CHAPTER FIVE
Adamma stepped back from the mirror and surveyed her countenance with a critical eye; she looked good, as had been intended. An avalanche of emotions surged through her, taking control of her senses, numbing her brain and making her sway unsteadily on her feet with dizziness. She felt terribly apprehensive at that moment, and butterflies clutched at her stomach.
Today is the day, she thought to her reflection in the mirror. It was an indelible part of her life, a constant companion to her for the rest of her life. How could she just impassively walk out onto the garden, to be bombarded by an avalanche of reporters and cameramen? Then she would be delivered into the car that would drive her out to the church where she would say her marriage vows and chain her destiny permanently to a man she wasn’t sure if he cared for her in any way. It would all seal her fate. An indescribable horror, a gripping coldness surged through her, blocking out the influx of other thoughts. How could she ever possibly find out if her decision to marry Obi was a good one? Did he care for her? If he did, would he be the physical embodiment of all that she’d craved; all the fantasies she had built up from the books she used to read when she was a teen? If he wasn’t, would she be able to live under his tyranny?
And what if she did not like the fact that marriage to him may not be the thing she had thought it would be? Then what if she ended up divorcing him? She would then join the ever increasing ranks of Nigerian celebrities who were taking to the marriage wagon and getting out when they felt the journey was not worth continuing.
Considering herself to be too old for such girlie thoughts, she forced a pout before the mirror, and then, she turned and started walking towards the door, only for it to be thrown open to reveal the object of her thoughts, standing there, smiling at her.
‘My dear girl, you look fabulous, absolutely ravishing,’ he complimented her, his eyes drinking the loveliness of her features and the fit of her gown. And she does look stunning, he thought to himself. The material of her wedding gown was duchess satin. It was a strapless gown that fitted the upper part of her body like a second skin, sweeping down to the floor in a voluminous swirl of white from the waist down, that glistened as the sun shone on it. Diamonds shimmered on her throat; her face was a mask of makeup that made her look so stunning, it almost hurt the eyes to look at her face. Sweeping down the length of her back in gentle waves, her glossy black hair sparkled, pulled back from her face with a tiara. She looked outstandingly beautiful, almost like a fairy tale.
‘My dear, you really are beautiful and glorious to behold,’ he told her truthfully, his voice a gentle caress. ‘People will go absolutely crazy when they see you today and then subsequently in the papers. But don’t worry.’ He gave her a warm, boyish, smile. ‘I know how to keep my dutiful wife away from prying eyes and interfering busybodies.’
She was looking at him, and there was something akin to anger in her luminous eyes. ‘You’re not supposed to see me before the wedding!’ she hissed in a low, intense voice. ‘It’s bad omen. It is bad omen.’ She made sure that she stressed each word.
He laughed her superstitions away. ‘That’s bullshit. You really believe that crap? Come, Mon Ami, please let’s not fight today_ at least not today. Come.’
Quietly, she followed him down the flight of spiral staircase towards the foyer where the plethora of servants waited to congratulate them and wish them well, and they moved into the garden which was a splash of greenery. The bride’s mind was awash in misery. In a few hours, she would utter the words that would bind her to Obi’s side and trap her firmly in a state of physical hell or purgatory, a fire which even her popularity and celebrity status could not extinguish. It would be a fight, a pitting of her strength against the one man that was adored by women everywhere he went to. She had to put on a brave face; she had to be strong, and her mask of smiles was there to help her.
There were photographers everywhere; there were the usual press reporters and magazine representatives who all had a myriad of questions to ask: ‘Is true that you’ve finally found love?’
‘Do you intend to give up your career?’
‘What about your kids_ is he the father?’
‘How long ago have you two been dating?’
And on and on the questions went.
The cameras were flashing, and the din of many voices was drowning out every other thing. But she was oblivious of all of them as her eyes swept through the sea of faces, searching for familiar faces.
Hope came pounding her way towards her daughter-in-law, her arm clutching a bouquet of roses which she thrust into Adamma’s hand. ‘Take this,’ she said. ‘It’s for luck. Now you lovebirds run along to the church and have fun. I’ll be on my way shortly.’
