Thursday, 28th March 2024
To guardian.ng
Search
Breaking News:

Gentlemen of the Bar – 10

By Umari Ayim
01 February 2016   |   9:29 am
THE OYELOWO MANSION DAMILOLA OYELOWO’S ROOM Awake even before the first light of dawn broke through the dark clouds outside the window, Martin Oyelowo lay behind his wife, inches away from her sleeping form, his eyes on the fine hairs of her neck. The flowery fragrance of her perfume filled his nose and brought back…

Gentlemen-of-the-bar-pix

THE OYELOWO MANSION

DAMILOLA OYELOWO’S ROOM

Awake even before the first light of dawn broke through the dark clouds outside the window, Martin Oyelowo lay behind his wife, inches away from her sleeping form, his eyes on the fine hairs of her neck. The flowery fragrance of her perfume filled his nose and brought back memories. He remembered their wedding night.

He remembered lying in bed and wondering if she was going to remain in the bathroom the whole night. Worn out from the five hour flight from Lagos and the drive to their hotel at Paddington, London, he gave up waiting and began to sleep. It was the light tapping from persistent hands that brought him back from sleep. He had turned to see his wife, shy and uncomfortable in a short red see-through night dress. It would be their first night together. Her first time.

He remembered the look of discomfort on her face when he took her, the gasp of pleasure when she finally got used to him. He made promises.

I will never hurt you.

I will make you happy.

He had kept his promises for the first few years of their marriage. Completely besotted and charmed by her naiveté, he spoiled her with gifts and gave her everything she asked for. In the house his father had given him as a wedding gift, they made their first child, a beautiful baby girl with wide curious eyes and a quick smile. He called her Angela. His mother called her Ranti. Everything was fine until his wife fell pregnant for the second time.

Acute Aortic Dissection.

The diagnosis had put a strain on his marriage. After several arguments, his wife had turned to his mother for help and had gotten it.

You must be reasonable Tolu. It is her life we are talking about here. You will have a son if God wills it. Maybe this is not the time for it to happen.

He had done his best to understand, but after the abortion, he found himself withdrawing from his wife. His affairs started shortly after and he had not looked back.

Until now.

He returned his attention to his wife and saw her turn slightly before growing still again. Her movement caused the sheets to slide down her body, exposing her curves to him. Martin eyed her body for some minutes, the desire to touch her growing stronger as he continued to watch her. At last, he sighed and drew close to her. He felt her stiffen as his body came in contact with her own and knew she was not asleep. His lips pressed into a thin line and brows knitted together in a frown, he thought about the last few days. He still thought about the tears on his neck and the question that plagued him that night came back to haunt him. He touched her shoulder.

“You are not asleep.”

His wife turned to him. Eyes framed with long dark lashes stared back at him.

“No, I am not.”

The two adults stared at each other, each noting how little the other had aged. Damilola remembered thinking how nice it was that her husband looked after his body as her hands traveled over his chest the previous night, while Martin thought it was odd how her breasts remained firm after all these years, and how her face had retained most of its youthfulness, except for the small lines around her eyes.

Martin Oyelowo lowered his head and kissed his wife. It was not the slow languid kiss of lovers accustomed to each other; it was the passionate, eager kiss of lovers getting to know each other.

*********************

While Martin Oyelowo was wrapped in his wife’s embrace, the Inspector General of Police sat alone with the President of Nigeria in his office at Aso Rock Villa, waiting as the president answered a phone call.  As the inspector general watched the president, he saw a side of him many Nigerians never saw. Sitting hunched over his gleaming mahogany table in a plain white golf T-shirt worn over black slacks, and missing his mild-mannered mien, the president’s eyes blazed with consternation, lips turning down at the ends. The left hand resting on the table was clenched into a tight fist.

“And how come the governor has not asked the commissioner to do something about the situation?”

The president listened some more and then slammed his fist on the table.

“This is not the time for politics. Get him to do something…..I don’t want to hear any excuse. I have too much on my plate now…Look Eghosa, do whatever you can do….Call a press conference, do anything…I don’t care what local government he is visiting, something must be done. I will tell Rueben to prepare a statement.”

