When she was in JSS, Mandy’s PE teacher took more delight in watching her play ampe than in organizing extra classes. She had always been irresistible to men. If she stepped out to get a cab, she’d end up in a Range with a wad of cash for airtime. It had always amused her ‘who buys airtime with GHC 500?’, but it never overwhelmed her because men had given her crazier things just for being hot.
One time as she waited along the road for Joe –her side boo- to pick her up after church, a matt-black Porche Cayenne screeched to a stop inches from her. He lowered his tinted windows as he reversed and wasted no time.
“Pretty girl, wherever it is you’re going, that’s my new destination.” Then he let out a funny unrhythmnic ‘Master Richard’ laugh. He looked mid-fifties, a little plump, clean-shaven, white Hackett Polo shirt, expertly manicured nails and a thick gold ring on his right middle finger. He sat in the brown leather seat like it was a throne.
“No thank you” she said politely “I’m fine.”
“O cammon, don’t be like that. See, these young boys, they’ll just waste your time. They’ll go plenty rounds and give you nothing. Me, after one round p3 I’ll be tired, but I’ll spend on you till the IMF notices it.”
She laughed so hard. That man wasn’t that dated, but she didn’t even hop in, and now she was about to do a lap dance for this man, this Mr. Crentsil. She was making the moves. She wanted him.
Mandy had first noticed him that morning when he came to her branch and joined the long queue waiting to transact. He wasn’t flamboyantly dressed, but there was this dignified air about him. He looked unassuming to the untrained eye but she could sense a mine a time zone away. Mr. Crentsil wasn’t particularly tall, but he was certainly not short. An even spread of silvers graced his neat haircut. He was clean-shaven and his ebony-dark skin radiated the glow of good living. He had this boyish handsomeness about him, and when he smiled as he typed on his phone, she felt something. She feigned being so busy that customers had to go to the other tellers. When she saw it was his turn, she suddenly became free again. He slipped his check through the slit in the glass. She looked at the amount, then at him, then at the name, then at him.
“Mr. Crentsil, as in Mr. Elvis Crentsil?”
He smiled. Her eyes widened, the other tellers heard and paused what they were doing. Suddenly two of her colleagues came around to help, she shooed them off, then the bank manager himself came. Soon, everyone knew Mr. Crentsil was in the bank. He had never been before, but his name was very familiar to those who knew who the bank’s richest clientele were. Some assumed he was a disfigured old man, others thought he was on a death bed somewhere, but there in flesh and blood was Mr. Crentsil. Mandy worked like a Chinese immigrant, processing his check in less time than it would take you to finish reading this. I lie, but for the amount he was withdrawing, it should have taken at least 20 minutes to get it all done, but she did it in 9. He showed his gratitude by leaving a thousand cedis behind.
‘This is it’ She thought ‘I’ve found my last stop. I will give him so much pleasure he’ll need an ambulance parked close by at all times. By the time I’m half-way through, he’d know that there’s Karma Sutra and there’s Krobo Sutra, chaii!
For the rest of the day she was a bit absent-minded. She kept looking at the clock. She willed it to tick faster, threatened it to speed up and even cussed at it a few times whilst she feigned a smile to a confused client. Finally it was 7:00 pm and she could leave. It took her thirty minutes to touch up. She applied the musky lipstick that gave her lips a Kylie Jenner look. She touched and turned the Peruvian fortune on her head till the curls could curl no more. She patted her neck with touches of Paco Rabanne’s Ultraviolet Woman. Her boobs were compliant and the only spot on her fair face was the tiny mole on her right cheek. She’d decided to leave it there during her ‘toning treatment’ because everyone thought it was cute.
Her black pencil skirt pointed out her curves and those heels made her full stops into exclamation marks. She smiled at what she saw in the mirror. She felt sorry for Mr. Crentsil, even she found herself irresistible.
* * *
One would say she was being too forward ‘how can you move so quickly on a man you’d seen just that day? Wont it be confused for desperation?’ Well those were questions fitting for women of less standing with ordinary beauty. She, she was in a class all by herself. She took what she pleased and Mr. Crentsil pleased her. Her timetable was what she said it was, she followed no convention. Besides this wasn’t her normal modus operandi –she’d never had cause to be this…drastic.
She knew where his office was, it was no problem reaching the 8th floor of the Silver Star towers. The offices had closed, but the security man would have given her a green card if the US Embassy gave him the chance.
“I’m here for Mr. Crentsil.” She told the plain secretary who looked at her suspiciously. It was a mixture of suspicion and ‘O no, boss couldn’t get out of this one’ look.
“Is he expecting you?”
“Yes. Mandy from Prudential.”
“Are you sure Miss Mandy?”
“About my name or my place of employment?” her voice pitched a little.
The secretary knew her place. She was new, had three children and oldest was about to enter KNUST, she wasn’t about to let any Jezebel spirit difficult any issues for her. Her boss was old enough to look out for himself.
“Sir, there’s a Mandy here for you.” She said over the intercom.
There were moments of silence, and a few ‘yes sirs’, then she led Mandy to the office, screaming her resentment in the look she cast her. The gold embossment on the door read ‘Mr. Crentsil –CEO’
Mandy heaved, then turned the cold door knob. She entered slowly, smiling. It was show time.
[To Be Conti…]
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