Mimi Adebayo’s a girl’s girl, and pretty much a very huge deal…… HUMONGOUS! She’s a Master Storyteller and every inch an awesome writer! She churns out masterpieces, overflowing and greatly enriched with dialogues and conversations oh so eclectic, electrifying and mighty stimulating! Plus, the plots and characterization of her stories……tight, and am talking foolproof! Her stories are highly believable, true to life, and the suspense, twists and curveballs she creates with her masterpieces will leave you spellbound and wanting, nay; groveling for more! That’s mine Mimz, my ‘Liebster Award’ nominee …….witty, sweet, adorable, delightsome and very, VERY naughty; in a pretty snazzy and extremely cool way! She’s a saucy ‘lil minx, that one but I really do NOT mind and if you don’t either, as much as I do not; then I urge you on, to go look her up here and get an overdose of the Incredible, ‘Mimi. A.’! *winks*
Thank you so much my sweetness for coming two times through for me, you blew me away when you acquiesced to doing this and I do wish you all of the best in EVERY of your life’s endeavors! Keep keeping on gurl, the sky’s only but the beginning for ya! Love ya TONS! *hugs and cuddles*
Ada shifted uncomfortably in her seat as the Pastor spoke. She wondered why the man kept punctuating his sentences with fornication.
Forni-cation. Funny-cassion. Foni-cashun.
The word turned around in her head. This was her fourth Sunday attending the church and the man’s sermons seemed to revolve around that topic. Like it was the only sin that riddled the ‘body of Christ’.
“When you go to a brother’s house at night, don’t you know you’re inviting sin? Inviting forni-cation?” the Pastor yelled.
Ada wanted to tell him that even when you went in the afternoon, when the sun was at its peak, fornication was always invited. Sometimes it came uninvited, unbidden, unannounced.
She could testify to that. She let her eyes stray to the choir stand, it was somewhere she’d been avoiding since the Pastor started screaming ‘funny-cassion’. But now as she dared look, she moistened her lips as the memories bombarded her.
It was supposed to be an interview, an opportunity to know more about the choir, to know how well she could sing, to know how motivated she was to join the choir.
It was her friend Nene, who was in the choir who had suggested that she join. She had even introduced her to the Music Director.
“It would help you develop your voice and work for God,” Nene said with excitement.
Nene was very good at convincing people so she had stood no chance when the girl had embarked on a join-the-choir crusade.
He had invited her to his house;
“I normally interview prospective choir members,” he said with an easy smile which made his face look better.
He had told her to come by 2pm on Saturday because he had rehearsals by 5pm that evening.
As she looked at him now, sitting in the front row, eyes fixed intently on the Pastor, she wondered how someone could be so ugly and yet so beautiful.
She recalled the hardness; of his chest and in his groin and she felt her body tingle.
She had gone to his house that day with all intentions to join the choir. She’d met him fully clothed and welcoming and she remembered thinking how his eyes were too close together. How he was too lanky with a tiny waist. She remembered thinking that God had probably compensated him for his looks by giving him the voice of a nightingale.
He had offered her a drink- Coke, if you please. Just to relax, before we get into business.
One hour went by and they had still not ventured into talking ‘business ‘, the more Ada tried to steer the conversation towards the choir, the more he pretended not to notice.
“Tell me about your family. How many siblings do you have?”
She wondered what her family had to do with her singing capacity.
And then he had gotten up at a point and turned on the stereo.
“Music, good for the soul.” he said.
He forgot to add for the body too.
It had happened in a flash, like she saw in the movies; one moment they had been sitting on the rugged floor, talking about mundane things, non-sexual or romantic things, and then the next his mouth had covered hers, abruptly silencing her.
That was what thrilled her, the fact that he didn’t ask permission, that he took without asking.
The Pastor was right; stolen bread was indeed sweet.
At first she didn’t think, she couldn’t. He was kissing her senseless. His tongue playing with hers in a way she had never, never imagined.
And when she eventually began to gather her wits, he stopped.
She was breathless. His kiss had done that to her. She shut her eyes like a virgin, unsure and ashamed of herself. Ashamed that she had let him. And yet not wanting the moment to end.
And like he’d read her thoughts, he leaned in for another kiss. This time she welcomed him.
By the time his hands strolled to her green blouse and fumbled with her buttons, she knew she had no willpower to stop him.
And when he entered her, she screamed Jesus first, then his name, all in one breath.
Thankfully the stereo was loudly blasting Frank Edwards ‘Thank God I Made It’.
Ada remembered thinking how ironic it was that they’d made love with that song playing in the background.
By the time they lay spent on the red rug, Ada imagined that the rug smelled of sex, of sin.
The next time she really looked at him, she saw not his ugliness, but a certain beauty. A beauty that came from giving pleasure.
And she wondered again, whether this was how the Spirit led people.
After having mind-blowing sex with the man and screaming his name in ecstasy, they would conclude that they were being led to marry him.
It had to be blasphemy; it had to be sin to get such fulfilment from sex. No wonder God had restricted it to marriage.
“So, did I pass the interview?” she turned to him, hoping he had enjoyed it as much as she had. She wasn’t an expert, not like him anyway considering that the number of lovers she’d had could be counted on just one hand.
He nuzzled her earlobe, tickling her.
By the time they went for the second round, Ada was convinced she would marry him. After all, a good marriage was sustained by a great sex life. If only she could have this for the rest of her life; she knew she would worship him. Worship at the altar of his little god- which was actually quite big.
And every night – and day maybe – he would take her to heaven.
“So what are we now?” she whispered, her feet curling into his.
“One,” he replied, kissing her again.
She chuckled to herself as she looked at him with his bushy eyebrows, looking so prim, proper and holy in his white plaid shirt.
She planned to visit him after service today, later this evening. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since their encounter a week ago.
She had to convince him that they were just right together.
Her attention was jerked back to the service as the Pastor said he had an announcement to make.
“There’s a wedding in our church. Pra-ise da Lord!”
She joined in the resounding hallelujah.
“Two of our members are tying the knot in a few months. They just informed me. Let us rejoice with Brother Odogwu, our able Music director, a man after my heart. He will be getting married to Sister Mariam. Please step forward both of you.”
As both parties approached the altar, Brother Odogwu beaming with pride and Sister Mariam, a shy petite woman clad in a sweeping skirt; there was a commotion at the back of the church.
It seemed a sister had just fainted or fallen under the anointing; no one could tell for sure.