Seven Types of Women to Beware Of in Ministry

Chronicled by Afronuts @ Friday, February 19, 2016

I came across this interesting article by Pastor Joe McKeever. I think anybody who is just starting  or is already in a ministry should read it.

For the lips of an adulteress drip honey, and smoother than oil is her speech.” (Proverbs 4:3)

Before there was a folk singer by that name, James Taylor was a professor of preaching. This veteran teacher of preachers held forth in classrooms at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary for many years. One day, in a room filled with young preacher boys, Dr. Taylor cautioned us about the temptations we would be facing.

“The day will come when a woman will sit in your office and proposition you. She will make herself available to you sexually. If your marriage is in trouble or if you are not up-to-date in your relationship with your Lord, you could get in big trouble fast.”

I raised my hand. “Dr. Taylor,” I said, “do you really believe that every one of us in this room will face this?” My mind was incapable of imagining a scenario in which a woman–any woman–would sit in a pastor’s office and try to seduce him.

“Yes, I do,” he said. “Even you, McKeever.”

That got a laugh.

I lived to see that day. (Fifteen years after she sat in my office making herself available to the young preacher, while preaching in another state, I spotted that woman and her husband–the same husband whose antics had given her cause to seek my counsel originally–in the congregation. I was thankful I had gotten this thing right in my office that day.)

The writer of Proverbs tried to do the same thing Dr. Taylor did for us in seminary that day: prepare the young lad for what he would be facing down the road.

“My son, give attention to my wisdom, incline your ear to my understanding;

That you may observe discretion, and your lips may reserve knowledge.

For the lips of an adulteress drip honey, and smoother than oil is her speech; But in the end she is bitter as wormwood, sharp as a two-edged sword.

Her feet go down to death, her steps lay hold of Sheol. She does not ponder the path of life; her ways are unstable, she does not know it.” (Proverbs 4:1-6)

Many pastors have paid the ultimate price for sexual sins.
If temptation would tell the truth, no minister would ever succumb to its enticements. If the allurement to commit adultery would adhere to a “truth in advertising” code, the “full disclosure” would read something like this:

“Subject needs to understand that by crossing this line and entering into a sexual relationship with this person, the minister will be despising His Lord, delighting the enemy, violating his marriage vows, disappointing everyone who ever believed in him from his youth until now, destroying his family, and ending his ministry..”

No one would ever commit adultery if he was required to sign that!

The devil, however, has no intention of ever revealing a list of side effects. Listen to him and you would think to disobey God is the way to fulfillment and happiness.

The sinning minister fools himself into believing all kinds of lies, most of them originating with the one Jesus called “the father of lies” (John 8:44). He convinces himself that “I deserve this, no one will ever know, I can have all the wonderful things in my life and this forbidden fruit also,” and then, there is the clincher–“This feels so good, it can’t be wrong.”

Too late does he find out the truth of the old adage, that sin will take you farther than you wanted to go, keep you longer than you wanted to stay, and cost far more than you ever intended to pay.

Here are 7 women, pastor should watch out for in your ministry.

1) The woman who wants to be your wife.
She is unhappily married. Her husband has disappointed her in a hundred ways. Sitting in church week after week, it occurs to her that you are everything she has ever wanted in a husband. You are kind and gracious, thoughtful and spiritual. You love the Lord and are devoted to your family. You earn a good living and you do not drink or smoke or hang out in bars. So, she fixates on you.

Now, if she were rational, she would know that by seducing you–or winning you, however she would put it–all of those wonderful qualities she admires would suddenly go away: your ministry, your family, your income, the respect with which you are held in the town, your joy in life even.

In most cases, she thinks clearly enough not to actually try to break up your marriage (although that has happened often enough). She merely feels a strong attraction to you and puts herself in a position for you to pick up on it. Consciously or unconsciously, she becomes a trap for the unsuspecting minister.

2) The woman who wants to be your mother.
She will smother you with attention, inundate you with goodies she cooked “just because I knew you liked these,” and make life miserable for you. If you never suffered from claustrophobia before, you do now.

It’s not so much that she poses a sexual danger to you as that by allowing and encouraging this attention from her, you will give occasion to gossips to ply their trade. Avoiding “the appearance of evil” is always a good principle (I Thessalonians 5:22).

3) The woman who wants to be your lover.
This one has a particular allurement to the minister whose relationship with his wife has grown  stale. This really is the woman the Proverb-writer describes. And, in case one wonders, I seriously doubt that Solomon wrote this. The man with 1,000 girlfriends is in no position to offer such advice as we find in Proverbs 4! (Although he surely knew the truth of it!)