The president slammed the sleek black receiver on the cradle.

“Stupid people,” he muttered under his breath.

To the Inspector General, he said,

“Do me a favour, make sure your men find Nosa before the end of next week.”

The inspector general nodded.

“Yes sir.”

The president’s brow furrowed, hooding his eyes.

“What about your case?”

The inspector general remembered his friend’s promise and tried to sound confident.

“We are working on it sir.”

“Please do your best to keep that case out of the news. These people are trying to pull me down. You know what will happen if they get their hands on this story?”

“Yes si – ”

“They will twist things around and before we know it, their newspapers will carry stories about this government, and I am tired…very tired of hearing these stories.”

“Okay sir.”

The president dismissed the inspector general of police and prepared to meet with his new Minister of Defence, the one that had been rumoured to resign a few days after he appointed him. The president prepared his notes for the meeting. He would also meet with the military chiefs and try to resolve the conflict between them and the new minister.

The president scowled and scowled as he wrote. His was the face of a man determined to win. What the president did not know was that there was no connection between his political adversaries and the cases for which he had summoned the inspector general. If he wasn’t so occupied with finding a solution to the impasse between the defence minister and defence chiefs, he would have known that the cases were more connected to a certain powerful lawyer in Lagos currently in the throes of an orgasm with his wife.

***********************

In a corner of the hut in Ehor forest, a figure sat bound and covered with an old dirty sack. Under the sack was a distinguished member of the Nigerian senate, Senator Nosakhare Osarodion. Stripped of his respectability and reduced to a fearful mortal with the picture of his death flashing wickedly in his mind’s eye, Senator Nosa perspired furiously and forgot to call on his Christian God. He chose instead, his traditional gods.

“The king that is greater than the king of the land, Olokun, please help me. Ogun send me help.”

His kidnappers stood with their empty rifles outside the hut and conferred among themselves. The men crowded the woman and hung on her every word, their faces slack with surprise.

“So he is a PDP member?”

The question was directed to the only female of the group, an attractive female with a personal vendetta to pursue. Lydia, the female in question, nodded slowly, a frown on her face.

Boma, the unofficial leader of the group and boyfriend to Lydia stroked his day old beard thoughtfully.

“Apart from the announcement on T.V, did you hear anything?”

Lydia shook her head.

“No, I did not.”

“Are there checkpoints all over?”

Lydia thought about her boyfriend’s question for some minutes. She had seen two checkpoints – one at Oluku and the other at Iruekpen. The one in Iruekpen had been manned by stern looking policemen who checked the cars of motorists with practiced efficiency and refused to respond to her greetings. She thought about hiding this information from her boyfriend but decided against it.

“I saw two.”

Lydia told Boma the location of the checkpoints.

“Kai,” Cletus, the third kidnapper said, his pudgy face twisted in worry. “Na trouble person don find be that. Why you no mention say the guy na PDP guy na?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Lydia said, her voice sharp with irritation. “You think I follow everything he does?”

“But na your uncle na,” Cletus protested again.

“I don’t think this has anything to do with his party,” Boma told Cletus. “He is a senator, so the reaction is normal.”

“Osho don talk anything?” Cletus asked, anxiety straining his voice.

“No, but before I came here, I heard something on the radio about his party people releasing a statement and…”

Lydia’s voice trailed and her eyes stared unseeingly past her boyfriend’s shoulders.

“Lydia?”

Her eyes focused again on Boma, she shrugged, “and something about Abati talking about it.”

Cletus wiped perspiration from his forehead.

“Na wa o.”

Boma looked closely at his girlfriend and saw that she was hiding something.

“What is it?”

Lydia blinked. “Huh?”

“You are not telling me something.”

Lydia sighed. “It is just something I heard from Junior.”

“What?”

“He said he heard from a family member that my uncle is quite close to the president, and erm…that he is supposed to help him in 2015.”

Cletus looked at the two lovers, his confusion mounting.

“Help am do wetin?”

