Psyche II

Author’s note
Find the “Psyche” post on this blog and read it before this one if you want to have a better grasp of what is going on. Tweet at me (@Mr_Oyedele) with the hashtag #GBTPsyche if you want to discuss what in God’s name is going on. By the way, Apocalypse part 2 premiers soon. Have fun. *wink*

Linda sat at the dinner table with her two hands intertwined, resting under her chin. She wore a short red gown that accentuated her curves and was far too revealing. She smiled, revealing perfectly set teeth, leaned forward and stared at her date through her golden brown eyes, giving him a good view of what lay under the crimson tease of a dress.
“Did I mention that you look ravishing?” He said “That’s a beautiful dress you have on.”
“Thank you, Stanley. That’s very kind of you. I must say that you don’t look too shabby yourself.” She replied without breaking her gaze.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and adjusted his jacket.
“Thank you.” He smiled “Truth be told, I’ve never been this uncomfortable in front of a woman before. You’re very beautiful.”
“I know.” She replied with a cocky smile.
“And you’re confident too. Women usually drink little when out on first dates. I think it’s just a strategy to avoid misbehaving, but you,” He said, pointing at her “You’ve downed the shots like a pro.”
“What can I say? I try.” She laughed.
“And you’re not drunk yet?”
“Nope.” She replied, drowning the red liquid from her wine glass in a single gulp.
“Look, Stanley, I’m sure you’re a nice guy,” She began “but can we just skip to the part where you ask me to go home with you because I’m drunk enough and the Rohypnol you added to my drink has loosened me up sufficiently?”
She sighed. They always made her do this
“When you picked me up from my apartment, you thought to yourself ‘What a fine piece of ass! I’ll have fun pounding this tonight.’ You also thought that I must be of the loose type to show up in this on a first date. You thought I was a hoe and I reminded you of your ex-girlfriend, Lola. Not the most recent one, the one who had a mole above her upper lip and is currently lying at bottom of the Atlantic. You meant to give the car park attendant N1000 so that I could have a glimpse of your wallet, but you were disappointed when I reached across and tipped him myself. You were angry for a while but then you saw my rack and then calmed down. You panicked when I returned a bit too early from the bathroom because you had just poured your ‘friend’ into my drink. When we left the bar and were ushered to this seat, you fed your eyes with the shape of my butt which, by the way, is not as large as you imagined. That’s just ridiculous. So we’ve been sitting here and you’ve been waiting for me to start to go wild, but you’ve been surprised at how long it’s taking and how quickly I have finished my drinks.” She said before, pouring more wine from the bottle and downing it in one gulp.
“What?” Stanley said, seemingly confused.
But she knew.
She knew because she felt his heart beat accelerate, saw his pupils dilate, and noticed the sharp intake of breath in addition to the sweat that began to glisten on his face.
She heard the thoughts that ran through his mind and the fear that crossed his face. And just as suddenly as she saw and heard it all, it was gone.
He rationalized that there was no way she could have known. She was just an alcoholic heavyweight hoe who heard his gist from someone and he would have his way with.
This was no ordinary man. He was the ultimate psychopath.
“C’mon. For starters, I actually thought you looked hot and I’ll admit that I checked you out, repeatedly. But I did not drug you and neither did I kill anyone; I’m hurt and somewhat curious as to why you’d even think that. What I do think is that you’re really hot and I won’t lie, I want to get in your pants, but that’s only because you’re such a fine specimen. Honest.” He flashed a smile, raising his hands in surrender.
Linda arched a brow and smiled.
She noticed his black shirt and jacket; meticulously well-tailored. The smell of his cologne, dark and husky and expensive, wafted towards her. His beards were shaped and full. He was attractive and he knew it; throwing off his sexuality in an almost nonchalant manner. If she was a normal lady, she’d have been smitten. Everything about him was designed to attract the opposite sex.
The man was good.
She leaned forward suddenly and kissed him.
“Let’s get out of here.” She said, taking his hand and leading him out of the restaurant.
They paid the bill, got into his 2017 model S-class Mercedes Benz and drove off.
That was the last time anyone saw Stanley Ogoha alive.
Newspapers would carry the details of his gory death five days later, describing how his naked body was found in the middle of a round-about with every single bone in his body broken.


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