MAD WOMAN

40. I NO BE YOUR PROPATI!

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COMMENTS MAKE ME SMILE🙃🌶

ELOKA'S P.O.V:

"If Professor Akassa is not around, then I will take my leave." I stood up abruptly, cutting off the fair skinned Assistant Lecturer that was in her late twenties.

"But—"

"Good day." The door shut on my way out of my lecturer's office. For the past two weeks now, his second in command has been going in and out of her way to lead me into bending her over her desk. She certainly made it a tempting offer when she not-so-subtly showed off the cleavage of her E cupped tits. But for the first time, seeing big boobs didn't make my dick rise. It had not properly risen ever since that day I preyed on a particular pair of B-cup breasts that were soaked in a fine shade of melanin.

Fist-fucking myself as I stared at the picture of her semi-naked chest, and that little bruise on her neck, wasn't enough to satisfy the beast in me. Frustration was an understatement to what I had felt for the past one week. Days had gone and I had not laid my fucking eyes on her. There was never an hour that passed by without my brain taking a dive down memory lane of how her eyes were threatening to release the Mississippi River last week Sunday.

I actually made her cry.

Funny how she was the one emotional, when I was the one that got offended.

It certainly was shameful for me to admit, but she did strike a nerve. I mean she always did. But last week was different. That statement did all sorts of things on my thinking faculty. It made me feel things I have not had in my system in over a decade. Plus, who the fuck gave her the audacity to say that hat she uttered. She might not know the weight of her statement, but it didn't matter since the mass of it was heavy and dreadful. Damaging to the soul. Crushing the little four year old boy that still lived in me.

I had not expected that infant to still be breathing.

But he was.

And she was the cause of it.

I fucking hated that girl.

The urge to show up at my sister's house was something that I had been on a driving force to do. Not to see Zikora, nor my nephew. But solely for that witch. That fucking nuisance that had been messing up my thinking space. And no, although my baby sister sent me a polite message of her indirectly begging me to never show up at her house again, that wasn't what stopped me. It was the fact that a fucked up, twisted part of me wondered if her eyes still held the embarrassed liquid I saw last week. It took me everything that day for me not to tell her to cry so I would wipe it away myself.

Now why the fuck was I thinking if her tears had a flavour in each drop?

I was on the verge of losing my shit for the nth time this week, so I went to the one place that maybe I could get my mind off everything. That was if he didn't infuriate me to death with his never ending talks about the latest lecturer's daughter he fucked.

Olamide was a sexual psycho I made sure to threaten when we became friends. I couldn't trust him near my sister. He was capable of fucking everything in a skirt. And Zikora was a happy little doll that accepted everyone. Him and I weren't friends from nappies as everyone assumed we were. I met this fucker in N.D.U, when I got sent back to hundred level by the prestigious Senate of the University. I first assumed he was some druggie that managed to get into the state's school, maybe after writing  J.A.M.B seven times.