Ms. Producer

We had been fucking for four months. Boyfriend, girlfriends or side peeps, we did not care. We did not pry in each other’s lives and we did not take things farther. I loved him and he said he loved me. Everything was normal and uncomplicated.
Then he had to leave and I became lonely.
We talked every day and practically every minute but I was still lonely. I needed him there but it seemed like he was never coming back.
Then I made a beautiful mistake.
I had made two friends.
A producer and his joint.
We smoked up and cooled down.
Then we took our clothes off in ecstasy and committed a sin against my lover.
We made love and we climaxed. I had never climaxed.
Probably because things were different with the producer.
It was passionate, unlike what I had had with my lover.
My lover dominated me while the producer united with me.
Our mutual friend had enlightened us. He told us that we needn’t worry or care about the circumstances that held us apart. He told us to leave our inhibitions behind and make sweet love. He urged and cheered us on and we did as he had advised. It felt like we were floating. His hands and nails grasped me tight. We kissed like hungry hyenas fighting over meat that wasn’t ours. His lips on my breasts caused my honey to leak. It trickled down and gave me away. He put his fingers down there and knew he had to have some of my honey.  I let him have all of me and my honey. We didn’t spend a lot of time on foreplay because I wanted him inside me. I had longed for it.
We did not even need the bed and we did not have to use it. With my hands on the wall, I bowed to receive him. It was awesome. I laughed and cried. I couldn’t believe how good it felt. It felt like a first time. It wasn’t too fast and it wasn’t too slow, it was perfect.
Then I began to feel funny. It became hot, so hot even though the A.C was on.
My muscles stiffened and blood rushed away from my legs. My hands were stuck, my heart rate shot up and my breathing became irregular. I tried to scream for help but my voice ceased. I couldn’t comprehend what was happening to me. Stiff and in shock, I felt like my brain was about to explode. It felt like a mild seizure, and I was like this for about two minutes. Whenever I felt the tension subsiding, the producer stroked my clitoris quickly to put me back in shock. Later, I discovered I had had multiple orgasms. I had been released.
The orgasms did not stop me from breaking down after I was done. I had forsaken my lover. I couldn’t stop my mouth from running. I told the producer everything. The effect of the spliff had faded now. I was in trouble. Reality set in, I couldn’t deal with it, and so I broke down in tears. The producer calmed me down, cuddled me and told me that he wanted me, not just my body. He didn’t say he loved me but he said he would grow to love me. That was a commitment and I liked how it sounded. Thanks to pleasure, I began to compare. Then I made my choice.
After that day, I became Ms. Producer.
I still spoke to my lover frequently. Nothing changed between us. Not even the fact that I was Ms. Producer. Of course, I could not tell my lover. He could not know and he definitely would not find out. We had no mutual friends and he was far away. My secret was safe. To be honest, I did not plan to stay as Ms. Producer for long. I just needed a vacuum filled. I knew my lover would come back to me and everything would be the way I had wanted.
The first two months as Ms. Producer was fun. I went to the studio a lot, met a couple of big shots and everyone knew my name. I felt important. I was delighted. It had been a while since I had been openly appreciated. The producer never left me. He was there for me, in person and in spirit. I had nothing to worry about. He was not handsome and he did not look like a million bucks. He loved me too much and would not do anything to jeopardize what I offered him. He was satisfied with half of me. I never gave my all. My heart was somewhere else, with my lover. It was a relationship of convenience.
By the third month, the relationship became boring. I had been doing the same things consecutively – going to the studio, making love and complicating my life. I wanted out but I needed the sex. It had kept me functioning and had made me strong. I am no nymphomaniac and I would not say I am needy; I just believe that sex is the fuel to my sanity. Unfortunately, things had gotten out of control. The producer’s love for me had become an obsession. He was in too deep and I had become the fuel to his own sanity. I could not leave him. Every time I did, my phone would never stop ringing. The people he worked with would call me and plead with me. They said he would be ruined. They said I was his driving force. They said he wasn’t a man without me. They said I was all he had. I was pleased with all they had said and so I always took him back. I would pick up fights from nothing, I would call him derogatory names but he wouldn’t budge. I became a bully and a nag. I did not and I could not love him.
I tried to get rid of the producer, but he wouldn’t fucking go.
I got tired of fighting him off and gave in to his persistence. We were a couple again.
The producer loved for the both of us. He bought me things and drove long distances to see me. He was always there for me. I could not continue to be mean and rude to such a person. I had to show gratitude. I had to soften up and give him a chance.
We were actually very good together. We were like crazy little best friends that did everything together.  He made the beats while I danced to it. He sought my opinion on his music and I sought his on schoolwork. I bought his food and he paid for my hair. We played phone pranks and laughed about it for days. We were happy.