Then the bride was being rushed into the waiting car, and the doors were slamming shut, and they were driving to the church. And they got there too fast_ it was as if she was in a daze. All around her, she recognized a myriad of popular faces; there was a movie star who had always been after her for a date; there was the wife of a former president; there was another controversial female singer who garnered much negative publicity because of her wild love affairs_ the crème-de-la-crème of Lagos society had turned out en masse for the wedding. There were men she couldn’t recognize, so she added them to the mental list of guests from her husband’s world. And then, even more puzzling, was the massive turnout of gorgeous, glamorous women who glared at her with open envy and hostility as the service progressed. These women, she added to the list of her husband’s lovers. Former lovers.
And then she was exchanging her marital vows, pledging a life-time commitment to Obinna Obiekwe, the man who had forced her to marry him. There, she’d said it; she had uttered the words that would change her life and subject her to a life-long prison sentence. But if he were to tell her that he loved her, and he was getting married to her not because of their kids but because of her, then she would explode with joy and happiness. No, she amended to herself_ love was too strong an emotion for the arrogant Adonis to ever admit to; if he assured her that he cared for her, then she’d smile with contentment. It was all she wanted for herself.
After the church service, the wedding reception was staged at the Phoenix Hotels, one of Obi’s exclusive hotels on the Lagos Mainland at Yaba. The bride managed to feign an interest she didn’t feel; outwardly, she exuded happiness and excitement, but inwardly, she felt truly disgusted. She had stupidly pledged her life and fidelity to a man who was unscrupulous, and he had done likewise, but now, as she stared at him in scandalized horror while he flirted outrageously with the flock of beautiful women who thronged the room, she realized she had made a stupid mistake. She should never have married him.
Hope, who was seated next to her daughter-in-law, noticed the face of the glorious woman seated beside her undergo a dramatic change that couldn’t be masked by makeup. She leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘My son has always been like this,’ she whispered, patting Adamma’s arm. ‘He loves women and enjoy flirting with them. It gives him an odd sense of pleasure.’
Adamma managed to infuse a semblance of composure into her face before she turned to face Hope. ‘I beg your pardon?’
Hope laughed. ‘My dear, you have much to learn about my son. On the outside, he’s quite a good man, but sometimes, other things take control of his mind. Gambling, drinking, and of course, women. Just tend to overlook this side of him and you’ll get along perfectly well.’ She sipped her wine slowly. ‘His father was like that when he was alive. We quarreled constantly because of it. “Just be brainless, my dear Hope, and then you’ll be able to enjoy all I’ve got to offer you.” That was what Anthony said to me, and it was true: there was nothing I could do to make him stop.’
Adamma smiled in empathy and sympathy, though she refused to be drawn out to start discussing infidelity, and so she turned to survey the densely populated room. At that moment, she thought longingly of Dan. She hadn’t caught sight of him in the room, but she seriously doubted he would attend, and she couldn’t blame him. He still cared for her intensely.
A hand was waving excitedly in the air and a woman who was dressed in an all-pink ensemble that stretched tightly on her body frame materialized. It was Amanda, and she was smiling radiantly, one hand shoving strands of hair away from her face.
‘Hello, baby,’ she murmured, bending low to kiss the bride’s proffered cheeks and engulf the table in her expensive Chloe perfume. ‘I wish you happy married life.’ And then she bent forward again, her voice dropping even more noticeably low. ‘Dr. Peterson stopped by at my house, and he gave me the birth control pills you asked for. I gave them to your daughter_ take them away from her.’
Adamma nodded her thanks, and, three hours later, she gratefully sank into the back seat of the chauffeur-driven Bentley that would convey her back to her husband’s house. It was her house now, and Hope had wanted to pack up and leave, but she had adamantly refused to even envisage such a scenario_ it was Hope’s home, and she couldn’t possibly expect the poor woman to pack up and leave simply because another woman was coming into the house as its mistress.
My husband. . . The words burned in her mind with a ferocious intensity, like acid, eating at her raw flesh with the ease of a sharp scalpel slicing through flesh. It all seemed so wrong now, so unreal, that she had gotten herself chained down to a man whose arrogance and indifference far exceeded his sense of reasoning and humanitarian kindness and sympathy. A feeling of sheer dread engulfed her mind as she suddenly thought to herself that she’d sealed her fate; she had allowed herself to be manipulated into signing a marriage contract that she should never have gotten herself mired in. It was going to be a trying period for her.
