Now, let me explain. Home, according to him, was his house.

“I once followed a talking stage to the club, not because he asked, but because i wanted to. A calculated risk, and baby, I came prepared.

I wore an extremely short dress, the kind that disrespects weather, morals, and physics. The kind that if you dared to bend over, the ancestors would look away in shame. It was giving dangerously delicious, and I knew it.

He, on the other hand, wore a fresh white shirt and fitted jeans. He looked like he smelled of ego, cologne, and expectations. As we danced, he kept ordering drinks. The lights were flashing, waistlines whining, and somewhere in the chaos, I remembered I had already told him:


I don’t do well with alcohol. But did he listen? No. He kept the glasses coming like he was trying to baptize me into hangover nation.

After gulping my last glass, I flipped the switch, entered my drunken baddie era. I started whispering premium nonsense into his ears. Stuff like “Zaddy, I can’t wait to be in your bed… my body yearns for you so much.”

Boom. That was it. Immediately, his body language shifted. Man started acting like he just won a scholarship to sin. He rushed us out of the club like a I d with a deadline. “Let’s go home,” he said.

Now, let me explain. Home, according to him, was his house.


On our way, man had the audacity…THE AUDACITY to call his friend, put the call on speaker, and say, “Guy, this babe don high… I swear, tonight go mad. I dey carry am go house now. She dey already give me green light.”

In my still-very-much-sober mind, I screamed oh really? But in my Oscar-worthy performance, I giggled drunkenly and said, “Wait, baby. Can we quickly branch my house? I wanna grab my undies and an extra dress. I’m spending the whole weekend with youuuu.”

He almost tore the steering turning into my street.

As we got to my place, I stepped out of the car like I was entering a bridal suite, leaned into his ear and whispered seductively, “Wait for me baby…”, the kind of whisper that unlocks nonsense in men.

I got inside, locked the door behind me, stripped, took a long relaxing bath, put my phone on vibration, and slept like a newborn.

No guilt. No shame. Just peace. 



By the time I woke up the next morning, my phone looked like it had been in a custody battle. 20 missed calls. One message on the lock screen:

“You are heartless.”

I smiled and texted ….”I want you baby”.

Zaddy texted me and said i will hear from his legal team but before then he will show me pepper.... I know he has a lot of military friends, so I've planned on moving to another apartment before the end of this month... Before soldiers will destroy my fine face with beating lol” RUDA

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