Three months later, a friend had dropped by to deliver ice cream and pizza. I had begged him to get me food on his way to school. After I had escorted him downstairs and rushed back upstairs to take a dive in the pizza, my lover called. He asked me how my evening was going and what I was up to. As we were chatting about random things, he asked to call me back. Then there was a knock on my door.
It was my lover.
I really did not think of the producer or what was going to happen or all that. All I had in my head was – “Oh my God! He is here! My baby is here! He came back to me!”
I practically flew into his arms and screamed on top of my lungs. I was elated. I was joyful. I was glad. This was a miracle. God had brought him to me. Everything would be fine now. I was beyond grateful.
I had so many questions to ask him. Why didn’t he tell me he was coming? How did he get here? When did he get back? ... He “shooooosh”-ed me. We never had to say too much to express ourselves. We let our bodies do the talking.
The way he kissed me told me he missed me.
The way he touched me showed he thought about me.
I couldn’t’ help myself. My heart skipped in excitement.
We found our way to the bed somehow.
He kissed all of my face, my earlobes and the side under my chin, at the beginning of my neck. He bit the skin that begun the mounds on my chest. He had mastered my map of pleasure and his hands knew which route to take to get my juices dripping. He cupped my big mounds in his hands and squeezed them hard. He put the left nipple in his mouth while he messed around with the right nipple; he switched from the left to the right and repeated the previous actions. He was hard and craving. I could tell. My hands had found its way inside his jeans and had brought mini-him out. His juices were on their way. I moved away from him and placed myself between his knees. I put mini-him in my mouth and showed him real affection. I slobbered all over him and then cleaned him all up. I stroked him with my hand and put him back into my mouth. I could not neglect his balls, they were as important. After five minutes of giving him oral sex, he pulled away and guided me back on the bed. He handed me the condoms from his wallet and I, without any hesitation wore it for him. I lubricated it with my spittle before he came into me. I was dripping already. My juices had made its way to my knees. I moaned continuously and cursed under my breath. “Fuck, shit, yes, please, oh shit, yes, right there”, I would not stop. My eyes rolled back and I lost touch with my environment. I was in another world. There were petals everywhere and everything became bright and beautiful. His throbbing ended it and I did not climax.
That was our way of welcoming each other.
During the typical after sex cuddle, we talked about many things but I still omitted my relationship with the producer. I know I was wrong to, but he had to believe I had been good while he was gone. I could not afford to lose him. Well, so I thought.

The arrival of my lover changed things for me. I glowed. I whistled on my way to class. I was nice to everyone, except the producer. I had changed because I thought my ultimate wish was now in sight. I needn’t bother about anything. Other people and their ‘palavers’ were secondary.
Unfortunately, it was not the same for my lover.
My lover was not there for me as I had expected of him, and as it had been in my dreams. My lover and I planned dates and made a list of things we would do together. My lover never made the dates and he never participated in actualizing the list. I was confused. What was happening?
Most of what I would count as signs that my lover had changed might have been conjured up from my imagination, but two particular occasions clearly showed that something had gone very wrong. The first…
He said he would show up on Friday, the beginning of the weekend; we would be having Chinese with sparkling wine, watching a movie and playing ‘spin the bottle’. Fun! Fun! Fun! We would finally get to catch up on old times. Therefore, I prepared. For five days in a row, I ‘over scrubbed’ my epidermis and cleaned my room until there was not one trace of dust. Everything had to be fresh and clean. The wine had been chilling in the fridge and I trusted he would come along with some hot and spicy Chow-Mein. I had smoked up but I could not cool down cos I did not know what to expect.
Two hours had passed and I was still waiting. I had to take a deliberately long shower to calm the fuck down. Maybe he was still at work. 6 p.m. Maybe he had some errands to run. 6.30 p.m. I called his phone but he would not pick up. 6.32 p.m. You need to chill. 6.33 p.m. Ping!!! 6.45 p.m. Smoke some more. 7 p.m. Maybe he had a flat. 7.30 p.m.
I woke up by 11. 09 p.m.
It took a while for it to register. He was not here. Damn! I had been dreaming. I wiped the drool by the corner of my mouth and remembered my phone. My phone. Missed calls!
No missed calls and three pings.
Awwwww. He probably had no credit.
Two broadcast messages and one ping from one idiot I cannot even remember.
Tried to call. Switched off. 11.11 p.m.
Something was not right. A perfectly planned day had been ruined. I was very hungry and all I had was my sparkling wine and stale bread. I ate it. Did I have a choice?
