by Kiru Taye
They faced each other for several thumping heartbeats, their chests heaving up and down with their panting breaths.
“Fine,” he bit out. “If that’s the way you want to play it.”
He strode into the bedroom. Curious, she followed behind him, determined not to let him out of her sight until they’d resolved this argument of theirs.
He flicked the switch on the outside wall and entered a large closet the size of the bedroom she shared with Anuli.
She halted at the entrance and her mouth dropped open for the second time since she arrived at his suite.
On the left side, men’s jackets, trousers and shirts hung neatly in an open maple wood wardrobe. Two matching tall chests of drawers and gleaming shoes suspended from racks stood to the right wall.
He pushed a rack. It made a click and slid to the side smoothly.
From where she stood, she couldn’t see what lay behind the rack. His index finger moved. She heard a low popping sound before a small door opened. He reached inside. When he withdrew his hand, a wad of cash came out with it.
She gasped, amazed at another discovery. The safes she’d seen in other hotels rooms weren’t hidden from view like this one which seemed built into the wall.
He shut the door, tugged the rack into place, and headed back to her. Lifting her right hand, he shoved the money into her palm.
“This is ten thousand. Now, you’re staying. End of story.” Sidestepping her, he returned to the living room. She heard the sound of the television, a music video.
Lips pressed together in a slight grimace, she stared at the bundle of cash and fingered the crisp, clean five hundred naira notes. They were wrapped in a paper band with the bank logo. What did this mean? Did he now want sex? Shouldn’t she rejoice because she’d won?
Instead with slow, heavy steps, she followed his trail and stood opposite the sofa where he sat, blocking the TV from his view.
“Let me get this straight. You’re paying me to stay in your hotel suite for the night. But you don’t want to fuck me?”
He lowered his head onto his open hands, with his elbows to his knees.
“Peter?” she probed, wanting to understand what was going on. No man gave her money without wanting something in return. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe he would do this out of the goodness of his heart. No one was that charitable.
He scrubbed his hands over his face, lifted his head and blew out a long exhale as he stared at her with eyes that seemed to look past her. “No. I’m not going to fuck you tonight.”
He pushed off the sofa and walked away. She heard the bathroom door shut. Puffing out a breath, she slumped onto the sofa.
This had to be another first. A man giving her money and not wanting anything in return. Well, in Peter’s case he didn’t want her having sex with any man including himself. Being paid not to have sex. It was certainly an interesting concept. Why would he do something like this? Why did he care whom she was having sex with or how often? It wasn’t his business what she did. Nobody else cared. Why should he?
If he’d wanted to have sex with her, then at least, she’d have understood his reasoning. But paying not to have sex was just plain weird. Was he some kind of bible-bashing evangelical trying to convert her or something?
He hadn’t quoted any bible verses at her or preached at her to repent like some people did?
Her brain churned with all kinds of scenarios.
Did he really not want to have sex with her? Was her job so abhorrent to him?
When she’d first met him, she could’ve sworn there was a connection between them, both sexual and emotional. Now she wasn’t so sure anymore. There was still an emotional connection between them. She could see it in the intensity of his eyes just now. He felt something for her just as she felt something for him.
She sighed, put the money in her bag and took her shoes off. She needed the cash, if not she wouldn’t be accepting it. She’d just have to find a way to truly earn it. Perhaps he’d change his mind about having sex.
She sat on the sofa and waited for him, flicking through the channels. About ten minutes later, she heard the bathroom door open. She tossed the remote on the sofa and went in search of him. She found him by the closet covered in a white towelling robe, droplets of water glistening on his head.
He’d taken a shower. He was naked under the robe.
Her skin flushed hot and her pulse rate quickened. Even dressed in something as innocent as a robe, she found him attractive.
She needed a cold shower.
He pulled a t-shirt and cycling shorts out and extended them toward her. “You can change into these so I can get the laundry team to clean and mend the rip in your dress ready for tomorrow.”
“Okay.” She took the clothes from him. “Is it okay if I shower?”
“Of course. Go ahead. Feel free to use whatever you need in the suite. If there’s something that isn’t here, just let me know and I’ll arrange for it to be brought up.”
He was being very cordial. There was no trace of the frustrated man from earlier.
“Thank you.” She said and headed for the bathroom, grateful for the sanctuary and to be able to clean off all the sweat and partying from earlier.
“Just leave the dress on the floor outside the door,” he called out.
Surprisingly she felt a little self conscious as she striped in the bathroom with the door closed. She opened the door a crack and tossed the dressed on the carpeted floor of the bedroom before shutting the door again. Using the hair clip in her bag she piled her hair on top so it wouldn’t get wet.
Standing under the warm shower spray was refreshing after the stressful night she’d had. She didn’t get the luxury of a shower in the place she lived where she bathed with a bucket of water. So this was pure luxury. And she savoured it for as long as she could. Even the shower gel smelled like heaven and felt lovely on her skin.
There was another fluffy towel for her when she came out. She dried herself and put on the t-shirt Peter had given her but skipped the shorts.
