6 HOURS

THE RAPIST

To put you in the picture of why I had a weakness when it came to the opposite s*x, I have to take you back to an incident that happened to me when I was fifteen. We are going back seventeen years in time, to the time I was raped.

The mistake people make is to assume that violence is always a component of rape, or that rape has to always mean a man doing it to a woman. That assumption is not true. Some acts of rape do not constitute any violent act, and sometimes it's a woman doing it to a guy. In point of fact, a grown person can be involved romantically with an underaged partner, with the partner willingly engaging in every form of s****l activity, but by law that adult has committed the crime of rape.

I was raped by a forty-six year old widow, Hajiya Rahila, who lured me with false love, attention, money and gifts.

I was in my JSS 3 then, fresh and filled with youthful innocence. The only thing I knew then was sports, music and dancing. As far as s*x was concerned, all I knew then was that men and women were expected to come together at some point in their lives to marry and have children. I also learnt from our Biology class how the male and female reproductive system worked. Remember, seventeen years ago there was no free internet available in Nigeria, so no pornhub.

I was living with my parents and five other siblings, all girls. Unfortunately for me, I was number six out of six. As was customary in the Hausa-Fulani culture, they nicknamed me "Dan Auta", meaning The Last Born. We lived then at No. 444A, Lamido Crescent, within the Government Reserved Area in Kano. Our father was a very successful contractor with the state and federal government, so life was relatively good for all of us.

Hajia Rahila lived in 445A, Lamido Crescent. She had been married to a French industrialist, a millionaire, who died less than two years ago under mysterious circumstances. He partied the night before, got stoned on cocaine together with two hookers, went home, went to bed and never woke up. Hajia Rahila was his only wife, and as providence would have it, she hadn't given her husband a child before he passed. Alhaji Jean Moustapha however had willed everything to her in the event of his death, so Hajia Rahila was now a millionaire.

The fact that she was also a Fulani woman from Niger made us all see her as a kind of aunt. She was close to us all and treated us like her siblings, and our parents like hers. Every one of my sisters knew that I was Hajia Rahila's favorite, her special pet. They were always picking on me anyway, so she always had my back whenever she came around. Being surrounded by five antagonistic older sisters made me feel like a lonely lion in a pack of jackals. They were relentless. Hajia Rahila was my knight in shining armour.

Hajia Rahila always sent me to run her errands. The supermarket, the phone company, to get her special bread, to buy her fresh milk, to buy her barbecued meat, just name it. She would call and ask if her driver could take me to get whatever she wanted. I would happily oblige because she was always nice to me. She gave me the phone I was using, a Nokia 3310. The best and most expensive then. She bought me the special MTN line I was using. She was very nice to me.

We always used her BMW 3 Series 2000 model to run her errands. That car was the bomb, and I always got a bang when I was being driven in it. Besides, Usaini, her driver, had started to teach me to drive.

That BMW was the prototypical driving machine. I had never felt so connected to a car like I was to the beemer. My father also had a flock of cars ranging from Toyotas to Hondas, but the Japanese creations were nothing compared to their German Counterparts when it came to performance. I say there are only two cars in the world, German cars and others.

Once we were out of the house, he would park by the road side and hand the powerful car over to me. After more than a dozen lessons, I had become quite the transporter.

On that fateful weekend, she had called and told me to come over to the house. It was not unusual for any of us to go over to her house, watch movies, listen to music and generally relax. I walked past her security guard, into the compound which was overflowing with different cars, and straight into the sitting room.

The sitting room was empty, but there was a movie playing on her extra large plasma TV screen. I had barely sat down when she called out from her bedroom.

"Marwan!"

"Yes Hajia!", I answered, "I'm in the parlour"

"Come inside the room please!", She said.

I had never been inside her main bedroom, and I was eager to see what it looked like. I walked softly into the tiled corridor, and saw a half open door at the end of it. I reached the door and knocked once.

