SURVIVE

SURVIVE:
Written by: Johnbest Obialo (Desert Writer)
Genre: Dystopia, Biography, Realistic, Naturalism.
Rated 18+
Disclaimer: Every word, name, place, and anything seen, read or heard on this story are all fictitious, merely from the writer's imagination. It holds no relevant connection to anywhere, anyplace, anything, living or dead. This work is not to be published, rewritten, or edited in any manner/form, without the knowledge of the writer.
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She walked down the hall, making her way to Mr. Brandons Company. She was scheduled to meet him for the interview, at 10 am. It was on a Monday morning, she was dressed her best; a red spaghetti blouse with butterfly designs tucked in a semi length kaki trouser/bum-shorts just inches above her knee-cap that blended perfectly with her skin. She was fair, beautiful, name it. Wonderful D-cup sized breast, the bra gave it away. The Bum-short (slang for short knicker) protruded her butts and made it too obvious she was a born Model. Something about how a first impression mattered. She needed this Job, a modeling job. Seemed like the most proficient for her at the time. Life couldn't have been any harder than it already was for her and Dora, her six-month-old baby since losing her husband. She was a young widow, just 20 when Kelvin passed on.

Kelvin, Col. Kelvin Orji Parker is Theresa's husband, was rather, or at least used to be. A good man! He was military and worked his butt out defending a country that cared less for its citizens (A Country I choose to keep the name to myself, alone. I guess you reading this probably knows what country I'm referring to). I remembered how we'd argue when he came for a pass as they called it. I'd tell him to resign the military as soldiers were dying and the Government wasn't given them supplies, weaponry and the sort to combat insurgency in the far north. He’d call me in-law, laughed and then replied: “I've got my mind in what I do. Pray for a promotion for me, not that I resign.” The promotion never did come, No, it never came. The news of his death on Tv exactly 29 Sept. Last year made me question life's essence, if I felt that way, wonder what she must have felt, his wife, my cousin 8month pregnant for him at the time. I prayed for a promotion for him, maybe I never prayed enough or my sin was too enormous, God didn't answer. I don't like reliving the past, particularly not that kind of past. So I'd just move on with the rest of this narrative.

6month after all the racket. Theresa still found herself looking for a Job, a means of livelihood, a means for survival. The word ‘Survival’ sounded rather obscure for her, it wasn't even possible. I retract the adjective. Her inlaws - late husband siblings had connived and coveted any little property she had left with Kelvin, making her feel less of herself. She cursed at the world. What terrible fate can a person have in a world of wickedness!

“Hello, Good morning.” Theresa greeted resting her right arm on the front desk of the receptionist table and waving with her left to the receptionist who seemed rather busy with what she was writing on a paper.
“Welcome to climax models, pleasantries.”
“Uhmm, I have an appointment with Mr. Brandon, please. Hope you don't mind?” Theresa said as she removed her arm from the desk.
“Your name?” The receptionist asked, dropping the paper she was writing on.
“Theresa Parker. Thank you!”
She dialed a number on the intercom, She mumbled some words and hung the call.
“Ok, you are cleared. Take the elevator, 4th floor, second door to your left, he's waiting.” she pointed to the elevator.
“Thank you!” Theresa continued, following exactly as she had been directed. On the 4th floor, second door to her left was an engraving neatly carved: “Mr. Brandon Ali Okeke, CEO - climax models.” She rang the doorbell, a voice from the inside told her to come in. She went in.

Inside was a man sitting on a swivel chair, “Please have a sit.” He said, pointing to the chair just in front of him, not swivel like his. It had normal four legs denoting it was meant for subordinates. There was no table of any kind in the office, neither any in front of him. It wasn't the TYPICAL boss office one would expect at first glance. He wore a blue waistcoat and a tie just underneath, white long sleeves which he folded, and a blue trouser. There was a shelf to his right ladened with so many books which gave him up, he was a reader. Brandon was renowned for his expertise in the Modeling industry. A winner of awards but most notably, he has a killer physique every lady would die for. Nice Biceps that showed just how masculine he was. “Quiet offsetting a man this handsome, and young isn't married.” Theresa reasoned, standing. She was in her fantasies not knowing Brandon has been observing her day-dream.

“Theresa right? Please sit down.” She jerked, coming to reality.
“Yes.., yes, I’m so sorry Sir. I uhm.. Was…” She paused, feeling embarrassed she hadn’t made a good first impression.
“Nay, not to worry.” He winked
“Happens all the time with clients who are ladies. Haha!” He said laughing.
He stood from his swivel chair, walked to Theresa who was calmly sitting now and had his hands wrapped around her neck. This made Theresa uneasy.
“What d'you say we get this interview started right away?” His hands quickly slide from her neck, making their way down her cleavage.
“Sir! I'm sorry what are you doing?” Theresa jumped out of her chair, screaming. Water was already gathering her chiasma opticum down her retina. There were confusion and fear written all over her face.
“I see you wanna play. Ok, go outside, opposite this building is a hotel. Wait for me, room 102.” Mr. Brandon said, stretching his arm giving her a keycard.
“I'm sorry sir, but I'm no longer interested in this Job.” She out busted, taking her bag from the chair, she made for the door. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she walked inertly. Did she do the right thing? Did she not?

“Wait, wait, Therry wait.” Mr. Brandon called, running to her just before she pressed the elevators button. He grasped her arm. Theresa turned. It was fast, the slap. Theresa had convulsed when he grasped her arm, with fear and in disgust; she slapped him so much it echoed in the lobby.
“Wow! I, I think now we are even.” He said, rubbing his cheek that received the slap, with his hand.
“Wait, Theresa listen; I’ve been looking for the right girl for the job, but all the others before you turned out sex maniacs. What transpired in my office was just a cocoon, a camouflage. I was only testing you, you passed.” Brandon tried been as convincing as he could.
“Wow! Here I was thinking I made a bad-first-impression on you, but you made one instead. Like I said Sir, I no more need the job.” Theresa said looking at the ground. Mr. Brandon was dumbfounded.
“Well, if you’ll need my services in your company sir, you'll have to put in more efforts to get ‘em.” She pressed the elevators button, it opened, she went in.
Mr. Brandon Ali Okeke stood thinking, watching the elevator slide down. He had lost a good person.

“I'll bring her back.” He assured himself.
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WRITERS REMARK: Survey has shown that 60-70% of women in the world today wear exposing dress. It is the fashion for them. For me, I'd say “Fashion has evolved.” It does not mean all of this women dressing this way are sex-starved-psychos. They only want a sense of belonging in a society where fashion has become a competition. Some men in society today are pedophiles, rapist who wants to take advantage of these ladies giving their chance. I'd advice that Men respect Ladies!

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Desert Writer