Ashawo Diaries 18+ (Tales of Adwoa Attaa) Chapter 19

Only an old rat promised some beautiful times with old nuts can resist plucking a blooming young nut on its giving tree, even so, well… Inspector Akuffo couldn’t close his mouth when he set his eyes on me. I didn’t need to be told he was captivated. He ushered me into the seat directly opposite his fine desk as he carefully sat into his chair.
“Errm, pretty one, you are Bee, Bee, Davids huh?” I nodded. “How may I help you?”

I could sense the tension in the air. I needed to let that tension be so thought of a clever way to present my case. I leaned into my chair, crossed my legs, licked my waterproof lipstick mouth, adjusted my breasts in their comfortable straps until I saw him fanning himself.

“I need you to help me get justice for my friend Inspector.”

He nodded sheepishly and added “sure, sure” sweating in the fair air condition.

“My friend happened to be friends with a cruel woman Inspector. The only problem was, she didn’t know the woman was such a conniving and scheming person. She confided in her that she needed some girls to work in her bar and restaurant. The woman promised to get her some girls. My friend thought she would use right ways of recruiting not knowing she was a child trafficker. Because my friend decided not to have anything to do with her when she was arrested, she is now implicating her. I am talking about Queen Bash’s case”.

Immediately he heard Queen Bash’s name, his countenance changed. He seemed to be in a state of confusion.

“Well, that is a case I…I … I… can’t interfere in. You know it has attracted so much national and even international attention that…”

I stood up, cat walked to stand right behind him, bended slowly and held his stiff shoulders and massaged them. And in my sweetest voice spoke almost in a whisper.

“Well, inspector, I am not asking you to interfere in this, I am asking you to please help give my friend the justice she deserves. I can swear on my life that she knew nothing of this.”

Inspector Akuffo Ben Arthur started swallowing his saliva in a successive hurry. I could sense he was highly aroused. I bended closer and took his ears in between my teeth and gently licked it. He gasped and took off his suit. “Ei Awurade! Aaah! Erhm! Ao!” He was muttering under his breath. I worked my way to the cave of his neck, and boldly slipped my hand into his shirt, then into his trousers and caught his little man. I massaged it while caressing him with my other hand in other places until he poured his thick and much porridge into his supporter and collapsed into my arms out of orgasmic fatigue. I could sense he hadn’t gotten some in a long while.

When he regained consciousness, he called those handling the case and ordered that Mimi be exonerated in a believable manner. I was shocked at how much of a pro I had become.

“You know you need to compensate me well? I mean, show better gratitude to me”

I placed my forefinger on his lips. “Shhhh. You don’t need to say that Inspector. I know my duty and I do know very well how to show gratitude. I am many things but ungrateful.” He seems satisfied and assured. I left him my card and asked him to call when he is ready to be compensated, whenever, wherever and left.

For some queer reason, I felt horny on my way back home, so called the agency to give me a quickie appointment if there was any, and luckily there was: a diplomat who needed an hour with an escort. I drove straight to his hotel and liked what I saw. He was a very handsome man, tall with fair body, smartly dressed. I greeted him and he shyly responded.

“All I need is for you to act satisfied and happy in bed with me and I will give you anything you ask for.” Well, anyone who knows me knows the word “anything” intrigues me. I wanted to strip him naked and get down to business but realized what the man needed was to be in charge. It was written clearly in his eyes that a woman has slapped his ego by giving him a fail in bedmatics. So I lowered my eyes, waited until he lifted my head by holding my chin, and kissed me. He wasn’t a great kisser but wasn’t bad either. I moaned, partly to please him and partly because I was highly aroused. He lifted me onto the huge queen size bed and gently sat on top of me, taking off my clothes and touching me all at once. He massaged my soles; it tickled and excited me. Within seconds, I was begging him to worship in my temple because I was so wet. He wasn’t big, neither was he small. He was an average man who clearly gave me such pleasure I had not had since Ntwanu vanished or died. I liked to think he was still alive somewhere. In fact I believed in my heart of hearts that he was still alive. Diplomat Amamo was good in bed and I pleased him with my pleasure.

I asked him why he needed to go to such lengths to ask a lady to feign satisfaction when he was a good lover after realizing he was in the mood to talk. He told me about his wife. According to him, he couldn’t think of hurting his wife but the woman wanted to be whipped and tortured in bed. Something he considers an abuse so had refused to heed. His wife verbally assaults him, that he is not a man, even to the hearing of some members of his household. I was shocked that some women could not have candid communication with their men. A gentleman who can’t afford to whip you for your pleasure simply needs to be tutored in a way that cannot hurt his ego. Then again, if most women performed their marital duties without flaws how would we get our married clients?

I laughed and told him about BDSM. I taught him about how some people derive pleasure from pain and asked him to try some soft BDSM with his wife like slapping her buttocks, tying her to a chair or bed and stroking the senses out of her, hanging and fucking her to orgasm, tying her hands behind her and doing her in doggy. He promised to try and took my number to book for an hour every week to try. I left his hotel smiling but the reality of our agency’s trouble with the law hit me like a punch from Azumah Nelson in his heydays. So I drove home like a mad girl.

I still couldn’t come to terms with speaking to Mimi. I knew very well she was innocent but still felt like punishing her to be careful. I went straight to my room and thought of all the bad things associated with my job, thought of all the girls that people like Queen Bash had hurt, switched on the television and radio and wept.

I heard an advert that shushed me up. It was an advert seeking beautiful ladies to be sent abroad for work. From house helps to receptionists. Instantly, I saw myself smartly dressed and seated by a desk at a reputable company’s front desk. I wiped my tears, went to take a cold shower, boldly wrote the number of the firm down, called to book an appointment for the next day and slept, dreaming of planes and nice looking faces making enquiries and dollars with an impeccably clean environment

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Dec. 2017

Photo Credit: Google Pics

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