Boma decided to answer his friend.

“Help him with the election.”

“Oh,” Cletus said, the confusion clearing from his face. “Okay. I don understand now.”

The friends fell silent. Boma tapped his empty rifle against his leg, his mind going through the options left to them. Lydia and Cletus looked at him expectantly.

“I think we should make that call this night,” he said at last, looking at Lydia.

Cletus reached into his trouser pocket and brought out the phones they had confiscated from their victim. He handed the phones over to Boma. They drew plans for the evening. He would call the senator’s family for ransom and give them a twenty four deadline with the usual warning not to contact the police. They tried not to get too ambitious. One hundred million Naira was okay. Visibly shaking from excitement, Cletus added his voice to the decision. Yes, one hundred million would do. After all, it was chicken change compared to what the senator earned in Abuja.

Lydia left them just as the place began to get dark. She would return to them the following day for more briefing. Boma kissed her goodbye and watched her pick her way out of the forest. After this operation, he would ask her to marry him.

That evening as Lydia drove home in her red Honda Element, she heard the voice of the governor come through her car speakers.

I would like to assure the public that contrary to the statement released by the PDP in the state, I have an obligation to protect every indigene of Edo State and that obligation will be taken seriously. I reject the attempt to paint me as inhuman by the PDP. I will not play politics with a man’s life. Senator Nosa is one of us and as the chief security officer of this state, it is my duty to protect him.

As I speak to you, the relevant authorities have been contacted and efforts are being made to secure the release of our able senator. A word to senator Nosa’s kidnappers, we are not a kidnapper friendly state. Our position on kidnapping is clear from the provisions of our law. God bless Edo state. God bless the federal republic of Nigeria.

Lydia thought of her boyfriend Boma, her face softening as she remembered how good they were together. She briefly entertained thoughts of marriage to him and wondered if her desire for revenge would put him in trouble. She shook her head.

“Be positive Lydia. They won’t find him.”

Holding on that thought, Lydia drove back to her GRA residence a happy woman. Her plan had gone flawlessly. Revenge was sweet.

********************

ANGELA

We sit in civilized silence by the swimming pool and review Hussaina’s case. Naden is saying something about bringing in new evidence at the next court sitting, but I am not listening. I am thinking about our dinner three nights ago. I am disturbed by the fact that my memory of events after the dinner is submerged in a hazy fog.

What happened after I left the table for bed?

I look at Naden as he leans to write something in his journal.

Should I ask him?

He looks up to find me looking at me and lifts his left brow in question.

“Do you have anything to say?”

I lean back in my chair and nod.

“Yes.”

“What?”

“I am thinking about the dinner, the one you ordered days back.”

Abandoning his pen and relaxing backwards in his chair, Naden watches me coolly. His expression says very little. It is hard to guess what he is thinking.

“Okay, what about it?”

“Was I drunk?”

Naden is silent for a while. I frown at him.

“Yes or no?”

Exhaling and returning back to his upright position, he gathers the papers on the table together.

“Let’s go back to the room. I need to talk to you about that night.”

My thoughts uncoordinated and scattered, I pack my things and walk in the shadow of his slow assured steps. As soon as we enter the room, I organize my thoughts and face him.

“Okay, I am listening.”

********************

NADEN

I can tell she is nervous, but even that knowledge is not enough to assuage my apprehension. A part of me is tempted to hide the truth, to sugar coat the reality of what transpired that night or present a more digestible version of the conversation that had taken place between us, but I tell myself she has a right to know.

“You got drunk.”

Her eyes widen and then narrow.

“I got drunk?”

I nod. “Yes.”

Her lips thinning, she crosses her arm against her chest.

“I remember now,” she says, nodding slowly. “You kept pouring wine into my glass.”

She cocks her head, a disdainful smile playing on her lips.

“I guess that was your plan, right?”

I shrug. “Yes.”

Moving with lightening speed, she charges towards me, but I am prepared. I catch the hand cutting through the air before it can reach its target.

“Don’t,” I tell her, looking into eyes brimming over with hatred. “I have warned you before.”