I was up by 7 a.m the next morning and saw that he had read my pings but had not deemed them fit to be replied. And so, I stopped myself from calling, texting or pinging. I had to wait. He would call. He did, five hours later. What did he have to say for himself? Ehn, he had to see some girls at V.I and then he had a flat on his way to mine. Girls, not even guys. Please…why couldn’t he call to notify me? He said he was not thinking. I forgave him. Did I have a choice? The second…
I had been invited to an intellectual seminar; famous authors and publishers, musicians and artists, motivational speakers and the likes were going to be present. This was different and beneficial - we would be stimulating our most essential assets; we could stimulate the other parts after. He was to pick me up, enjoy the seminar, and then stay the night at mine. What did he do? He did not show up. His car had to develop issues on that day. What did I do? I called my girlfriends, took a cab and had a wonderful evening. The producer came forth.
Ah ah! Yes! The producer.
He was still in the picture. I seldom saw him but we called and chatted. He knew something was up but my defensive attitude kept his mouth shut. I knew he knew, but he dare not ask me. He was not in the position to. Thank God, he was too busy at that point. We only saw when it was urgent, when I was stark raving mad at my lover. I had it all planned and mapped out.
The producer was plan B. I could not be at the losing end
…
I should have taken him more seriously. I should have.
On my way back to mine, I had called the producer. I did not want to sleep alone. I knew what to say and I knew how to say it. He hesitated, but it was Ms. Producer, he could not deny me my rights. Therefore, he came.
I was already in my polka-dotted pink nightie. That nightie was my wand. I was hoping it would save me from the uncountable questions the producer was going to ask me. I ran to hug him and acted as if I had missed the heck out of him. He had a pokerface on but his pupils were sad. He sat down on the chair by my bed. It seemed like he had written the speech he gave me. When he was done, he asked me to sit on his legs. He pulled my ears and told me he loved me, and that I should not take him for granted. He said he hoped he was the only one and he knew no one would love me like he did. He hugged me and held me tight. He smacked my bum and told me I had been a naughty girl. Then there was a knock on the door. It was my lover.
Oh Lord!
I could not move. I could not speak. I froze.
When I finally got word out, I was blinking and stuttering uncontrollably. I could not even stop him from walking in. Before I could turn around and hide the shock on my face, I heard:
“Guyyyy! Na you be this? It’s been ages mayne. What’s good now?”
“I’ve been around Boss. How’s work? You still dey that your side?”
I froze again.
I’m so dead.
I was begging the ground to swallow me.
Why would this happen to me? Why did their reunion have to take place in my room? Why? Karma you would say.
I had nothing to say. I just looked lost. My eyes darted from the participants of the conversation, a conversation that had apparently had history, history that did not include me. From the countenance of my lover, I could tell that he had a lot of respect for my producer. I could even detect fear on his part. He oozed submission and loyalty. The producer on the other hand looked puffed up all of a sudden. Apparently, my lover was his ‘boy’.
I was so dead.
Then the producer had to ask:
“Guy, so you sabi my baby?”
Then he had to draw me close.
What did my lover do?
He replied with a smile.
He quickly said he had just dropped by to check on me and he had to see someone around and that he had to leave. Plan A and Plan B hugged and I knew I was done for.
After my lover left, the producer asked me how I knew his ‘friend’ and I told him we were close friends. He just smiled and shook his head.
He did not act suspicious or say anything that made me uncomfortable. I had gotten my act right and it was not obvious that I was still shocked. I made dinner, we watched a movie, cuddled and we slept.
I really cannot say what time he woke me up. He tapped me lightly and told me he wanted to tell me something important. The lights were off and I could not see his face but from his tone, I could tell he had had no sleep. I could tell that he was smiling and he was relaxed. I had forgotten about his meeting with my lover, while he had investigated while I slept.
He had gone through my messages and chats.
He said he knew everything and there was no need for me to argue.
He said he was not mad at me.
He said he wanted me to be happy and he said he hoped my lover made me happy.
That was all he said.
He pecked me on the forehead, dropped my phone beside my pillow and walked out.
I had not said one word.
I was shocked again.
I felt terrible.
I checked the time. It was 2.53 a.m.
I tried to call him back but he had switched his phone off.
I felt pity for him. He really did not deserve what I had done to him. I was sorry. I wish things did not go the way they went but shit happens.
I shrugged it off the next morning.
My lover came over four days later.
He did not ask me about the producer. He did not act like anything ‘dramatic’ had happened. He just shoosh-ed me and sexed me.
He did the same on his next visit…
And the next…
And the next…
And it remained like that.
I entered depression.
He had begun putting up this girl’s picture and it made me sick. I deleted him a lot and re-added him a lot.
Love had done me wrong. I was broken when I found out that she was his chic.
I had destroyed my relationship for this buffoon.
I had no producer and my lover got engaged.
Although the producer still calls; he is still single but his work is his baby. He would rather call than see me.
Therefore, I was lonely again.
I was at the losing end.




Photo Credit

Thirsty Roots