6 HOURS

BLISS

Chapter Three

Two days after my first encounter with Muhibba at Wellcare, I switched on my Undercover Phone and immediately received an SMS.

“How can you give me a number that’s always switched off?”

My heart skipped a beat. I dialed her number, and after a couple of rings, she answered. Her voice was sharp, laced with irritation.

“Babe,” I said, trying to sound calm.

“Don’t ‘babe’ me! Didn’t you receive my text message?” she snapped.

“Yeah, I did. C’mon, babe, my phone was down because of low battery. I called you as soon as I switched it on,” I replied, my tone soothing but my nerves on edge.

“Alright, ba komai. Can I see you today? I don’t have any lectures until tomorrow,” she said, her voice softening slightly.

“Ohhhh kay… I’m kind of busy today at the office, but I’ll be free by 3 p.m., I think,” I said, glancing at my watch. “Where’s the rendezvous?”

“Me kace?” she asked, confused.

“No. Ren-dez-vous… It’s a French word that means ‘meeting point,’” I explained.

“Wow! Sannu, Sarkin Farisa!” she said, laughing.

I chuckled. “I remember the story from *Magana Jari Ce*. Labarin Sarkin Farisa Da Wani Bahindi, right? It’s a very interesting story, witty and full of humor.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah… Why don’t you come and pick me up from the hostel?” she suggested.

“Which school?” I asked, though I already suspected the answer.

“FCE Kano,” she replied.

“Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I’m done,” I said, my pulse quickening. “You know your way around the school?”

“No problem. I’ll be there,” I assured her before hanging up.

When I arrived at the Federal College of Education Kano, located at Kofar Famfo on BUK Road, I drove through the campus, my eyes scanning the area. The female hostels were behind the school, adjacent to Kofar Kabuga. I parked my burgundy car with its factory-tinted windows and called Muhibba.

“The eagle has landed,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“What color is your car?” she asked.

“Burgundy, with factory-tinted glasses,” I told her.

“Bur… what? Why are you always telling me big, big words, ne don Allah? What color is that again?” she asked, exasperated.

I laughed. “It’s more like red… a little darker than maroon. Bur-gun-dy.”

“Hah! Na wa oh… Anyway, I’ll soon be with you,” she said.

I kept my eyes fixed on the hostel entrance, and when she emerged, I couldn’t help but admire her beauty. She walked confidently, her presence commanding attention. A group of guys stared at her, open-mouthed, but she ignored them, her focus entirely on me.

Muhibba was young, no more than twenty-one, and slightly above average height. She wore a blue hijab that covered her hair, but the fullness of her hair was unmistakable. Her eyes were large and expressive, framed by dark, thick eyebrows that had been carefully brushed and arranged. Her lips were full and sensual, and there was an arrogant air about her—the kind of confidence reserved for women who knew they were exceptionally beautiful.

She wore a blood-red Abaya that clung to her like a second skin, accentuating her well-sculpted body. She was full-breasted and narrow-waisted, the perfect Coca-Cola shape, with full hips and long legs. I found myself wondering why she was interested in me when she could have had anyone else.

She cat-walked to my car, opened the door, and slid into the passenger seat. The scent of her perfume filled the car—sensual, romantic, and impossible to ignore.

“My Marwan,” she said, flashing me a smile that revealed her perfectly white teeth.

“My Muhibba,” I countered, trying to match her confidence.

“Marwan meets Muhibba,” she said musically, and we both laughed at the childish joke.

“I never asked you what you do for a living,” she said, her tone casual but her eyes probing.

“Oh… well, I work for Kano Projects Impex Solutions. The acronym is KPI. We’re project managers,” I explained.

“What kind of projects?” she asked, leaning slightly closer.

“From building bridges, houses, hotels, and estates to setting up business structures and so on,” I said, my voice steady despite the growing tension in the car.

“Okay. I now understand,” she said, her gaze lingering on me.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, the air between us thick with unspoken words. Then she broke the silence. “Can we go out of the school premises?”

“Sure, why not?” I asked, though I already knew the answer. “But where?”

“Anywhere,” she replied. “Just drive towards the Trade Fair complex.”

I nodded and started the car, driving carefully but quickly. Soon, we were on BUK Road, heading towards Gidan Murtala.

“Why did you tint your car?” she asked, her tone playful.

“It’s factory-tinted. I didn’t have anything to do with it,” I said. “I love the tint because it protects against the scorching sun in Kano.”

“Hahahaha… Who are you kidding? Nobody can see whatever you’re doing from the outside, right?” she teased.

“Yes,” I admitted, “but it’s not because of anything.”

“Yeahhhhhhhhh… Tell that to the birds,” she said, laughing. Her laugh was infectious, and I found myself joining in, the tension momentarily easing.

“Let’s find a place to park behind the complex,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I want to talk to you.”

“Okay,” I said, my curiosity piqued. What did she want to talk about?

As I turned off Gidan Buhari towards the Trade Fair complex, she pointed at some exquisite chairs by the left. “Wow… those sets of chairs are wonderful.”

“True… but also very expensive,” I said, my eyes flicking to her hand as it fell back, deliberately or accidentally, onto my lap. I tensed, expecting her to remove it, but she left it there. Two can play that game, I thought.

I drove slowly behind the complex, parking near an abandoned office building. I left the engine running, the A/C and music on. We sat in silence for a few minutes, her hand still on my lap, the music playing softly in the background.

“I believe in being straightforward and blunt,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engine.

“Me too,” I replied, my voice equally quiet.

“From the first time I saw you, I knew this would happen,” she added, her hand beginning to slide up towards my stomach.

My abdominal muscles tensed under her touch. She rubbed my hairy abdomen lightly, her fingers trailing down until they reached my belt. She paused, as if weighing her next move, and then, with a decisive motion, she began to unbuckle it.

I sat frozen, holding my breath. This was more than I had bargained for. “Muhibba,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

“Marwan… Shhhhh!” she whispered back, her eyes locking onto mine.

That was the beginning of my pleasurable journey—and the beginning of the end of my happiness.