“You are just a….”

I watch her struggle for words.

“Bastard…idiot.”

I shrug. “Whatever. Don’t just put your hands on me again or you will regret it.”

She tugs her hand free with a violent pull. I let her go and feel a small twinge of wicked satisfaction as she staggers backwards.

“Idiot,” she tosses at me again, stomping off to the table where her phone is lying with the papers we had been working on. “I am calling my father right now.” She grabs the phone and spins round to face me. “I will not work with a shady character like you.”

I nod. “Good, be ready to tell him about your plan to sabotage our efforts.”

She stops tapping her phone to look at me.

“Sabotage what efforts?”

“Well, you confessed to visiting Hussaina several times to help her. Don’t forget to tell your father that part too.”

The hand clutching the phone returns to her side, and defeat enters her eyes. I begin to feel sorry for her until I see her take a step back, one hand lifting to swing something at me. I duck in time and turn to see her phone hit the wall behind me. Turning instinctively to avert the attack I know is coming, I prepare to face her, but I am not quick enough to avoid the inevitable crash as she hurls herself at me. Hard blows rain down on me from all directions. I deflect them and grab her hands. Losing what is left of my control, I jerk her forward so that our noses are only inches apart.

“This is the last warning I am giving on your wild behaviour. I don’t play nice.”

I expect her to shrink, to beg for release, but instead a low growl escapes her throat and she shoves her weight into me, forcing me backwards. I take control of the situation quickly and turn her around just as our legs hit the bed. We stumble into the bed, and I make sure to keep her pinned under me, her arms high above her head and imprisoned in my hand.

“Let me go,” she says through gritted teeth, a feral expression on her face.

“No, until you promise to stop acting like a child.”

Bucking wildly under me, she struggles to free herself. I tighten my hold  on her and we squirm around the bed for some minutes before she stops struggling.

“Let me go,” she says again. This time her voice is unsteady. I see a slight sheen of tears in the eyes staring viciously at me. I exhale.

It was time to apologize.

“Sorry. I was wrong in getting you drunk, but I just needed to know what you were up to.”

She closes her eyes and then opens them again.

“Release my hands.”

I release my hold on her wrists. She sighs and massages them one after the other. When she is done, she lowers them to the bed, her eyes traveling past my face to my chest. The expression on her face is thoughtful. I find myself wondering what she is thinking. Her eyes return to mine briefly, and then we curiously look down at the same time and notice the same thing.

The buttons of her top have come completely undone and breasts moulded to perfection stand proudly in a black brassiere with lace at the edges. Her nipples are hardened and visible through the fabric of the brassiere. I remember her words from three nights ago.

Maybe we should just have sex.

**********************

ANGELA

I am aware of him in ways that make me uncomfortable. I am irritated by the fact that I allowed him push me to the verge of tears and beyond disgusted at myself for the wild thoughts dancing wildly in my head.

He has a nice body. You are horny.

I ignore my inner voice and decide to beg for my freedom. It is either that or a bad decision. The minutes were ticking dangerously. I close my eyes and open them again.

“Release my hands.”

He takes the pressure off my hands. I massage my wrists slowly, aware of the hardness between my legs.

It feels nice, my inner voice says, panting with need. He obviously wants you just as much as you want him.

Stop it! I have a boyfriend.

Ha!  Peter is your boyfriend now?

I bite my lower lip and frown.

Yes, he is.

No he is not. He is your human dildo. That was what you told Amina, remember?

I lift my head to look at him, but find myself looking at his chest and down the space between our bodies.

What is in there?

I draw in a deep breath and will my inner voice into silence. I succeed. Relieved, I lock eyes again with Naden, and as I do, I feel a sudden cold settle around my chest. I look down to investigate the reason for the cold and find my top open, my chest completely laid bare to his gaze. I attempt embarrassment and a little anger but nothing works. I give up and just breathe, but even that is hard. The electricity in the air seems to have taken up all the oxygen. Suddenly breathless, I make a slight movement and then freeze when I realize that I am not trying to get away from him but pressing hard against him, against the hard thing between my legs.