"Come in please", she said again. I pushed the door wider and walked in. The first thing I noticed was the king sized bed, smack in the middle of the room. Then the dreamlike quality of the room in general. Even though it was afternoon, the room managed to look dark.

As my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, I noticed her sitting in one of the luxury chairs at the extreme end of the room. To my utmost shock, she was smoking a cigarette. I gasped in surprise, and she laughed softly at me. "What is it? Don't you like people who smoke?", She asked.

"N… n… not like th.. that… " I stammered, "it's just that I have never seen you smoke".

"Well I do smoke, but it's a secret. Please don't tell anyone", she said

"Haba Hajia… ai there is no problem. After all, my uncle Alhaji Abba smokes whenever he comes to our house", I said.

"Atoh, you see?" She said, smiling. "Please Marwan can you go to More&More and get me some things?"

"Sure Hajia, there's no problem" I answered.

"That's my darling boy!" She exclaimed, hugging me to her chest. She was just wearing red striped pyjamas, and her soft breasts pressed sensually against me. Right there and then, I felt a strange, curious sensation course through my body.

She let go of me as if she was aware of the electric sensation she had caused, then moved to switch on the room lights. She was a sensually beautiful woman, despite her age. In a way, she reminded me of Sharon Stone in 'Basic Instinct'.

She pointed to a chest of drawers and asked me to check the topmost one for some money. I went over and pulled open the drawers. I saw stacks and stacks of brand new crispy dollars, all hundreds.

"It's only dollars in here", I informed her.

"Check inside, I'm sure I have some naira. Pick one bundle and get me ten gallons of hollandia yoghurt, ten packets of kilishis and ten packets of Saint Morris cigarettes. Also get anything you want for yourself. Tell Usaini to take you…" she said.

I saw the naira, also done up in neat stacks of one-one thousand bundles. As I unstrapped a bundle and pulled out the money, something came along and fell on the floor. I bent to pick it up and saw that it was a squarely done up rubber packet, with the wordings 'Gold Circle'.

"What is this?", I asked reflexively, holding the packet with my forefinger and thumb.

She walked over and collected it, smiling. "Oh this… you don't know what this is?"

"No, I have never even seen such a packet. What is it?"asked poor me.

"Don't worry Marwan", she said, patting me patronizingly on my shoulder. "When you come back I'll show you".

I walked out to meet Usaini, and off we went.

About an hour later, we were back.

She insisted that I join her in eating the delicious kilishi I brought, and she spent some time explaining how one of the businesses left by her late husband had gone broke and the new one she wanted to invest in.

I was very interested in finance and intended to study business and economics in the university, so I made a few comments and offered ideas along the way which she seemed interested in.

"Wow Marwan, you're already a business consultant. I'm so impressed with your knowledge and insight", she complemented.

"Thank you Hajia", I replied, quite proud of myself.

Then out of the blue, she leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. A proper adult kiss from an attractive, older woman. My first kiss. My heart was racing and as she pulled back, she looked into my eyes with a cloudy look of desire.

I leaned forward right away and returned her kiss. She kissed me back with so much passion. Very quickly, the kissing turned to a frenzy of clothes being removed and hands touching sensitive body parts.

This is very funny, but true. No young man knows how to remove a woman’s bra the first time. I fumbled with her silky bra for a good fifty seconds before she arched her back and unclasped the hooks.

I’ll never forget seeing those beautiful, mango-like breasts come out with their dark, erect n*****s. I had never seen such perfect breasts up close in my life. She pulled me forward to suck on one of the n*****s and gasped as I took it in my mouth.

She pushed me away, breathless. Her chest was heaving up and down, her eyes glazed with passion. Then she stood up and went towards the bed. On the table stand, she picked the Gold Circle packet and lay on the bed.

Looking over at me with half closed eyes, she said "Come over here and let me show you what this is used for…".

The rest was history.