Tales Of A Broken Heart III

#Tales_of_my_Broken_Heart

Chapter 3..


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By the time the day’s work was over, my fancy for Dayo had waned a bit; I was already fantasizing about Samson.

I remember driving home from work and praying for him to call again with the same request.

When I got home I got myself ready and waited for his call. It didn’t come.

However another call came. Dayo was in my neighbourhood and had called to check on me.

His call wasn’t the one I was expecting, so I brushed him off.

But on a second thought I called him back and asked if he was leaving my neighbourhood immediately and he said no.

He was actually waiting for his friend who was not at home. So I told him that I was coming out to bask in the evening breeze with him while he waited for his friend.

He told me where he was and in a few minutes I arrived there in a taxi. I was spotting an adidas T-shirt and a pair of Loro Piana black trouser. I like flat slip-on footwears, so I wore one and had my handheld devices in a purse which I clutched unto.

I spent about two hours with him that evening before his friend called to inform him that he was home.

Those two hours were amazing for me.

Dayo had knowledge about everything, and I happened to have a bent for intelligent guys.

I almost asked him to take me home. Knowledge flowed from his mouth like water from a fountain. The sound of his voice was polished; It was like the sound of music.

He clearly worked out a lot.

As he spoke, his chest would pulsate and his biceps would fire up.


I almost touched them.

When I got home I could not resist calling him to say I was home. You should have heard me, I sounded like I was already his girlfriend.

At work the next day I had him pinned in my office really doing nothing. I wanted to know if he could not get it that I was offering myself to him.

Sammy (Samson) came into my office severally and saw us. He probably wondered what Dayo was doing in my office that long. I did not care. Thank God I had not fallen for Samson; Dayo was my man and I was going to get him.

As if he understood the reason I had him detained in my office all day, that evening he called to ask if I cared for a round of stimulating chat over a few bottles of drink at the bar of my choice. “Of course!” was my answer.
Then I asked him to come pick me up at home. I liked to be spoilt with tender loving care. That was how all the men I dated in my dream treated me.

When he came, I silently prayed for him to open his car door and hold it for me to go in.
He did exactly that. ‘Oh God! I am already living my dreams,’ I thought.

To cut the long story short, from the events of that night, a relationship with Dayo blossomed.

Two months later we were living partly in his apartment and mine. I washed his boxer shorts, cooked for him, we visited his parents together, his sisters often spent time in my house, and I would often ask him to bathe me during most nights he spent with me.

I loved to be bathed by the man I love. If you asked the men I dated in my dreams, they would have told you it made me tick.

At some point I boasted to myself that my relationship with Dayo was better than the ones I had with those imaginary perfect men in my dreams.

By the time our relationship was eight months old, it had already hit overdrive.

I could not figure out what in the world we were waiting to get married.

So one evening, while he was bathing me, I asked him what he was waiting to propose to me.

In a very romantic way,

he put his index finger on my lips,

signaling I should shut up,

stood up and left the bathroom….

…..to be continued……

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