The next weekend, after dropping me off, she drove home first and then to one of the hotels/motels in Bwari. She was there all weekend. I called the lover’s home. His wife picked. I asked her about safety precautions on oil rigs. She got excited and pressed me for details. I told her there was an explosion somewhere towards the end. Temporarily sated, she explained a few things to me. Just before I dropped I sent the lover my regards, she mentioned that he had to travel for business. I just smiled.
Every time I ‘went to Lagos’ after that, she went to Bwari. Sometimes, she went straight from the airport. I let it continue uninterrupted, occasionally making early returns so they never got comfortable with using the house for their weekend trysts. Sometimes I would go to their hotel and get the room next to theirs. They always got the same room. They were loud, always. She would scream obscenities and he would grunt like a beast. I would sit in my room with the lights off, listening to them and periodically send her pictures of Lagos.
Then 6 months ago, I told her I wanted us to move to Ghana for a year. She was completely against it but I explained that the second part of the book was set in Ghana and flying back and forth to Lagos was tedious enough. There was nothing tying us to Abuja, nothing she could mention.
I asked her not to worry. I would take care of everything. For the next month, I stayed home every day, and didn’t go to Lagos. I could sense her desperation. I let it grow as the date we set for our relocation drew closer. She sighed audibly when I told her I would be going to Lagos one last time, to return the morning of our trip. We had sold the cars already so I took a taxi straight to Sheraton.
She was in Bwari in under an hour after I left. I made a few phone calls, confirmed the flight booking, cab booking and room booking and faxed over the final documents and awaited the signed copies. Then I called the lover’s wife. I told her I was in a bit of a rut on that explosion and I needed her expertise. I offered to let her read my drafts so she could get a feel of the plot. She offered to come over to the house. I told her I was in Lagos. She was sad, so sad. I told her it was all handwritten so I couldn’t mail it. She apologized for not being able to help, I told her I appreciated her willingness.
The next morning I called her again. I was coming back to Abuja so she could read my manuscript. I really needed her help. She was flattered. I told her I wasn’t going home just yet, I can’t work at home. I was going to check into a small hotel on the outskirts of town, I asked her to hand the phone to her husband so I could explain. He had travelled on business, of course. I asked her to come anyway. I would get her an adjoining room but since her husband wasn’t home, he didn’t need to know, he would tell my wife and she’d be hurt that I came to Abuja and didn’t sleep at home. But I had to work, I needed to get past this explosion. She understood.
She wanted to drive over but I was already in a cab. I picked her up. We checked into our rooms. They were separated only by thin walls, all three rooms. She had the one in the middle. We stepped in her room and I handed her the handwritten manuscript of my unpublished first novel. I wrote it when I was 17 and it showed. Every chapter had a sex scene. She was barely through with the first chapter when the lovers started. They were loud and she blushed. I pretended not to notice.
Between the obscene manuscript and what sounded like honeymooners next door she got aroused in a few minutes. She paused periodically to ask questions and make recommendations. Sometimes just to lick her lips. I lay on the bed, waiting for her to get to my little alteration, the noise of lovemaking next door had subsided.
I knew when she found it. She started breathing hard, she licked her lips a few times. I half expected her to put the manuscript down out of embarrassment but she kept on reading. When I leaned down to whisper in her ear, the words ‘kiss me’ weren’t out of my mouth before she had me pinned to the bed. I put in everything I had, every trick I knew but she wasn’t a squealer. She purred. …