Part One

All I’m going to tell you happened exactly as I’m about to tell it. There might be some details I left out. Trust me, it’s for your own good. The least you know, the better you are.

***

GIRLFRIEND MISSING

I opened the front door of my home and there were two men in suits standing there at my parent’s front porch. Their suits were grey; there was a car parked beside our driveway. They looked official. One of them enquired if I was Michael Paymer; I replied yes I was. As if knowing what my next question would be, both of them reached into their jacket and whipped out their badges. They were security officials from the State Department. They asked if they could come inside for a minute and speak with him. I was curious whatever it was they wanted to speak to me about but a minute later they mentioned my girlfriend’s name and then I knew they weren’t kidding.

The men’s names were Arnoldson and Clarence. Arnoldson, the one who’d shown me his badge, was older with grey hair, somewhere in his fifties, with a voice that made him sound like someone from Texas or down south; Clarence appeared to be in his early thirties, black and a mid-westerner. I was the only one at home and I was glad for that; my parents would have been unsettled and stirred some reaction had they been there to hear them tell me everything I needed to know about the last whereabouts of my girlfriend Catherine and her parents.

It had been four days since last time I saw Catherine; her and her parents had left the country heading to Nigeria. She hadn’t wanted to go and she’d complained to me about it and I’d sympathize with her, knowing it would upset her parents if she declined to go. I’d expected her to call me once she arrived but so far not a word. I knew the flight was a long one though I hadn’t heard from her since. I would have called had I known what hotel she and her parents had checked into and it was the early part of summer I knew they wouldn’t be back till month’s end ... if not more. Not something I was happy about, but I could wait. I knew she would return to me.

But this was something I wasn’t expecting to hear. My girlfriend and her parents missing, presumed kidnapped. It really took the wind out of my sails.

“When was the last time you saw her?” the older one, Arnoldson asked me the question and I told him the last time I’d seen Catherine.

“Have your received any phone call from her since last time you saw her?”

I answered no, I haven’t. I didn’t even know where they were staying except the city they’d gone to - Abuja, it was called.

Clarence took out an envelope from his jacket and poured out some photos and presented them to me. There were faces of other Americans who were as well declared missing, he explained. All of them had one time or another being spending quality time and holiday in West Africa but had suddenly upped and vanished without so much as a trace. I picked up the snapshot of Catherine from amongst the pictures there. My heart was aching; I felt like crying. Once again I looked at them to make sure this wasn’t some silly prank being played on me and the grave look on their faces reminded me again that it wasn’t.

The older detective, Arnoldson, was saying something but I wasn’t listening. Finally he snapped his finger and that made me raise my head.

“Were you paying attention, Mr. Paymer?” he asked me.

“Yes ... yes, sir, I was. You mentioned that all this happened down in West Africa?”

“Specifically between Nigeria and Ghana,” Clarence answered. “Though there’ve been happenings in other African countries as well as in Asia, but this one has gotten quite a spike.”

“My God. I never knew. What do you think will happen to Catherine and her parents?”

Both men exchanged glances with each other, fidgeting, not knowing whether to answer my question or not. I think Clarence wanted to but didn’t wish to break protocol. It was Arnoldson who answered.

“We’re still working on getting them back. This white slavery racket is much too technical for me to explain our efforts right now. What we’d like you to do is maintain silence about this. So far you’re the only one we’ve contacted about this and we’d like for it to remain that way. Also, should in case any of the victims - your girlfriend - should manage to contact you, I’d advice you contact us right away about this.” He reached into his front pocket and took out a card and gave it to me and told me to reach him anytime.

They left me with Catherine’s photos, once again apologised for my trouble and then left. I stood by the doorway and watched them enter their car and drive off. Everything was back to normal again, except nothing was. I felt so lost I didn’t know what next to do, or how to get my head around all what had just being said to me. My girlfriend Catherine and her parents and several others kidnapped in Africa ... I could feel the onset of a migraine coming on to me. I shut the door and ran upstairs to fetch the migraine pills from my medicine cabinet and popped one into my mouth. I was panting like I’d just ran a race. I fell to the floor holding the photo of Catherine to my face. I was crying even before I realised it.

