Broken Mirrors – Episode 6
Derin walked on needles all day in the house. He had been expecting a blowout, some boiling over when he came back home, but Awazi had been surprisingly calm. But her quietness reminded him more of the quietness of a lioness before it sprang upon its prey. He remembered that broadcast message that had been making the rounds on blackberry sometime ago about when a woman was quiet – it meant she either thought you were too stupid to get what she had to say, or she thought you were a lost cause and couldn’t be bothered to speak with you. He consoled himself by occupying his thoughts with the match he was watching, and when that was done, he fiddled with his laptop, working on a report he had neglected since yesterday but had to turn in at work the next morning, all the while thinking of the kickoff of the case against Omega Clinic.
Evening came, and she disappeared into the kitchen for hours, the occasional clanging of metal utensils and a sweet aroma wafting out from there the only confirmation that she was actually making a meal. He assumed she was deliberately staying that long in the kitchen in order to avoid him. When she emerged from the kitchen in a pair of bum shorts and a small spag top, he marveled at how quickly her body had bounced back from childbirth. He felt something stir in his loins as he gazed on her dark skin glistening with sweat, and her firm, full breasts peeking out from above and beside the top, nipples firmly pushing against the fabric of the top.
He was so carried away gazing at her breasts that he didn’t notice she was carrying something in her hands until she set the tray down in front of him.
She spoke the first words she had said to him since he got in “I’m certain you are very hungry, you’ve not had a proper, homemade meal since yesterday morning. And I’m not talking what you ate wherever you went, fast food iskanchi. Now eat up, Mr. Banwo.”
She had set before him a steaming plate of pounded yam, with what Derin liked to call a thickly populated bowl of efo riro (vegetable soup). It was the type where you would pick one of crayfish, stockfish, smoked fish, pomo, or some other condiment with each bolus of pounded yam you dipped into the soup. Beside the food, she had put a bottle of chilled Fortunela red wine, which she knew was his favorite. The sight of the heavenly food and its aroma made his senses register just how hungry he was. He really hadn’t realized he was that hungry until now. But even as he began salivating, something in his brain told him Awazi was up to something. He had been with her for long enough to know this was the preamble to something, and he hoped she wasn’t trying to have him well fed for a fight.
But all that thinking was shoved to the back of his mind as the hunger got the better of him and he attacked the meal before him, mumbling his thanks to his wife.
“Let me let you eat in peace while I run your bath water,” she said, and then was away before he could respond.
Arinze Kilanko rounded off the call and turned to hold the young girl he was with for tonight. As the owner of one of the most discreet but major players in the Oil and Gas industry, he could afford these and more exotic luxuries even at his age. He always found it interesting as girls who were young enough to be his last daughter’s age would profess undying love for him and tell him how attractive he was. He knew it was the money and good life he could give them they loved, but it wasn’t bad for his ego to hear them say what they said anyway.
The call had been from his longtime friend. He had been the son of an Ibo woman married to a Yoruba man, and when his father had died; his father’s family had raised hell for his mum and for him by extension. They had been left with virtually nothing and were almost going into the streets, when a certain Chief Sanda had taken them in and treated him as a son. It was when he grew older that he realized that Chief Sanda had also taken his mum in and treated her as a wife, one of the sixteen he had, albeit being legally married to only one.
The call he had just finished taking was from one of Chief Sanda’s sons from that legal wife who had become a good friend as they had grown up together. Rasheed was the only one of the kids who was nearly as intelligent as he was (He liked to tell himself that he was just slightly more intelligent) and they had grown up in a competitor/collaborator kind of relationship. Rasheed was now a respectable lawyer with prestigious titles likes SAN, and while he didn’t have all the prestigious titles, he had way more money.
The conversation with Rasheed had been disturbing though. He replayed it in his head now, as he fondled the young woman’s perky breasts absentmindedly.
“There’s a case I’m working on, Kilanko,” Rasheed had said. He never called Arinze by his first name, as if he had something against his Ibo background. So since they were kids, Rasheed had called Arinze by his Yoruba surname.
“En, and so? How does that one concern me, Mr. SAN?” Arinze responded. It was his own pastime to refer to Rasheed by whatever title he had acquired and was proud of, first Barrister and now SAN.
“Mumu, you are with one of those your foolish small girls abi? You will have a heart attack on top one of them one of these days, you this after seventy trying to feel among.” Rasheed had responded.
“Bigger Mumu, is it because you are stuck with only all those your Ibadan big bumbum old women that you are envious? You better state what you want, the girl is busy here under me o” he responded. Such banter was common with both of them. He preferred to carry out his own amorous affairs with girls his daughters’ ages while Rasheed preferred much older society women.