Such a woman seems to be amoral, without a sense of wrongness about anything she does. She justifies making herself available to the minister by statements such as: “You deserve this,” “God wants all of us to be happy, don’t you agree?” and “No one ever has to know; I certainly won’t tell.”

The thing to keep in mind, pastor, is that this woman making herself so available to you with no strings attached–that’s what she says, although we know better!–does not look like a Jezebel, painted and padded and bejeweled. You will not know her by her adornments.

She may be the pretty wife of  a deacon, the friend of your wife, or a church member who came to you for counsel. No one would ever pick her out of a crowd as a party-girl. But she is your biggest enemy.

4) The woman who wants to be your best friend.
She wants to confide in you as to who is doing what with whom in the church. She is a gossip.

She wants you to (ahem) “feel free to come to me anytime you need to talk to someone.” She wants to be your counselor.

In order to pull that off, her primary tactic involves a) spending a lot of time around you, perhaps volunteering in the office but more likely volunteering as your personal assistant, b) telling you intimate things about her own life, and c) asking you to unburden yourself with her.

If she cannot worm her way into your life any other way, look for her to befriend your wife and begin showing up in your home on a regular basis. Unless your wife is on your team, nothing about this is good from that moment on.

5) The woman you want.
There she is, the girl of your dreams. Maybe not the most beautiful woman in the world, but all things considered–her looks, her personality, her laughter, her spirituality, and a few other qualities that defy description–she is everything you ever wanted in a woman.

You get all swimmy-headed around her. You wonder if she does not pick up on all the vibrations your body is sending out.

There are a few problems, of course. You’re married and she’s married, for starters. And so you wisely tell yourself this can never be, that regardless of how wonderful she is, she is off-limits to you.

The problem is you keep being drawn to her and thrown with her (committees, work projects, etc). Because proximity fosters intimacy, unless you do something quickly, you are a goner.

In most cases, you cannot tell your wife this. You need a mentor who will be tough with you. If you have none, find yourself one now! Confide in him before you make the mistake of your life.

6) The woman who doesn’t know what she wants.
In most cases, this mixed up lady has come to you for counsel, asking you to tell her what to do. You listen to her whole complex life story.

Nothing about her is your ideal. You have never fantasized about her or anyone like her.

So, how does she become a problem to you? By her repeated visits to your office.

It’s a matter of focus. In sketching perhaps a hundred thousand people over these many years, I’ve found that everyone has a certain beauty and attractiveness about them. By focusing on the individual and not comparing them with anyone else, we can see it.  In the seclusion of the counseling room, as she unburdens herself with intimate details of her life, the minister may feel emotionally drawn to her.

The problem then becomes you, pastor, and not her.

Pastors should almost never become professional counselors. When church members come to you for help with problems, if it cannot be solved in a session or two, refer them to a trained professional.

Pastor Ed Young of Houston’s Second Baptist Church told some of us pastors once that we should not counsel at all. “All you need is for someone–man, woman, or child–to run out of the office accusing you of something, and your ministry is gone!”

He’s right. Pastor Young said when someone says to him following a church service, “I need to talk to you sometime,” he says,”Let’s sit in this pew right now and talk.” It’s in public and it will be done quickly.

I hate that life has come to this, but it has, and we have to deal with it.

7) The woman you work most closely with in ministry.
Once again, it’s a matter of focus. The minister of worship meets with the organist (or pianist or his personal assistant or whoever) on a regular basis to plan the services. The youth minister has frequent conferences with his secretary or a young woman in the church who assists in programming. The pastor meets with his children’s director or ministry assistant or the head of the women’s ministry or the chair of his personnel or finance committee.

Beware, minister. You must be proactive in heading off any possibility of a compromised situation.

Billy Graham decided early in his ministry never to be alone with a woman at any time. Some might find that extreme, but say what you will, his long and very public evangelistic ministry was never tainted in the least by sexual scandal or innuendo.

The most important woman in the church to you the minister.

Your wife must be your lover, your intimate friend, your best adviser and strongest counselor, and your “mother” (the one who cooks your favorite dishes and is always there for you).

Let the home fires get cold and you are setting yourself up for trouble, pastor. This is why the writer of Proverbs urged the young man he was mentoring to “drink water from your own cistern, and fresh water from your own well.”  He says, “Let your fountain be blessed, and rejoice in the wife of your youth” (Proverbs 4:15-23).

