The Wedded Whore (Completed)

Chapter Fourteen

Obi walked up the four flights of the spiral staircase that led up to the room Adamma had insisted they hired for their rendezvous when he'd called her and demanded that he wanted to see her. He'd been surprised that she'd called him when he got her secretary on the line and told the young woman to tell her mistress to call him. He'd told her he wanted to see her, and she'd agreed, though she'd refused to come to their mansion or allow him to come to her house; she wanted somewhere impersonal. And so they'd agreed to meet at the Bee motel at the Lagos Island late that afternoon.

The entire place was spotlessly clean, though there was an empty look to it that gave the building an atmosphere of serenity. Circling the flight of stairs, he stopped and then stared for a minute at the mahogany door that led into the room where Adamma waited for him. He sniffed the air tentatively and her scent filled the air. It was a pleasant, sensuous smell that permeated his senses and made them reel, and his mind conjured up imaged of his wife lying on a bed, pandering to his every wish, his physical desires. He could hardly wait. He had missed her touch and her kisses so much; now, he was like a starving man who was about to be served the most sumptuous meal he'd ever tasted before.

He knocked on the door, and then he jerked the door open and walked into the room which was dimly-lit; even the curtains had been pulled shut. Surprisingly, the room was lavishly furnished, with flowers reclining in huge flowerpots, exotic wall paintings of men and women engaged in the sexual act; there was a thick rug on the floor, spanning the entire length and breadth of the room; the bed was huge, and the covers were thick, screened off with curtains that were suspended from the ceiling. Pink velvet curtains hung over the windows, cutting out the afternoon sun, and the room was cool as opposed to the smoldering heat of the afternoon sun. It was the perfect setting for a night of mind-blowing sex.

There was no sign of the object of his affections, but he knew that she was there; he had her heady feminine scent embedded within him. And then he saw her; she was lying on the bed, her face tilted at an angle so that she couldn't see him though she presented him a view of her fine-boned profile.

She wore a thin, strapless gown that hugged the long length of her delectable body, accentuating her curves, the fullness of her breasts, and her glorious hair was spread on the bed. She looked lovely. She was so beautiful to him, but not because of the fact that she was the most beautiful woman around, but because of the fact that to him, she was. There was something about her that was dangerous to his senses, something that sent him over the edge with her. With her, he lacked the cool control that had been his hallmark with the fairer sex.

Adamma feasted her eyes on the wall clock, though all she was able to see in the line of her vision was her husband. His face filled her vision and she could almost swear that she could hear his rich, velvet voice; she could hear his strong laugh. And then she was able to sense his nearness, yet she refrained from turning around to look at him. She couldn't bear it. She couldn't stare into the face and the eyes of the man she now wanted to think of killing; he'd haunt her forever.

For days she'd debated with herself, asking herself searching questions, procrastinating about something she'd already made up her mind to do, but finally she'd been able to make up her mind. She was freeing herself from the clutches of the man who treated her wrongly as if she did not deserve his love. But she really did love him, and it was a factor that she would never regret as long as she lived.

Slowly, she swiveled her face around to face him. Her feet bare, pink material hugging the long length of her body, she was a vision of mesmerizing beauty and perfection. She was aware of her power over the man who was staring at her with a look of unbridled desire on his face, and she couldn't help smiling to herself. It had been said that the beauty of the body could be used as a big weapon_ how true that was.