OBINNNA SNEAKED A SURREPTITIOUS GLANCE at his wife who was seated beside him like a marble statue, and he contemplated striking up a conversation with her so as to fill the silence that engulfed the car’s interior, but he decided against that course of action because he felt she might not be amenable to it. Through the deepening twilight, her expression was unreadable, and it was an aspect he found puzzling and which troubled him greatly. He wanted to know what went on inside that head which was crowned with raven hair, and it was her stunning face, a mirror of the highest quality, that would invariably give away her thoughts. Was she a happy woman? That was the uppermost concern in his mind at that moment. And then, he felt the most important question crop up in his mind: did she love him? Was she crazy about him? He certainly wanted her to be in love with him, to cleave to him for support, to bear more babies for him.
His eyes narrowed at the direction his thoughts had veered into. Did he want more babies? Was that what he wanted from his wife? It was one hell of a tempting thought, an alien avenue he now intended to look into. He wanted more kids; he loved kids. And he also wanted the challenge of making his proud wife bear them for him.
‘We’ve arrived,’ Adamma said shortly, interrupting the flow of his thoughts. He was jolted back to the present, but before he could alight, she had already climbed down from the sleek machine and was walking up the front entrance.
She ignored him pointedly and went to undress with the help of the cook. After she’d divested herself of the gown, she took off her jewels and locked them up in the wall safe her husband had assigned to her, and then she sat down before the mirror and carefully creamed off her makeup. She emitted a sigh and then walked into the bathroom that adjoined the master bedroom where she spent the next twenty minutes soaking in the tub. When she returned to the room, clad in nothing but a skimpy bathrobe, she saw Obinna seated at a sofa in the room, perusing through a magazine which had a half-nude picture of her on its glossy back.
The fury she had barely managed to clamp down now threatened to erupt from her in waves. ‘You fucking bastard!’ she hissed at him in a voice that trembled with rage. ‘How dare you flirt with every fucking whore that was there at our wedding? Don’t you have any shame?’
Languidly, the object of her rage put down the magazine he’d been reading and looked up to stare at her. ‘Do you expect me to have any shame? Should I be filled with shame? I think the answer is no. My dear, I am a virile man who knows where, when, and how to entertain myself. You must learn to overlook certain attributes of mine so we can live in peace and for this marriage to be able to work out well. Did you think my marriage to you would disrupt my lifestyle; turn me into a docile lamb that flinches away from the members of the opposite sex?’
Stunned, and bereft of all words, all the beautiful woman could do was supply a mute nod.
‘Good.’ Obi smiled at her wanly. ‘And for the record, I think it would only be fair for me to retain the services of some of my lovers just as you retain yours. Yes, the lovers. You are a stunningly beautiful woman, a former whore who sampled men like clothes_ please don’t tell me you don’t have any lovers now because I won’t be expected to believe it.’
But I don’t have any lovers; she wanted to yell at him, though she kept mute and said nothing of that sort. All she said was, ‘I hate you. Oh, how I hate you! You’re despicable and wicked, a super bastard without scruples.’ She threw him a withering glance that mirrored the contempt she felt for him. ‘You’re a devil, a fucking sadist! I shouldn’t have married you. But don’t worry, soon, I’ll ask for an annulment.’ Even to her ears, those words sounded lame and stupid; totally unbelievable.
Obi laughed at her words, and then he seized another subject to divest her of her anger and bitterness. ‘By the way, my dear girl, when you reeled off that edited history of your life to my mum; you never gave me the opportunity to tell you what I felt about it. Now, I’ll tell you. I was disgusted.’
She faced him squarely, presenting him her fine-boned profile and her proud, stubborn chin. She looked fierce. ‘I know you were disgusted_ at me. It was palpably obvious even to me.’
Obi laughed once again, and it was obvious to her that he was laughing at her. ‘No, you stupid dummy who is suspicious of everything. I wasn’t disgusted at you; I was disgusted at myself. I never knew what you’d gone through, how much you suffered at the hands of a cruel world. Now I know, and I say I’m sorry about it.’
The brief flash of empathy in his voice and gaze warmed her and almost brought tears to her eyes, but she controlled herself. However, as he rose from the chair he’d been reclining on and strode purposefully towards her, a seductive smile playing on his full, sensual lips, the look in his eyes an unmistakable mirror of his desire for her, she drew back, horrified that he was already about to stake his claim on her body. He was trying to show her that she belonged to him and to no other man.