A pastor I know makes frequent mention of his wife from the pulpit. He makes it abundantly clear that he loves her dearly and, may I say, you get the impression that their intimate relationship is strong. He makes sure the church knows and supports his devotion to his wife and family, which means (among other things) that his off-time is as holy as his time in the office.

When he counsels women in his office, my pastor friend takes care. The door has a small window which allows anyone to see inside. At an agreed-upon time, his assistant phones to allow him an excuse to end the session. He is not a hugger.

Resist the devil by being strong in the Lord!

Source

Nuff said!

Pants Down 2

Chronicled by Afronuts @ Wednesday, September 24, 2014

[Warning: Matured Readers Only]

Lara kissed the barrel of the handgun and burst into a fit of triumphant laughter.

Power was truly intoxicating; especially when it suddenly steps into your hands; you’d feel its ecstatic rush overwhelm you as the realization of being in absolute control dawns on you.

She looked at the man she had given her whole life to for seven years; there was nothing as exhilarating as what she had just done. 

Ben was still on his knees, eyes still wide open in ready reception of death heralded by a bullet. But he found himself drenched in water instead of blood.

Lara laughed again and fired another long squirt from her water pistol over his head. The water rained down on his like the shower of shame.

He looked at her, a shocked expression shadowed by littleness lit across his face. He exhaled gently as spasmodic relief flooded his entire being.

She stopped laughing and looked at him, a cold smile on her lips.

“I’m not heartless enough not to give you a second chance”, she said, “but I can’t promise you that the next time, the gun won’t be real; I’d probably shoot you then shoot myself. After all...,” she leaned forward, her full bust line, flaunting its smoothness, her face firm and resolute “…our vows did say ‘till death do us part, shey?”   

She stood up and straightened her dress, looked at him for almost a whole minute then to Ben’s bewilderment burst into tears.

“But you know you’re not being fair Ben…I loved you so much and you go ahead and betray me like this...after all I have sacrificed for you in seven years…” she blurted in between sobs..

If seeing Lara in a sexy outfit which amplified her endowments was enough to arouse emotions in Ben, seeing her cry like this (which was rare) was enough to burn him with intense guilt. He suddenly felt compelled to make a confession. He opened up his mouth to speak but Lara spoke before him.

“You need to know how many times I contemplated suicide…until somebody gave me the opportunity to re-invent myself like this.” She pointed out her whole look.

Ben said nothing. The thought that his wife had nearly contemplated suicide instantly numbed him.

“And I must say, ever since I did that, I’ve felt so good...the attention I’m receiving is amazing.”

Lara brought out a hankie from her purse to mop her eyes then made for the door.

Ben moved towards her but she stopped and motioned him in warning not to come near her.

He held up the red panties towards her and she hissed.

“I don’t need them. Why should I cover what you don’t appreciate?”

It was at this point that Ben realized he was somehow losing his wife. It gradually dawned on him that he actually valued her as the thought of totally losing her scared him the more. And he really liked this re-invented version of Lara.

Ben walked up to her and took her hands in his. He was overwhelmed and wanted to make things right. Everything she had done today had opened his eyes to a new perspective on their relationship. He lost his composure.

“Lara, I’m so sorry for hurting you this much. Please forgive me!” he said in a sincere mournful tone.

She looked into his face, tears brimming at the edges of her eyes, uncertainty on her face. In that sad state, he saw how beautiful she looked. He couldn’t resist her.

Before she could speak or make up her mind, he pulled her close, and planted a deep kiss on her lips. Their mouths swam passionately in each other. Something ignited within their bodies as they touched. She felt so soft and new in his arms, he found himself totally entranced. Their grip on each other tightened with heated desire and just as Ben rode his hand up her thigh almost underneath her dress, she broke the embrace.

“Idiot. You think you can straff me into forgetting your infidelity. I’m not cheap…I’m not that easy!” Lara snapped at him. She turned the lock and opened the door. She gave him one final leering look.

“When you come home, we’ll see how sorry you really are.” With that, she stepped out and slammed the door.

Ben watched the door for the next few minutes holding his breath in deep thought then exhaling in relief.

What on earth could she be planning for him at home now?

He walked about the office trying to figure out what to do next as another thought struck him.

How had Lara discovered he had been having an affair? He had always covered his tracks well and never let any knowledge of his clandestine affairs out to anyone, not even his ‘paid’ informants – the two receptionists who had alerted him before hand that Lara was headed to his office. All they did was to inform him anytime his wife was about coming into the office premises.

So how did she get to know?

The more he tried to reason it, the more he developed a headache over it.

