Lustful Soul

“Get out of her right now in the Name of Jesus! Every foul spirit tormenting this dear child of God, I stand under the grace upon this commission and I decree that you are free in the mighty Name of Jesus! Be loose! Be loose! Get out! Get out now! You demonic spirit of lust, I speak to you in the Name of Jesus and I command that you leave this body right now! You have no place here, her body is the temple of the Holy Ghost. The Bible says whatever we bind on earth is bound in heaven, and whatever we loose on earth is loosed in heaven. He that has been set free is free indeed. We set Jumoke free right now in the Name of Jesus!!!”

I continued to stare at the pastor with as much disinterest as my face could muster. I was no possessed child of God. Neither was my soul fighting with any spirit of lust. It just so happened that time and chance brought me to the position I was currently in. Nevertheless, I did not want the pastor to feel like he had been wasting his time and energy. One had to reward this degree of acting, and I decided to oblige. It was my turn to act my role with finesse.

“Who do you think you are to challenge me?! Do you know who I am? I am the princess of the marine! I hold the lives of men from all ages, tribes, and races in the palm of my hands. Who are you to think you can touch me?! Get out! Before I show people what the power of the marine looks and feels like. You imbecile!” I added a bit of special effects by shaking hysterically and muttering inaudible sounds.

The look on my mother’s face was enough proof that I had done a good job. No amount of foundation and lipstick could mask the horror on her face as she watched me break into a frenzy. She tried to run towards me to hold me but the other intercessors stopped her and dragged her back to themselves as if touching me would immediately teleport her to hell where the ‘demon’ in me was dwelling.

“Iya Jumoke e fi le. E je ki Oluso se ise re. Leave Jumoke and let the man of God do his job. He knows what he is doing. All we can do is to continue praying. Let us have faith and believe. She will emerge victorious, believe me.”

My mom looked at them, then turned to face me, after which she looked at the struggling pastor, then back at me before yelling, “Jumoke oh!!!” Before anyone could understand what was happening, we heard the loud thud of my subconscious mother. It was at that point that I realized the gravity of the situation at hand.

>>>>>>>>>>>

Hugs have never been my favourite thing in the world. It always felt like I was being forced into a domain that I wasn’t interested in entering. I mean, why would you just drag someone’s body into yours and force her head into your chest, if it’s not ment? Or so I thought until the day I met Deba.

Osedebame was six feet four inches of black perfection. Every single thing about him oozed sexuality at its finest, and he walked around with full confidence in his aura. Whenever he strolled past, he would get double checks from at least three girls and single checks from literally everyone he walked past– male and female. Not a single day passed by without him getting letters and gifts from secret admirers.

He would step out of the class to ease himself and come back to meet lunch already provided for by someone in the class, together with a note where the person professed his or her love. The annoyingly cute thing was how he would look up from his gift with genuine surprise and gratitude around the class as if trying to find the culprit so he could thank them more personally. This encouraged many girls to continue expressing themselves to him silently. Everyone wanted him to know how they felt about him. Everyone except me, that is.

“Oh please, he’s just a pretentious player. I’m pretty sure he sleeps with all the girls he identifies, that’s the only reasonable reason why they would continue to send him gifts and love letters. I mean, why would any smart and sensible female fall for an obvious casanova like Deba? Although, I think the most disturbing part of the whole thing for me is watching the ‘gaybriels’ profess their love to him. Like what the fuck though, why would you choose to fall for a guy with all the beautiful and sexy girls the world has to offer?!”

Yet, these strange creatures would knit him mufflers and cook him lunch, all so he could send a smile across their way. It was inconceivable to my very heterosexual mind. I was the only one that seemed to be immune to the lover boy’s charms and it was no surprise that I eventually became a target of hatred and malice.

“Who does she think she is? She’s just a nobody that’s trying to get Deba’s attention by acting like she doesn’t give a damn about him when it’s obvious that her sly foxy ass is always stealing glances at him during class. Ugh! I hate pretentious people, they are the worst of all scums!”

Well, I had heard worse and I knew even worse was coming. Still, I wasn’t going to give in. I was not going to be dumb enough to join the crowd of simps that he was hoarding.

“No way man! Jumoke you won’t!”

I was still thinking to myself when I bumped into something chiseled and sturdy, like a fine iron sculpture. The only difference was that this iron sculpture did not feel cold or painful. It was warm and welcoming.

Instinctively, I felt my arms rising to reach out to him in an embrace, the way a newborn instinctively scoots to its mother’s nipples for breast milk. I was able to catch myself in time and stop my hand from reacting to his body, but I wasn’t fast enough to stop myself from letting a small moan escape. I silently prayed that he did not hear it and maneuvered my way into the throng of students that we’re trying to get to their next class.

***

Weeks rolled into months since the chest bump incident and I had been hiding from him ever since then. The emotions I felt within the five seconds contact I had with him was enough to warn me of how dangerous running into him again would be. I was not going to take any risk. Immediately, Davido’s voice singing the word “risky…” flashed through my mind. I shook my head subconsciously and reminded myself that I was going to keep myself far away from the dangerous six feet plus hottie.

