Kelechi was my brother in-law. The kind of brother in-law you wished you had met first before your husband. Don’t get me wrong, Ebuka my husband was cool, he was well built, dark and had a nice baritone that sent a vibration right inside of you, to sensitive areas that left you throbbing. He was also very caring and loved me very much and I do love him too.
Kelechi was more of everything- more mascular and well toned. His smile made his already full lips more appealing, reminding me of the way I sucked at feeding bottles when I was younger, or a young child at her mother’s breast, never wanting to let go. He had this air of command that he carried about, like he knew he was damn hot and expected all ladies to fall at his feet.
I didn’t know what kind of fate brought us together, right at the same time my husband was sent on an official assignment. Kelechi had called that he had a business in Lagos and would like us to accommodate him for a week. We wholeheartedly agreed to accommodate him. He had come that Sunday, looking all smug and fit. His shirt had hung to his body like a second skin, but I had not paid attention and I had had no intention of paying attention. We had greeted cheerfully, he and my husband hugging and doing their men’s stuff, laughing loudly, their loud guffaw filling the whole house with warmth, including my insides . Kelechi had turned to me and smiled and then engulfed me in a bear hug. I had left them and gone to the kitchen to continue preparation for dinner and we ate that night conversing happily.
Kelechi was the first to leave for his business the next day, and then my husband after having his breakfast. Being one that worked from home, I stayed back and did my stuff. My husband returned first with a sombre expression, like that of a sulking child.
”What is it babe?” I went to him and hugged him and then he held me, still wearing his sulking face. I took him to the sofa and began loosening his tie. ”Did anything go wrong at office?”
Ebuka allowed me to remove his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt before replying. ”I have been sent to Onitsha on an official assignment.
“Oh babe! Why so sudden?” I was done with the shirt and moved to take his hand to lead him to the bedroom, but he held me still.
“My boss is very foolish. He decided to come to work today just to whisk me away, like he has the right.”
He actually has the right, I wanted to say, but Ebuka had drawn me to his laps all of a sudden and I was almost falling, but he steadied me with his right hand and began kissing me almost immediately.
”Don’t tell me you have to leave tomorrow?” I managed to say, amidst the battling of tongues. I was very hot already and needed to be out of my clothes.
”Babe,” was all Ebuka could mutter before taking me up, as I clung to his neck. He climbed the stairs in seconds and we did justice to our clothings, decorating the bedroom with pants, panties and the rest
”Babe I’m sorry I have to leave you like this,” Ebuka was saying after our steamy love making.
”It’s okay babe, just come back quick for me.”
”Sure I will, by Monday if it goes well. Do take care of my brother.”
“Sure I will.”
Ebuka left the next day without lifting an eye about his brother being in the same house alone with me. He obviously trusted me and I did trusted myself. The only thing was that the devil trusted me too. He trusted that I would give in and want to taste the salivating porridge he would offer.
The first time Kelechi and I felt it, I was in the kitchen stirring a pot of stew and dancing to the beat of ‘Phyno’s Highway’. Kelechi had just come out of the bathroom after having his bath and had obviously tried calling me, but I did not hear, lost in the beat of Phyno. I came out of my world when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned and it was Kelechi, standing so close with droplets of water on his hair and smelling so intoxicating. It lasted for a fraction of seconds, the sexual tension slicing the air so quickly that I began to feel that it was imagined. Our eyes had locked and then he was speaking, having drawn back a little giving me space.
”l was calling you, you were obviously lost.”
“Don’t mind me,” I shook my head inwardly as if to clear the clouded feeling. “I really love Phyno’s songs.”
“Me too,” he smiled. “So rice and stew for tonight?”
”No, spag and stew”. I had turned to my stew, but I still noticed his nicely toned arms and the shirt that clung to his trunk.
”Can I help you with anything?”
”No, I’m good, the spag is already cooking.”
”Okay,” he stayed a little longer before moving to the parlour to put on the TV.
The next few days, we went around each other, he returning from work to meet me in the kitchen, asking the same questions and I giving the same reply. Our hands brushed on few occasions and I felt the rush of excitement and I’m sure he too did, with the way he avoided looking into my eyes. I did not allow myself dwell on what was stewing between us, probably because I believe it would not lead to anything. I satisfied myself with thinking of my husband at night, wishing he was right beside me.
By Sunday we had had enough, and silently agreed to eat the forbidden fruit. We had finished lunch and kelechi suggested we play a game of ludo. It started well until he won, and I jumped on him and began hitting him, forgetting myself momentarily. Kelechi had held my hand and some how I had ended up between his thighs, something hard prodding my thigh. We had stared at each other for a while before he moved in to kiss me and I allowed him. It got wild so quickly and before you knew, we were out of our clothes.
I heard, and I thank God for allowing me hear it- the honking of a horn. We quickly disentangled from each other and he hurriedly dressed up. All the while I wondered who it was, my mind never thought of my husband. I was a little put together and Kelechi already disappeared to his room when the knock sounded at the door. I took a deep breath before opening the door and was shocked to meet the smiling face of my husband. And then I jumped into his arms, more out of gratitude, that I had been saved from tasting the steamy porridge.
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