He suddenly remembered something - his confession…Lara didn’t give him time to make it. He peeked through the window of his office and watched as she entered her SUV in the parking lot below and drive off. When the coast was clear, he walked over to his private restroom and opened it.

A young busty fair complexioned lady in grey short skirt suit tiptoed out of the restroom into the office. A scared look was all over her face; she had been a witness to the whole drama and a key culprit in the affair.

“Whew! That was intense…for a moment I thought she was going to catch us and kill you for real.” She whispered in a shaken voice.

“Yeah. But she’ll soon end up doing exactly just that if I continue with the likes of you.” Ben replied.

“Excuse me?” She said turning to look into his face in disdain, “The likes of who...what the hell are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying bye to you.”

“You’re dumping me?”

“Yeah…for my wife.”

She laughed and strutted round his table trying to assault his senses with her endowments.

“If na joke stop am. Shebi you’ve always said I’m sweeter than her…”

He laughed in return, a twinge of sarcasm echoed through his voice.  

“After what I saw today, I doubt that.”

The response caught her off-guard. She looked at him in surprise then changed the expression on her face to a sad-eyed puppy dog look – one she always used to get Ben fall for her bidding..

“But Benny, you know how much I love you…”

“You call that love? No…that wasn’t love; that was just me being stupid and you being desperate.”

The statement hit her so hard she missed a step in her strut. She starred at him wide-eyed finding it hard to believe what he just said. She simmered with envy.

“Did she screw you in this office?” she said defiantly sniffing the atmosphere.

Ben laughed.

“Must everything revolve around sex?” he asked.

“Well...with us, it did.” She replied moving closer to him and held unto his lower torso. She grinded her hips against his. He removed her hands and gently pushed her away in rebuttal.

“It’s been an experience doing the wrong thing with you, Angela. Thanks for seducing me and almost wrecking my marriage. Now get out of my office.”

“Ben! Are you okay at all? It’s Angela you’re talking to oh!”

“You say that as though we have a future together. It shows how dim-sighted you are. If na jazz you dey use, my wife has destroyed it. She holds the aces now.” Ben smiled at himself; he liked the way the words rolled out of his mouth, it felt so fresh, different and peaceful doing the right thing for once.  

“You won’t get away with this. I’ll deal with you…Nobody dumps Angela and gets away with it.” Angela said painfully as she made for the door.

“Yeah…go and sleep with another married man that has the power to fire me then!”

She gasped at his retort in astonishment, then stormed out of the office angrily.

Ben sat back in his chair with a content smile and began to count his blessings and curses.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Somewhere on the fourth floor of the building which housed the company’s security surveillance unit, Lara sat back in a chair and smiled.

She had driven off only to come around and park on the other side of the building away from Ben’s line of sight from the window where she could get to meet with Jola, the head of surveillance security, a bosom friend who had helped her plant a temporary CCTV camera in a hidden strategic position in Ben’s office because she wanted to find a way to catch him pants down.

She had just watched a live feed of what transpired between him and Angela. She smiled and wiped a lone tear. She had never heard Ben say things like that before and she felt good being praised in absentia before another woman.

Jola came into the office with a cup of tea and offered it to Lara.

“Thank you so much Jola for this total make-over. You should have seen how Ben was drooling when he saw me.”

“No need to tell me. I saw it all on the monitor. Girl, you are wicked oh! See how you turned the guy to complete mumu with those femme fatale stripper-like moves!”

“No be you teach me?”

“Eh I know...but I never taught the part about using water pistol to scare the living daylights out of the guy nah.”

“But I still owe it all to you Jola.”

“What are friends for?  I knew it would work. It’s something I always use to intrigue my husband; I just re-invent myself to look super-sexy and provocative in many creative ways and I always catch him off guard. He just can’t get enough of me.”

They both laughed.

Lara looked at a corridor shot on one of the many monitor screens. She could see Angela walking along it with files in her hand.

“So what do we do about this stupid girl that’s probably thinking of blackmailing Ben?” She asked.

Jola looked at her friend smiled.

“Shebi she wants to get an Oga to put Ben in trouble, right? Well, the Oga will have to ‘do’ her before he can grant her request...and I’ve got my plantable cameras....I don’t need to tell you the rest now”

“You go girl!” Lara chuckled excitedly and they both hi-fived.

She turned to look at the screen which showed her husband at his desk. He was looking at the picture frame that usually sat at one corner of his desk – a picture of her and the kids.

She swooned in moments of happiness. She couldn’t wait for the day to be over; she had plans to rock Ben’s world that night when he got home.

He deserved a second chance after all.