“The thing is, my client would prefer that the case doesn’t make it to court, and we’re willing to settle generously out of court. But the other party is just bent on going to court, destroying my client’s credibility, and ruining an old man in the twilight of his illustrious career.” Rasheed said, then paused for breath before continuing “but we have one piece of good fortune. The boy is one of your employees. This case will be all consuming on him and take all his time. He won’t be productive for you, and he will be a nuisance to us. So, in the interest of all of us, I would like you to ‘persuade’ him to take the out of court settlement and forget about the case.”
The girl moaned by his side as his fingers tightened around her nipple and his thoughts were jarred for a second.
“Which of my staff would this be?” he asked.
“He would be an Ibadan boy, called Derin. Derin Banwo, I believe,” Rasheed responded.
Arinze remembered the young man. He had like the boy the first day he interviewed him. He was one of those bankers that came for oil company interviews in sharp suits and shiny shoes, only to be deflated by the jeans wearing and sneakers wearing interviewers. Arinze always enjoyed doing what he had called the Pointing and Puncture game with them. He would ask the shine shine banker what he earned and typically got figures like three million naira per annum, up to about seven million per annum, depending on the banker’s level. Then he would point at some lowly looking member of his staff, and ask for the guy’s ID card and show the banker the name. He would then ask for the person’s payslip to be printed by HR and show it to the banker. He always enjoyed the expression of shock when the banker saw the figure of jeans wearer was double his own. He had taken a liking to a fellow Ibadan boy and the boy had proven to be an asset.
“I know the boy well, and he’s a reasonable young man. So I wonder, what exactly is this case about that has made him so bent on prosecuting it?”
“Is that important?” Rasheed quizzed.
“Oga, how am I supposed to convince him about something I don’t know about? I don’t want him surprising me with any info and I will look foolish. Come to think of it,” he added “the fact that you didn’t tell me at once means that it’s a real terrible thing your client did. Full disclosure, my good SAN, before I involve myself in this your scheme.”
Rasheed hesitated for a moment and Arinze had to ask “Rashy, are you there?”
“Yes, Kilanko. Just weighing things in my mind. This is between you and I, and it is because you are family that I can even tell you this.”
“Okay, go ahead,” Arinze said. His hand had stopped its ranging on the girl’s breasts and he was now paying full attention to the conversation.
“You know Ajanaku’s clinic, Omega?”
“Ajanaku, Ajanaku,” Arinze mumbled trying to place a face to the name.
“Dr. Omega! You can forget people sha.” Rasheed said in mock exasperation.
“Ah, I remember the guy now. He is a fine gentleman, and I always wondered how he ended up befriending a rascal like you. What trouble have you gotten him into?” Arinze asked.
“I’m afraid it isn’t me this time that got him into trouble. You see, he had a stroke a while ago, and left the running of the hospital to his son, Hakeem, who really doesn’t deserve to run an ice cream van. Derin and wife rushed their baby into the clinic yesterday afternoon and while Hakeem and his staff were giving them the run around about hospital procedures and waiting their turns and all manner of bullshit, the baby died.”
“What!” Arinze exclaimed, startling the lady beside him. “I heard from the office grapevine that it took them twelve freaking years to have that baby! How can?”
“I am as angry with that blockheaded Hakeem as you are, I can assure you, but I need to save my friend and client here. This could never have happened on his watch and we have the stroke to curse for that. And so, while I empathize with Derin, his threat to go to court, get a hefty compensation and shutdown the hospital and get my friend to lose his license is not one I can allow happen.”
Arinze was shaking his head as he spoke “hell, the boy would be within his rights if he wanted to do that!”
“Yes, but I cannot allow him. We have offered him and his wife IVF in the US fully sponsored by the hospital to the point of delivery as compensation. I am told the wife is positively disposed to it, but the boy is adamant. Again, he needs to think of his wife. We can even pay some money as compensation. I will not hesitate to destroy him, if it will be what it will take to win this case.”
Arinze knew Rasheed, and he knew how ruthless he could be in pursuit of a win.
“So you want me to convince him to drop the case and take the compensation, abi? And maybe sort of force him with the leverage I have of threatening his job. Rasheed, you are one ruthless old man.”
“Call me whatever you like,” Rasheed responded, “but I’m trying to save him in my own way here. I’ve tried to reach him through his wife, his best friend and his mother, all to no avail. Maybe if I threaten his livelihood, he will see reason, and maybe have some commonsensical fear and back down.”
“You know this is a hard thing you ask me abi? But I take your point and I know it’s best for him to let the case go. So I’ll do this for you, and for that fine gentleman.”
The call had ended and he had sat for a few moments, thinking about how unfair life could be. Then he turned around and looked at his companion. She lay on her chest, he rounded buttocks in the air, and her limbs spread around wantonly. He spun her around with his still powerful arms and spread her legs wide. He came after a few thrusts. The age had taken its toll.