‘Stay away from me,’ she warned, shrinking back from him as if he was the carrier of a loathsome disease.
But she knew that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, so why was she acting like some wary virgin?
His face oozing amusement and arrogance at her antics, Obi drew her into his arms, his powerful muscles holding her effortlessly. He was determined to brook no opposition from her. He was fully in charge of their liaison, and his proud wife had to be made to accept that and not fight him.
However, he refrained from staring into her face directly, for her beauty had the effect of lightning on his mind. Darn! She was so beautiful, more than she ever appeared on the screens. The cameras couldn’t capture the fiery light in her luminous eyes, nor the spark of intelligence in her eyes, or the sensual vibes she constantly emitted like a beam that drew men like bees to her whenever she went out in public.
Slowly, he brought his lips down to hers in a kiss, his eyes challenging her to pull away from him or try to resist in any way; she didn’t. He kissed her thoroughly, savoring her warmth and her surrender. Here he was, kissing this woman who had bewitched him for years, and had haunted him and occupied his dreams and fantasies, and had reined him in and made him hers on that night at that whorehouse.
His fingers traced the ripe swell of her huge breasts which she invariably flashed to her adoring fans in her music videos and showcased in the numerous photo shoots she did to promote her best-selling albums. Already, he was having a rock-hard erection as he thought of her body, and he felt his huge cock straining against the fabric of his boxer shorts. He drew her away from him so he could drink in her loveliness.
He looked at her and she looked at him _ they were appraising each other wordlessly, communicating to each other that the moment had arrived. He reached for her once again, drawing her into his muscular arms, and then his lips claimed hers. They kissed for a long time, and then, hand-in-hand, they moved towards the huge bed. There, he undressed slowly, and when he stood naked before her he undressed her, with the same slow reverence with which he’d attended his own clothing. To his experienced eyes, she was beautiful, as she had been from the very moment he had first laid his eyes on her, and he pressed his lips to the thatch of black hair that nestled above her hidden feminine triangle, eliciting a moan of pleasure from her lips.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispered, meaning it.
Standing up to his feet again, his arms encircled her slim hips and he began to kiss her again. His wet kisses touched her throat, her breasts and erect nipples, her flat midriff, and then he knelt before her, parted her legs apart, and his tongue connected with the damp feminine heat that he’d fantasized about. She moaned in ecstasy and held his head, and then he licked at her, making her cry out in pleasure and gasp his name. He focused his mind on giving her the utmost pleasure he could, and her moans of rapturous ecstasy fuelled him on. He loved it that she was thoroughly enjoying the cunnilingus he was giving to her in spite of her earlier inhibitions, and he continued with his worship of her body.
When her moans become too loud and more pronounced, he knew she was reaching the peak of her pleasure and he withdrew his mouth; he didn’t want her to explode immediately. He wanted the moment to be prolonged so she could savor each sensation as they swept over her.
‘Obi, please,’ she begged, dropping down to her knees so she could look directly into his eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it and kissed him instead, her tongue swirling around his in a masterful caress that almost had him begging for more.
‘You are a witch, do you know that?’ he asked, laughing.
‘I may be,’ she replied, smiling teasingly at him.
He nodded and they burst out laughing because they had declared themselves safe. He reached out for her body and her body was like silk, her lips tasked like berries. The sheer joy of touching her and kissing her and caressing her body was so sweet he could do nothing else. Something in her moans of response made him pause and look into her eyes.
‘Tell me what you want, my dear girl,’ he said gently.
She blinked rapidly and then said quietly, her voice almost a whisper, ‘Fuck me.’
With a smile, he drew her to the bed and as she lay down he slowly massaged his tumescent penis, then he knelt down before her, thrust her knees up so they were drawn up almost to her chest, and he inserted two fingers into her vaginal opening. They slid in effortlessly, and he drove them in and out for almost a minute, fucking her with his fingers, getting her more aroused as she moaned and moved her hips in rhythm with his fingers.
Unable to bear the ecstasy any longer, he removed his fingers and then gently guided his throbbing cock which dripped with pre-ejaculation fluids into her. Her vaginal muscles closed in around his cock’s shaft, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, her fingers stroking his firm buttocks.