The End...Finally!

Pants Down

Chronicled by Afronuts @ Thursday, September 18, 2014

[- Warning: For Matured Readers Only! -]

On a busy Friday morning, when most employed persons were hurrying to finish off work for the day so as to be free on time for promises of the weekly TGIF (Thank God it’s Friday), Lara Benedicta Aihkomu catwalked smoothly into the air-conditioned office complex of a renown multinational company like a suspicious omen on a mission to spring up strange surprises.

Her powerfully obvious appearance created a stir.

She wasn't an unfamiliar face but today her look was downright unfamiliar.

From her well treated long flowing hair which nestled gracefully about her shoulders to her expertly made-up round, dimpled face.

From her artfully outlined eyes to her sensually beckoning well painted lips.

From her red body-tight mini gown designed to beautifully highlight her cleavage, enhance her full derriere and present a mind blowing expose of silky creamed legs, to the classic Prada high heels that made every female in the lobby churn with envy. She looked glamorous in every sense; dressed to stun every beholder into oblivion.

A powerful and pleasant perfume scent topped her bodacious menu and held many spellbound as they watched her she pass by.

She sauntered through the main hallway reception, rode a lift to the 6^th floor and headed for the lobby that housed the different offices of senior management.

Men ogled; some whistled, others gave smirks and lustful gasps of admiration.

Women sized up her look in their mind and mentally digested it; a gossip topic that would trend was ideating all over the place.

She made her way through the lobby reception of the adjoining management offices.

Someone noticed her and buzzed someone else on an intercom.

As she walked towards the main reception of the office she was headed, its receptionist, a conservative looking short lady who had been on the intercom before she walked in, dropped the intercom’s receiver and voiced a greeting, stunned at her look.

Lara mumbled a reply as she walked past the receptionist and three guests who were waiting to see the Brand Manager.

The guests were about protesting but the receptionist pleaded with them making them realise that Lara was an important person that had exclusive rights to enter as she liked.

She watched Lara go into the Brand Manager’s office and feared the worst.

Ben quickly dropped the intercom and looked up as Lara stepped into his office. At first he didn't recognize her until she smiled at him. The realization rattled him, almost toppling him off his chair.

He had never in the last three years seen his wife look like that. He had become accustomed to her usual boring wardrobe of boubous, cliché native wear and abstinence from any form of facial make-up.  

''Sweetheart...what...is this...I don't understand....why are you...?'' Ben lost his words. Lara's look was just too much for him to take in.

She said nothing but just stood there in front of his desk looking and smiling at him. Then she placed both hands on his table and bent forward, her ample bosoms in full luring view, taunting his sexual sanity.

'Hi darling, how's work?''

''Work is f...fine...but t…that doesn't answer my question...''

''Oh...you wanna know why I'm looking like this?'' She ran her hand slowly over her body.

''Y…yes. What’s the occasion?'

She gave a mischievous smirk and walked round his desk coquettishly as though she was about to do something naughty to him.

Then she dropped her purse on the floor and bent down to pick it while backing Ben. It seemed like a calculated move but whether it was or not, it had a powerful effect on her husband. The sight of the lower areas of her full rounded butt and slight show of red lacy panties set Ben’s nether regions on fire.

‘’Do you like what you see honey?’’ Lara cooed standing up again still backing him.

He reached out in dazed state to grab a handful of her butt but she slapped his hand away. His face flushed over with embarrassment.

‘’Ýou still h…haven’t answered my q…question.’’ He managed to say in between the waves of belittlement.

‘’Is that why you’re stuttering? Am I scaring you ….” She gave a naughty chuckle as her voice dropped into a husky naughty drawl, ”…or am I turning you on?”

Ben found himself in an instant quandary; a cocktail of emotions – confused, nervous and seriously turned on. Why was she doing this to him?

Her eyes locked onto his from a distance as she reached under her gown and swiftly yanked off her red lacy panties. She spun it round her index finger then threw it at him.

He caught the underwear which was damp with her essence, sniffed it and felt a thunderous ache inside his trousers. He stood up behind his desk, eager to throw decency into the winds. She seemed to get the message from his action and smiled sweetly at him. She cat-walked slowly to the door and locked it before coming back to the front of the table and leaned over it.

‘’You want me so bad, don’t you?’’ She cooed at him, tugging at the hem of her cleavage area.

He could only give a frantic nod. The lump in his throat aggravated by a sudden libidinous surge had stifled his capacity for speech.

