Pregnant For Mr Perfect

PROLOGUE

“Do you know what she told me?” He asked, sounding so desperate and deeply troubled, his friend was listening to him keenly without interrupting, “I said TRUTH OR DARE?”

“She said TRUTH; I’m pregnant for you Mr. Perfect.”

His friend’s eyes widened in shock. “What did you say?” he asked, barely able to believe what he’d just heard.

“I didn’t know what to say,” he replied, looking shell-shocked. “I was so stunned, I just sat there, completely frozen.”

“How could she say something like that?” his friend asked, clearly dumbfounded.

“I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure she’s not joking.”

“That’s a pretty serious accusation to make, especially if it’s not true,” his friend said. “Do you think she’s telling the truth?”

Mr. Scott didn’t know how to answer that question.

“Did you sleep with that Razz lady?” His friend pressed further and he fought back to deny that question.

“It was a mistake! I was drunk! I didn’t know what I was doing!! I just...” He didn’t know how it happened, he was angry with her, he had dared her and she didn’t back out.

He had been angry...he always went into a series of arguments while she always shouted back just like she used to. He was driven by anger for her sauciness and dirty words. And then ... “It was a mistake Ollie.”

His friend heaved a sigh of frustration, “This is a big mess David. How are you going to deal with that kind of girl? I mean how did you even sleep with her? Miss Dustfinger? How did you even do it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know what I’m going to tell my girlfriend. Natalie will be so mad at me.”

“Then deny the pregnancy.”

“What?”

“Yes, if you don’t deny that pregnancy, your grandmother will make you marry her. You know her so well, this is like an ample opportunity for her to get you married.”

Another of Scott’s fears bursted, “I don’t want to get married and not to Her!! That girl is not a human being! She should’ve been born a boy! Have you even seen her body? So masculine! Bones everywhere!!”

“Can we call her and have a talk with her?”

Scott rolled her eyes, “That’s like jumping out from frying pan into fire. That girl has no sense. I think she should have some criminal records because she acts like one who escaped from prison. I don’t even want to talk to her. She’s so dirty! She don’t even wash properly especially her hair.” He gave a disgusting look remembering how messy her hair always is at work.

“But you still slept with her.”

“I don’t know how that happened.”

“That’s why I’m suggesting we invite her over and have a chit chat with her.”

Mr. Scott was still unsure about that. “I don’t know,” he said, his brow furrowed in thought. “I’m afraid she’ll just try to manipulate me or Natalie. I don’t know what she’s capable of but I know she’s very destructive and selfish.”

“That’s why I’ll be there,” his friend said, his expression serious.

“I’ll help you keep things calm and under control. I won’t let her take advantage of you or Natalie. I promise.”

Mr. Scott considered this, and after a moment, he nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

CHAPTER ONE

TRUTH OR DARE

DAHILA

Dustfinger this. Dustfinger that. He is the one who always loved to get on my nerves! It’s so bad that I’m always the one to be blamed for his rudeness! Argh!! I winced as I nearly cut myself with a knife. I looked at the apple I was peeling and tossed it back into the plate giving up on it as I reached for my phone.

It’s annoying the way everyone always blames me. Team manager will say:

He’s our boss, give him some respect.

He deserves respect from us!!!

Who said so? That man?

Right from the first day I walked into his office and he looked at me with his stupid demeaning eyes and mocked my name.

“Dahila Dustfinger, is that even someone’s name?” He had remarked sheepishly.

That’s when I knew that we would never get along in that company. I hate him. My whole body always cringes whenever I see him walk into the company every morning trying to act nice and handsome when he’s nothing but a bag of garbage.

His curly hair gets me wanting to throw up every time I see him. What’s he feeling like most times when he tries to show off his stupid set of teeth which are nothing but the rod of the rings in front of my eyes.

“Why don’t you like our boss?” One of my team mates and close friends at work, Cynthia asked me one day over the cafeteria after he had walked in to get himself a coffee.

“Because he’s not likable.” I had answered watching him, his sleeves rolled up to show off the stupid hairs on his arm, I mean, what’s so romantic about getting someone’s sleeve rolled up like that?

It’s romantic on all the guys I’ve seen but always looks so stupid on him. Nothing suits him. Just being annoying suits him better.

“I just hate him.” I had openly admitted not minding the consequences of what I had told her and she was giving me surprised looks but I didn’t mind.

“He’s too perfect for you to say you hate him.” She replied looking at me strangely but I didn’t mind.

“That word perfect makes me hate him more. Are you sure he’s not gay?” I asked because he sometimes acted like one.

A stupid gay male. Always jumping around like a little frog when he steps on a little dirt or when someone shakes him with a sweaty hand.

Ugh!

“Hey stop that! He has a girlfriend.”

I chuckled. “He has a girlfriend? How is she coping with him?” Oh! I pity the poor soul, how is she dealing with the garbage? I mean, doesn't she ever feel the need of offloading that garbage in a nearby dustbin.

“What does she even like in him? Some girls have a really bad taste in men.”

“Did you wash your hair today Dahila?” Cynthia asked me and my blood began to boil, her voice sounded so much like him. With his eyes staring at me with so much disdain whenever he asked me that question.

“I will wash it this weekend.”

“This weekend?” She furrowed her brows, “The week just started Dahila.”

I shrugged and poked my nose with the edge of my fork softly so I wouldn't injure my nose. “I don’t have time to wash my hair, I’m busy.”

“Busy? What’s your definition of being busy Dahila because I’ve never seen you as a busy person.”

I stopped poking and glared at her. She’s already crossing the boundary, “Cynthia, eat your food or get out.”