When she came out of the bathroom, the lights were low in the suite. Her dress wasn’t on the floor anymore. Peter lay in bed, wearing a white t-shirt and covered in a sheet.
“I’ve had a really long day, so I need to sleep,” he said. “But you are welcome to stay up, if you want to. Just keep the volume down on the TV if you want to watch.”
Really? He was just going to sleep. This guy was serious about this. Okay. She could play this game.
“No. I’m tired too.” She walked to the other side of the bed and climbed in. The sheets were crisp and cool against her skin as she lay on her side facing him.
He reached over and switched off the light, putting the room into darkness.
Perhaps he liked to get down and dirty in the dark. She listened to his regular breathing, expecting him to reach for her. Nothing happened.
“Peter is there something I can do for you?” she asked, wanting to reach for him but not wanting him to kick her out of bed. She just felt weird sleeping beside a man who wasn’t expecting sex.
“Go to sleep, Tessa.”
She felt the mattress shift as he turned his back to her.
Feeling a pang in her chest, she sighed and closed her eyes. “Good night, Peter.”
Chapter Five
She came to him like she did these days, beautiful and ethereal. At night. In his dreams. Barely there. Still full of life. Laughing. Dancing. Touching. Kissing.
“Naaza, why do you only stay for a short time?” he asked as he reached for her, wanting to hold onto her forever.
“It’s because you have a life to live. I can’t be in it.” She smiled at him.
His throat closed up and his chest tightened. This wasn’t enough.
“So why do you come at all?” his voice showed his frustration at the whole situation, although in truth he didn’t know what he’d do if she didn’t show up at all.
“Oh baby, it’s because you’re
not living. You’re no fun these days. You work so hard with your businesses, you don’t take any time for yourself to really enjoy your life.”
Her brown eyes showed her sadness, her head tilted to the side as she reached to stroke his skin. The touch whispered across his flesh. A breeze. Barely there. Still Goosebumps rose on his flesh.
“What’s the point? I only wanted to enjoy my life with you. Remember the plans we made?”
“I do, honey. I also remember the fun we had. You were a man full of life, sexy and fun to have around. Now you’re always so serious.”
Yes, his ability to enjoy life had vanished. Fun was meeting up with his two best friends regularly and of course his family. Outside of that he had his work, running his business. What was the point of anything else?
Naaza had been his spirit. His soul. Now, that was gone. She was gone. Only a ghost. A figment of his dreams.
It had been five years. Sometimes it felt like fifty years. Sometimes it felt like just five minutes. Either way he felt as if he had no right to enjoy life without the woman he had loved for so long.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked, his voice broken by his loss.
“I want you to live, my love.” She moved.
“What do you mean?” He reached for her but she slipped from him, floating away.
“Live, so I can rest...”
She faded until he couldn’t see her any more.
“Naaza,” he whispered her name as he shut his eyes, tears seeping through the corners.
He lifted his hand and wiped his eyelids before lifting them to find sunlight seeping through the shut curtains of the hotel room.
He lay there, remembering his late fiancée, Naaza. She had been the one and only woman he’d loved. They’d been childhood friends who’d become lovers when they’d gone to University. They’d been inseparable and he’d even gotten his father to work it so that they’d served as Youth Corpers in the same location.
They’d made plans for the future. She was going to be a prominent Nigerian civil rights lawyer and he would be a business tycoon. One part of their plans had worked. Unfortunately she’d died, cut down by cancer in her prime.
He’d never really gotten over her death. Never gotten involved with another woman. Many had tried to ensnare him, all to give up when he showed no interest. He’d kept out of trouble, never seeking empty release in any other person’s body.
No one could ever replace Naaza.
He rolled over in bed, realised there was a woman in his bed and jerked upright. He scrambled out of bed, heart racing.
What the hell? Who was this?
He peered over the mass of hair held up with a clip to look at the face and all of last night came rushing back.
Tessa. She lay on her side facing away from him. Without all the heavy makeup, she appeared young. In her early twenties. Last night, in her gear she had looked like she’d been in her late twenties or early thirties.
Why was a girl as young as she appeared selling her body to men?
His stomach turned and he looked away and strode into the bathroom.
Why did he have to go into that night club yesterday? He didn’t know what had possessed him. He’d thought he’d have one drink and soak in the atmosphere for a short time. He’d had a hectic week and just wanted to unwind.
Instead Tessa had knocked into him like a wrecking ball in her skin tight dress, tower high heels and vampy makeup designed to drive a man to his knees. She’d certainly sent his mind seeking the oblivion her body would’ve provided. For those moments on the dance floor, he’d forgotten everything else including Naaza.
When he’d walked away from her in the car park he hadn’t expected to see her again. Yet, here she was sleeping in his bed, his t-shirt skimming the curves of her body.
Arousal spiked through him, his morning wood came to life. He groaned out loud.
He couldn’t do this? Why was he thinking about Tessa when the only woman he’d ever wanted was Naaza?
Guilt caused a thickness in his throat. He shouldn’t have brought Tessa into his suite. He should have let her go after he’d dismissed Telema last night.
But he couldn’t get the image of Telema handling Tessa and the idea that any other man could do that to her, just drove him insane. He had to keep her here.
