It’s scary, complex and overwhelming to respond when you’re sexually assaulted on public transit — even when you thought you’d be prepared.

Ovie had to push and shove to get into the bus. She kept her sight on the goal which was the slightly-opened door. She couldn’t see if she was going to bump into the bus or crash into a person.  When she finally got to the entrance, she took a step in to find out that all the seats were taken. She was left with the standing option. Before she could make up her mind on what to do next, she was trapped in an endless sea of people trooping in.

The bus aisle was filled with lots of people. They rubbed shoulders never minding that their toes were often trodden on or that they were in closer proximity to strangers. Ovie felt claustrophobic.

“Ogbeni move in! Space dey for back,” the bus attendant yelled. Some people protested. There was noise everywhere; Someone’s cell phone was ringing, a child wailing who probably lost his mum in the overcrowded bus, two people fighting angrily over one of them pushing the other. It was a chaotic and extremely hot. Sweat was trickling down everyone’s face. A disgusting odour hung in the air. Ovie felt very uncomfortable. She couldn’t wait to get off the bus. Unfortunately her bus stop was not in sight.

The bus rocked from side to side as they traveled the familiar Lagos roads not affording Ovie’s brain the time to daydream or rest. The bus was filled with people of different kinds; there were those who chattered, their voices rising and blending together in the sweet ritual of friendship. Some absorb themselves in music; others drift into worries that will erase themselves on arrival, when their body rejoins the world of moving and speaking to others. And so the journey continued – people were clogged together yet they seemed separate; feeling all the same turns and bumps.

The bus attendant called out the next stop. A young woman and her three children were alighting so Ovie had to make room. She moved slightly towards the door. She then stepped back to let the doors close. Just then a man put his hands on her back and pushed her into the people on the bus to quickly get in. The door closed behind him and Ovie was crammed between him and another man. She had nothing to hold on to so she put her right hand on the ceiling. Ovie tried to reposition herself so she wouldn’t be touching anyone else. Slowly she started to feel a tingle behind her, something hard was pushing against her butt. She tried to look behind her, but all she could see was a man, older, dark suit, about her height- out of the corner of her eye. His coat was hanging on his left shoulder and his hand and arm were hidden. She thought, “Maybe he has a broken arm. Maybe that’s what’s hitting me.” But she knew… she knew what was pushing into the back of her skirt.

The doors opened at Cement Bustop, and people started to shift around. Ovie moved, so her side was facing this man. As the doors closed and the bus pulled away, Ovie felt that hard object again digging into her leg. She tried to look down, afraid of what she was going to see. She could see his hand moving around in his pants. She stuck her elbow out and into his abdomen to keep him farther away. He just pushed harder. She thought, “No, Ovie! You know what to do!” She started darting her eyes around the bus, silently begging someone to help. No one looked at her. They arrived at Sawmill bus-stop and as the door opened she jumped out of the bus. She was ready to run, but the man followed her out. Ovie tried to make eye contact with him, but he just kept walking. Ovie jumped back in the bus. She held it together until she got her final stop. As soon as door closed Ovie burst into tears; her entire body seemed to sag with exhaustion and numbed sadness that she was for some minutes a pleasurable toy used to excite a man’s sexual abnormality.

Shortly after Kikilomo Adams arrived home that evening her fingers absentmindedly undoing the third button of her tight silk blouse to reveal the smallest hint of a delicate black-lace bra. She drew a lavender-scented bubble bath in her antique, claw-foot porcelain tub pulling a bobby pin from her hair and releasing a cascade of shimmering auburn hair down the nape of her neck. Once she deemed the temperature of the bathwater to be just right, she allowed my terry-cloth robe to slip slowly off her shoulders and gather seductively around her feet, leaving her firm, nearly flawless body completely exposed.

At this point, she took a moment to look into the mirror and think about how there are times in her busy life when she just wants a man—any man, really—to satisfy her every sexual desire, because, while she may be a no-nonsense career woman who should be taken seriously, She is, after all, still a woman.

Considering the long day spent competing with men on her own tough and uncompromising terms, she deserves some time to pamper herself and express her femininity. Because she is such an unrelenting perfectionist when it comes to her profession, Kiki’s other, softer qualities—such as her gourmet culinary training and her years spent as a semi-professional ballet dancer—are often overshadowed.

Thoughts of work seem to float away as Kiki tenderly kneads her skin with scented lotion.

When she was lying in the tub, the bubbles just barely covering her perfect pink nipples, She felt all the pressures of her high-paying, fast-paced job just melt away, Maybe it’s Olubankole Wellington’s “I was made for you” playing on the stereo, or the gentle night-time breeze blowing through the curtains of her 11th-floor service apartment in Ikoyi, but as she washed every contour of her impossibly lithe frame, She really began to feel like herself again.”

And when she slowly submerged her head beneath the water, letting the telephone ring unanswered, that’s when she truly transforms into a gorgeous, sensual woman with a strong libidinal appetite instead of just some incredibly successful female professional.

In addition to celebrating her femininity, she used her time spent bathing to reflect on her decision to delay starting a family, a lifelong dream she has had to put on hold in order to focus on a career that can be ruthless and even cutthroat.

It is also Kiki’s intention to close her eyes, smile in a rather suggestive manner, and let out a small, feminine sigh of satisfaction while in her bathtub tonight.

Kikilomo Adams; the sexy, take-no-prisoners career woman spent one hour in the bathroom mesmerizing herself. After completing her ablutions and air-drying in the nude, she carefully applies a rich, apricot-based lotion to her supple frame, despite the fact that her unblemished skin is already taut and butter-smooth.

“Every once in a while, I need some time for myself to recharge, It’s important to me that I reconnect with my womanhood so I can wake up the next day, put on my short, formfitting pantsuit and black 6-inch patent-leather stiletto pumps, and confidently re-enter the no-holds-barred, male-dominated field in which I excel.” Kiki soliloquized