My parents returned home hours later. I was up in my bedroom and didn’t realize when they’re arrived until I heard a knock on my door and my Mom opened my door and stuck into my room to know if I was out at the gym already. I told her my sparring partner had called earlier saying he had a flu and wouldn’t make it. The truth was I was combing through the net searching out more of the subject regarding kidnapping of foreigners in Africa, focusing my attention on Nigeria which was where Catherine and her parents had journeyed to. There was a wealth of information to be found regarding the subject, and my only problem was having time sifting through everything that was written about it in numerous foreign newspapers as well as those in Nigerian press papers; little of it was found in American editions. I was being mechanical in my search. I didn’t want something that would take me the entire week or more to read through. I selected the important ones and printed them out and lay on my bed perusing them. I read of how the alleged history of the nefarious activity, dating as far back as the early twentieth century, and how with time it had depreciated and then gotten a resurgence during the period the country had ditched its military lifestyle and accepted Democratic leadership which had done little to curtail the corrupt malignance occurring in the country’s underbelly. The activity had assumed the form of a cancerous cell, spreading its tentacles as well as getting bolder in its works and yet somehow it had continued to remain one of the world’s best kept secret. It was seldom being debated in the U.N. even here in the U.S., much of the talk was about the war in Afghanistan and the ongoing tragedy happening in the Middle East; Africa was taking a backseat in the world’s eyes. The African governments themselves were at a loss at how to tackle the subject. A lot of the reasons why, I came to realize the more I read, came down to greed, corruption, rebel-militant groups, and inefficient executive policies to combat the crime wave.

I got thirsty and went downstairs to the kitchen to get a glass of water and made myself a sandwich and went back to my room to continue with my reading. Done with whatever I’d read, I returned to my computer and searched out some more editorials and printed them out. I wondered if by any chance the two State Department fellows knew as much about this subject as I was finding out. Obviously they must have - this was too big for anyone not to be aware of, especially since it now involved Americans. They should know ... right?

The hours seemed to pass by without my noticing. When I looked up out my window I wasn’t surprised to see it had become dark outside. With some reluctance I threw the papers on the floor and changed into my night clothes and went to bed; I slept with Catherine’s photograph lying next to my face.

The following day I resumed my reading. I didn’t go out and that was so unlike me - it was summer, and there’s always somewhere to go or something to do around now, but my mind was all focused on Catherine. The more I read about the white slavery kidnapping the more I felt it drew me closer to wherever she might be. I got a sense of whatever hurt she might be passing through right at that moment. A moment came and I stood up and cried out. It felt like I was getting mad or something, and in a way I was. My girlfriend and her parents were out there down in Nigeria, lost and afraid, kidnapped by people who meant to do them harm, and here I was feeling hopeless and unable to come to their aid. I was getting weary of the reading I was doing. I took a break and using my cell phone I got out Arnoldson’s card and called his number. He picked up the phone and asked how things were going with the investigation.

“Pretty slow right now,” he answered. “But we’re still on top of it. Have you received any call, by any chance?”

“NO, no sir, I haven’t.”

That didn’t seem to make him happy; it didn’t make me happy either. We said goodbye and then hung up. I had Catherine’s picture in my hand, staring at her smiling feature; I’d never felt so depressed as I was that evening.

Everything was just too big for me alone to handle. What I needed was someone who was more into this type of investigative work than me. I knew little about Africa and never once had I cared to know little or nothing about the continent until now. I wasn’t all that naive about what happened there though. I, just like almost every other American, only heard about what happened over there based on what I sometimes saw on CNN and from much of what I remember I knew it wasn’t the sort of place I would want to spend my summer vacation and can’t wonder for the likes of me what Catherine’s parents’ reasons might have been to go there and end up like this.

It got too hard for me to think and I changed my clothes and decided to go out for a walk.

