OGA MI

My two years of frustration, depression, dry finances and boredom had finally come to an end.
I got a job.
It was a construction firm and I was the only lady in my department working along with 7 and a half men.
The half man had no hair on her head, wore men’s clothes and had a man’s voice.
The third day after I resumed work, I started wondering if my big behind wouldn’t land me in trouble.
My backside wasn’t the regular one. Even my friends had to nickname it “Eru” which means “Load”.
That morning, the moment I walked into the company gate, the Hausa gateman left his duty post and followed me.
“Baba, weytin you want?” I asked him, annoyed.
He smiled and said,
“Walahi ta lai, na me fine pass for this office. That thing wey dey for my back, e dey kill me anytime I look am.”
I hissed and walked briskly into the building.
Later in the afternoon, Dayo, a colleague of mine and I were summoned to the Managing Director’s office.
When we got to the door. I motioned for him to go in first.
He shook his head and said, “Ladies first.”
As I proceeded to go in, I felt his eyes on my backside and heard him whisper, “Wow”
I sighed.
“What was with men and butt???”
We both entered and said,
“Good afternoon Sir”
But there was no reply.
The Managing Director, Mr Sulaimon Goke was a strict, shrewd and wealthy man.
He was also rumored to be a womanizer.
His bald head was bent over his glass table, his eyes fixated on the paper he was holding.
His office was beautifully designed with various artworks and awards adorning the walls and shelves.
Suddenly, he looked up and said,
“Tracy, shut the door well.”
I didn’t move. I didn’t want him to have a full view of my backside. I shot Dayo an icy look.
And pointed to the door.
Dayo didn’t move.
“What kind of idiot is this?
“Who enters an office and doesn’t shut the door properly?” I thought, irritated.
Mr Sulaimon had bent down again. Hurriedly, I turned and shut the door.
I spun around as quickly as I could.
But it was too late.
His head was up and he was licking his lips smiling appreciatively.
Our eyes locked and he said, without breaking his gaze.
“Dayo, get out. I’ll send for you later.”

Thank you for reading.

To be continued.
Owoeye Jesuloba Grace.

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