It’s just a few more days to the release of Love At First Sound published by Love Africa Press. Yay! I’m so excited.
To celebrate, here’s the first chapter free!
I hope you enjoy reading. Please leave a comment.
Yomi Oladipo loosened his tie as he pushed opened the door of his two-bedroom apartment. Another long day, and he couldn’t wait to kick back and unwind with a bottle of Chardonnay while listening to his favourite radio show.
The loud buzzing of his mobile phone jarred him, and the paper pack of roasted corn he’d ordered on his way back home almost slipped from his hand.
Sighing, he reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone. He swiped a thumb across the screen, and the cheerful image of his brother lit the display.
“Damn it, Kunle. You call at the most annoying times,” he grumbled, holding the phone upright in one hand while awkwardly juggling his takeaway meal and briefcase in the other.
“Bro, I can see you keep to your tradition of roasted corn every Friday night. And I guess the next thing is to listen to your wife on the radio.”
“Shut up,” Yomi snickered, chuckling. “She isn’t my wife. And I’m still happily single, thank you very much.”
“Just say you love her. For the past five years, you’ve never missed her show. And you’ve just purchased her new book. I bet you wish she wasn’t anonymous, so you could find her and marry her already.”
Yomi laughed. He agreed with his brother. Yes, he wanted to meet Sasha, the radio relationship and sex therapist. Her show had captivated him from the very first day he’d listened to it. There was something about her voice and the direct way she gave her advice that had caught his attention, kept him hooked. But he wasn’t about to admit all that to Kunle.
“Big bro, I’m sure you didn’t call me just to badger me.”
“Of course I didn’t.” He hesitated, cleared his throat, and puffed out a sigh. “I called … I wanted to talk about Mum …”
He became still. The mention of his mother caused his stomach to plummet.
“Please don’t. I’ve told you that woman is dead to me—”
“Don’t say that, Yomi. She is your mother.”
“No, she isn’t.” He seethed. “No woman who abandons her children to run off with her lover deserves to be called a mother. Nope. She’s not my mother.” His blood boiled as he spoke.
“Kunle … Please. Don’t. If you want to remain in contact with her, that’s your choice. But don’t try to involve me in that mess.”
“She is in town, Yomi. She wants to see you.”
“Well, that isn’t going to happen. She can crawl back to London with her toy boy and leave me the fuck alone. I don’t want to see her. Not now. Not ever. So, forget it and never mention her to me again.”
Bile rose to his throat. The image of his beautiful mother—blonde, blue-eyed, and dainty as a feather—half-dressed and moaning loudly as she rode astride a young dark-skinned stranger barely out of his teens, scorched Yomi’s brain.
Still as fresh as when he’d witnessed it at the age of seventeen. He would never forget the shock of betrayal that had pierced his chest when he had stridden into the sitting room of the family home and unexpectedly discovered her infidelity. No, he wanted nothing to do with that adulterous excuse for a mother.
“Okay … okay.” Kunle’s tone sounded resigned. “Didn’t mean to ruin your evening.”
Lowering his briefcase to the ground beside him, Yomi blew out a regretful breath, a bit ashamed of his outburst. He hadn’t meant to yell at his older brother. Although only a two-year age gap existed between them, he had deep respect for him.
“I’m sorry for yelling,” he said. Then, he stretched his lips into a smile to show his brother his remorse and continued. “And you didn’t ruin my evening. Nobody can ruin my Fridays because my wife on the radio always takes away my stress.”
His brother laughed out loud, the tension between them immediately forgotten. “Aha! Now you admit you are spiritually married to her,” Kunle chortled. “Sasha—the only person with the power to soothe you.”
Yomi nodded. “Okay, I admit it. I love Sasha’s voice—if that’s her real name. And her guts. I mean, there is something to be said about being a bold radio sex therapist …”
“Not so bold, though. She remains anonymous.”
“Yeah … yeah … I don’t blame her. With all the creeps in Lagos, I think that’s a wise decision. Idiotic people may assume she is promiscuous because she’s a sex therapist and cause her grief.”
“You’re right.” Kunle yawned, triggering an answering yawn in Yomi, too.
“Okay, Kunle. Speaking of which … it’s almost time for the show, and I need to get my dinner ready before it starts.”
“Corn isn’t dinner.” Kunle snorted. “Keep eating that, and you’ll end up severely constipated,” he said with a dismissive wave of one hand. “Talk to you later.”
Yomi smiled. “Okay, later.”
