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The story of a young woman's walk through life and the trauma of sexual exploitation.


Submitted:Sep 16, 2013    Reads: 11    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


14th April 2005

She knows her eyes are beautiful. Large, luminous, almond shaped, titling upwards at the edges and mischievous. She has heard it said that their most endearing quality is their complete expressiveness. She hears it all the time. They say they can tell exactly what she thinks from looking into her eyes.

Today, sitting across him in the small office stacked wall to wall with old dusty tomes; a small desk creaking from the weight of books, papers, records, tapes, pens, knick knacks, squeaky old CD player and pictures of his family, she watches him watch her hoping he cannot read her relief, expectation and minor apprehension.

Hmm, Pretty and perky he thinks to himself…

"Sir, will you help me? I have a lot riding on this result and I would really hate to fail. .."

"Indeed you do" he said sitting up "A Pass' result after 4 years of school is a damnable thing. Chances of a job are slim to nonexistent. It says a lot for your presence of mind that you found your way to the one person who has the ability to extricate you from your mess." His broad face melts into a smile.

Hope and respite flood her. He sees it in her eyes. Encouraged, he proceeds; a new feral gleam in his eyes.

"Tell me, what are you willing to give, for it..?"

Going from surprise to distaste, she gives him a long hard stare. He's a small man, wiry and thin. She looks on in disbelief . Surely this silly little man cannot be asking what I think he's asking?

He rises without wasted movement placing both hands on the table to raise his weight, takes two long strides which brings him to her side of the table, grabs her arms and lifts her off the sit and slams her bodily against the wall. It happens so fast she had no time to think. She struggles to slither out of his painful grip. He does not relent. She screams but his hand finds her mouth. Covering her face with his large palms he begins to, whisper

"I can help you , allow me help you; scream all you want , no one will hear your screeching in here" muttering into her neck and grinding himself against her, he seems blinded to the fact that this is one of a number of not so private offices down the faculty walk way. He is blinded in his groping, sweating lost to the fact that anyone can kick the door open .

She struggles in earnest now. Extremely surprised that a person so frail looking can be so strong. It suddenly dawns on her that she is going to be raped by this vile pervert. With renewed vigor she screams, pushes, fights, kicks, bites, tears cascading down her face

He slaps her. Four times across the face. Four hard meditated slaps aimed at forcing her to his will .Glancing up in glee to assess the work of his hands, he smiles ecstatically as he sees the blood seeping from her nose and mouth.

She doesn't hear it coming,. the rent in her pristine white shirt takes four out of the six buttons off. Screaming like a mad animal she turns on him sinking her teeth in his shoulder until she tastes the metallic tang of blood; holding her jaws in place, she rams her knee into his groin.

His screams can be heard all the way to the school gate.

Hobbling out the door into the dusk, face bloodied, teeth vampirish, one shoe missing… she vows.

Never Again.

A curious passerby looks into her eyes as she hobbled down the staircase towards the faculty exit, silently trying to deduce the story. She looks up and stares straight at him. He hastily continues his movement up the staircase.. Never before has he seen so much... hate.

1st June 2011

It is blistering cold. The rain falls in sleets hitting the broiler tanks on the roof of the office complex. Hissing sounds fill the air as steam struggles to disseminate. Just like a scene from Dante's inferno. She sits on a chair in the cubicle which is the work space of the chief engineer. Eyes polite, expression guarded and wary. Its been a long hard 6 years, hopefully if she closes this sale, she thinks, she will secure this elusive job which her poor class of degree has so far been unable to provide her.

Hard, cold, calculating sea green eyes stare at her from a weather beaten face. His forehead, eyes, chin, and mouth are crisscrossed with deep lines. Brown eyes planted on shallow socked on a head full of preternaturally white hair, obviously bleached by the unrelenting African sun stare down at her as powerful brown hands bearing evidence of sun burns hold the cheques up in the air..

"I have the cheques and you need this job. Just what are you willing to give, for it..?"

Her stomach churns, Why always me ? she wonders…

She looks up to see him take swift steps towards her and experiences an odd sense of déjà vu. Suddenly everything appears in stark detail. The gloss of paint from the tank boilers seems to sweat and come alive. The steam from the engine room curls and dissipates like ethereal cotton candy.

Seeing him clearly for the first time , she notices the mischievous leer is gone . In place instead is lust. Ugly lust. Recurring ugly lustbent on exacting payment for a job yet to be delivered. He is a small sinewy man, but she has since learnt not to dismiss a person's physical abilities on the basis of his size.

She goes on her knees, pleading.

"Please don't ask this . It isn't in the bargain.'

"The way I look at it, you're in no position to dictate terms." He says, taking off his belt. Blatant disregard now registers on his features, disdain emanates from him like an odious cloud.

"Nigerian girls. All the same. Self-centered and self-serving. Only interested in what can be obtained from the white man .I ask again, what are you willing to do in return?"

The thought of long queues, interview searches and recruiter scams, who take what little money you had in exchange for job placements which never come fills her mind. She stands up; all steely grace trying to salvage what dignity can be retained from this unpleasant situation.

Pulling apart the buttons of her red silk blouse she disrobes. In a few minutes she stands nude, eyes downcast. Waiting for him.

His excitement is now palpable. Rising to his full height which comes to the middle of her chest, he fiddles with the belt loop of his trousers and runs the other calloused palm down the small of her back whispering. "Not like this. Down on your knees… on all fours please"

It lands on her naked back sending ice cold pain in all directions of her body. She screams, but this only brings the belt down again and again, in a frenzy of fury. She didn't see that coming.

Back outside she stumbles into the rain. Cheques in hand, job secure. But the price…; Her eyes, they're no longer polite and guarded. They register Indifference.