Because I don’t know why I should be getting scolded in my own place of work.

My mom will scold me at home whenever she comes around, my dad will fill my ears with talks on adulthood, insist on taking me to youth seminars and hook me up on blind dates which ended up drastically. Oh yeah! I always crashed my blind dates because I hated all of them.

And now at work, when I’m supposed to be getting a lot of freedom, someone of no importance in my life is also telling me how to live it.

First, Mr. Perfect and now, she wants to add herself to the cart.

She stood up carrying her tray and leaving me alone. And that was better for me. At least I could eat in peace.

But that night, two days ago, was a mistake. He had started it. He was yelling at me for barging into his office without knocking. I was explaining myself.

“I knocked, you just don’t have ears Mr. Boss.” I replied while he closed his nose.

“Damn! You smell! How could a full grown woman be smelling like this!! Do you even use roll-on?”

I had rolled my eyes, I desperately fought back the whole strength in me not to hit his face. I wanted to scratch out his eyes, a mark which will always be indelible on his face.

“A full grown woman! Oh my God. I’m just going to keep you in this company for one year! That’s the deal I had with my grandmother over workers I employ into the company, don’t let me lose my patience...” he said.

“Lose it!!!” I interrupted, “That you’re some boss doesn’t mean I can’t beat you up. You want to fire me, I keep on waiting patiently for the day you will do that.” I stepped closer to him.

Height to height and eyes to eyes. I was almost taller than him because of my heels on my feet. He was drunk, and was still nursing a glass of whiskey.

And that’s when he started his stupid game again, “Truth or dare.” He had said and I scowled. I hate backing out from his silly games so easily.

“Dare.” I replied opposite of what I used to say; TRUTH, I had wanted something for a change.

“I dare you to kiss me.”

DAVID

You see, that day was a big mistake for me. I didn’t mean it when I said she should kiss me.

I was trying to scare her away. I mean, she was being dared to kiss a hottie like me and as a woman with some dignity, she should’ve backed off screaming defeat but she didn’t. She grabbed on to me and kissed me more than I could’ve imagined.

I sat up on my bed, my eyes blinking as I stared at my room and at the window where the moonlight was filtering into the room.

I touched my lips feeling disgusted once more. I got down from my bed and rushed into my bathroom and began to brush all over again.

She must’ve been insane to have kissed me. I must’ve been mad to make that dare become something else I’m regretting so deeply.

“Arrrggh!!! Dustfinger!!!” What has she done to me!! Why is a woman never scared and always standing up to me?

Is it because we are of the same height? She’s one of the tallest girls in the company, could’ve been a model, but sorry, she lacks the body for it. And oops! Her face also betrayed her.

And her hair, jeez! Why didn’t God make her a man? I would’ve made her my bodyguard or my bouncer. She would’ve been fit for that job but would she even survive beside me? Hell no, she’s so dirty.

A girl who never washes her hair!! Sometimes she’d come to work with smeared coffees on her shirt or skirt.

She doesn’t even have a good walking step, always stumbling on her heels. One day, I had seen her carrying her heels in her hand while walking barefooted on the floor.

Is she a child? I dropped my brush and reached for my mouth wash, I have to scrape every part of her which I’ve touched clean. She must be insane to have kissed me. Why would she do that? What if I dared her?

I reached for the face cream while getting out of my pajamas. I spread the cream over my face and applied it in gentle strokes, paying close attention to the contours of my jaw and cheekbones.

I picked up a loofah and scrubbed my arms and chest, my skin turning pink from the exfoliation.

I took my time, careful not to miss a spot, wanting to make sure that every inch of my body was clean and well-moisturized.

When I was done, I was satisfied with myself. At least, there’s a lesser germ of Dustfinger on my body.

TWO MONTHS LATER

She barged into my office without knocking as usual. I guess she lacks the no knocking habits in her systems.

“What is it? Learn to knock!!!” I yelled out at her.

“Oops! Sorry,” she said, smiling at me. I wish she could stop with the smile, she doesn’t have a face to welcome that sort of expression on her face.

I had sat up, ready for her. I’m always ready for her. The fact that my own worker always keeps me on my toes, toying with my angry and annoying emotions every single time always makes me tense and on my toes. I prepared myself for any of her stupid moves on me.

She must be getting ahead of herself since we kissed the last time. I noticed that she has been avoiding me or should I say trying to make me notice her since our last kiss.

Maybe the big masculine idiot has fallen for me. Does she even know the torture she had put me through because of that single kiss?

I’m still extra cleaning myself up because of her.

She began to come close to me, I buttoned up my suit, staring and watching her every step and move until she said.

“TRUTH or DARE”

What’s with the game? What is she scheming? What’s her problem? Is she trying to do something nasty again?

“TRUTH,” I replied boldly, I can’t be scared of her. She’s too small and big for me to be scared of.

Does she even know who I am? Does she know who my grandmother is? I will soon throw her out of the company, thank God she only has a few months left.

Her hands rested on the table glaring into my eyes. “Do you like bad news or good news?”

“I love both.” I felt attacked by that question. She nodded her head and turned around heading towards the exit, I sprang up to my feet, I couldn't let her get away, “Truth or dare,” she said. I wanted to know what she’s thinking when she asked me that.

I said “Truth.” She replied on a stand still, “I’m pregnant for you.”

What?

She’s pregnant for me?

How!!???

DOES SHE MEAN THAT MY PEN*S TOUCHED HER!

LIKE TOUCHED HER!!

OH MY GOD!!

I WANTED TO FAINT.