single picture of him and his wife on a cruise, obviously moved. It was a simple solid desk, space in the center for him to stretch his leg. He would sometimes use that space to kick the only other chair in the office. A silly game he had played with the first receptionist was to buzz her in to come pick it up. She was quite creative in how she achieved this simple task. One day he had stepped off the elevator only to find her replaced with the current receptionist. A quick inquiry led him to knowledge of the old receptionist promotion to the Abuja branch. The new receptionist did not have the same creativity.
“You are in my seat.”
Gracefully she rose, the office chair a throne, she the queen. She left behind two perfectly shaped butt prints in the soft supple leather. The amused smile never left her lips. Calm, composed, she was royalty, everything within her control, all that she wished bent to her will. Walking past Namdi, her bare arm brushed against him. He could smell the shampoo in her hair, the cocoa butter on her skin carrying with it simple promises. Mr. Aliyu’s face was buried in his bag, oblivious to the charged scene occuring beside him. She stopped behind his chair, crossing her arms below her bosom. With a thud, his bag fell to the floor a few papers flying out.
The sound of the bag hitting the floor broke the spell on Namdi. His eyes opened, taking unsteady steps to his chair. Gathering the few papers together onto the desk Baba Aga-tele smiled as he began to speak, Namdi sitting across the desk from him.
“Ahh, The official documents are all here, i’ll leave you to it.”
He stood up, preparing to leave.
“Mr. Aliyu where do you think you are going. You have to give a detailed report of what happened. You are a witness to the insurance claim.”
“Ahh, about that, I wasn’t there when the fire started.”
“What! You said to the reporter…”
“Haba I wanted to be on Television, it was this sales girl that saw everything. She will fill out the report.”
Getting up he went to the door, quickly letting himself out. Namdi sat there furious, speechless, his eyes watching the door till it closed, sealing his fate. A heavy silence fell on the room. With exaggerated slowness, she walked round the seat Mr. Aliyu had just vacated. The world waited for her, time waited for her. Namdi could not look away taking in every minute movement of her body, his fury draining. She sat down, a toned leg lifting to cross over the other. Her lips parted.
“You can call me Bisi.”
Drowning, his lungs flooded with a fire that burned without mercy. Faster and faster his heart beat fighting for air, rapidly disappearing from the room. On all sides he felt a pressure weighing down, crushing him. In his head, the four letter word resonated over and over growing in intensity, invading, dominating, driving every other thought to a corner to cower in fear. The moment stretched to eternity, it demanded to be said, to be born from his lips. Namdi fought a silent battle as she sat before him, the same amused smile on her lips. From his soul a silent scream of defiance went off at the insanity of it all. He was a man, how dare she! The scream died at the realization he was powerless to stop his eventual surrender. It would only be a matter of time. The door remained closed.
Namdi said her name, a warmth coming over him, pressure lifting, a seed planted. Everything was once again right with the world.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say my name quite like you”
A finger lifted to her lips, tapping them at a steady rhythm as she thought. Namdi no longer needed to imagine the softness of those lips, each gentle tap sinking in. A nagging thought of having heard similar words began to surface in his consciousness. With a firm nod of the head she stopped, hand leaving her lips to rest on the desk between her and Namdi. She leaned forward ever so slightly, chin tilting up exposing more of her charming neck on which hung a necklace.
Namdi’s attention was swept up, his gaze following the trail of the necklace as it disappeared into her top bearing a weight nestled between her twin peaks. He wondered if she had always been wearing it. Thinking back brought no answers, her other attractions taking center stage on their first encounter. Looking closely he observed the necklace was not cheap. He had learned the hard way to spot quality jewelry over the past few years. It had a Roman style to it he recognized. A Buccellati! Namdi sat there, a stunned expression on his face for a fleeting moment. How did she get such a piece. She definitely couldn’t afford it on a sales girls salary. Even if she gathered all her pay cheques for a year; ten years even. Namdi could not hold back his curiosity, an imperceptible change in the way he looked at her.
“How did you get that…”
The rest of his sentence died. On his inner thigh he could feel a tender touch. It started near his knee before slowly working its way in. A small part of him had a sneaky suspicion she knew what he was about to ask but it was overwhelmed by the sensation, blood rushing down from his brain.
“Stop! I’m married.”
With a sharp intake of breath Namdi reached for the picture frame on the desk, turning it so it could fully face Bisi. The touch stopped making its way up his thigh, having reached only half way. She looked at the picture frame of Namdi with this woman. Her hand on the table stretched out hovering above his fingers holding the frame. She stroked the top of Namdi’s hand. A current coursed through his skin, pleasure hitting every nerve on his hand replacing his strength. Deftly she rested her hand on his and together they pushed the picture to the table face down.
“So he has someone”
Bisi thought, her eyes noting every detail of the picture on the simple desk. A few minutes prior, she had been shocked to see the man that had slipped through her fingers in a picture; here of all places. The word fate came to her mind. She immediately washed the word clean from her head, laughing bitterly in her heart. Power, not fate, decided all she muttered to herself, ruthlessly pushing back dark memories striving to bubble to the surface. He had her number, she knew without a doubt he would call regardless.
Standing behind her boss she couldn’t help but look at her, comparing. It didn’t take long for Bisi to admit the woman in the picture was beautiful. Her hourglass body seemed too perfect to be real. Barely reaching Namdi’s shoulders, she clung to him like a prized possession. Bisi did not feel inferior. She could almost match the woman curve for curve. A slight smirk appeared on Bisi’s mouth when she noticed she had longer legs and slightly wider hips than the woman.
Looking away before her boss got suspicious she began to walk around the office. It was spacious, half of it covered with floor to ceiling windows. She couldn’t see through them but she could imagine what the view of the Lagos skyline would be like at night from this lofty height. White unblemished walls made up the other half of the office. In stark contrast was a single painting hanging behind what would be Namdi’s chair. Bisi walked past her boss, standing directly in front of the art work. Bright red on white parchment. There was a ferociousness to the strokes of the brush. To her it felt like a tiger ran its claws against the white parchment, blood spilling out onto the canvas. An involuntary shiver passed through her. Looking away she pulled the only other available seat and sat down.
“Ahh, who are you to be sitting there!”
Mr. Aliyu stopped his ruffling of papers, his face turning to Bisi. His annoyance at having to wait had begun to show. She found the way he said Ahh before anything quite irritating.
“I’ll get up when he gets here. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”
“Ahh you better not be trying that logic at my store.”
He turned back to his papers, getting them in order while muttering some choice words about her. Bisi explored the desk ignoring him. She began to notice it was not as simple as she first thought. She could make out a touchscreen merging seamlessly with the desk. Why only two chairs in such a spacious office? she wondered. Not sure how long they would be waiting, she decided to stretch her legs. Mr. Aliyu’s mutterings got a bit louder, Bisi caught a few words that could only be painting her in an unflattering light. Using the space beneath the desk, her legs stretched, kicking Mr. Aliyu in the process. Surprised, papers fell from his hands. With a sneer he bent to pick them. She wasn’t worried about repercussions, she was his top sales girl. Crossing her legs, fingers draped along the armrest she watched the door in anticipation, her desire slowly bubbling to the surface. She was not disappointed, the door opened, a shocked Namdi uttering a single word in disbelief.
To be continued