The first time she came over, there were four other people including my father in the house. I hadn’t expected her to be fine, so imagine my surprise when I beheld a hottie at my gate saying her name was (looks around the House for a word that can pass as a name) Kadris. I let her in, all the while thinking, “Chai, why didn’t I start setting the p online?”

But of course, as a smart Lagos hustler, I knew that I may be a bit late to the contest but the deadline had not passed. And so, I began formulating a winning plan.

PHASE ONE: Plant The Idea

I sat next to her and played with her hair and thighs, stroking just to the borderline of friendly and respectable, seeing as we were seated with other guests. She didn’t withdraw even though she knew that I was bisexual and that all that touching from me wasn’t mere friendly “girls” play.

A good sign from the gods, I supposed.

Time passed and soon, everyone was leaving. It was time for phase two of the plan.

PHASE TWO: Believe In Your Inner Yoruba Demon

I told her that she shouldn’t rush home and that if she stayed an extra hour with me, I’d pay for her transport. This was at the gate. She looked at me with the expression of that black moon face on whatsapp and asked me if I planned to do anything funny. Being a true hoe, I brought out my guilt card and played it so damn well.

“Ah-ah, is it because I’m bi that you think that I don’t just want to chill with you? Oya come and be going. See how you are already stereotyping me with those people who don’t have self control. It was hard to talk to you amongst the others, and everyone knows why.” (This bit was bait beautifully set) I continued, “Now that I’m trying to actually talk to you without stuttering, you are assuming that I want to knack you. Oya bye-bye now, I’ll text you later.”

I sighed heavily at this point and began to walk back to the house slowly, leaving her at the compound gate.

5, 4, 3, 2 –

She called out my name. I did a hair-flip in my mind, before turning around to face her. She was walking back to me.

“I’m sorry, it’s not like that. Oya I’ll stay,” she said, hugging me from behind.

Oh, the sweet feel of breasts on my back. Now wait for it.

“You said everyone knows why it was hard for you to talk to me. I don’t know why. Tell me.”

Bait bitten.

“Oh, Kaddy stop, you just want me to say it and feel embarrassed. You know why na.”

“You won’t feel embarrassed and I swear I don’t know why. Tell me please.” She hugged me tighter.

Bait swallowed. Now watch me reel her in. I looked at her with an uncertain smile, and then cast my eyes to the ground.

“It was hard for me to talk to you because beautiful women intimidate me. There I said it.”

“Aww,” she cooed. Then she hugged me and kissed my cheek.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is how to play the sanctimonious hoe card.

We went back into the house for us to see that there was one guy still around. He said that he wanted to gist with us and that he would leave later. Let’s call this boy Jude. He gave me this bad eye and sat down beside Kaddy, leaving me to sit opposite them. Talk about a pussy block. (Yes, I know that’s not a thing.) Anyhow, as a true Yoruba in chase of a woman, I didn’t let distance deter me. (Yes, I believe Yorubas have a way with women. Go ahead and call me tribalistic.)

As we gisted, I dropped compliments all over Kadris. Jude seemed to be beefing my abilities, so he dropped an unexpected bomb on me.

“Kaddy, how far your boyfriend?” He turned his head slowly to me and smirked.

Bloody bastard!

“I don’t know sef,” Kadris said. “I don’t even like him like that again. Our relationship is lacking something.”

At her response, I gave Jude a pointed look and my own slow smile. His smirk dissolved into a frown. Soon he was leaving and Kaddy said she had to leave too. Thank the Lord for bringing Uber to Nigeria. I ordered a cab for her and sent her on her way.

PHASE THREE: The Move

Just like a game of chess, I had moved out my pawns and now I had space to attack. I called Kadris to find out if she had arrived home safely, asked if she had a good time. Receiving affirmative answers, I began to tell her how I had enjoyed myself and she suggested we hang out again. Seeing as she said this and not me, I figured I ought to say something to ensure that our next meeting was anything but platonic.

“Kaddy, I like you,” I began.

Down went her rook.

She laughed. “I like you too, buddy.”

Buddy kwa? My bishop was dead instantly.

“I mean I like, like, like you.”

My rook was set to take out her knight.

“Oh.” A three second silence, then, “I think I like, like, like you too.”

She’d moved a pawn. Her knight was dead.

“Oh well then, I guess that’s nice. We’ll talk sometime soon, ya?”

Her move now.

“Of course, bae. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Played right into my hands! Nawa o! What is with girls of these days? Because I said I like, like, like her, I have turned to bae. Sigh, whatever, as long as I get to go bae-low her. (See what I did there?)

PHASE FOUR: I’ve Run Out Of Names For Phases

We spoke at least twice each week; she called me most times. I didn’t hound her. I am an experienced hoe and I must tell you that the best way to land someone is to treat them like a plant. Occasionally water them with affection. Then disappear. Trust me when I say they will come find you for more.

Each time we spoke, she kept insisting she is straight. (Of course she is. And Titanic was an airplane. Mscheew) I didn’t let this stop me though. I played the caring card well. I asked about her day, her family, school, her sisters, her favorite TV show. I gave her the attention her bobo was not giving her. And I waited. A good player must always be patient.

A month passed and I decided to speed up the process.

“Hey Kaddy,” I said, sighing loudly. (I seemed to be doing that a lot)

“Hi babe, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing o, it’s just that my younger brother has gone to boarding house and now every day, I’m always home alone till evening when my parents come back.”

Bait set.

“Aww, sorry, dear. Can’t you go out?”

Time to lower the line into the water.

“My dad doesn’t like me going out. He said he doesn’t want them to kidnap his only daughter. This house is always so boring.”

“I’m sorry. Would you like me to come over and entertain you?”

Bait swallowed.

“Are you sure? What will we do when you come over? I’m boring.” I asked this because I wanted to make sure I wasn’t reading the wrong thing into that ‘entertain you’.

“We’ll do anything you like.”

Hmm.

“How’s this Friday for you?”

“Perfect,” she purred over the phone. (I’m not exaggerating. She actually purred, I swear!)

“Friday it is then. Bye princess.”

And then Friday arrived.

I just realized I didn’t introduce myself. My apologies.  I am Ife Pervy of the House Stark, the First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of Lagos, Queen of the Blackies and the Omo Pupas and the Bleaching Squad, Khaleesi of the Great Ogun River, Expert Looker of the Boobs and Mother of Pervs.

And you are?

Written by iAmNotAPerv

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