Quilox smelt of harmattan dust and rain. Loud music could be heard from the building.
Idara carefully parked and walked behind Femi whose huge figure overshadowed her.
The huge bouncers did not check him at all. Instead, they hailed “big boss, oga, oga!” He searched through his wallet and handed them wads of naira notes. They were about to search Idara when he paused and said, “She is with me.”
“Ah, master, forgive your boys!” they said, lifting their hands in the air and letting Idara pass.
She was dressed in a corporate shirt and pants, on black high heel shoes, and her hair was neatly wrapped all up, tied with a bow ruffle, just in a girlish way.
The music was loud, and she enjoyed the atmosphere. It was her first time in a club since she arrived in Lagos. The sad thing was that she was here with her strict boss. She wanted to be outside; waiting by the car for him. Instead, she was in here; boldly walking behind him because she wanted to feel the atmosphere and be happy. It reminded her of home.
Femi was led to a VIP lounge where he settled on an executive couch and crossed his long legs. He whispered what he wanted to the waitress. “Do not come with all the lights and delivery squad. Bring my drink alone. I don’t need all that drama please,” he said loudly to the waitress amidst the loud music.
“Okay sir,” she said and walked away; wondering why a man would purchase a drink worth 250,000 Naira and not want the club girls to bring it to him in the custom grand style.
Idara was nodding to the loud music and she sat quite far from him. He noticed this and signaled for her to come to sit by him. She immediately got up and moved to his side.
“Don’t worry, I am in a private lounge. Your boyfriend wouldn’t see you,” he whispered into her ears. She laughed.
“No sir, I don’t have a boyfriend. Besides, even if I did, I wouldn’t be free to see him often due to the nature of my job.”
“Do I take that much of your time?” he asked, looking into her eyes.
“Yes,” she replied. He couldn’t hear her because of the loud music but he watched her lips as she muttered the words.
The drink arrived and the waitress opened it and poured it into small glasses.
“You take whiskey?” Femi asked. Idara nodded.
“Really? You don’t look like a girl who loves alcohol. Obviously, you love to dance too. You have been nodding to the music since we came in here.”
“Yeah. I love to dance a lot. I’d probably register at a dancing school next year.”
“Really? That’s interesting.”
He took a glass of the drink and handed it to her.
“Thank you,” she muttered. “Happy birthday once again,” she said.
“Yeah, thank you,” he said and checked his time. “I will be having a birthday dinner with some friends today at The George in Ikoyi. I hope you will accompany me? Tomorrow is Saturday, no work.”
“Today is the first time you’re mentioning your friends.”
He smiled. “Yeah, I have friends. Very few of them though.”
“And why are you having dinner that late? It’s going to be almost midnight when we leave here.”
“Because billionaires have dinners at that time,” he winked at her. She smiled at him and sipped her drink.
Femi continued to stare at her.
“You’re so beautiful, you know that right? I love your lips,” he said to her. His voice was the same. It sent a burst of pleasure over her nerves like hot syrup over dark chocolates.
“Thank you, Mr. Femi,” she said.
“I love to sit here. It’s not quite your kind of space, I know. Yet, I love to sit here because it takes me away from the journalists’ corner.” He gulped down his drink and poured more of the dark liquid into his glass cup.
Idara nodded at his words. The mere sight of her stirred a hunger he didn’t need a psychologist to interpret. For an endless moment, they simply stared at each other. Femi talked about many things that surprised Idara. She never knew that Femi was good with conversations. The only thing she thought he knew how to do was convince clients with the right words. She never knew he could actually have fun conversations.
“I have a crush on you, you know that?” he asked her with a seductive smile that she had never seen before.
She smiled at him. “Oh!” she chuckled.
“Frankly, it took some time for me to cope with you knowing that you’re my assistant and it’s impossible for us to have anything intimate.”
“Yeah. It’s impossible,” she retorted quietly and sipped her drink.
There was a pause. People around continued to dance to the loud music.
“Thank you again for the cufflinks. I love it,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” she said with a calm smile. “You have been a good boss too.”
“Really?” He giggled.
“Yeah, really,” she nodded at him. Then when one of her favorite songs came up, she carefully stood up to her feet. The air around them was thick and sultry. The heat was no longer oppressive but sensual. Everyone felt their bodies stir in a way they hadn’t in a long time.
The shimmer of her body as she moved made Femi’s guts ache. He got lost as he sipped and watched her with a serious, yet seductive stare. It was a perfect blend of desire and ecstasy. When she danced closer to him, he could perceive her skin. He smelt her flesh. He felt her. She was beautiful, striking, and so damn good at what she did.
He held her tightly to himself and stood to his feet. Above her was her tall, fine boss, holding her hands firmly. She immediately turned and twerked bit by bit, arousing him. He was almost going nuts. No one had ever made clubbing so fun for Femi.
When she turned to roll her waist again, she whispered to him; “I didn’t know you could dance, Mr. Femi.”
Femi smiled. “I dance sometimes when I’m in the mood to party like this,” he said with his eyes pinned on hers.
The men who sat on the other side wished they could have a dance with Idara. Femi saw the way they stared at them, and he knew that they hungered for his assistant.
She gulped down another glass of the whiskey and breathed out loudly.
“I am having fun!” she screamed, and Femi knew that she was tipsy. She had a bold, but feminine voice. Her hair shimmered like a golden sunset. Her dark eyes shone like black pearls in her ivory face.
But it wasn’t about her features or the way she danced so beautifully. It wasn’t about the texture of her skin, or her soft rounded hips and breasts. It was the brilliance that exploded from her eyes, her personality that enthralled his world. Idara was a sensual dream.
Femi wished he had met her somewhere else. He wished she could be more than his assistant. He had been crazy about her for a while, but tonight, it was beyond his control. There was something magical about her. Tonight, every man in the VIP lounge longed to touch her, even if it was just for a moment.