I must have walked three blocks but my head was still raging with inability to do anything. I was trying to piece together all what I’d read into one concise folder and merge it with how much it concerned my girlfriend and her parents. I couldn’t shake out the thoughts of them being overpowered and held captive by some bunch of savages. The State Department fellow Arnoldson said they were on top of it, but I kind of doubted that. Even if they were, I didn’t want to go by how they were doing it. What I needed was some type of help ... or at least someone who could point me in the right direction to what I need to do.

The streets were somewhat crowded. I remembered then that there was a local band performing at the park not far from where I was; that seemed to be where everyone was going. Three of my friends spotted me from his car and yelled at me to join them but I went a different direction. I wasn’t in a happy mood and didn’t feel like sharing in any type of merriment, not when my love was out in the world lost to me.

I was walking past a book shop when I stopped. Something caught my attention and it was a book on the front display glass: I came closer and read the name. ‘THADDEUS BLACK - The Devil Owns the Night’, and it had a ‘bestseller’ tag slapped on its cover jacket. It sounded like something a mystery detective would write and curiosity got the better of me as I went into the shop and flipped through its front page and made up my mind right away to purchase it. I looked at the author’s name. ‘Damien Dsoul’, it said. I’d never heard of him before. I returned home with the book in hand feeling that I’d done something good at least for today.

It took me two days to read the novel from beginning to end; I neglected reading any more of the white slavery stuff. It was an erotic novel, although a good one too, and it read more like a thriller about this private-eye detective who seemed to have an incorrigible fetish for white women investigating the case of a white teenager who’d being kidnapped while he was with her. Done with the book I went online and tried to find out much of what I could about the writer.

Turns out he was a Nigerian and at the moment residing in Washington D.C. I went to his website and even subscribed to his erotic blog and perused some of the stuff he’d written regarding married white women wanting black men as lovers. It was crazy and controversial and I could only imagine what type of people would be attracted to such articles. I clicked on his profile page and got his phone number and other information as to how to contact him and I wrote down his number and went outside and dialled it. My first thought was that it was a fake number, some sort of gimmick his publishers had put up to stonewall nosy fans from reaching out at him, but to my amazement the number did actually ring and a man’s voice did answer the phone, leaving me speechless for a moment.

“Hello?”

“Hi, excuse me, am I speaking with the writer known as Damien Dsoul?”

“Yeah, this is him. Who’re you and what’re you calling about?”

I told him my name and where I lived and about me reading his book and enjoying it. It was really brilliant. What I really wanted to ask him, which I did, was how much of what he wrote was actually real. He grapple with my words before he gave me an answer.

“Real? The hell are you talking about real? If you want stuff that’s real, go read someone’s biography and quit wasting my time.”

“No, sir, please ... I apologize for that. What I meant to say is ... the whole detective-type of thing you wrote about, it felt so real and I was wondering who or what inspired you to really tell a story like that?”

“A lot of things got me inspired. Look, be honest with me and tell me what’s really on your mind.”

I bit down on my tongue, thought about the consequences of what I was about to do, then did it anyway. “Okay sir, I’m going to level with you. I have a girlfriend named Catherine and she and her parents traveled to Nigeria more than a week ago. Two days ago, two men paid me a visit saying they were from the State Department and they told me my girlfriend and her parents are missing. I know this might sound like a lie, but it’s the God-honest truth and I’m trying to think of whatever means I can help.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, Michael. You’ve got my sympathies and whatever else, but I still don’t know what you’d want me to do or how to help you out.”

I was pacing up and down without even realizing it. My body seemed wired for no reason. I looked at my house wanting to make sure neither my parents was watching me. I good thing I wasn’t standing behind the back or out in the front for them to see how excited I was.

“Well, sir, I think you just might. Your writing ... I couldn’t help but wonder if you might know of real-life detectives out there. Someone who could sort of ... I’m paraphrasing here ... tell me how to go about finding a means of rescuing my girlfriend and her parents.”

He laughed into my ear. “You’re not serious, are you?”

I stopped, feeling a little anger crawl into my voice. “Yes ... yes sir, I am very serious. This is my girlfriend we’re talking about.”

