SNIPPETS: POUNDING HEART (UN EDITED)

CHAPTER ONE

It was 9 o’clock Saturday morning. The sun slightly orange, bright but not very hot. It  was just appearing on the horizon and slithering into Itoro Effiong’s bedroom through her expensive lace contained window blind. Very unlike her, she was still sleeping that time of the day, and surprisingly too in deep sleep- not very good.

As if bent on waking her up, the slithering sun shone brightly on her face, piercing open the enveloping foggy sleep realm that had captured her.

Slowly she came awake on the bed, with a dull headache and strong feeling that all was not well. Like rising from a crazy long tiring trance, she instinctively felt for the other part of the king size bed that was supposed to be empty. Her carefully and well manicured fingers, one of them hosting her wedding ring touched a body beside her. Unusual.

Her husband Ubon is away in London, at least the last two years now, doing business and ‘packing the money of a life time’ it would never be him.

Suddenly she jumped up as if a current of two hundred volts was passed inside her body. She became crazy. Sleeping with a smile and snoring mutedly in half naked abandonment on her bed was Emeka Njoku, her next neigbour. She gave a deafening piercing scream.

Emeka, practically jerked out of his sweet dream, with the same fierceness as Itoro’s scream, fell off the bed and landed on the floor with a loud thud. Immediately he picked himself up and dived for safety, beside the built in wardrobe, coiled in a foetal position. The sleep and the contented smile disappearing from him. He was yet to comprehend what was happening, opening his eyes he could only see a crazy Itoro and instinctively he had dived hoping to protect himself.

In a flash, Itoro had seen Emeka’s over pampered hairy body, as he dashed from the bed and squeezed himself beside the wardrobe. The bastard. He had taken advantage of her, an opportunity he has been waiting for, for more than two years.

Last night she had taken one too many at the send-forth party of her immediate boss Mr. Adeleke who was retiring. It had all been exciting, not because she would be taking over from him as the Operations manager, but because of her colleagues, with their small talks and pat on the back, the congratulatory smile, and the drinks which she didn’t even notice as she tucked them in. The general atmosphere at the Ocean view venue was also electric. Of course every one at the party had noticed that she was slightly drunk, as she was slurring with a noticeable glint in her eyes, even during her short impromptu speech.

She is not one for much drinking-a social drinker, but she had continued to gulp glass after glass with people raising eye-brows. A stupid fit for an inexperience drinker. Though happy about her promotion, she was frustrated-she had no one to celebrate with not even her own husband. After all the fun-fare, she would be going back to an empty house, an empty bed. Ubon had not even bothered to call. So frustrating!

How did Emeka got into her bed? She tried recalling. She had alighted from the car, a little giddy and unstable, holding on to the driver for support. Seemingly like a magician, Emeka had appeared at the gate and had taken custody of her from the company’s driver. Like a good neigbour, he had promised to take her inside. Trusting him the driver had left, leaving her in the claws of a wolf. In her drunkenness, heightened by the cool breeze of the night, and the need for her husband, she must have thought he was Ubon.

Apparently she had started kissing and caressing him, especially when her increasingly building passion and need for a man broke. Two years is a long time especially for a passionate woman. Emeka had taken her up on it, carried her off the ground like a baby doll, unlock the gate and walked into the compound and straight into the bedroom to undress her. The rest was for the archives.

It was not unusual for men to look at Itoro twice or even thrice, she is awesomely attractive, with an intelligence that is acute. Emeka Njoku her neigbour, her lewd admirer, and an addict of the female flesh had accosted her several times. He wanted a fling with a beautiful married woman whose husband is naïve enough to leave her behind in his wealth hunting in Europe...

SNIPPETS: ON A RAINY DAY

CHAPTER ONE

Constance Ngozi Nwachukwu is crazy about me and I know it, so does every other person in the world! Unfortunately she seemed to be the only one oblivious of this blatant fact.  She is a slave driver, mean, and very bossy, the truth is she derives immeasurable and almost orgy like pleasure in ‘working and driving me crazy. My friends told me I am paying the penalties for the sins I committed against the women race, but of course, I know it is just the trouble of having a woman for a boss. Without being vulgar and being very literary, I think she likes the idea of ‘women superior’.

It is 8 o’clock on the dot, may be give or take some few seconds, that is the exact time Constance arrives office every day. I just saw her new Model Toyota Camry driving in through the gate and passing behind my office, my heart gave a violent tug. Not that I am frightened one bit, but she would come into my office any minute now, demanding for this and that, and why XYZ and every other thing in the world has not been done. Even the fully turned on air conditioner could not stop me from sweating profusely, tiny droplets of sweat form on my forehead. I heaved a sigh and steel myself for her barrages of heavy dose questions. Practically, Constance Nwanchukwu is a pain in my neck.

As the head of marketing of an Independent television production company,(I was given the big title of General manager marketing), the successes of the company hugely rest on the performance of my team, and rightly on my shoulders too. If I don’t get advert placements for our many programmes showing on televisions stations across Nigeria,  and ‘money’ does not come in, then there is no need for me coming to the office. The company will simply fold up. Now even when I am successful in getting adverts, collecting our cheques from the clients, especially the shylock advertising agencies is an Herculean task. Palms have to be greased, ego messaged, and smiles flashed every where. The folding up reason explains why every second literarily speaking, Constance is on top of me, of course there is more to it. The major problem is she neither understands how that section of the industry

works, nor its politics. It’s an ocean with many sharks.

From the long well lighted corridor leading to my office, which also host the stair case leading to our production department at the second floor and the general office of the marketing department, series of ‘good morning madam’ greeted Constance. I could picture her walking briskly, nodding at the subordinates greeting her, and flashing her ‘PR’ smile, with a file probably in her hand and her personal assistant running breathlessly behind her to keep pace. She had definitely studied the file en-route the office, and her ‘PR’ smile would suddenly disappear once she gets to the door of my office. Here she comes.

Knock, knock, she comes in frowning.

‘Good morning Mr. Achebe, what is the meaning of this?’ she did not disappoint me, it is her usual opening sentence. She dropped the file I had envision she must be carrying. Her well sculptured face was a mask of anger, but she still looks very sensational. Today she is wearing a beige pin stripe trouser suit, which complemented her light complexion smooth supple skin. Unarguably, she has one of the best curves you could ever see in a woman, the shape Kunle my ribald deputy named the ‘hi-tech shape’ and I think she knows it. Her beauty and brilliance totaled to self confidence, and a drive you hardly see in women. She is both Macavellic and angelic in that order.

‘Mr. Achebe, can you explain the meaning of this?’ She stood akimbo in front of my desk giving me a portrait view I so much love. Her silver bracelet dangles on her wrist and her palms rests on her curvy hips. The finger nails are painted brown and I notice she has on a light brown lipsticks, I felt like kissing her pouted lips.

She deserves a kiss for running an efficient organisation.