Thursday, 14 September 2017

Taxi Man and the Sleeping Beauty

Baba Bolu, as he was called by everyone that knew him, leaned against the rusty frame of his yellow taxi, ‘shadowing’ for passengers. His bald pate glistened in the punishing Lagos afternoon sun as he screamed at the last decibel of his paraga strained voice: “One last chance, one last chance”.

The taxi, an old Golf that had seen seven other owners before it ended up in his hands, was better qualified as a cab since it was used not for individual drops, but to pick several passengers and drop them off along a fixed route.

As he called out, Baba Bolu kept looking back into the taxi to ascertain that the passengers already seated therein were not dropping off in anger. “Make una no worry o. The last person go soon enter,” he kept assuring them.

“One last chance, one last chance,” he called out again, and stopped when a young woman approached the taxi. Thanking God that his ride was now full, he eagerly told her, “Oya enter, Aunti, make we dey go sharp sharp.”

He opened the door of the back seat and as he did, the man that was sitting close to the door jumped out and waved her towards the middle seat.

“But which kind thing be that,” Baba Bolu protested on the lady’s behalf. “Na you suppose move to that seat for middle because na she just dey enter.

“That one no get meaning,” the man responded. “Na anywhere I like I fit sit and because I enter this motor before her, I get more right to choose the seat wey I want.”

Any further protest from Baba Bolu was silenced by the lady herself. She wordlessly and without any anger moved into the middle seat she had been offered and quietly sat there.

“You see. Person wey you dey fight for no even send sef. She no complain at all,” the man chided Baba Bolu as he got back into the cab.

Na better person na; she no be wahala person like you,” Baba Bolu chided right back as he moved sprightly and let himself into the driver seat of the cab. He was in his early fifties but had the agility of a man ten years younger, this he attributed to the energetic nature of his job and his daily dose of paraga.

He started the engine and was soon taxi-ing down the bumpy Agege road.

As usual, there was a lot of traffic, and as always, it set Baba Bolu’s nerve on end. He hated traffic more than any other thing; hated being in one position for long.

He started fidgeting impatiently in his seat, then his eyes wandered again to the rearview mirror to catch another glimpse of the pretty young woman sitting in the middle seat; the woman he had picked up last. He had noticed and appreciated her beauty as she entered the cab, even while he’d been arguing with that other man.

She was prettier than an angel, very light-skinned and beautifully dressed in a pink flower-patterned blouse and plain pink skirt. Even more arresting was the fact that she had on a wide-brimmed brown hat with a pink ribbon around it, probably to protect her fair-complexioned face from the harsh Lagos sun. She was an embodiment of the word ‘lady’.

Shey women like this still dey for this Lagos sha? She be like all those oyinbo missionary lady them wey I dey see when I small,” Baba Bolu said to himself with a small private smile. “Wetin this kind woman dey find for inside this hot Lagos sun for this our kind area. She suppose dey oyinbo land or dey live for Victoria Island, get her own car and driver.”

He stole another glance in the mirror and saw that the young woman had her head flung back on the back rest of the seat. She looked like someone asleep.

Oga, oya move now. The traffic don dey move,” the voice of the passenger beside him startled him out of his ‘admiration’ haze. He returned his focus back to the road and took his foot off the brake.

But even as he moved slowly along with the slow-moving traffic, his eyes kept wandering time and again to the view in the back seat. The young woman was indeed sleeping. She had not moved one inch in all the time he had been staring at her, and the way her lips were slightly parted, there was no doubt she was fast asleep.

One after the other, the passengers began to drop off at their various bus stops. First the man beside him, then a plump woman by the window at the back.

When it was the turn of the man who had made the young woman take the middle seat, he hesitated and asked Baba Bolu, “This one wey dey sleep since for here, you no go wake am ask her where she wan drop?”, then went his way.

Aunti, aunti, where you dey drop,” Baba Bolu called out to the sleeping beauty. No response. She slept on.

He shrugged. “When I reach garage sha, you go sha wake up. And if I don pass your bus-stop na your palava be that.”

But he had moved only a couple of metres more, when he was suddenly gripped by fear and panic. What if the girl was not sleeping? What if she had passed out? What if, worse still, she was dead?

Olorun maje a ri akoba adaba,” Baba Bolu exclaimed, asking God not to let him come across what would land him in trouble. He slammed down the brakes once he found a good spot to park, turned off the engine and rushed to the back seat.

Aunti, aunti, wake up,” he shook the young woman. “Wake up. Which kind wahala be this?”

Her hat slopped down her head a bit when he shook her but still she did not wake up.

She was indeed quite young; he could see that now with her hat off her face. She couldn’t be more than 21 at the most. He could also tell that she was sleeping and not dead like he feared. He could hear her breath wheezing gently in and out of her slightly open mouth.

But to be very sure, he laid his hand just beneath her left breast to detect her heartbeat. She was breathing. He could feel her heart rise and fall through the light material of her blouse and through the soft flesh beneath.

Yet he did not move away, his hand remained resting on her, lingering on the feel of her warm skin underneath her blouse and the soft mound that was her breast pressed slightly to the top of his hand. He pressed the hand down a bit more. Still no reaction from her; no protest.