‘You are magnificent,’ she whispered, her voice a passionate murmur that was like a physical caress to his skin. ‘And you’re very huge down there. Please don’t hurt me.’
He kissed her reassuringly, and then he began to fuck her. His hips moved slowly at first as he kissed her patiently, and then he moved faster. His huge cock pounded her with a passion he’d never known before, and occasionally she’d stroke his back and buttocks to slow him down. When he was about to climax he stopped and flipped Adamma over so she was now on her hands and knees then he fucked her from behind. As he fucked her he counted numbers in his head, and on the count of fifty, he withdraw out of her, then he sat on the edge of the bed, his muscular arms bracing on the mattress for support, and Adamma lowered herself onto his cock. In this position he didn’t have much control; Adamma controlled the moves, so he was content to caress her taut, rounded butt and kiss her nipples.
She rode him with a melody and speed that almost made him see stars exploding right in the periphery of his vision, his eyes closed as the waves of pleasure swept through him endlessly, and then he climaxed, stars exploding in his vision, his semen shooting out into Adamma’s receptive body. He collapsed on the bed, totally spent, but his wife wasn’t done yet.
She knelt before him, took his cock in her arm, and then she put the organ into her mouth. Slowly, masterfully, she began to suck on him, almost smiling when he held her head and moaned with rapture. He was growing in her mouth, and then he became rock-hard once again. He called out her name, and then he began to move his hips, fucking her mouth slowly, savoring the sensations as they washed over him in waves. She sucked on the huge organ, and then, she took his balls in her mouth, sucking on them. She moved up, kissing his hard flat midriff, his nipples; she kissed his neck and then his lips. She moved up and kissed his nose, his forehead, and she was stroking his cock and rubbing his balls. When she finally kissed his hair, she shifted down to his feet and started from there, moving up again. She teased him expertly, giving him small bites that made him moan with pleasure, and then she was sucking his penis once again, biting it, licking it like a stick of ice cream that she couldn’t get enough of.
‘Tell me when you’re tired of my tired of my torture of your body,’ she said teasingly, and she took him halfway into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the extremely sensitive head of his penis.
And then he exploded, his voice crying out her name, his fingers clenching into her hair. She swallowed the semen as the flow gushed into her mouth, and then she squeezed his testicles gently to squeeze out any that might remain in the sac.
Obi drifted off to sleep and she lay beside him, snuggled against his warm body. She awoke just as the sun showed above the horizon. Obi wasn’t in bed, so she got out of the bed, and, naked, moved into the bathroom. It had two marble counters, one sink, two bathtubs, two showers, and it was stocked with razors, shaving cream, and skin toning creams, essential body oils, brushes, and combs. She brushed her teeth, took a shower, slipped into a bathrobe, and then she headed back into the room and sat down on the bed to think and plan about her future.
It was an indisputable fact that her husband was a terrific love-maker, an insatiable machine in bed with his tumescent cock. She would enjoy him in bed_ he would always ask for his right in bed and she would never dream of refusing him. However, she had the last laugh: she had come into his house prepared for any unforeseen circumstances. Her first pregnancy had been due to the fact that she was still a green girl who had relied only on condoms and had been bitten on the ass. But her kids were indeed very beautiful and extremely intelligent. They were a source of joy to her, especially her daughter, Helen.
Tears sprang to her eyes. They were tears of pain and sorrow at the prospect of living here without being loved by the man who had forced her to marry him. She was surrounded by wealth and opulence everywhere she looked, but she was unloved. And so she knew what to do: she would never conceive again for Obi. Not until he told her that he loved her and was ready to make her float high up in the clouds.
That was why she had stocked her cabinet with the Pill. She would never have to conceive for him and have herself give birth to a child in a completely loveless marriage. That would amount to torture and pain for her.
Her tears flowed then, streaming down her cheeks in an uncontrolled stream, and a wave of unutterable despair swept through her. It was a moment of private agony and sorrow for her, a moment she was sure no other woman would want to encounter or be forced to live through. And at that moment, she wished for her dead mother, yearned for the guidance of a woman who had been snatched by the jaws of death many years ago.
And she had to admit it to herself: Amanda had been right. She hated admitting it, but it was the truth. Her friend had foreseen the possible outcome of her stupid, loveless marriage to Obi, and now, all that her friend had been afraid of was unfolding before her eyes.