18th November 2018

The office is well apportioned. Marble floors, floor to ceiling windows, silent AC's cooling at comfortable temperature, glass and chrome office fittings, Wall planters. Shiny leather bound volumes are stacked in multi- hued glass shelves. Everything is sleek and polished , just like the Chief procurement officer who sits on a black sleek leather air chair which barely supports his weight. His desk a wide mahogany and leather creation is cut out in a wide arc to accommodate his considerable girth.

He sits contentedly, looking with assessing penetrating lizard [M1] eyes. His well-manicured fingers hold the purchase order. She recognizes the look and knows the words that have become familiar.

"Here in my hand Madam is the contract you have been pursuing. My question is…" she echoes, cutting him short "what are you willing to do for it?"

Surprise, pleasure, a satisfied grin; the look of a lecher spreads across his well-fed features. "I see you're not new to the game" he says smiling.

She smiles back "Indeed I'm not ... sign the documents, pass them over, then name a time and place"

Reaching over, he runs his hand across her thigh. Quickly rising up he stretches out, lifting the first robe of his Babariga in one quick deft movement and beckoning on her to do the same. "I never assumed there was something wrong with this office . What's with right now?"

*** *** ***

Her smile as she emerges is sinister. In her hands she holds the fully executed purchase order. She's rich. Finally. Gone is the question. Replaced by the certainty "This is what I'm willing to give" She feels nothing and her eyes... They're dead.

22nd February 2028

Sited cross-legged in the party chairman's office, she cuts an image of expensive taste, class and well preserved beauty. Her makeup, jewelry and apparel characterize her as one who effortlessly exudes wealth and power. She sits haughtily in a private waiting room in front of an obviously nervous and intimidated secretary.

At the door, standing three paces away from each other are two supremely built aides. They hold brown crocodile skin patent leather brief cases in each hand. The bulge under their suits cannot be logically attributed to muscle.

"The Chairman will see you now" squeaks the young lady behind the system after speaking briefly on the intercom.

She rises, adjusts her hair with a gold compact. Patting her lips, she motions to the aides to walk behind her as she strides long legged into the Chairman's office.

"Ahh there you are", he smiles as he rises to hug her affectionately. His perfume wrapping her sensibilities in warmth. She sighs and hugs him back. Her eyes radiate trust and confidence. Here is a man with whom she feels safe.

The hug lasts a second too long. His hand lingers a micro second too familiar. The hairs on her back prickle. She pulls back and sits down. "How have you been Sir?" He is now staring at her with an odd sort of intensity. "How are you my dear" he says, stroking her hands. "Hope you have been safe and staying out of trouble", hands stroking upwards, gradually getting warmer, in the direction of her elbows and upper arm.

She smiles eyes on full blown charm retrieving her arm. "Let's not digress My Chairman." She begins"I'm here to discuss issues as they concern my nomination for the Party ticket' I have provided everything stipulated on the list. Please guide me as to the way forward."

"Ahh good girl" he smiles, taking on a look of paternal pride. Motioning for the aides to drop the cases and leave, he gets up from his sit, walks across the room and shuts the door which closes firmly a quiet click.

Turning back to her he says," come, sit with me over here. This couch just came in from Venice. Let's see if it what legend says it is. Here have a drink". Lifting a small crystal glass to her, he offers her the warm golden brown liquid, poured over cubes of ice.

Suddenly the air in the office crackles with tension. He sits, draws up close, lifts her hand, and places it on his thigh... the hair on the back of her neck rises. She doesn't say a word. He keeps on straight faced, sipping slowly. "Just how much is in those suitcases...?"

She answers, what you requested, plus an additional half a million." He smiles, "you are an apt protégée. Everything so nice and compact. Nigerian currency doesn't lend itself well to being carted around. So bulky, so ungainly… so … unlike you."

Her mind is getting wet. Memories crash like waves in her head, the lovely warm drink is creating a smooth pathway through her chest to her stomach… Sensing reticence and attempting to reassure, he smiles at her, running her hand up and down his obvious erection. Abruptly standing up he lifts her with him, pushing her gently against the wall... She blinks as she sees a small bearded lecturer who reeks of whisky He mumbles slowly into her neck "money cannot be motivation for me Nefat you are all the motivation I need" but she hears the muttering of another from her past… vile and repulsive. Looking up again now confused she sees a pair of cold sea green eyes… Waves crash… Boundaries break. Placing a firm hand on her shoulder, he tries to bring her head down. Memories flood back; recollections of going down on all fours and the pain from the whiplash on her back tingle her spine. Resisting, she pulls herself back up.

He removes his belt to free himself from the confines of his clothes: But what she sees is a mean, nasty, pasty faced dog commanding her to go down. Revulsion, anger and rage flood her as she looks up and recalls in shameful agonizing detail her past….

The crystal glass cracks against the wall. He can no longer see. So blinded is he by possibilities. She squeezes his nipples and he groans helplessly deeply thrusting his pelvis and crushing her with his weight. Reaching under the voluminous skirts of her gown, he caresses smooth skin and grabs soft flesh all the while pushing himself faster and faster, his harsh breathing filling the air...

Suddenly she feels sick. Overcome by bile and disgust she grips the broken crystal cutting herself. Just as he begins to scream in climax she shoves it deep into his throat.

Eyes widen in confusion and surprise as the pleasure comes in waves. Without notice excruciating pain registers and he roars in disbelief! Eyes popping, mouth agape. The words try to form but only bloody bubbles burst forth …

He didn't see that coming.

They say she smiled as they led her away. They say her eyes…

They looked truly happy.





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