“Ýou would love to take me right now on this desk wouldn’t you?’ she said or rather moaned. The sound of her voice at this setting was driving Ben nuts. He struggled to contain himself by smiling and nodding slowly.

“You would like to bend me over explore me inside out and fill me with all that ‘thick’ goodness hanging between your manly legs, wouldn’t you?” She had climbed the table, crawling across, brought her face close to his and breathed the words into his right ear.

Ben felt his breathing pacing up; his temple throbbed with the raging pulse building within his entire being.

“You’d love to lick me…touch me…”

“Yes baby…yes…yes!” He didn’t even let her finish before spitting out his craving desire. He was no longer thinking from between his ears but from between his legs.

She chuckled mischievously, turned about and crawled back across the table. Ben lunged forward to grab her pant-less behind but was not fast enough. He almost passed out from heated passion watching the nakedness underneath her gown moved away from his reach. He began fondling with his belt, not caring about the dirty secret he was hiding in the restroom.

Lara came down from the table, picked up her purse, opened it and pulled out a black semi-automatic handgun.

He stopped fondling with the belt on seeing the gun.

She kissed and caressed the gun’s barrel as though she wanted to fellate it then pointed it at him. Her face suddenly changed; the slutty/horny/seductive expression she had worn on her face all the while was suddenly replaced by a deadly cold stare.

Ben’s heart skipped several beats so much that he thought he was about to have a heart attack. He never saw this coming. A strong wave of fear and guilt enveloped him. He felt his erection dissipate fast.

‘’Lara, w...what is the m...meaning of this?’’ He retorted, the alarm quaked his voice.

”Sit down.” She said, supporting the gun with both hands; her eyes fastened fully on him.

”Lara...w...what are y...you doing with a g...gun?” Ben felt sweat that had never been there before break out under his clothes. Not even the air-conditioning could help at this point.

‘’You’re a fool Ben! A low-life scum of a husband!”

“Ehn…wha…?”

Compared to her angry outburst, Ben’s response sounded small and guilty.

“You think you can cheat on me, your wife of seven years and get away with it? You think I don’t know why you come home late? You think I don’t know about your so-called ‘official trips’ which are nothing but trips in between some bitch’s legs? And now you see me looking like this; like one of your office whores and you want some of me? Oh, so now you can see what you’re looking for in them in me? You’re a damn fool!’

By now Lara was trembling as rage consumed her and tears fought for release around the circumference of her eyes. Amazingly, she looked more beautiful in this intensified fit of rage; her breasts bounced with every angry demonstration, her lips were a delight to watch as it mouthed insults and invectives. Why had he never noticed how enchanting she could be? How could he not have seen this in his wife? Ben felt his erection awkwardly build up again.

Lara stopped talking and just stood there, eyes locked angrily unto her unfaithful husband’s, breasts heaving as she panted gently. Tears trickled down her eyes leaving make-up skid-marks down her dimpled cheeks. Gradually, she relaxed and until she was able to talk again.

“And that’s why I’m going to kill you.”

Ben’s erection suddenly became as limp as a ramen noodle so fast he thought he had auto-castrated himself.

“Lara please! Don’t do this…I’m so sorry…it won’t happen again…” He crashed to his knees begging for his life. He had read about instances like this in the papers and social media, instances that ended in one spouse killing the other due to acts of unfaithfulness. He had never imagined it would someday happen to him – that he would be the one to stare at death in the face.

His life suddenly flashed before him; all he would never get to do; the children he would leave behind, his parents, siblings, his investments….the more they flashed before him, the more he didn’t want to die. He begged for his life.

“Lara stop this please…think of the kids…think of Mama…”

“Shut up!”

Ben felt tears sting his eyes. He let them fall hoping the sight would touch Lara. Unfortunately for him, she ignored them.

“Good bye sweetie!”

She levelled the gun towards his face, her finger encircled the trigger.

“Nooooooooooooooo!” Ben screamed in horror as she squeezed the trigger thrice…

.....The End?

The Ex

Chronicled by Afronuts @ Monday, June 30, 2014

I sat still watching her.

She looked very much like when we first met; still pretty, petite and amusingly retrospective; almond shaped eyes that still glowed with the same intensity that had ignited a subtle hurricane of emotion from the dark depths of my palpitating heartbeats.

She smiled and my heart melted; nostalgic waves catapulted me down memory lane. I loved that smile and the way she always fondled my fingers in hers whenever we held hands. She loved to play with my fingers; it was one of her ways of constantly reminding me of her love for me; her soft yet small hands were a delight in my thick big ones.

Watching her at this distance was painful.

