I’m in my own little world in the corner of the office. I mind my own business and only leave my desk to visit the ladies or go home. Yep! Don’t see any reason to swan around the office attracting new crazies into my life. The 5 psycho’s, also known as team members are enough for me. Ibi ise is for making money not friends. So the bottom line is I really don’t know the rest of the staff that well. So imagine my surprise the other day when a serious hottie in an Ozwald Boateng looking suit walked by my desk on his way to God knows where. I was literally sitting there with my mouth open until Boli Lover asked if I was having a stroke because I was drooling.
Who the hell was that vision of manliness in the bad ass suit? I’ve got to meet to him.
“Who’s that?” I asked Boli Lover.
“The guy that just walked past.”
“Oh you mean … (Let just call him Hottie)?”
“Oh. Does he work here?” I asked rather dreamily.
“Yes he works in the Finance department” says Boli Lover as he starts slamming files around his desk.
He must have noticed my lustful looks and he’s not happy. So I pull myself together and pretend to do some work even though I’m just killing time till dream Hottie walks past again. Hmm… so he works in Finance does he? He must be loaded too. Hot & loaded; Lord God just let him have a personality and I promise to invite my village relatives to the wedding.
Ah! Here he comes. My man.
Quick of spritz of Black Orchid by Tom Ford.
Readjust my boobies under the desk and its chest out, tummy in and butt out. I’m good to go.
“Hello” I said stepping out from behind my desk and blocking his path.
“I’m Mena. I just started a little while ago.”
“Good Morning” he says with a puzzled look on his face.
Maybe I’m coming on too strong. Maybe the whole boob in the face thing is a bit too much for 9am in the morning. Ease back Mena. Relax. Just reel him in gently. A little bit of boob at a time.
“So how are you today?”
“I’m fine” he says looking more uncomfortable by the minute.
He’s eyes are darting around like some trapped animal. Maybe he’s the strong silent type and doesn’t do talking? Or Oh my God! Do I smell or something? Ok I better end this train wreck quickly and go do a BO check.
“Alright then just wanted to say hello.”
He mumbles a quick bye and practically legs it out of my department.
I leg it to the bathroom and I can see Boli Lover trying his best not to laugh as I go. Imbecile!!! Like it’s my fault I don’t fancy his banana eating behind.
Safely enclosed in the ladies, I do a quick sniff check. Armpits, need a shave (Look until someone signs a contract that requires me to show my armpits on a regular basis I ain't shaving nothing), but they smell Mitchum fresh. Breath… minty clean. I’m even wearing a clean bra. So what was the problem? The guys obviously gay (anyone who doesn’t want me must be) or married. Forget him jare.
A couple of days later I’m off to see a client. My drivers off sick and Ladies Man, rather eagerly offers to take me. The thought of having to spend hours in the car with him is making my tummy turn but luckily Hottie happens to walk past and surprisingly Boli Lover insists I ask him to take me. Naturally I jump at the chance.
“Are you going out?”
“Anywhere near Ikeja?”
“Any chance of a lift?”
A man of few words. That’s cool with me. Got enough words for the both of us sweetie.
With butterflies in my tummy, I skip out of the office and off to the car with my beloved.
As I try to open the front door, I realise its locked.
He points to the back seat and I shake my head indicating I want to sit in front.
He keeps pointing to the back seat. Geez maybe I do stink. He doesn’t want to sit anywhere near me. Well tough! Even smelly people need love too. He ain’t getting away that easy. I open the back door, reach over and pop the lock to the front door and settle in next to my reluctant boo.
We set off and after 10 minutes of uncomfortable silence he says
“Aunty where you dey go for Ikeja”
Ok... Back up. We’ll deal with the broken English in a second but did he just call me Aunty? I immediately examine myself in the side mirror. No wrinkles or grey hair anywhere. Still the cute, baby faced angel that left home this morning. Hmmm, maybe its some kind of kinky name calling thing he’s got going on. I can work with kinky.
"I’m going to Allen Avenue."
"That’s alright Aunty. You wan make I wait for you?"
"Please stop calling me Aunty."
"Ah! I no fit o. HR don say pe all the drivers have to call women oga’s Aunty”
“What do you mean drivers? Don’t you work in the finance department?”
Even as I’m asking the question I already know the answer and my tummy drops into my pants.
“En na finance department I dey drive for but I dey happy that I drive you today sha. You dey very nice. All the other aunties for office no dey greet person but you dey different. In fact that day wey you get up come talk to me. I say to myself, chia, this aunty finnnneee o and she niiiiiiiiiiiceeee so te. Infact, even the way you come sit for front with me; My heart just the joli. I hear say you just come from overseas? Wetin u bring come for us Aunty?”
Oh now he wants to talk? Evil deceiver of women. Maybe if he’d made an effort to open his mouth a couple of days ago I wouldn’t be sitting here feeling like dummy of the year. Prancing around looking good in a well cut suit. Since when are drivers good looking with a highly developed sense of style? Huh? Can someone please tell me? I’m used to the pot bellied, tribal marked Baba’s that make you feel guilty for being young and daring to even ask them to take you anywhere.
To think I was planning on slipping him my number not to mention all the x-rated fantasies I’d been having about the car breaking down in the middle of nowhere and having to cuddle very close to keep each other warm overnight (Yeah I know I’m in the middle of Lagos in broad daylight and not the Amazon jungle. That’s why it’s called a fantasy). Oh my gosh! Boli Lover knew all along and said nothing. Probably relishing the thought of me finding out and watching my dreams come to nothing. Evil Bastard. It's on now. Forget the truce. Boli Lover is about to get what’s coming to him.
As for you Hottie…its not your fault that I have decided to stick to my “E go better” rule of not dating hot guys that can’t afford to keep me in shoes. Oh well! Back to the drawing board. For goodness sake will he shut up? I preferred him when he was strong and silent.