THE ANGEL’S SPY

The first time I set my eyes on Rahman was at a friend’s birthday party in December 2013.

Left to myself, I wouldn’t even have been at that party. I am an introvert, someone who loves to be in his shell and would never decide all on his own to attend a get-together, let alone an elaborate birthday party. But Wole was a very good friend; to not attend his birthday party would be a big letdown. I was further emboldened to go to the party when I was assured that we would go as a group – me, another friend and neighbour, Richard, and a bunch of other guys I knew.

We got to the party a little early, specifically to help Wole get ready. We thought there wouldn’t be much to do, but upon getting to the venue – which was his father’s house – we discovered that there was still so much to be done. We went to work, and by the time we had everywhere ready, we were messed up. So, we had to retire into the house to freshen up. By the time we were done and emerged, the party was underway. Music was throbbing through the air, people were milling about, and food and drinks were getting passed around.

This was really not my scene, to be in a place this crowded and alive. I went to a corner and took a seat, not wanting to be noticed.

But my anonymity was soon threatened, when it was time for the celebrant to take to the dance floor, and he was hollering for his close friends to come join him. I didn’t even bother to get up from where I was. Me, dance?! In this public place? I’d rather die first!

When not a lot of guys were trooping out to join Wole on the dance floor, the MC picked up his mic and began calling out our names. I recoiled. Like, seriously?!

Very reluctantly, I got up from my corner and went toward the dance floor. Wole hadn’t started dancing yet, and there was a bit of rowdiness causing some delay. After standing around for some minutes waiting for the cue for the dance to begin, and it wasn’t happening, I decided to take a seat again, just not very far from Wole.

It was then that in walked two guys of almost the same average height, one dark and the other fair, both slim, wearing matching outfits of purple tops and black pants. Attention in the room instantly shifted to them, and a small collection of people they obviously knew swarmed around them. I was close to them, and also shared in the exchange of greetings. But I didn’t pay particular attention to them, so focused was I on my anxieties, anticipating the end of the evening.

Eventually, a friend came to me and helped relieve my anxiety by keeping me company. We gisted and laughed and ate together. And when he wanted to take his leave, he offered to drop me off. I couldn’t find Richard in the room, so I just shrugged and joined my friend home.

The following day, Wole called Richard and I over to help him clean up the party debris. We got there and began helping him clean up; as we worked, Richard and Wole began talking about a Rahman. Richard had asked Wole which of those guys who’d worn matching outfits to his party was Rahman, and if they were queer. I wasn’t paying much attention to their conversation, and so, I can’t recall the response Wole gave. But Richard carried on, saying he’d talked to the Rahman that night and he had told him that he wasn’t into guys. Eventually, the two amebos moved on from the topic.

I returned home with Richard. We were at his place, when he suddenly turned to me and asked if I could do something for him. I asked what. He said that he would like me to chat up Rahman.

“Who is Rahman?” I asked.

“Were you not listening to me and Wole talk about him at his house?” he said with some exasperation. When I continued to look at him cluelessly, he said, “He is the dark one among those two attention-stealing guys that came to Wole’s party. I talked to him and he said he’s not gay. I think he lied to me. I mean, it was so obvious that he and the other guy are boyfriends.”

“If they are boyfriends, why then are you interested in knowing if he’s gay?” I asked. “What difference does it make?”

“I just want to know I’m right,” he said.

“But you said you talked to him and he said he’s not gay. What makes you think he’ll tell me any different?” I didn’t allow him answer before adding, “You know what? Never mind. I’m not even interested in doing this abeg.”

He didn’t persist, and we moved on to other things.

A week passed and Richard was at my place; I was telling him about how I couldn’t believe I hadn’t known that a boy who I was close to in my secondary school days was gay. And he retorted that I wasn’t smart enough to know these things, that that was why I couldn’t even chat up Rahman.

That stung. It didn’t occur to me then that he was baiting me. And I rose to the bait.

I was now gingered to take on the mission of finding out if Rahman was gay. But first, I had to know why Richard was so sure he would tell me what he may have lied about to him.

“Even if he’s gay,” I said, “why do you think he’ll open up to me?”

Richard grinned as he responded, “Because you’re irresistible. Don’t you look at yourself in the mirror at all? Who can resist pouring out his innermost secrets to such a cool, calm, sexy pikin like you?”

At this point, Richard had added mumu to the bait, and I had bitten hard. It was a challenge earlier; now, he had me hyped and ready to embrace the challenge. I told him I would do it, and took Rahman’s 2go ID, which he had.