His face is an inscrutable mask but when he lowers his head, I read his intention clearly. I tense as his lips brushes tantalizingly against my own. His breath is clean and tastes of the vodka he had been taking while we sat outside. I part my lips and press against his lips to taste more of him. We kiss slowly, tongues lightly touching and withdrawing until need consumes me. I lose my restraint and let lust guide me as his hands travel all over my body. Our bodies become entangled and I find my legs wrapped around his waist, my body grinding against his own. I push my hands into his shirt and lean to trace the shell of his ear with my tongue. He releases a low moan that makes me tingle all over. I suddenly want him naked.

“Take off your clothes.”

He pulls away. I grab the hem of my top and pull the top over my head. I unclasp my bra and toss it aside. I turn to find him still in his shirt, a frown on his face.

“Are you sure?”

Dazed, lustful and unable to comprehend his question, I reach to pull him close and whisper something in his ear. I don’t know what it is, but whatever it is spurs him into action. He pulls his shirt off. I help him get rid of his trousers and the black boxer briefs underneath. I don’t have time to admire his body because I am falling back to the bed and yielding to the pressure of his legs between my thighs. I feel his fingers touch me at the juncture of my thighs and press against his hand.

His fingers begin to move slowly in teasing circles the same time his mouth lowers to my breasts. Sensations shoot through my body. I squirm against him and try to climax, but he is slow, so slow it hurts. I reach and stroke him. He says something about condoms and shakes his head. Reaching past me, he searches the drawers beside the bed, smiles a little and shows me something.

It is a condom.

He tears the foil off the condom in one easy rip and rolls it on himself. When he is ready, I lift myself off the bed and press against him, determined to lead. He falls back on the bed and I straddle him, lowering myself on him until his entire length completely disappears inside me. Feeling a little full, I begin to move slowly at first until I find my rhythm. I am aware of his moans but I am more focused on the vibrations coursing through my body. Sometimes I lean forward and grind against him, other times I lean backwards and thrust my chest out towards his expert fingers. He matches my aggression and tries to control my movements with his hands on my waist.

I am on the edge of a climax when he turns without warning and I find myself under his body. He stops moving for some minutes, his eyes burning into my own. I am restless. I strain against him to urge him on. He seems to smile even though his lips do not move. After what seems like eternity, he resumes his thrusting, pushing deep into me until I can feel him everywhere inside me. I sink my nails into the firm flesh of his buttocks and rock hard against him. His thrusts become faster and I spin with him, holding on to every kiss, every fevered moan until the waves rush over me and I shudder violently in his arms. It is not long before he reaches his own climax.

My breathing takes a while to return to normal and when it finally does, I find Naden rolling away from me and standing up from the bed. I refuse to feel the guilt pouring into places lust had been a few minutes ago. Naden returns from the bathroom and I leave the bed for my own shower. When I return back to the room, he is on the floor, on his makeshift bed, dressed in a black T-shirt and gray pajamas, his eyes on his phone. The sheets on the bed are straightened and inviting. I climb into bed and stare at the ceiling.

I had sex with Naden.

The notion is hard to take in but the dull throbbing between my legs is a mocking reminder of my abandon a few minutes ago.

I turn on my side and face the empty space beside me.

“Naden?”

“Yeah?”

His voice is cool, almost distant.

“This means nothing. We are not in a relationship.”

“I can’t remember asking you out Angela.”

I frown a little in the dark and try to interpret the lack of interest in his voice but I am too sleepy to be analytical. I pull the covers up my body and give in to sleep.

**********************

NADEN

I hit the send key after composing a reply to the text from Jewel and turn on my side to sleep but sleep evades me long after Angela stops moving on the bed. I give up trying to sleep and think about Angela’s statement.

This means nothing.

I play the words over and over in my head and then remember Jewel again.

Will you be my boyfriend?

My answer had been vague.

We’ll talk when we see.

I lie in the dark and think of the woman lying on the bed above me.

What have I done?

0 Comments