Hera Aphrodite.

Rule one of seeing a movie with Odogwu: you will not know the head and tail of the movie. She should have known when he picked the last row, the one that only people with ulterior motives clocked. The hall was dark, the speakers were loud, and the screen looked larger than life. Three rows ahead a couple was fighting over a bucket of popcorn. No one was looking at them. She instinctively closed her legs as his hand inched closer. His other hand found her nipple through her gown and played it like a guitar. His mouth grazed softly across her ear, then blew cold air, electrifying her further. She unconsciously opened her legs when his fingers slid farther inside. He did not rush. He teased her with wild but soft, intimate touches, until she thought she could bear it no more. When he finally gave her what she wanted, she spread her legs wider and bit down hard on her lip to keep from making a sound. Not here. Not with strangers an arm's length away. Her hand trailed to his waist, wanting to drive him as crazy as he was driving her. No belt. She slid her hand into his cargo shorts and squeezed. He grunted, deep in his throat. "Feels like I've been waiting for this all my life," he said, eyes still on the screen, his hands tormenting her without mercy. She tried to copy him and keep her eyes on the screen too but failed. The explosion on the screen above them was nothing compared to the one building in her. He leaned close, his lips against her ear. "Asa, mianụ mụ amụ bikonụ. Mianụ Odogwu amụ, eh. Nwa ọma Buchi. You know you do it like no other, bikonụ." Rule two: don't let him beat you to the game.