“And I’m shaken by it, but what you’re asking me ... I still don’t get what you want. You want me to link you to some detective or another whom I worked with who could put you through to what you want to do about getting your girl back. Is that what you’re asking me? Am I getting you straight, or am I wrong?”

I inhaled deeply. “Yes sir, that’s what I’m asking about. Can you help me, please?”

I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I heard him say: “Okay, sure, I’ll help you.”

Then I let loose my breath. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you very much.”

“But what I’m going to tell you must remain strictly between me and you. Never are you to mention it to anyone. I’ll be really mad if I get a similar call from some other guy wanting my help or another, you understand me?”

“Yes sir, I do.”

He told me to send him via text my contact information: phone number, email address and home address. I asked him why and he said it was for insurance and that I shouldn’t worry that he wasn’t going to use it at all. I ended our phone conversation and quickly texted him the information he wanted and he replied to me and said someone would be in touch with me soon.

I couldn’t believe the call I’d just made. The whole thing felt so strange that I’d actually just spoken with a writer and asked him for assistance on something and he too had decided to help me ... it wasn’t the sort of thing most people often bragged about. Nothing else to do, feeling elated by what I just did, I returned to the house went upstairs to my bedroom and took out Catherine’s picture and lay on the bed staring at her smiling eyes. She was my angel. We have talked about getting married once we were done with school; I even tattooed her initials on my biceps some weeks back. I doubt if I could live well without her in my life.

I must have slept off because when my eyes came awake there was the sound of my phone vibrating and ringing next to my ear. I looked at it too dazed to be sure if it was actually ringing, and then the line went dead. Sleep went off my eyes and I sat up and looked at the number. It was an unknown. I dialed the number and waited for whoever it was to pick up.

“Is this Michael Paymer?” a man’s voice spoke to me.

“Yes, this is Paymer. Who’re you?”

“You called up my writer buddy an hour ago and he gave me your number. My name’s Thaddeus Black.”

I was trying to recall where I’d heard or seen his name, then my eyes fell on the Damien Dsoul novel. I picked it up and there was the man’s name.

“Is this some type of joke?” I said to whoever was on the line. Your name can’t be Thaddeus Black.”

“Don’t be telling me what my name is and what I name ain’t, kid. I’m as real as a twenty Dollar bill in your wallet. Damien Dsoul’s a writer and a friend of mine who loves writing crazy stories. I dig his work and that’s how we party. You think I’ve got time to waste here, you’ve got another thing coming. Now, he told me you needed some help with your girl being kidnapped or something. You want my help, or you want me to hang up? Your choice.”

“No, no, please, don’t do that.” I sat up on the bed; the sleep spell swept from my eyes. “I’m sorry I sounded that way, sir. It’s just that ... I never knew - ”

“That I was real,” he completed the statement for me. “You don’t have to say more on it, I know. A lot of people wouldn’t know that too, and I guess that’s what’s got the book selling like hot cake. Anyway, Damien told me about your situation. He don’t believe it though, and I didn’t either but he’s a persuasive bastard and I figured if he believes you then I should. Problem is I don’t like doing my business over the phone. Where you are right now?”

“I’m in Buffalo, New York, sir.”

“I’m in NYC. You got time to come down here and let’s talk this man-to-man?”

I thought I didn’t hear him perfectly. “Sir ... you say I should come down to New York City?”

“You know of any other? Look, you sound like a good kid, and I’m not going to charge you for nothing. But I don’t like talking much over the phone. Damien’s fine with that, but not me. You want my help, you want my expertise, then you’d better get your ass down here to the city and let’s talk upfront. And bring whatever you’ve got about your missing girlfriend. You ever been down to New York City before?”

“Err ... yes, yes sir, I have.”

“Then you’d know how to find your way around then. I’m here in Greenwich Village. How soon you think you can get down here?”

I was still at a lose, my head spinning so fast I couldn’t tell if I was actually speaking to a real detective or someone taking me for a joy-ride. I opted right there and then to throw caution to the wind.

