Previously on THE COMPETITION…
Later in the day, while devouring my KFC chicken in my new hotel room, I sent a message to Chief Okpo’s first son on WhatsApp. He and I had been close friends as teenagers, but adulting had made us grow distant. But we were still frequent chatmates.
“I met your dad today,” I texted him. And fucked him too. “He looks so good.”
He replied almost immediately. “Wow! That’s nice. Did you see Chibuike too?”
Chibuike is his youngest brother.
“Chibuike is in Nigeria?”
“Yes. He’s managing dad’s subsidiary firm. But he stays with our grandma. He often goes over to dad’s place though. I’m surprised you didn’t meet him.”
“No, I didn’t.”
But I would.
Growing up, Chibuike was effeminate. We called him “omeka nwanyi.” He was also a really beautiful child. Tall, plump, and light-skinned. The times Chief Okpo’s kids visited Nigeria, I would go out to play football with Chibuike’s brothers, and he, the youngest, would be at home. He was really reserved and quiet.
One day, everyone was out and I was in the house alone with him. He invited me to his room to watch a romcom with him. During one of the kissing scenes, he said, “I wonder what that will feel like.”
“You’ve never kissed anyone?” I asked.
He didn’t reply.
“Alright, can I show you?” I asked.
He didn’t respond. I took his lack of reply as consent; I’d always wanted to find out what his lips felt and tasted like. He had the prettiest lips I’d ever seen, so pink and soft-looking.
And when we kissed, the experience was not at all a disappointment for me. Those lips, even at that age, gave good on the promise they presented.
I went to their grandmother’s house that evening.
The gateman asked me who I was looking for.
“Tell Mama that it is Nwa Gilbert,” I said.
Some minutes passed, and soon, the gateman was letting me in.
I met the old lady in her living room and greeted her effusively. Her response was warm.
“Nna, isi ka ibia fu anyi tata,” she said, pulling me into a hug.
She’d had a great fondness for my father’s elder brother, who was her son, Chief Okpo’s friend. There were stories when we were growing up about how the two men were regarded as twins when they were boys, and Mama often remarked that I looked very much like my uncle.
In the next couple of hours, me and her gisted. She did most of the talking though, entertaining me with several stories. And I listened, interjecting with the right responses. If the Chibuike I knew was still the introvert, then I understood the woman’s enthusiasm with me; she must not have much of a conversational companion in her grandson.
At some point, I asked, “Mama, kedu time Chibuike ji abata?”
“Ebe six ma obu seven,” she replied.
And I waited, gisting and laughing with her.
Chibuike came back around seven-thirty. He looked every inch like the ‘nwa mummy’ he was growing up. even in that late hour, his fair skin had the suppleness of one who didn’t go out too much under the sun. He had a small gut, and an even more protrusive ass.
It took him a while to recognize me, and when he did, his pleasure was evident.
Eventually, Mama retired to her room, and soon after, Chibuike and I went to his room.
“You no bring anything for me from yankee?” I asked with a smile.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take you shopping tomorrow and you can pick anything you want,” he said.
“You be big boy nah. I hear say na you dey manage one whole company.”
He shrugged in the typical Chibuike way. I suspected he had reached his maximum talking limit for the day.
There were hardly any more words that needed to be spoken anyway. I went close to him and took his mouth in a kiss.
And everything else we did from then really required no words. The sex was wild and energetic. We fucked in different positions and in every corner of the room. For someone who didn’t talk too much, he expressed himself very vigorously with his ass, taking my dick like a champ.
We were at it most of the night, and when we were done with whatever round finally exhausted us, I told him about the Mr. Man competition. I told him he could forget about the shopping, if he could just help me with this. He told me not to worry, that he could do both.
And he did.
Small Devil: Now that you’re back from all the ashawo work you’ve done, what do you intend to do with all this money?
Small Angel: Remember, Higwe, participating in that competition will give you more visibility.
Small Devil: What kind of yeye visibility? How many people from that competition have turned to actual stars, like legit bona fide celebrities?
Small Angel: You might be an exception.
Small Devil: What are the chances of that happening? Look, Higwe, you have more than enough money now. Use the money and buy fake followers, post more thirst-trap photos and supplement them with regular photos. And you’re good to go. I mean, have you learned nothing at all so far?
Me: “Can the two of you just shut up for one second and let me think!”
I stared at my recently-purchased iPhone 6. The whole process of transferring sim had made me ignore my WhatsApp messages, and now, I could see that I had a litany of unaddressed messages. The most prominent was from Vidi, who had left 23 messages. He wanted to know about my whereabouts, was asking how I was preparing, and in the last message, he said I should call him as he had an urgent message, a helpful scoop about the Mr. Man competition.
I stared at his profile for a few minutes, and then clicked Block.
The Small Devil burst out into laughter. The Small Angel soon joined him. And I completed the trio, as the three of us laughed deliriously.
Written by Higwe