So much for resolutions, by a very annoying twist of fate, I saw myself running into the same human I had been avoiding for months. I had just finished four back to back classes that spanned two hours periods. 4pm found me sitting in front of Madam Othentic canteen shoving down morsels of Amala and struggling with the shaki that refused to be broken down into smaller bits in my mouth. I looked ravenous but I did not care.

“It’s not me that this useless department want to use ulcer to kill. God forbid bad thing. I go chop till my teeth pain me today.” I continued clearing plate after plate of Amala and ewedu mixed with gbegiri until I ate five wraps of Amala. After clearing my last obstacle, I heaved a deep sigh and used the toothpick given to me to remove the stubborn bits of meat that refused to leave in between my teeth.

I was in the middle of my tooth pick battle when I suddenly felt a pair of eyes boring into my forehead. I raised my eyes and watched the look of pure surprise and amusement on Deba’s face. I must have appeared to him like a caveman struggling with a bone. I rested my hand back on the table, slowly and shamefully. He cleared his throat and I could see the mirth in his eyes as he spoke.

“I guess someone has been working really hard to hold in that hunger for eight hours. If you were that hungry why didn’t you just take permission from the lecturer and buy yourself a snack at least so you can eat while he teaches? At least you wouldn’t be this hungry if you had done that. I mean… just take a look at you. You look like you just won a battle on the planet of the apes. You look very primal right now, like a caveman.”

I was all red alright. Nobody had ever smarted me like that because no one had ever watched my hungry ass clear plates of Amala and ewedu soup, decorated with borokoto, shaki, goat meat and even beef. Let no one ask me how I planned to stuff it all in my tummy either. My body size and my appetite usually contrast each other so no one ever expects me to eat the way I do. I knew this too and that was why I always made sure to eat before leaving home and always rushed back immediately after class to eat. Ulcer pain was no joke.

“You know, for someone as uptight and reserved as you are, you eat like you are in a competition. I must say I’m surprised. And to be honest, I’m a bit relieved.” He leaned in and whispered the “I’m a bit relieved” part to my ear. I carried my handbag and my flushed face to the cashier to buy an extra bottle of table water because I knew I would need it on the way after that shock. I had never felt so embarrassed in my life, but strangely enough I felt relieved.

I’ve always had low self esteem issues. Mine wasn’t the regular type people had because even I could tell that I needed therapy. Ever since I became a teenager, I started becoming conscious about my body, I had found it difficult to eat outside. I rejected invites to parties and hangouts because of it and lost so many good friends that misunderstood it as me being proud. I couldn’t blame them either because I understood their pain. I simply accepted my lonely fate like that.

This was the first time I had been seen eating outside and even though I must have looked like a rabid dog while devouring my food, I didn’t get laughed at or scorned. It made me feel a bit confident in myself. I concluded that maybe Deba wasn’t as bad as I thought him to be and I wanted to be friends with this person that saw the real me and accepted her like that.

***

Weeks turned to months and I could see myself getting closer and closer to Deba. He would take me out on evening walks and arrange unexpected hangouts like coffee dates. He never failed to bring me flowers when we met and eventually it was no secret to anyone that something was going on between the two of us. The only problem was that nothing was actually going on between the two of us. Deba had refused to ask me out. At some point it started getting embarrassing because people were already calling me his girlfriend when he wasn’t.

It all became clear one night when he asked me if we could have a gang bang to spice things up in our “relationship”. I was going to vehemently reject his offer because I thought he was talking about me and other girls, but then he shocked me and told me he wanted to make it three guys and me. I took it as a joke but agreed either way, waiting for him to tell me he was only trying to prank me. We selected the date, time and venue. I was in for a big surprise.

After the night of the gang bang, I understood why dear Deba hadn’t asked me out even though he had been flocking around me for months.

“Deba is gay…”

At first I was really pissed. Dude was gay but was using me as a cover so people wouldn’t notice. We had only made out in the past months. I had thought he was trying to take things slow. Apparently, he was only using me to protect his queer identity. Bruised, I questioned him about it to get my answers.

“Why me? Why lie? When did he know he was queer? How does he explore his sexuality in s homophobic country like Nigeria? Did he have a legit gay partner he was dating for real?…” My list was endless.

Surprisingly, he answered all my questions and even provided me with additional information. After hearing everything he had to say, I couldn’t help but accept his apology. It honestly wasn’t because he bought me the biggest cup size of Cold Stone ice cream, a cute little puppy and a bouquet of flowers, while kneeling and making the most adorable puppy eyes I had ever seen. It really wasn’t because of that. I accept his apology and request to keep the charade going. It was uncomfortable at first but I became accustomed to it. We even diversified a bit and started having orgies instead. It was at that point that the true lustfulness in me emerged.

I became a pansexual nymph that wanted to jump everything it was remotely attracted to. I eventually ended up contracting Hepatitis A Virus (HAV), and it was too serious a condition to treat by myself. It was at that point that my mom discovered what was wrong with me and decided that I was possessed by the spirit of lust. She booked an appointment with her pastors and together with the intercessors in the church, they fought hard to release me from the “hold of the demon of lust.”

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