NYSC: Day 1

Pick a date…
Take your time but,
Don’t be late.

It was under the hell-preparing, scorching Abuja sun that my retina first registered the image, we both were Otondos with no idea of what the following 3 weeks had in store for us.
You, standing 9 spaces to my front, never had I seen an ass so curvaceous like that packed in the 3 1/4 Denim jeans, perhaps not on a tall slim figure like yours made more attractive by the light skin tone visible from the exposed arms on whose shoulders the armless Denim jacket hung lightly and ever so delicately. The ass, my captor, well exaggerated by the hips giving the subject of discussion a perfect appearance, like blue waters below the blue mountains of the Himalayas.

The light skin surfaced again just below the knees all the way down to the black ankle length All star converse. My position on the queue made comfortable by the view of such mesmerising figure could only get better with a bowl of popcorn and coke. She turned, lightly exposing a clean cut architectural beauty of nature, nothing short of perfection with the heavenly light complexioned face unaffected by the sun complimented with lush red pigment on her lips, bright white eyes with grey pupils, pointed nose and a well crafted micro gold piece chain hanging round her neck. 5 minutes had passed, she got her state code, platoon number which happens to be the last digit of the code. 3 further minutes and here I was fighting off a guy nine spaces to the back in calculated hopes to be placed in the same platoon as her, people would never understand why I fought so hard and valiantly, their loss.

My name is Olajide, a perverted mind you think? writing from the overcrowded NYSC camp shelter in Abuja waiting impatiently for my platoon to be assembled for the morning call.


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