The desire to be close to her burned within me; I longed to revel once again in those sweet moments we once shared.

I felt something sting me in the right eye. It was a threatening tear.

I swallowed up the sob building within along with the ache of regret.

I wish I hadn’t done what I did back then.

**************

We met years back.

I can’t really place the timing but the picture of our meeting still remains vividly etched in my memory like it was yesterday; like a short HD movie hidden in my cerebral sands of time.

I stood at a bus stop waiting for a cab.

It was one of those inner areas on the outskirts of town where cabs and okadas were scanty and don’t show up easily. You had to wait a while before you saw one.

I was on my way to see my cousin, Priye, pertaining to a recent employment information he placed through a phone call the day before. We had maintained a steady contact after youth service despite living on the opposite sides of town.

The bus stop which consisted mainly of an inscribed signpost rusted and worn with age, stood at the edge of a tarred road which stretched out into the distance linking different communities.

Vegetation lined both sides of the road obscuring from sight houses scattered about the developing neighbourhood. It was the typical topography you’d find in many eastern states. Any first time visitor would think nobody lived in the area until he looked closely.

Occasionally a car, motorcycle or truck would pass, breaking the semi-silence of the neighbourhood and punctuated screaming of errant crickets from the bushes.

I had come along with a big umbrella as Priye had informed me before hand that it was raining on at his place. I envisaged that the weather would soon extend its tentacles down to my own side of the town.

Two minutes had passed as I waited at the stop when I saw the lone female figure emerging from one of the paths that led to one of the numerous communities scattered around the area. She was wearing a sleeveless flowery gown that stopped at her knees and a pair of wedge slippers that accentuated her height a bit.

She wore an afro hairdo on her head and sparse make-up on her face. Bracelets matching the flora design on her gown hung on her left wrist alongside a leather strapped watch. A leather handbag hung loosely on her shoulder as she strode towards the bus stop in short hurried steps.

I had expected her to walk past me but she stopped a few meters away from where I stood. She was also waiting for a cab.

She was good to look at but I made sure it wasn’t obvious by throwing my glance in the opposite direction.

A pick-up and two cars zoomed past in opposite directions as time dragged and we waited.

Then the Sky rumbled.

I looked up and noticed flashes appearing in the clouds far ahead.

A gust of wind blew picking dust and dried leaves in its path. I closed my eyes partially to avoid being visually stung by debris.

Priye was right. The darn rain was heading this way. Thank goodness I wore my thick denim jacket and had an umbrella.

Then the heavens gave way like a pregnant woman whose water just broke. It started with rapid drops that quickly gathered momentum.

It was at this point that I glanced at the young lady standing metres away from me and noticed she had nothing to protect her from the coming rain.

She had folded her arms and was looking worriedly at the sky confused at what to do. Then she looked in my direction, a bothered frown creasing her face.

I held up the big umbrella, snapped it open and motioned her to come and join me under it.

Thankfully she hurried up to stand with me under the umbrella.

All around us the raindrops began thrashing the dust, dirt and asphalt on the long stretching road; wind blew almost hoisting her gown which she held down cautiously.  She was actually having a hard time doing that because she needed to fold her arms to keep warm at the same time. The sleeveless nature of her gown didn’t help matters.

I felt for her.

A merciless rainfall was enough to dampen any good-looking girls pride and prestige.

Ignited by a gentlemanly instinct, I took off my jacket and offered it to her.

She gave me a surprised look and declined with the mien that she was taking too much from me. I insisted, telling her that the rest of my clothing was thick enough to keep me warm.

She looked at the jacket as though she was reluctant but I could see in her eyes how she longed to get into it. I didn’t wait for her to eventually decide and quickly draped it over her shoulders.

She was thankful and the sincerity was rife on her face and in her voice.

As the rain gathered more momentum, there was need for us to draw closer to each other under the umbrella in order to escape intruding drops that splashed about and threatened to hit us beneath the umbrella.

I had to put my hand round her shoulder to en able me hold the umbrella more comfortably and also to allow more covering for her than for me.

In our moment of closeness, I could perceive the sweet scent of her hair oil along with another nice scent which I couldn’t be sure if it was a deodorant, powder or body cream. She had a petite figure which made it easy for me to shield her from much of the rain.

The closeness of our bodies seemed to generate some heat; a welcome development in the growing chilly condition around us.

I’ve often heard that during rainy seasons human hormones are affected somewhat to want to copulate or engage in some sort of physical affinity. I can’t say if this is true or if that was the case in this scenario but as the rain got worse, we got closer…and it was beginning to feel uncomfortably good.