Baba Bolu’s heart started pounding fast as his thoughts moved from the fear of having a dead or comatose woman on his hands, to the thrill of being able to touch her unstopped. His hand moved up a bit so that the top of it pressed more firmly against the soft mound of her breast.

Aunti, you no go wake?” he called out again, but his voice was barely a whisper. 

His hand moved up and gave the breast a quick squeeze before darting away, like a child taking a quick dive into his mother’s cooking pot.

Still no reaction from the sleeping woman.

His breath was now coming out in uneven, ragged gasps, and he felt an uncomfortable hardness in his trousers. He wondered fleetingly what the young woman had taken that had knocked her out so, not that he really cared. All that filled his head was the fact that this beauty splayed before him was defenseless and unconscious, and he could do whatever he wanted with her and no one would know. Not even her.

He came out of the back seat and looked quickly around. There were other vehicles and passers-by around but no one was paying his cab and the lone sleeping woman within it any mind. He got back into the driver seat. He needed to get to a very quiet place.

You for just find cold water pour this girl make she wake up by force, his sub-conscious said to him, but was quickly pushed aside by the throbbing in his pants.

He resumed driving but diverted away from his usual route, heading towards the first quiet place that came to his mind; a small bush about a kilometer away. As he drove, he kept throwing glances at the girl in the back seat to reassure himself that she was still fast asleep.

What he planned to do was not too clear in his mind, but he knew for certain that he would get away with whatever it was. When done, he would drop her somewhere busy and whenever she woke up, she would have no idea of what had happened.

His excitement grew.

He got to the bush and drove well into it, so that his vehicle would not be seen by anyone who happened to be passing by. Then got into the back seat with his sleeping passenger.

“Sleeping beauty,” he grinned, exposing teeth that had seen better years, as his hands roamed freely all over the girl’s body. “When I see this kind woman last, not to talk of to dream to touch am?”

He took off her hat, dropped it on the floor of the car, began to grab at her blouse, then stopped.

“If she wake up now, come begin dey shout nko?”

He took off the ribbon on the hat, spread the girl out on the seat with her legs hanging out the open door, raised her hands above her head and tied them with the ribbon. Then he brought out his handkerchief (which was a bit soggy from all the sweat he had wiped off his face with it) and stuck it into her mouth. There was no way she would be able to shout or struggle effectively if she woke up now.

He went back to the blouse and pushed it up to expose her chest. He unclasped her bra and bunched that up too. Now her breasts were naked and exposed to his hungry, lecherous eyes.

Sweeter looking breasts he had never seen, two medium sized fresh mounds with pink tips. Baba Bolu’s hands did not waste time squeezing them like it was a life-saving task, then his mouth followed suit, sucking each nipple loudly and hungrily, his drool running freely and excitedly all over the feast before him.

He paused to look at the girl’s face… she was still sleeping. He removed the gag in her mouth and replaced it with his mouth, kissing and sucking till the pressure in his nether region felt close to explosion.

He returned the gag and looked around again. No one was about; not that he expected them to be.

He pulled off his trousers and boxers completely to set free his turgid member and pulled the girl closer. He pulled her skirt up and forced down her panties. Then he proceeded to insert himself into her. In the small pace of the back seat of the golf, it proved to be difficult task, but Baba Bolu was not to be deterred by anything at that moment. He flung her legs as wide as they could go in that space, slid on top of her and began to do the do.

The moment his body touched hers fully, the girl squirmed beneath him as though she was about to come awake.

“If you like, wake, I go finish wetin I don start,” Baba Bolu grunted as he continued to grind into her. He grinned happily when he looked down at her face and noted she was still sleeping.

“Oh God, oh God,” he groaned as he came close to ejaculation. He took off the gag again and brought his mouth down to hers for another kiss… And her mouth clasped unto his, firmly, then tightly, very tightly till he felt sharp teeth digging into the flesh of his meaty lips; tighter still, till he felt his own blood trickling into his mouth.

The orgasm he had felt coming disappeared at once and he felt himself go limp. All the pleasure he had been feeling was immediately replaced by excruciating pain, pain that came from his mouth and also his back, which seemed like several small knives were tearing into it.

His eyes, hitherto closed in ecstasy, flew open, as he screamed against the mouth that was clinched to his. But the only sound that came out was a gurgling one.

The girl beneath him. Her eyes were open too; she was no longer sleeping and no longer a beauty. The eyes were completely white like someone had washed off the pupils.

Panic and mortal fear welled up in him. With all his strength, he yanked his face away from her mouth and succeeded, but heard a sickening tearing-sucking sound as his lips and a piece of his tongue tore off his face and clung to her mouth as he broke free.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he screamed, his nerve-endings  were dancing in exquisite pain, and blood was flowing freely from his mouth which was now one big, lipless, bloody hole.

Yet he was not completely free. He still couldn’t get off her. Something was still clinging to him and tearing into his back. He looked and saw that her slender, long hands were grabbing him with a strength that they did not look capable of possessing. The digging sensation he was feeling must be from her fingernails tearing into the flesh of his back.

But how? He had tied her hands!

He heard another sucking sound and saw his lips and tongue disappear into her mouth completely, leaving a gaping smile on her lips.

“Thank you, human, for feeding me this afternoon,” she said to him.

Then she dove at his face with her tearing-sucking mouth aimed at his eyes.


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