Without saying a word, the girl closed her legs, turned to the side and immediately dropped off.
But Mr. Ahriman-Setsikessa could not sleep. A jumble of desultory thoughts played gig in his mind. He considered all implications of the impending talks with representatives of a French firm which had tendered for construction of feeder roads in the North. Then for no reason at all, his thoughts turned to his daughter Mati. Yes, his darling Mateee. She missed her tremendously. Yet, he knew that for the time being he had to keep her away from Ebonyland; or at least until he gets into power. After that Ebonyland would be an entirely different place. Mildenport would become a safe and orderly town. Not like now, when anyone could do whatever he or she wanted. He would personally see to it that all that nonsense about human rights and freedom of speech would be suspended.
But until these days a lot of water would have to flow down the river Zelena!
He should have been born a Ghanaian. Ghanaians were easier to handle. More peaceful and such a terribly gullible lot! But on the other hand, there, in Ghana, there was no palladium; only gold. And ways and channels for smuggling gold out of Ghana had been well established since colonial times. New money in Ghana was only in narcotics; and that was nothing better than in Ebonyland. But now the road to palladium was opening.
All he needed was time. People were already disappointed in the recently introduced democracy. Cromwell’s government was virtually impotent to cope with current problems. The coffers were empty. Taxes were paid only by paupers. Those with big moneys did not pay taxes; they paid bribes. Social differences had become as sharp as nowhere else in the world. Ahriman-Setsikessa wouldn’t be worth his name if he could not take advantage of such conditions.
Intellectuals were still his biggest problem. However, he had to admit that the average Kwame and John were already caught in the process of forgetting the value of the English language. Lawyers and doctors had been the last die-hards but since recently they also switched to Burumba. Their formerly witty discussions about matters of general intellectual and social interest had been now relegated to plain market talk. That was exactly what Ahriman-Setsikessa had expected of them. On the other hand, lack of money among the working class would soon prevent parents to get proper education for their children. More and more they would gravitate towards vocational centres. And another of Freddie’s dreams would come true. Once again he decided that he was going to use all his influence to make vocational centres as cheap as possible. Vocational schools of the type like The Holy Child! Next week he would go there again. However, for a completely different reason. That girl, Patricia, had impressed him greatly. She was even better looking than this girl here who was sharing his bed. Patricia would not disappoint him in the way Nancy had done.
As Freddie continued to muse about Patricia and her rich body, he was suddenly blessed with a strong erection. For a while he enjoyed it but later it started to disturb him. It simply would not go off. He tried to distract himself by forcing his thoughts back to the French road builders, but neither his mind nor his body were ready to oblige. His erection became so strong that it even provoked pain. He turned towards Nancy. She was sleeping on her side, her smooth, so nicely rounded bottom provokingly exposed. It looked so sexy and so inviting. First he stroked it gently, then less gently; soon he started to knead her flesh with unbridled passion. Nancy did not react. She continued to sleep like a log. Freddie pressed his body against hers and then gingerly lifted her left leg. She was still totally oblivious of his actions. He supported her leg with his left knee and using his free hand began to fumble until he finally managed to penetrate her.
Nancy made a slight move with her backside as to accommodate him better. She moaned but did not wake up.
Now, surprisingly and contrary to his previous dissatisfaction, Nancy’s inactivity turned him on. Lying upon his flank he started to push and pull. That, what he was doing now, was an entirely new experience. He was completely dominating the girl; taking advantage of a defenceless child! It was as if he had been raping a slave. That made him mad with passion. He gripped the girl in a powerful hug and started to squeeze her breasts mercilessly. At that, Nancy started to wake. She moaned again and with a lazy movement pressed her buttocks tighter against him. It appeared as though she did enjoy being under the yoke. Her sleepy reaction made Uncle Freddie even wilder. He was biting her shoulders and the nape of her neck; he kneaded her breasts and twisted her nipples in the fashion one would be turning the knob on an obsolete wireless when searching for stations. Faster and faster he pushed and pulled at her, panting and wheezing.
Nancy began to react. No matter how stubbornly independent she had generally been, when sex was in question, it appeared that she loved to be dominated.
She loved pain.
Suddenly, with an explosive roar, he climaxed and tumbled upon his back fighting for breath. Seconds later he was fast asleep.
However, Nancy was now wide awake. Uncle Freddie’s energetic lovemaking had sobered her completely. She left him there, in the pool of his own sweat, to snore like an over-cloyed beast, got up and went to the bathroom.
Collins Gate Hotel was a four-star hotel and the bathroom of the honeymoon suite which Uncle Freddie had taken for the night was the most beautiful place that she had ever seen. So clean and so shiny and so fragrant! Three of the bathroom walls were covered in discretely coloured tiles. They reminded her of the suffusing lights of the dawn. When observed from one side they appeared as pink as salmon but when looked from a different angle they acquired a bluish sheen to it. The fourth wall was all in one single mirror. The glass of the mirror was tinted, yet her image in it did not make her skin darker, but only sharper and more beautiful. For a while she stood there making figures and admiring her body. Then she went into the shower. It took her some time to figure out how that single, shiny tap operated and how to regulate hot water. Then she allowed the powerful spurt to massage her body.
After another turn of self-admiration in the mirror, she went back to the room. She took her phone and switched it on. The time showed four forty-one in the morning. From the bed she collected one of the sheets, wrapped herself into it and Nokia in hand, went out to the terrace.