And so began my work as a spy.

I messaged Rahman on 2go and he responded. I introduced myself and to my surprise, he said he knew who I am.

“Really?” I asked in disbelief. “How do you know me?”

“I saw you at the party and I took notice of you,” he replied. “You had on an afro, were wearing tight black jeans and a white V-neck top. Black palm slippers. You’re light-skinned, not tall, slim with pink lips.”

My jaw dropped and my phone almost fell from my hands. Really? As invisible as I’d been at the party, someone had observed me this much? I wondered if I’d done something extra at the party without knowing it, to create such an awareness of me.

I typed back to him, telling him that was quite a lot to notice about a stranger, asking sarcastically if I’d mistakenly stepped on him at the party or something to draw such attention to me.

He laughed in response. “You didn’t move around much,” he replied. “Even though you were mostly in one place, you were everywhere still. Every time I moved my eyes, there you were.”

I was charmed. Like, this guy hadn’t even given me the chance to get into spy mode. He was basically handing me the answer I was seeking complete with jara.

He asked for my number, and I gave it to him. He called me immediately, and his voice was tender and calm on the phone. He spoke so quietly that I almost couldn’t make out everything he was saying, and with such precision, like he was taking his time to pick his words. And his speech had this R factor, where he rolled his Ls into Rs. I was officially turned on by Rahman.

My conversations with Rahman were endless. We talked days and nights on end. With MTN’s Extra Cool package at the time, we would talk from 12 am to 4 am almost every day. Sometimes, he would call me during the day and we would just talk. It seemed like there was always something for us to talk about.

Rahman and I had a lot in common, which made it so easy for us to get along. We liked video games and the same types of movies. We were Nickelodeon addicts, football fanatics (he was for Chelsea and I was a Barcelona fan), and we even had the same favourite soup and lots more. Rahman was just the perfect person for me to be friends with.

Since it was long since apparent to me that he was gay, I didn’t bother asking him. I just wanted to know why he’d lied to Richard that night of Wole’s party. And he said he simply hadn’t wanted Richard to know. He asked me not to tell Richard either. (I eventually told Richard though, and when Rahman found out, he wasn’t upset by that.)

I fell in love with Rahman. He kept asking me out, but I turned him down every time he asked because of the distance between us. We were not based in the same state. I mean, when I met him at Wole’s party, I was in the same state as he was. This is my state of origin, and I was a student of a university there. But by the time we became so close, I had finished with my schooling and had traveled back to my father’s house in a different state. I didn’t know when – or if – I would be back there, and didn’t want to put myself through the emotional strain of dating a boy I may never see again.

In spite of my declinations, Rahman didn’t stop being friends with me. We still talked every day. Hearing his voice became a constant in my life, as certain as day and night.

This went on for two years. I still can’t believe we stayed close for that long. But yeah, we did. Nothing wearied in our communication. It was almost as though he was waiting. He was like an angel, patient and waiting.

Then finally, I had the chance to travel home. I informed Rahman and he seemed just as thrilled as I was by the prospect of us finally officially seeing. Throughout the five-hour journey, he kept calling to know where I was at each point in time.

When I arrived, I went to my uncle’s place. Richard called to let me know that Rahman was at his place, waiting for me. (I couldn’t have asked him over to my uncle’s place, because the man lived with his family.)

With so much anticipation and excitement crowding my heart, I sped over to Richard’s place. And there, I saw very clearly the man who’d been in my heart for the past two years. Even though I had seen him before, this moment felt brand new. Here was the angel that was promised to me.

Because of Richard’s presence, we were shy about expressing ourselves to each other. Things were a bit awkward at first, but later, our conversation became easier and laughter-filled. Then the day waned and it was dark in the room. I moved closer to Rahman o the bed, and kissed him. He responded, claiming my lips with a two-year hunger that matched mine.

Whispered words of affection and the passionate kissing led me to slide down to suck him. He moaned the moment my mouth encircled his dick in my warm wetness. At this point, Richard clued in on wat was going on and quietly left the room.

With nothing to hold us back, we unleashed our passions. Rahman buried his mouth and tongue in the very depths of my asshole, spit-lubing me as foreplay for some intense fucking that was yet to come. His lovemaking was gentle and perfect. He drew me close to him as he pounded deep inside me, gripping me by the neck and throat. Willingly dominated by him, I rode every thrust, welcoming him inside me.

In the romantic afterglow of our lovemaking, he asked me out again.

And this time, I said yes.

Written by Celio