See Gobe

“Girl your behind is a killer, I can see you sensual. See gobe, omo see gobe . When you wiggle and waver, you must be intentional...” 

The sound of his drunken singsong and laughter followed me as I made my way to the bar to fill his order. Dealing with obnoxious men, some drunk and others just plain foolish, was all in a day’s work. I knew better than to let his behavior bother me but the man got under my skin in a way other customers didn’t.  The first time he grabbed my ass like a ball of eba ready to be swallowed, I complained to Oga.

 “I hired you because you are a pretty girl with assets.  If you cannot use them to satisfy my customers, feel free to find another job.”

 Much as I didn’t care for the attention from the men, being their eye candy paid my bills in a way that relying on my pensioner parents didn’t. Tossing my order pad at the bar man, I reached for the hem of my skirt, tugging it till it covered as much of my ample behind as the scrap of Lycra would allow. None of the hostesses liked the stupid skirt but the customers did and they were all Oga cared about.

 “Why are you spoiling a good show? Make sure you pull that skirt back up before you bring my drink o!”

 As another round of laughter erupted across the room, I tossed him a dirty look over my shoulder. 

 “Please Tunde, help me serve that idiot. The fool is really trying my patience tonight.”

 “If I leave the bar who will pour the drinks? Don’t mind the man, you know he is just playing with you.” 

 “I beg you Tunde, I’m not in the mood for his nonsense tonight!”

 “Alright, alright but if Oga hears about this, you will be in trouble. You know that man only comes here because of you.”

 “Leave Oga to me, just help me, I beg you.”

Desperately needing to cool off, I headed outside through the back door to regain my sanity. I’d been at the job long enough to know not to take men like him seriously, but something about that man made me uncomfortable.

 It wasn’t long before I realised I wasn’t alone.

 “Fine girl with the killer behind! You like playing hard to get don’t you?”

 “Please sir, I don’t want any trouble. Just leave me alone.”

 “A body like yours deserves to be touched, not left alone. Come on sexy, let me touch you.”

 “Please sir, stop it. Leave me alone, please!”

I made to head back into the building and it was then he grabbed me by my hair and flung me to the ground.

“Who do you think you are? You think you’re special?”

Smiling, he knelt over me and ripped the buttons off my blouse. I opened my mouth to scream but he slapped it shut.

“This doesn’t have to get ugly, just lie there quietly and enjoy yourself.”

My eyes followed his fingers as they trailed my collar bone. It was then I noticed his perfectly manicured nails, felt how soft his hands were. Slowly he lowered his head till I could feel his breath against my lips.

 “Kiss me, sexy.”

 I clamped my mouth shut in defiance.

Right hand closing around my throat, he pressed as hard as he could. My mouth flew open as I struggled to breathe.

“Go on sexy, kiss me,” he repeated, his right hand squeezing even harder, cutting off my air supply.

“I can’t breathe,” I gasped, “Please let me go!”

“You think you’re special don’t you? You swing your nyash all over the place but won’t allow anyone touch you. I know your type, all prim on the outside and freaky in bed,” he smiled, his eyes twinkling in the dark of the night.

“Please Sir, you’re choking me. Please let me go!”

I was barely conscious as he hooked his fingers in the band of my skirt and yanked it down, the fabric holding my ankles captive. His fingers gripped my throat even tighter and I felt myself drift away. I had always imagined the hands of a murderer would be callous, toughened by the blows it had been forced to shield from life. I imagined his face would be battered by the elements, a scar running from his earlobe to the corner of his mouth. His eyes would be cold, unfeeling. He would be the silent type; no words, all action.

In the distance I heard laughter, sustained laughter, steady and melodic. It was to the rhythm of his laughter, that I danced my way to nothingness.