After hanging up, he made his way to the efficient but spacious kitchen adjacent to the sitting room. He pulled out two corn cobs from newspaper wraps and placed them on a plate. Whistling softly, he retrieved a small bowl containing chopped pieces of coconut from the fridge and placed both items on a silver tray, after which he lifted a chilled bottle of wine.
His entire body pulsated with anticipation as he moved back to the sitting room, balancing the tray effortlessly in both hands. With a deep sigh of satisfaction, he slumped on the recliner and switched on the radio.
The digital clock hanging on the bright white wall read eleven p.m.
“Right on time,” he muttered, lifting a cob of corn to his lips and biting down on it.
“Welcome, lovers. It’s so great to be back again for Late Nights with Sasha at Mainland FM 106.2.”
The sultry voice from the radio resounded in the room, seeping slowly from his ears down his body like sweet caramel syrup dripping down a tasty treat.
“For a mature audience only. So, if you are less than eighteen years old, close your ears.” She let out a soft giggle that sent a jolt of awareness coursing through him. “Here, you get all the tips you need to keep your relationship spicy and your sex life steamy. Ring the number 090 237 237 with any questions you have about love, sex, and relationships, and I’ll do my best to answer.”
Slow rhythm and blues music followed her sultry pronouncement, breaking through his trance.
Yomi exhaled the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. It still amazed him how much effect Sasha’s voice had on him, even leaving him spellbound sometimes.
“We have our first caller,” she spoke again, cutting through the music. “Hello, you are through to Late Nights with Sasha. What’s your name, and what’s your question?”
“Thanks for taking my call, Sasha. My name is Amaka—” A loud screech emanated from the stereo, causing Yomi to wince.
“Amaka, nice to have you call in. Can you turn down your radio, so we can hear you properly?”
Silence for a few seconds, and then—“Can you hear me now?”
“Yes, that’s fantastic,” Sasha said, her voice low and husky, like a warm caress over his skin. “So, Amaka, how can I help?”
“Oh … I am a bit embarrassed about this … Okay, so, my husband brought some sex toys for our tenth wedding anniversary celebration getaway. And to be honest, I … I feel betrayed. Why would he feel the need to bring that filth into our matrimonial bed?” A second of hesitation. “Should I be worried he’s cheating on me? No longer satisfied with our sex life?”
Yomi sat up, anticipating Sasha’s reply. Although he had heard her clever responses to difficult questions such as this before, he still looked forward to every word she uttered like a student listening to a lecture a day before exams.
“Great, Amaka, I love your honesty. And I’m glad you called. My answer to your first question is that I feel it’s unlikely that your husband is cheating if he is willing to try new things with you in the bedroom. From my experience as a psychologist, when a person gives up on a relationship, they don’t bother dealing with important issues like sex with their partners. They simply go elsewhere to find what they need.”
Yomi nodded vigorously as she spoke.
“Absolutely correct, Sasha!” he said to no one.
“And my answer to your second question is, yes. He probably wants more from your sex life and wants to spice things up with you. I actually think that’s a good thing.”
“Oh, I didn’t see it that way.” Amaka’s tone wavered, sounding surprised, as though she’d expected Sasha to reflect the repulsion she felt about her husband’s request.
“But sex toys, though … I have never used them … I find them … I don’t know … sinful.”
“You are not alone, Amaka. It’s common for women and men to feel worried about anything being introduced to conventional sexual activity. Even non-conventional sexual positions are shocking to many people. So, don’t feel isolated.”
“So, what do I do about this sex toy thing? I’m not sure I want to use them … or even know how to.”
“I think you should talk with your husband. Find out what he feels about your sex life. Study the sex toys, find out how they are used, if you are comfortable with what they do.”
Yomi nodded again, totally impressed by Sasha’s insight. “Preach, my sweet Sasha! Preach.”
“Try them on yourself, then try them with your husband if you’re happy with the results,” Sasha said. Her husky chuckle came seconds after. “Maybe you would get to love them so much that you want to use them every time.”
A loud gasp resounded from the speakers. Likely from Amaka. “Ah … Sasha. I’m not so sure.”
“Nobody is ever sure about anything until they try it, honey. Don’t knock it until you do.”
“Thanks, Sasha. I’ll think about it.”
“Thanks for calling, Amaka, I’m happy to have helped. One more thing before you go … Remember, nothing is sinful unless you want it to be.”
The sound of instrumental jazz floated into the room. “Lovers, keep that dial tuned to Mainland FM 106.2 as we go into a brief commercial break.”
Yomi settled back onto his seat and took a sip from his glass of wine. Oh, he would give anything to meet Sasha. His brother was right. He’d fallen in love with the sound of her voice without even knowing what she looked like. How crazy was that?
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