Knock. Knock.
"Come in," I say, the words rolling off with practiced ease, as though the space were mine.
Ahmed walks in casually, a folder in hand.
I nod, and he turns to leave, closing the door behind him.
"What's that?" she asks, looking confused and speculative.
"Something you'll like," I say.
I gently pull out the paper, glance over it once more, then hand it over to her.
She stretches out her hand and takes it from me, giving it a quick scan.
"An agreement?" she says, tilting her head and hand like she's about to fling the paper.
"Yes, an agreement," I respond, smirking.
"I see…" she says, still looking confused.
INFORMAL AGREEMENT OF CONDUCT & INTIMACY
"This document serves as an informal understanding between Adukolapo Aanoni and Tijani Ereadurami, which both parties have voluntarily entered into.
Although it is not legally binding, it is to be upheld in good faith as a framework for conduct, intimacy, and mutual trust. By agreeing to the terms below, both parties acknowledge that their arrangement is exclusive, consensual, and rooted in respect.
This arrangement begins on the date of mutual consent and remains active until either party formally withdraws.
I exhale slowly, already sensing the tension coiling in her chest. I'm not playing with her. I want ownership. Definition. Control.
She turns the page, her eyes darting across each carefully numbered line.
Rule 1: I am entitled to ten deliberate attempts, ten counts, in which to make you open and ready for intimacy/sex. If, after the tenth attempt, I fail, you are free to walk away with no penalty."
"Oh please," she laughs.
"There's no way I'm giving you ten chances."
"Just keep reading," I mutter lowly.
"Rule 2: For the duration of our relationship, you may not entertain any other man in your personal, sexual, or emotional life. Fidelity remains absolute.
Rule 3: You are prohibited from relieving yourself sexually by artificial means, including toys, vibrators, or any such devices. Your release shall be mine to command solely.
Rule 4: I reserve the right to touch you at any time, in any manner I choose, without prior permission.
Rule 5: You may not touch me during our encounters unless granted permission. Neither may you initiate kisses or intimacy.
Rule 6: You are entitled to ask for clarity or for me to withdraw should you feel overwhelmed or uncomfortable. Our safe word is "stop." Such a request must be made respectfully, and I will honor it without force.
Rule 7: When I call, you must always pick up or respond immediately. No excuses.
Rule 8: You will allow me to blindfold you when I choose. You will surrender sight and trust me to lead you deeper.
Rule 9: When we are together, your time belongs to me only.
Rule 10: You must always be honest with me about what you feel, especially if it concerns me. I don't want silence.
Note:
Every time you break a rule, I choose your punishment. And it will not always be sexual. Sometimes, it will be worse.
Penalties
1. Unauthorized Touch Penalty: If you touch me without permission during sex, I will stop before giving you release. I'll tease you until you're trembling, then walk away.
2. Countdown Reset Penalty: If you break Rule 1 (the "ten counts") by avoiding me, declining my texts or calls, or refusing to engage sexually, I will add two more counts to the existing ten.
3. Extended Foreplay Penalty: If you falter in any other way, I will draw out the pleasure twice as long during our next encounter but still stop before climax.
4. Vulnerability Penalty: Instead of pain, the "punishment" is vulnerability. You will have to open up to me about a secret, a memory, or how you really feel about me.
5. Non-Sexual Intimacy Penalty: If you slip, you must engage in a non-sexual activity of my choice (for example: cuddling, lying in my arms, or holding eye contact)."
"There's absolutely no way I'd agree to any of this, Mr. A," she says, mockery dripping from her tone.
"Are you scared you'll fall in love?" I reply, legs crossed.
"I'm noooottt going to fall in love!" she retorts, determination in her eyes.
"Then prove it. It's an informal agreement, not bound by law. So there's nothing to worry about," I reply, brushing my hand along my jaw.
"How old are you, Mr. A?" she says, leaning on the table like she's scolding a rebellious teenager.
"I'm twenty-eight," I reply casually.
"There are plenty of women your age who would gladly want to experiment. Why not go for them?" she asks.
"I want you. Only you," I reply, gaze intent.
"You're not the first to try to get into my pants."
"I'm not like them. I'll succeed."
"You're so arrogant. And what's this Rule 4? It says you can touch me anytime you want. I'm not some doll you can pull off a shelf whenever it suits you."
I smile at her resilience.
"No. You're not. That's why you'll be mine to touch only. Don't confuse my control with disregard."
"And even if I were to agree to this charade, I can't touch you unless you give permission? That's ridiculous. Who made you king of intimacy?"
"Trust me, Ere. My terms will make you burn hotter," I reply.
She folds her arms. "This isn't intimacy. This is control. I've lived long enough to know the difference."
"And yet you're still reading," I say, voice low. "Still here."
"That's because I'm trying to understand the mind of a man who thinks he can write rules for a grown woman."
I chuckle. "A man who knows exactly what he wants."
She leans forward, her eyes narrowing. "And who expects a woman they're just getting to know to hand them their sight? Just like that? Do you realize how dangerous that is?"
"I would never do anything to hurt you, and I'm pretty sure you know that. But are you afraid of danger, Ereadura?"
"Who isn't? Your family doesn't exactly look that friendly," she replies, waving her hands in the air.
I laugh for what seems like minutes before continuing.
"I see you've been researching me. What else did you find?" I tease.
She ignores the jab. "And I'd have to cut off every man for what? An arrangement that isn't even defined?"
"Would you love to define it, my lady?"
"Urrgh, that's not the point," she retorts.
I laugh again. She amuses me.
"I'm supposed to always be available when his royal tycoon calls? Wipe off all suitors because Mr. A demands so?" she laughs.
"Oh, but I get a safe word. Thank you sooo much for your kindness," she says sarcastically.
I lean in slightly, voice softer now. "All this… isn't just about the sex. It's about trust. About fire. About something you've never had."
She studies me, skeptical. "No. It's about making me fall, isn't it? You want me in pieces while you play god." She lays the folder to the side.
"Not god. Something else. And you'll still fall."
"These rules sound more like a dictatorship and less like an agreement."
"It's a chance to let me run things. Then you can decide if you want to pull away."
She remains quiet. I can see her weighing, calculating.
"You're used to being the one in control, aren't you?" I say, voice low, tone dark.
"I'm not scared," she replies, chin lifted.
"You look like you want to agree, but you're holding back," I say, scanning her face, noticing her caution.
She tilts her head, almost smiling. "Or maybe I just like watching you try."
I grin back, slow and deliberate. "Then keep watching. You'll sign eventually."
"You're arrogance is off the charts. No wonder you have your head so far up the cloud, you can't clearly see I don't want to agree to this," she says.
"You can have it."
"Hold on to it for a few days," I say.
"You never know, you might change your mind," I add as I stand up to approach her.
I walk slowly to her and pull her seat forward.
"You know, I can't wait till I make you eat your words in every moan possible. But until then… enjoy."
I pick up my shades and slide them on. My reflection glints off the lenses as I look at her one last time.
"I'll be back," I murmur, low and deliberate.
I leave the room, the door closing softly behind me, and beckon to Ahmed to get the car ready.
Inside, a small smile spreads across my face. The game wasn't over.
It was just beginning.