IN HER EXPERTISE BY ETOH COLLINS

Hi all,

I know it's been ages but I have been super busy! Oh well, I shan't bore you with details because today I've got a nice story from the write - Mr. Etoh. So enjoy, share and please comment. Thank you:)

IN HER EXPERTISE

“The very reason I stopped, later became the sole reason why I decided to push, and I mean ensure that I got to the bottom of the whole thing. It was taking over me; I couldn’t think straight anymore, and one time I almost burnt down my apartment after I left an empty pot on the gas cooker for more than an hour.”

I stopped to look at Ms. Funmi; she didn’t seem like she had taken her gaze off me.

“Yes…yes go on, I’m with you” she said without me even asking her anything.

I really wasn’t used to telling people my worries or problems, I just felt they would only end up laughing at me in their judgmental minds, and worse still I wouldn’t get any close to getting back my lost life. But something about Ms. Funmi seemed different, she said little or nothing, and she smiled at almost everything I tell her, and then she would say “it is well”, well I just hope she isn’t as insane as I thought I was.

All the same, everyone had wanted me to speak to someone, someone who would advice me on my current dilapidated state of well being. And after months of refusing, and after my wife left home citing marriage breakdown as her reasons, it became pertinent that I solve this problem that I probably think has left me looking cancerous to others.

“At work I couldn’t do little tasks like write memos or draft a course of action, something I originally had been doing for over three years.” I had continued after she gave me the go ahead, “I started to get angry at every slight thing that wasn’t even supposed to make me blink, and I think what I noticed was that I started to get irritated easily by anyone who ventured to ask about my well being.

“Ok, let me cut you there” she interrupted for the first time since we started conversing for more than three hours now.

“I need you to tell me how it all started, this whole change, like can you remember?” she had stopped talking before I knew it, and I had forgotten what she talked about.

I motioned to her, trying to understand if she had asked me a question.

“Gbenga!!!” she shouted straight into my face.

“Yes” I replied looking away from her.

“I really do not want to assume you’re sick or suffering from something only God knows. I decided to help you because I believe everyone’s got a second chance at bettering their lives, so I urge you to come out of your shelf so we both can help you out of this mess.” Then she stopped talking, and bent her head so that it rested on her right fist.

The room was quiet for about twenty seconds, I didn’t know what to say, I had gotten used to her starting off a point, my own was to give a reply to her questions, and ensure I followed exactly her procedures. She then she got up from her chair, went behind me, placed her hands on my shoulders and so fast she started to caress them, soon to my back and then down my hips. After about a minute of intense massaging and body touching, she bent that her mouth was directly proportional with my ears, and then she whispered “let me help you relax…..ok?”

I had no idea if she expected an answer from me, or if she needed a thumbs up in respect of her question, I was indifferent, especially when I actually didn’t major in psychology, so I really didn’t think she expected me to have any clue as to how she would make me relax.

“Ride on Miss Psychologist” was all I could say deep down in my heart.

“So tell me about your sex life, were you having enough of it?” as she spoke her hands found their way into my shirt.

“I really can’t say, but my wife wasn’t exactly the kind that loved frequent sex, she preferred it occasionally and well prepared kind of sex” I could swear I knew nothing of what I had just said, Miss Funmi hands were causing so much havoc in my mind.

“Ok” that sounded like she was dozing off.

I never cared to turn to look at her, all I was sure was that she was the professional here, and for me, getting back my life was most fundamental at the moment, and not how she got to the end.

“And were you against having routine sex or should I say were you the everyday sex kind of guy”

“Yes and No…emm…sometimes I come home so tired and wouldn’t venture into sex. But other times I really would be a hundred percent ready for it.” And again I didn’t know how that came out of my mouth.

Miss Funmi had her hands already caressing the part of my trousers where the zips were tailored to. At first it was great and I felt the moon on my ears with the clouds giving me the soothing of a lifetime. Miss Funmi’s touches were unconditionally eccentric, and I started to float as soon as possible, and my lips became so dry so that I began searching for something wet to infuse into it.

Everything happened so fast and I didn’t know how to tell her that this was exactly my problem. That I was HIV positive and the knowledge of my predicament had made me a ghost of myself, because as it is, I was simply awaiting death and a very cruel one indeed. But only if my psychologist would have been so professional enough to have understood that I needed help from my imminent destruction, instead of becoming trapped in it. We had a very hot and long romantic evening that lasted for about four hours, and everytime my realities came flashing its ugly head at me, Ms. Funmi would kiss my lips and say to me “put that behind you, lay all your worries on me.”

And yes indeed, I did lay all my worries in and on her, the bad thing was that it never left me, but I succeeded in passing it to yet another person.

As we lay on the bed after a breath taking performance, she started to say how much she had enjoyed every piece of me, and how she wished we never stopped. I looked at her with pity, funny enough she thought my eyes were so sexy, and every time she would kiss them, and say that my eyes were capable of making her happy for life, only if she knew the truth that lay beneath it. I was seconds away from trying to live my life at least for another week, but Ms. Funmi the psychologist had come along, and taken me back to where I was a week before I was introduced to her. What kind of psychologist was she anyway? Instead of helping me, she has eaten a great chunk of my worries.

How will I break this news to her, how on earth will I say to her that I am HIV positive, and that was the reason why I have been living like a country plagued with famine and war. All because of pleasure, and my love for ecstatic feelings, I have plunged yet another soul into total catastrophe, and I know she will live never to forgive me. And although I think and feel pity for her, Funmi still finds my manhood so attractive that she cannot stop putting it inside her mouth like she was promised gold in the Olympics for it. The same object that has caused me an avalanche of pains is what Funmi treasures and wishes she had it in her bedroom, to play with every night she gets home from work.

I regret meeting Funmi today, just the same way I have regretted meeting every woman that I eventually slept with, because up till date I really do not know who had given me this Greek gift. I want to think about my life, and I wish Funmi will let go of it before it kills her in my presence.

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 Have a happy weekend!

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