There’s this feeling of looseness…of unwholesomeness I get when I wake up in a strange bed.
Not this time.
Which was entirely strange – because I am sure I have never slept in this bed before.
Anywho – I felt totally together and relaxed as I lay there, random beams of sunlight highlighting the lavender bedclothes that enwrap me somewhat neatly. Then, remembering what happened last night I sit up –
And the first thing that meets my startled gaze is the underwear I purchased off Konga.
As though on cue, the door opens and in she comes.
Instinctively, I touch the back of my head. I’m checking if I’m still plugged into the Matrix.
This cannot be real. This is not happening – not in 2013; not in Nigeria. Definitely not in Lagos.
I’m at a loss for words.
She comes in looking like shawarma – hot steaming shawarma. She’s not wearing a nightdress like the herione in Bond movies – or romance stories for that matter. She’s wearing a loose-fitting t-shirt and shorts. But she’s nothing like the General Manager I have meetings with.
She looks like…she’s a woman.
She smiles and I’m doomed. My heart’s doing things I didn’t know it is still capable of doing. My head…has become a bowl of mush. I try to think. I remember what I say to myself about not having relationships around work.
And then the bed dips under her weight, she places a too-cool hand on my forehead and ask;
“So what happened to you last night?”