Awazi cleared the dishes and then informed Derin that his water was running and he could have his bath now. The same way the food had tempted him to eat, the promise of warm water, just as he liked it pulled him away from the couch to the bathroom.
When he entered the bathroom, he was surprised to see that she had filled the bathtub with water. Normally, they just stood inside the tub and used the shower. But she had gone through the pains of running water to fill the tub. The water had soap bubbles and the half empty bottle of Radox bathing gel beside the tub confirmed what he was thinking. Awazi!
He quickly relieved himself of the boxer shorts he was wearing and stepped into the bathtub. The warm water felt heavenly as he immersed himself fully in it, holding only his head above the water. He lay like this for about fifteen minutes, just allowing the flotation relax him, and ease the stress out of every pore.
Then he scrubbed himself until he felt squeaky clean and emptied the tub. He stood and washed the soap off with a cold blast from the shower, causing his hairs to stand. He felt very fresh as he stepped out of the bathroom, in only his towel.
When he stepped into the room, his jaw nearly dropped to the ground. She must have had a bath in the guest bathroom while he had his. Awazi stood right at the edge of the bed, in the nothing but white lacy lingerie. Against her ebony skin, it stood out like neon symbols, drawing attention to what they covered. The bra did an even poorer job of covering her full boobs than the spag top she had been wearing earlier had done. He felt the blood rush from his brain and the speed at which he became erect left him with no doubt as to where all the blood had gone. In the period he had been in the bath, she had changed the sheets into a deep red one. Without a word, she signaled that he should with her index finger. He took measured steps towards her, and he got harder with each step.
When he got to her, he covered her lips with a kiss like he hadn’t in a long time. Having a baby in the house to constantly tend had affected many things and that had been one of them. She tilted her head upwards to meet his halfway and the slight gasp she let out worked some magic in his tummy. He cupped her boobs in his left hand and wrapped his right around her, pulling her closer, kissing her even deeper.
With some urgency, she tugged at his towel and it fell of him. She also dug into his back with one hand and with the other, she grabbed his turgid member. Derin deftly unhooked her bra with one hand and bent to reach her hardened nipples with his tongue. Her perfume filled his nostrils, giving him a warm heady feeling. When his mouth finally covered her nipple, the appreciative gasp she let out again caused his blood to race. Then he tried to get her onto the bed but she resisted. Instead, as if getting a grip of herself, she turned him around, so that he now had his back to the bed and then pushed him firmly onto the bed. It was then he noticed four of his neckties lying on the bed. He wondered what they were doing there, but that thought raced from his head when he felt her mouth cover his erection. She teased for a bit before began to suck. Even as the pleasure registered in his brain, he wondered what the Awazi who was normally much gentler in bed was up to. He couldn’t hold on to lucid thoughts for long though.
Suddenly, when he began to fell he was going to cum, she stopped and reached for the first of the silk ties. She tied it firmly on his left wrist and the tied the other end to the bedpost. He wanted to say something but she covered his mouth with a kiss and he swallowed the words. She tied each of his limbs to each bedpost, spreading him out. He tested the strength and saw that he couldn’t move much.
Now, she stood over him, and looked into his eyes with such an intensity of desire that he felt himself become even harder. She removed her panties slowly, not breaking the eye contact for one second as she did.
When she bent over and covered his pulsating member with her mouth this time, he couldn’t touch her, couldn’t use his hands to control her. The total control she had made her more intense and she sucked more vigorously. The pleasure he felt was multiplied too and he felt he was going to explode. She stopped and slowly lowered herself onto him, taking the whole of him into her. She was so warm inside, practically dripping. She rode him, slowly at first as, if in a dance, and then reached a frenzied pace on her immobile husband, letting her hair fly, the cool air from the AC keeping them from sweating in spite of the intense action. When he came, he launched deep within her, his shaking restrained to a vigorous vibration by the silk ties she had bound him up with. Moments later, she came too, collapsing in a heap onto his chest, with spasms of varying intensities running through her body at irregular intervals for the next few minutes.
“Please don’t continue with this case, Derin, it would destroy us and all I want is to be happy,” she whispered to him.
This was what all the dramatics were about, he thought.
“I met a lawyer today and she has taken the case up already.” He responded.
With some effort, she raised herself off him to be able to look him in the face. “She?” She asked. “Which she?”
He searched for the words to tell her but he couldn’t find the right words in this situation. He had meant to tell her later but…
“It’s her abi,” she said, with a voice that was as low as a whisper, yet with the venom of a thousand cobras.
Without waiting for an answer from him, she got up and left the room, leaving him tied up as he was. He tried to free himself, but she had tied him up so well that he couldn’t. He pulled hard, but the silk stood firm. He couldn’t move. He called out to her at the top of his voice, but she did not answer. And so he waited.