I asked her where she was headed to divert our consciousness from the unusual close positioning, and also to determine what to call at the first cab that showed up. It turned out we were headed the same way.

Eventually a cab arrived and we got in quickly.

It was evident throughout the journey that the rain was heavy everywhere.

I decided that she take the umbrella and my jacket home and return it to Priye’s address the following day.

She declined again, shocked at the extent to which I was sacrificing my comfort for hers. I reassured her that it was nothing and got her to agree.

She was very thankful and promised to bring them back.

And she did.

And it led to the beginning of a relationship.

**************

I sat still watching her. My eyes travelled over her face, her eyes, shiny cheekbones and thin yet vibrant mouth.

Yes. She really did look very much like that first day we had met, though more matured.

It would have turned out to become a good relationship if I hadn’t gotten carried away by the juicy job offer that suddenly came my way later; a job for which I sacrificed our relationship while thinking that I’d meet ‘better’ girls later on.

I would later lose that job after being implicated in a scandal with a female senior manager who set me up for sexual assault after I refused to give in to her seductions and invitations for after-hour romps in her office.

It hurt to think of what I’d lost with the job – the official car, material benefits, allowances…

But now…it hurt more to think of the relationship I’d sacrificed for the job.

And now, here she was before my eyes; her life totally changed, surrounded by glamour and fame while I struggled with an income twice lower than the initial job – poverty, threatening to make mincemeat out of me every passing day.

This was my punishment for living life carelessly on the fast lane.

I took one last look at her on the TV screen as she beautifully played out her role in a high budget Nollywood flick before picking up the remote and switching off the set. I then strolled out onto the balcony of my rented mini-flat to gaze at the full moon in the night sky.

It glowed back at me like a medal of shame awarded to me for my bad decisions in life.

I remembered that rainy evening when we were in the cab and she was about to alight. The rain had reduced to spastic drizzles, a rather safer intensity. The clouds had cleared and night had crept in to reveal a lovely full moon in the sky.

That day, it glowed like a medal of achievement for me; a medal of discovering love that would last…if I allowed it.

Before she came down from the cab, she had turned to me on a sudden realization.

‘You never told me your name.’

I smiled at her thoughtfulness. In the whole melee of escaping the weather from bus stop to cab, we had never thought of exchanging our names.

‘I’m Richard…and you?’

She returned the smile, sweeter than mine.

‘I’m Genevieve…Genevieve Nnaji.’

Cheater's Choice

Chronicled by Afronuts @ Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Packaged breasts

Showcased skins

Endless legs

Merciless minis

Questioning butts

Answering thighs

Now showing for viewing pleasure

Ruining the essence of decency

Awakening urges from complacency

Endangering the purity of innocence

Conjuring waves of erotic presence

Still, responsibility is to be

The choice made by the temptee

Some see but don’t look

And thus remain safe by the book

Some look because they saw

And thus broke purity’s code and law

Ventured on a skirted quest

Ravaged breasts

Caressed skins

Tired legs

Discarded minis

Querying butts

Suffered thighs

Enraptured lust of damning interest

Explored valleys of wet sin

Scaled mountains of hard peaks

Sailing seas of forbidden ecstasy

Awoken to the moment of truth

Wallow in throes of a throbbing conscience

Been where you shouldn’t

Done what you shouldn’t

Temptation’s victory

Your shameful defeat

Infidelity claws depths of the flesh

Spirited in filth that’ll never wash

Only by redemption

Graced by salvation

For the moment

While sinfully incumbent

Stew in transgression

With self loathing aggression

All because…

Just because…

The choice to look what you saw

The choice to break the coded law

 ©Afronuts 8/7/2013

 

An Igbo Boy And His Swag [Funny Video + Photo]

Chronicled by Afronuts @ Monday, May 19, 2014

Its usually a general conception that Igbo guys like money, hence they love to hustle....and to the max they will hustle. But when these guys don hammer, they develop an amusing level of confidence and rustic charisma that could be quite entertaining or amusing.

I have Igbo friends and I always like studying the ones with zest for business. Its a calling that God seems to have bestowed upon that tribe.

Its amazing how many of them do it with charm and girls (both enlightened and not) fall flat for them. I came across this amusing video of an Igbo boy (a successful one with a chain of businesses) trying to woo an 'akata' (Nigerian chick that has been 'Americanised' either by orientation or by birth) and despite the girl trying to fall his hand, the guy still stands tall and maintain his swag. 

With all the jibes coming from the girl (who speaks with American accent) he never gets floored by talk. Check out the video below.