Part 2: The things we address, when we undress

The lady puts baby powder over my private parts concluding the ordeal, and cautions about bathing and something else. I don\'t heed what she is saying, just glad it\'s over. I thank her for tugging on my cover-up. My skin tingles, sensitive, and smooth.

He texts: How did it go?

I reply: Painful but worth it.

Seconds later, a licking emoji. I blush, grinning at my phone like a schoolgirl.

By the time I reach his house, Izzy is already waiting outside. Within minutes, we’re poolside, margaritas in hand. I snapped a picture of the drink. “Wishing you were here.” He hearts it.

The house keys jingle in my fingers, and I trace them with my thumb. His house keys. My heart skips. That small gesture... trust, intimacy, access. Yoh, these mjolo streets aren\'t as bad.

Izzy smirks. “Ah, you’re blushing a lot with this one, hey...”

I grin, swirling the margarita. “I am... starting to like him.”

“Hey, don’t forget he’s still married,” Izzy warns.

I laugh. “She just needs to sign the papers. And he’s making sure I’m not caught up in the drama. I like where we are at.”

She raises an eyebrow. “And the bedroom then? Spill.”

I bite my lip, laughing. “Yoh. He’s stubborn, serious in public, all Omurumendu this, Omurumendu that... But in bed? He surprises you. Gentle, persistent... then he asks for... other things.”

Izzy raises her brows. “You mean he wants the back door?”

“Well... don’t all men want that?” I shrug, grinning.

She chuckles, swirling her drink. “Hmmm. Now that I think about it... maybe some rumours have legs. Isn’t his wife or soon-to-be ex-wife, as you’d like to call her, a bit boyish-looking?”

I smirk. “Hey, that isn’t nice to say.”

“Eish, babes,” Izzy continues, leaning back, staring at herself in one of his big, fancy mirrors. “We’re baddies, but that woman... She\'s like a tomboy. Never understood why he stayed with her.”

I roll my eyes. “Etse, stop it.”

Izzy leans closer, whispering with a grin. “Not to sound k@k, but a well-accomplished man like him... should have been with you know a yellow bone... instead. Do you think she may have liked it from the back door?”

I laugh softly. “Izzy, he’s a well-travelled man, and he hasn’t asked me for that again... so let’s leave it at that.”

She shrugs. “I’m just saying, math isn’t mathing. She looks like a dude.”

I try to discard the thought, eyeing the LV handbag he gifted me before leaving for site. “I think I’m finally opening myself to someone... and I don’t want to entertain this...”

Suddenly, the front door crackles open.

We freeze.

A shadow in the doorway.

She’s frail, jittery, eyes darting like a caged bird. His ex-wife, well, soon-to-be ex Samantha.

Shock flashes across her face when she sees me. Izzy shifts, ready to pounce if needed.

“I’m sorry to disturb... whatever this is,” Samantha mutters. “I just thought I’d let myself in, grab some of my things. He’s refusing to give me back my mirror.”

She points to the huge, ornate mirror Izzy had been admiring moments ago. Before we can stop her, she pours herself a glass of our margarita mix. “I’m parched,” she says, eyes dancing.

Then she laughs. “So you’re who he’s replacing me with... “ she utters, swirling the drink. I am visibly uncomfortable, Izzy is inching closer..

“Relax....you’re not really my competition,” Samantha adds.

*Ozon?u Chronicles; uncovers the secrets that never see daylight. Each story is fiction. Yet, as you read, you may sense that reality has already whispered its own version. For readers 18 and older.