The Conversation...

"Hello".
"Hi Stella, how are you"?
"Ummm..."
"Stella, are you there"?
"Ummm, yes I am".
"So why did you hesitate before answering"?
"Sorry, I was trying to get into a comfortable position. I am okay now. How now"?
"I dey o, how your side"?
"Very well. I arrived Nigeria two days ago and have been calling you since then. Didn't you see my calls? Why did you not pick"?
"Sorry, I was busy".
"Busy with who again? All these men that keep taking your attention from me"?

She laughed and made herself more comfortable on the bed.

Jeremiah had seen her picture on a friend's Black berry profile and had worried him until he got her contact details. That was a couple of years ago.

Their mutual friend had chatted to give her a heads up and then sent her Jerry's picture.

Average height, average looks, averagely dressed, she placed his age at about late 40s to early 50s.

There was nothing spectacular or breath taking about him, he was an average man. But she had also spent quite a lot of time chasing the spectacular with little or no results. Scratch that, loads of heartbreak, disappointments, cheating... as each relationship ended, she left a little bit of her soul behind.

She was tired of spectacular.

She could do average.

Matter of fact, she WOULD do average.

Bring it on Jeremiah Adeife!

They had never met physically, but had spent countless hours on phone chatting, skypeing, instant messaging... you name it. Meeting physically would be for formalities sake, they had planned his return to Nigeria carefully.

He would come and meet her first and they would have a chance to assess each other physically, confirm that all that chemistry while they chatted on phone could translate to the physical, and maybe they could take it from there.

Just to be sure though, they had gotten engaged over the phone.

"Are you there Stella"?
"Yes"!
"You just laughed now, tell me, I hope none of those small small boys are chasing my property around o. Shebi you know you are mine".
"I told you no na, I always warn them off and tell them that I am already engaged".
"Good girl. So, what will you keep for me when I come"?
"Ah, abi no be me go ask you wetin you bring from abroad"?
"Wrong answer babe. That was not what I was expecting from you".
"Oh sorry darling, what do you want me to keep for you"?
"You know what I like now."
"Honey remind me now".
"Breast"!
"Oh"!
"What do you mean "oh"? You know I have a soft spot for breasts na. And you will give me to suck morning, afternoon and night ba"?

He loved sex. Or at least he said he did.

He talked about it a lot whenever they chatted and over time, they had started to sext and then watch each other masturbate over the internet.

She was not too captivated by sex, but had been priming herself for his obviously high sex wiring.

She was not surprised to hear him talk like this, na him way.

They chit chatted for a few minutes and made elaborate plans for when he would come to visit her.  He promised her he would come see her parents and then they blew each other kisses over the phone and then dropped.

She stood looking at the phone in her hand after he had cut off his line.

He had called her about an hour ago and they had had a disagreement over some trivial issue or the other. He had dropped the phone in anger.

She had had a rethink over her position and dialled his number only to realise she had run out of airtime on that phone.

So she had reached for her other phone. The emergency line which always had airtime however little. The number she hardly gave out or used to place calls.

There were just one or two little things wrong with the conversation that just ended.

Maybe just one.

Her name is NOT Stella.