“Everybody needs to be somebody’s baby.”

Jamaican jerk chicken with dipping sauce.

What was that? Why did this guy want to disgrace me? Where was the jollof rice?

 I thought dipping sauce was what my brothers and I used to have back then when we dipped our agege bread into our cups of hot, milky Ovaltine. I looked up from the menu I held in my hands at the other tables in the very posh restaurant.

No way! Mba! Dipping sauce must mean something different here.

My date is smiling at me from across the table. The way he wore that white tuxedo shirt without the bow tie and rolled up sleeves reminded me of Barack Obama.  You know those pictures of him on the campaign trail in that whitish shirt with his sleeves rolled up? Ehen! That’s the picture.

I smile back and resumed scanning the menu with an air of seriousness like I was finding it hard to make up my mind.

“Seen anything you like, darling? You should try the shrimp scampi. It’s divine.”

Shrimp gini? Scampering?Hian!

“Shrimp? Oh no, I’m not really a fan of seafood.”

“Okay. I didn’t know. There are some nice meat dishes, in there too.”

“Yes. I’m still looking.” I’m flashing him my most charming smile over the top of my wine glass.

 Honey glazed chevon or chicken liver pate with crunchy marinated bean salad.

Grrr! My tummy gave a low growl in protest. All it was thinking of was Aunty Azuka’s moin moin, jollof rice and fried goat meat.

“I’ll just have the basmati rice with chicken curry. Thank you.”

“Okay. That sounds great.”

He signals the waiter to come take our orders.

When the food comes, I actually find myself enjoying it throroughly. Or, maybe it was because I’m also enjoying Vincent’s jokes.

For a man in his late thirties, he is very attractive. His chubby cheeks glowed each time he smiled. And his sideburns were so perfect you’d think they were painted on. I love the way his eyes wrinkled at the corners when he laughed. And he laughed. A lot.

 I don’t want to look at his lips. Those lips that made me think of chocolate squares melting in my mouth…

Good gracious! Did he have to lick them that way? What happened to using a napkin, biko?! Hian. I had better focus on the food or think of something to say.

***************************************************************************************************************************************************** 

 

She is staring at me again. And I’m wishing she could stop so I’d get my own chance to stare.

I like her dress.

I like the way the turquoise blue beaded necklace matches the belt on the black sequin dress.  Her chestnut colored skin shimmers in the soft lighting of the restaurant. I wonder how her skin would feel under my hands. Or maybe my lips. And I try to imagine what it would be like to press my head against her ample bosom…

I hadn’t been too pleased when my boss informed me that I would be the one to be handling the Lagos project because i didn’t want to travel. From her name on the letter, Nwadiuto Anyakamkpaele, I had pictured a much older, Ibo woman, not such a young, intelligent and sexy woman. She reminded me of Queen Latifah whom I’ve had a crush on her for as far back as I can remember.

She gets up and excuses herself to go to the ladies’ room. As she walks away, I take a deep breath and exhale slowly.

I’m leaving town in three days. Do I have enough time to start something with her before I leave? Will she want a long distance relationship? Would she…?

Hey, guy, if you want it, go for it. Dazzall. Wetin you dey analyse like this? Na computer program she be?

I grab a paper napkin and ask the man on the next table to lend me his pen.

********************************************************************************************************************************* 

 

“What is this?”

There was a paper napkin folded on the plate in front of her. “Nwadi” was written on it. Vincent smiled at her from across the table, trying his best to look innocent.

“Open it and see.” He says.

Her brows wrinkled in a puzzled frown as she carefully unfolded the napkin.

“Everybody needs to be somebody’s baby”

My brother said this, and I totally agree

Loving and being loved

The best things in life…are free

I want you to be my baby

But that’s not all, you see

I need to be your baby too

Will you please let me?

 

“Vincent Etong!”

Her lower lip quivered like she was going to cry. Thankfully, the waiter had brought their bill. He quickly put some money into the billfold, and signaled to the waiter to come pick it up.

“Let’s get out of here.” He took her hand and they moved quickly through the maze of tables out of the restaurant.

Outside, in his car, he took both her hands in his.

“Nwadi, you haven’t answered my question. I know what you’re thinking, that it’s been just three weeks since we met, but…”

“No. I’m thinking you’d make a good poet.”

 “Mhmm. Is that my answer?”

She smiled and sat silently all the way to her house.

**************************************************************************************************************

“Vincent…” She cupped his face in her hands and she pulled his face towards hers. Her warm lips tasted good in the cool air-conditioning of the car.

 “Now, does this answer your question?”

“Hmm. Yes, but can you repeat it again?” He smiled, drawing her even closer. 

She smiled as his lips closed over hers.

Aunty  Azuka’s moin moin, jollof rice, and goat meat were promptly forgotten.

All she wanted right now were the chocolate squares melting in her mouth.

P.S
Hi there, have you read the Saving Dapo Series by the award winning author Seun Odukoya. Check it out here

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15 thoughts on ““Everybody needs to be somebody’s baby.”

      • I wish I could recall your name from your moniker and gravatar…torture me no more! Full names please. To think I know a writer who’s style I admire is tantalizing. Help me out please. Lol.

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