I gave Lydia a positive response the following day.  I told her that I was ready to do anything to make my stay in the prison comfortable.  Later that day, Lydia introduced me to Mr. Kenneth Ajakaiye, fondly called Mr. Ken by the inmates and other staff at the prison. Mr Ken, a slim-built, dark-skinned middle-aged man of average height,  was the officer in charge of the prisoners’ welfare and he was literally adored by almost everybody in the facility.  He was the second in command at the facility. Few days after I was introduced to him, Mr Ken told me about a place that would serve as our love nest-a hide-out that was not too far from the facility. He also made provision for my feeding and other basic needs. He sure gave me all the succor I’d long yearned for and as days grew into weeks, I became so fond of Mr. Ken as if my entire existence depended on him. One thing was however, quite unusual about Mr Ken. For more than a month, after we had started the secret love affair, he never attempted to make love to me. The farthest he had gone then was sneaking to our love nest at odd hours to kiss  and sometimes fondle me. He got me so worked up one night to the extent that I pleaded with him to make love to me, but he declined saying: ‘Naimat, be patient, when the time is ripe, we shall do it.’

One night, Mr. Ken had sneaked to our love nest as usual. That night, he was not wearing his uniform. On arrival, I noticed he was tipsy. He just staggered into the room, asked if I needed anything and when I said no, he staggered towards me, pulled me to himself and kissed me.  Then, he began to fondle me like he used to do. Surprisingly, he did not stop there, he took it to the next level by making love to me. It was as if I had never experienced lovemaking before. It was so sweet to the extent that I wished he never stopped. Until that night, I had never slept with any other man except my husband. It was he-my husband, who deflowered me and after that, I had vowed never to have sexual intercourse with any other man. I was troubled and was gripped by guilty conscience, as soon as we were done, for having broken the age-long vow I made to Tella, my husband. And all through the night, I could not sleep, as I began to relive the wonderful time my husband and I did have in the past. I also could not but relive the memory of the circumstance that prompted me to ‘kill’ my loving husband. It all happened one fateful day, Tella, my husband had left Lagos, where we resided for Benin to attend the yearly family reunion. Quite unusual, he had refused to take me or any of our children along with him……………

…………………………………………… be continued

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