There was a young married couple living in the apartment above Kunle. The guy was one of those arrogant looking characters with a face that seemed to invite a knuckle sandwich but his wife – there was another story. Sometimes Kunle got the pleasure of following her up the stairs whenever she’d been out shopping. The cotton dresses she wore were short and revealing and as she continued up the next flight of stairs, he’d pretend to fumble with his key for a few moments, just to get a last look at those long slender legs and beautifully round a-s. Occasionally they’d say hello in passing but that’s as far as things went. Usually, by the time he got to his door, there was always a bulge in his pants.
The thing that upset Kunle was the fact that she frequently showed signs of abuse and he could only assume her husband was responsible. He’d heard them fighting on more than one occasion but he couldn’t very well intervene – especially in his line of work. However, one morning, things came to a head. A real fight broke out upstairs and there were sounds of furniture been thrown around and breaking glass. The battle continued for some time and seemed to be carried from the second floor, down the stairs and onto the landing of the first floor, just outside his door. When he opened it to see what was going on, he was appalled to see the man slapping his wife’s head from side to side. She was cowering up against the wall, her nose was bleeding, and there was distinct bruising around one eye.
Kunle felt compelled to keep out of other peoples problems as he couldn’t afford to break his cover by being called as a witness. However, this woman was taking a beating and he had no choice but to step in. The man had his back to him so he moved across the landing and applied his fingers to two pressure points at the back of the wife-beater’s neck. The man froze instantly and tried to call out but only a hoarse croak emerged. Kunle told him that he would let him go if he promised not to strike his wife again and as he did so, he applied even more pressure and the man, gasping for breath, sank to his knees. With his eyes bulging out of his head, he managed to nod his agreement and was released. The idiot wife-beater remained on his knees for a few moments, trying to catch his breath, while his wife stared at Kunle with a dazed expression on her face.
Kunle stepped back to allow the husband get to his feet, hoping that the arrogant little man wouldn’t be tempted to take the risk of throwing a punch. In a way, Kunle wished he would; that would really give him an excuse to re-arranged the bastards face. However, realizing he had met his match, the visibly shaken wife-beating adversary barely let out a grunt and started back upstairs. His wife followed him like a little sheep but did manage to turn her head and give a faint smile to Kunle.
Later in afternoon he thought his worst fears had come true when a member of the Brigade Team knocked on his door. He introduced himself as Kenneth Sanusi, which was an unusual way for a cop to start the conversation. As it turned out, the woman upstairs was his kid sister. She’d apparently phoned him and informed him of Kunle’s intervention. In the end he was invited in for a glass of wine and during a twenty minute or so conversation, he related all the sordid details of the marriage. Kenneth told him that he’d intervened on behalf of his sister from time to time but he had to be careful, being a policeman and all. Kunle nodded sympathetically. Kenneth seemed most interested in how he had acquired the skills that his sister had described. Kunle smiled and told him that he’d spent some time in the military and had done quite a bit of unarmed combat training.
“Well Monsieur,” Kenneth said before leaving, “You have my permission to kick my brother-in-law’s a-s every time he steps out of line.” Both men smiled, shook hands and then Kenneth left.
The following morning as he sipped his coffee and looked out the window, Kunle spotted the arrogant wife-beater hobbling off to work. Half an hour later he answered a knock on the door and was surprised to find the young woman from upstairs standing there with a clothes basket.
“I’m sorry to bother you Monsieur but I was wondering if I could use your dryer… mine has stopped working and I urgently need to dry a few things.” Her eyes pleading with him.
He glanced down at the basket, noting that its content were mostly flimsy pieces of underwear. Although he was reluctant to let anyone in his apartment, she had such a sweet, innocent face, despite the bruising and he could hardly refuse.
His washer and dryer was in the kitchen. He wasn’t sure he knew how it all worked but his neighbor, who introduced herself as Jumoke, assured him that she did. Kunle sat on a stool by the kitchen table while she began working the dryer. He watched her bend over the dryer, her short skirt riding daringly higher and he thought how nice it would be to run his hands up her very shapely legs. She obviously knew he was watching and seemed to linger in that provocative position for longer than it was necessary.
When she did turn around, she bent the other way to pick up the basket and he could see both her t–s swinging freely to and fro. She was a very pretty woman with beautiful brown hair that cascaded onto her shoulders, full sensuous lips and bright blue eyes. When she finally straightened, Kunle quickly averted his eyes and drank up the last of his coffee. She smiled knowingly at his discomfort at having being caught staring.
“Thank you for what you did,” she said, “I’d like to repay you if you’d let me.”
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