After the dry coolness of the air-conditioned room, warm, humid air brought her back from the fairyland. An old moon was hanging overhead. Patches of broken clouds would from time to time hide its asymmetrical face and allow the gleam of the distant city lights to spread over the night sky. Nancy yawned, unwrapped herself and allowed the lukewarm air to caress her body.
Was it not that only three days before, she had been seventeen years and three months old? And so unhappy and troubled? ‘Goodbye Attah!’ she mumbled. ‘You are nothing but an unpleasant memory.’ From now on, she was sure, her life would be all roses. She felt relieved, proud and important. Freddie Ahriman-Setsikessa would take care of her future.
Once again she reviewed the events of the previous evening. A chauffeur driven Jaguar had picked her up and brought her right to the main entrance of the hotel. There, a liveried usher had swung the door open and another smartly uniformed steward had led her along all those luxurious lobbies and corridors right to the bar. Seated upon a wrought iron chair, glass in hand, Uncle Freddie had been waiting. Like in an American movie!
‘Uncle Freddie,’ she smiled. ‘Good evening.’
‘Freddie for you, my dear. Don’t you uncle me any more. Take a seat and take a glass of Vodka to put you in the right frame of mind. You’ll find that Vodka is much better than any other short drink. If nothing else, Russians, they know how to make Vodka and caviar.’
It was true what Freddie had said about Vodka. She liked the taste of the drink, or better to say, its lack of taste. It was smooth and penetrating, as Freddie qualified it. Vodka was so ‘smooth and penetrating’ that she could not stop before she had downed three glasses. While she was considering to take the fourth, Freddie took her by the hand and led her down the carpeted stairs to the restaurant. The dining room was a breath-taking place. All those potted trees and partitions and the cool, soft music that permeated the air impressed Nancy beyond all that she could have imagined. The food was excellent and overall exotic. She relished all those outlandish dishes like beef steak and baked potatoes, toasted French bread and butter and even green salad, dishes that she could earlier have seen only on TV.
After the dinner Freddie took her to the honeymoon suite! First they passed through a large, luxuriously furnished sitting room with real paintings in the walls and then they entered the extraordinarily posh and crisp-clean bedroom!
However, she had to admit; in the beginning she had not enjoyed Freddie’s lovemaking. It had been so uneventful and dull. But later, he made it up. She wished she would be waken up so brutally every single morning! With a shiver she recalled how in the moments of Freddie’s biggest passion, she had felt that she had belonged to him completely; as if she had been his slave.
Only once before in her life she had been in a similar situation. In the situation when she had willingly allowed herself to be totally subjugated by a man and experienced the same bitter-sweet feeling of being unable to challenge his authority. That had happened when she had been about to give herself to Mr. Man for the first time. With a wan smile upon her face she remembered how her heart had jumped when she had realised that finally, her childhood love, her idol, the person whom she, in a weird way, had considered as replacement for her father, would impose his masculinity upon her. How terribly stern he had sounded when he had blatantly ordered her to get undressed! And how willingly she had obeyed him! And how impatiently she had waited for him to come under the bed-sheet and climb her. And the sweet pain that had followed!
Suddenly a fit of longing for Mr. Man gripped her heart. She needed his presence. She needed his benevolent grumbling. Not far from here, where she was standing now, was Beverly Hills. She scanned the skyline trying to locate where his home was. Unsuccessfully, though. Minute after minute her pining grew stronger. Without thinking she dialled Mani’s mobile.
He answered immediately. ‘Nancy, oh God, at last. Where are you?’
‘Oh, Mr Man, don’t you know where I am? All night service! Don’t you remember? Now I am behind the church. I came out only to make this call.’
‘I was worried. Several times I tried to call you but, quite naturally, your phone was switched off. Nancy, I miss you terribly. Can you come now?’
‘No, Mr. Man, I can’t. But I miss you too.’ Strangely enough, this time Nancy had really meant it. Her voice was loaded with true feelings. At that moment the memory of Freddie Ahriman-Setsikessa dissipated as though he had never existed let alone had been intimate with her. That pompous, ugly midget did not mean anything to her. In a way she even despised him! All that she now wanted was to be with her Mr. Man. In her husky voice she whispered into her handset, ‘You know what? After the service I’ll go home only to change and then I’ll take a taxi and come to our place. I want to make you happy. Oh, Mr. Man, I love you.’
Mani recognised the sincerity of her feelings. ‘Nancy, I am so happy. Please, come as soon as you can. Nancy, I love you more than I loved anyone else in my life.’
The line went off and Nancy broke a long sigh. She was back to square one. Would she ever find her bearings and stability and happiness? She tried to remember Father Bugri’s words about happiness, but no matter how hard she strained her brains, she could not recall them.
The first streaks of smoky light appeared in the east. The tropical dawn was invading the sky. Whiffs of cool air made goose pimples on her skin. She enjoyed the feeling. It was a pleasant, purifying sensation; like taking an early swim in the ocean. The pungent smell of Uncle Freddie’s deodorant gradually dissipated. For quite a long while she stayed there, on the terrace, admiring the changing colours of the sky and breathing deeply as though in a state of elation.
‘Blast!’ She exclaimed when suddenly a rivulet of gooey liquid dribbled down the inner side of her thigh! With a feeling of disgust, using the end of the bed-sheet, she cleaned herself and then went back to the bedroom to lie beside the snoring beast.