Now what?
He stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, patting his wet body.
What was he going to do with Tessa now? If he let her go, she would go back to doing whatever she wanted. Tonight she would be back at the night club, picking up more men.
His lips pressed together in a grimace and he stared down at his bare feet on the grey limestone tiles. He rubbed a hand over his chest.
What the hell was he going to do?
On the one hand, he didn’t want anything to do with a call girl, a woman who sold her body for money. He was a reputable business man. He was in Port Harcourt to discuss a potential acquisition as part of the expansion of his airline business. He should be concentrating on that. If anyone found out about his involvement with Tessa it could scupper this deal.
On the other hand, he just couldn’t shake this aversion he had of any other man touching Tessa.
If he let her go, for sure she would be out there tonight fishing for men. She was too damned stubborn. She’d proven it by arguing with him last night and making him pay for her to stay.
He scrubbed a hand over his head, feeling the bristles of the newly cut hair from yesterday.
There was only one thing he could do.
He left the bathroom and strode to the closet, making sure not to stare at the sleeping woman. If he didn’t look at her, then perhaps this constant lust he felt when she was around wouldn’t overwhelm him. He’d sensed her presence last night when she’d climbed into bed. It had taken every ounce of his will not to reach for her when she’d asked if there was anything she could do for him.
Damn it. He wasn’t going to be like every other man she’d met.
And he wasn’t ready for another woman to replace Naaza. Didn’t think he’d ever be ready even if the woman currently asleep in his bed proved irresistible.
A knock at the door had him walking across the suite to open it.
“Laundry service, sir,” the bus boy said as he held out the now cleaned dress Tessa had been wearing last night.
“Thank you.” He took the dress wrapped in cellophane cover, tipped the boy, shut the door and returned to place the item at the foot of the bed.
Dressed, he opened the safe and took out a bundle of cash. He walked into the living room, picked up one of the hotel notepad from the desk and scribbled a note on it. He took both the note and the cash back into the bedroom, placed the note on the bedside table next to Tessa with the cash on top of it.
He gave her sleeping form one last glance. He didn’t know what her reaction would be when he saw the note or cash. But he wouldn’t be here for her to argue with him as was likely to happen.
He strode out of the suite and shut the door, heading for the lift. Downstairs, he approached the receptionist.
“Good morning, Mr Oranye,” the woman greeted cheerfully.
“Morning, Rose.” He made it his business to remember the names of the hotel staff he came into contact with. Of course he didn’t know everyone of the one hundred and twelve employees at the Park Hotel, Port Harcourt. “Is my car ready?”
“Yes, sir. Godwin is waiting for you.”
“Good. I have a guest staying in my suite for the next few hours. Please make sure she has whatever she needs.”
“Of course, sir. Have a safe trip.”
“Thank you.”
Outside, he found the chauffeur waiting with the car door opened. He slid into the back seat as the man shut the door.
“Godwin, we need to make a quick stop over before we head to Enugu.”
“Yes, sir,” the man replied and drove them out of the hotel.
Chapter Six
"You know
, I never thought you'd be getting married before me."
Wednesday night, Peter sat in the bar lounge at Park Hotel, Enugu with his friends. He cupped the balloon glass in his palm and swirled the clear dark amber liquid it contained before tilting the glass to inhale the aroma. The smell of strong wood, spices and orange peel sailed through his nostrils.
He rarely drank alcohol. In fact he could count the number of times he’d had one since Naaza passed away. Today he needed something strong. Since he left Port Harcourt on Saturday his mind has been unsettled.
"Point of correction. He is already married. This is just a formality." Michael Ede laughed at his own joke while patting Paul Arinze on the back.
"Yes, I forgot about the shotgun wedding in Lagos." Peter smirked. He truly had never thought Paul would settle down. Of the three of them Peter had been the one who’d had a steady girlfriend throughout their University days. He’d been the first of them to get engaged. He’d thought he’d be married by now. Instead fate had had other plans. He swallowed the brandy in a gulp.
Paul spluttered his drink, his face screwed up into a grimace. "Shotgun wedding? Ijay is not pregnant."
Peter burst into laughter, pointing a finger at him. He loved hanging out with his friends. They knew how to pull him out of his funk. "You should see your face now."
"He had you there." Michael chuckled and leaned back into his seat. He was the hot head of the group and ex-military. When they’d been teenagers, he’d always been the first to plough into a fight whenever someone threatened one of the three friends. Even now, he was their go-to man when heads needed to be bashed.
"Funny. Haha," Paul said as he dabbed himself with a napkin. Of the three of them, Paul wore his heart on his sleeves. His generosity meant that although he’d been wrongly accused and exiled by his family, he’d still welcomed them back into his life and took care of them years later.
“Are you saying you’re not looking forward to babies because you can be sure that’s the next thing everyone will be expecting from both of you?”
“Ha. I’m not saying that at all. There’s a lot going on at the moment as it is. Ijay is relocating to Nigeria. We have all that to sort out plus the traditional wedding. Our hands are full. This is just not the right time for a baby.”
