THE CHRONICLES X: Nadia's Nemesis 2

‘S…sorry. I w…was looking…I thought…Oh sh*t! ’ he rambled and cursed incoherently searching his brain for the right words to apply to the awkward situation.

‘If you’re looking for any of the girls, they’ve all gone out. Now would you mind shutting the door on your way out?’ She answered curtly without taking her eyes off the mirror.

‘You sure?’ His voice seemed to have changed. His hand which rested on the doorknob seemed eager to shut door – but with him inside and not outside the room.

Nadia sighed, a wry smile played at the edge of her lips. She knew his type. He was the opportunist; the one that desperately scratched every forsaken surface and corner for the slightest moment to jump the bones of anything that had the female anatomy; the type that had ‘Pervert’ written all over him.

The building rage in her intensified. It became a lethal combination of that against the Prof. that called her bluff and the hungry ‘dog’ of a dude leering lustfully at her nakedness. She ignored a sudden rumble in her stomach and starred hard at his reflection in the mirror, her face wore a cold and deadly look.

‘Of course I’m cock sure! Unless you want to receive ‘maximum shishi’ from all the chicks in this hall for attempting to rape a harmless girl?’ Her harsh rasping voice seemed to work like magic as she watched his reflection become first flushed with fear then transit into that of embarrassment. Hastily he opened the door and bolted out murmuring a barely audible ‘sorry’.

‘Maximu Shi shi’.

Every student dreaded that word. It was the insane jungle justice meted out by irate students against any offender that posed a threat to the ‘sanity’ of life and politics on campus. Those who had received this treatment bore scars that testified of their ordeal, scars that made intending ‘enfant terribles’ to rethink their brat status.

She walked to the door, bolted it and made for the wardrobe. Minutes later she walked out of the room, sporting a pair of blue three-quarter jeans laced at the bottom with a red jumper T-shirt which apart from sparingly bearing some cleavage, showcased her well-toned belly plus a cutely curved navel. Except for a bright red lipstick, she wore no other make-up. She didn’t need to. She knew quite well that even if she woke up early in the morning with dried up spittle caking on both sides of her cheeks and her hair all standing up like an electrocution victim, she’d still look drop dead gorgeous.

She cat-walked scandalously, drawing eyes of lust from every male and jealous rage from every female that caught sight of her. Despite looking like a beauty that needed all the randy ‘knights’ in 'rusted amour' to do her bidding, she also had a dark side which had been nurtured from her heydays as a tomboy.

Nadia had a secondary school history of being the neighborhood brat. She had once broken into her class teacher’s office in the after hours of school after a childish seduction of the gateman whom she teased with the promise of a ‘good time’ - a well garnished lie of course.
She succeeded in getting into her teacher’s office, laying hold of her test papers and forging her test scores to favorable ones.
At another time, she had stolen one of the school’s official stamps in order to be able to create fake permission slips to be let out through the school gate, her true destination being the numerous parties and hang outs with delinquent friends from other schools.

Yes. Nadia was a brat in the past, with a thug mindset. She loved to dress like a boy and smoke like one until puberty rode hard on her and she felt her hormones and body raging out of control. Her body couldn’t assume its masculine look anymore. Suddenly she had breasts and her hips fleshed out; her face underwent rapid metamorphosis and a beauty she never knew was there, was born.
Suddenly, her boyish clothes didn’t fit anymore; she looked out of place where she had once reigned. Even the guys who saw her as an ally now saw her as an ‘opportunity’, and worse of all, she had to carry those ‘diapers’ called ‘Tampax’ around with her when it was time to host the notorious ‘Aunt Flo’.

But when life opens a different chapter, you’ve got no choice but to adjust. Nadia did just that and what she initially despised, became her tool; her means to many ends and a seductive weapon of destruction.

Tonight, she was on her way to perform the rites she had never in her life imagined she’d have to do in a long time – read for the reluctant professor’s exam.
All efforts to tune free marks and good grades in her favour had failed. She had tried other channels, other academic influences she had romped with for the benefit of her grades but unfortunately the lecturer was way too powerful to be sidetracked. He wielded the reins of power amongst a mafia of strong minded likes. How he did it, she would never know. Even the cult boys on campus refused her request to get him to ‘agree’ to her wants. She recollected her discussion with Wilson, the Capone of the campus’ most dreaded fraternity. He owed her a favour for all the ‘service’ she had rendered at his lavish parties, not to talk of giving him a ‘dose’ of what she was made of. She had watched as Wilson’s face break into a volley of sweat when she mentioned the lecturer’s name; he immediately refused before she even finished. She had requested to know the reason for the refusal but he refused to tell her anymore. (Later she would find out that the professor was Wilson’s Uncle) She realized she had reached a dead end.

For the first time in her entire school life, she felt helpless. It was either she studied for that paper or carried it over. She was fast approaching the depressive state. She buried herself in her curse - successive meals of beans now and again to throw her mind off her worries.

She strolled gingerly along the gangway corridor that connected the different departments in the Faculty of Social Sciences. Auditoriums and classes where well lit for the evening and had some students warming up for coming exams.

The whole studious act was totally alien to her.

Her stomach rumbled violently and for a moment she paused and grabbed hold of one of the poles along the dimly lit corridor. The rumbling subsided and she continued her trip.
She eventually found an auditorium that had just a very scanty number of students in it studying for the exams.
She found a seat somewhere in the middle of the auditorium and went about her business.
She opened her notebooks; notes that were written in another’s handwriting - She had been too lazy to write notes and had paid someone to write her them for her.

She stared hard at the pages, visibly terrified. They were totally alien to her. Weeks of ‘stabbing’ classes were beginning to show in her inability to comprehend the notes before her.
She flipped the pages somewhat hoping she could find somewhere to pick up from.

At that moment more students trickled into the auditorium to read for the night. Nadia didn’t take much notice. She fumed at her notes as if they had failed her. She couldn’t understand what the heck she was reading.
She grew tense and her palms became moist – something that always happened whenever she was nervous.
Another rumble sounded in her belly.
Why was it hard for her to read this? What’s the big deal with reading written notes?

Gradually it dawned on her. This was one of those courses where there was no way you could fully understand the notes if you were never in class.

Her palms moistened the more and stained the pages.
Her breathing quickened as her heart beat rapidly in tune to the realization.
Her stomach rumbled violently as she turned the pages blindly not knowing what to do.

Then she lost control…and farted loudly.

It echoed throughout the whole auditorium...

To be continued....

© Lolu Kush (Afronuts) - Story
© Kimson Masters - Illustrations