“How about next tomorrow? I think can book a ticket tomorrow and leave early the next day and be there in the evening.”

“Sounds like a plan. Get to doing that then. Give me a call once you arrive here. I’ll be waiting. Good night then.”

He didn’t even wait for me to reply him when he hung up. I looked at my phone wondering if I was such a big fool or what. Had I just promised a man I haven’t met that I would be journeying down to New York City tomorrow to meet with him? I actually had made the call; there was no turning back from it. I looked inside my closet and pulled out a handy travel bag that was pretty dusty. No problem, I would use the morning to get it cleaned up. I calculated how long I might be in New York City and reckoned I wouldn’t be there more than three days ... or maybe four. I would figure out how many clothes to stack the bag with later.

Money was the next thing on my mind. I couldn’t meet my parents for any, but I had money saved up in my account from past summer jobs and college savings - something close to ten grand. My Dad was in the living room watching a college basketball game while Mom was putting the plates out on the dinner table. I told them I would be right back, just need to get something I forgot somewhere. Outside I got on my bicycle and rode towards town. I didn’t know I was being followed by a vehicle that had been parked across the street from my home.

I drove to a nearby bank and parked my car and went to use their ATM machine. I got myself five hundred Dollars, not satisfied, I got myself another five hundred just for insurance. On my way back I stopped at a 7-Eleven shop and went in and bought a soda. I stepped out of the shop and there was someone leaning against my car; it was one of the State Department detectives, Clarence. He had a knowing look on his face like he knew I was up to something.

“Whatever do you think you’re doing, Michael? May I call you Michael?”

I replied that he may. “Went in to get myself a soda. Is that a crime?”

“Not a crime to use an ATM machine either, but depends on what you’re about to do afterwards. Look, I’m going to level with you. This case about your missing girlfriend and her folks, there’s little or nothing we can do about it,” he narrated to me the political and jurisdictional blockage that was affecting their investigation. The subjects were America citizens, yes. Unfortunately it hadn’t occurred on American soil, and there was a lot of diplomatic haranguing still ongoing and it’s making this less difficult for the case to ever move forward. His assertion was that it was going to end up a diplomatic nightmare should the news become public.

“There’s little or nothing we can do from this junction,” he said to me after he’d gone into the 7-Eleven and got himself soda. “All we can do is scream at the diplomatic wrangling but there’s just too much bureaucracy and official red tape to do little or nothing. We don’t even have much evidence to go on. The government down there in Nigeria is kind of like stepping into murky waters that’s bound to get us drowned. They too have got their own. For the past couple of years they’ve got this religious sect in the north that call themselves Boko-Haram that’s been harassing the civilian population. So far the country’s boiling with anger and the President has got his plate full to care about attending to our problem. However there’s ever chance that whomever’s doing this is invariably linked to that sect.”

I was stunned by all what he just told me and for a moment didn’t know what to say. “I never knew how serious this was. Surely there’s something the police down there can do?”

He shook his head. “There’s little they’ve gotten so far. Whoever’s responsible for such have got their tentacles fixed into the lifestyle just like the Mexican drug cartel. They’re just as thorough and devious when it comes to not getting caught or leaving traces of their actions - and they’re protected too. We’ve sent officers down to the hotel where your girlfriend and her parents stayed at, and even that wasn’t easy. They quizzed just about everyone working at the hotel, including the manager, and came up with nothing. It was like neither your girl nor her parents were even there at all.”

“What?”

“That’s the truth. According to flight records both here and in Nigeria, your girlfriend and her folks left JFK on the third of June this month and got there the next day on the fourth. They checked into the resort that same day - they made their booking online, so we know of that. When my bosses went through the hotel’s surveillance tapes they couldn’t find none for that entire day, as well as three other days. According to them, there was a rain storm which somehow affected their system. We’re not buying that but there’s little or nothing we can do about it.”

I stood there sipping my soda along with him, letting his words literally sink into my head. The enormity of what I was about to do seemed to stare at me right there and then in the face. But still I was curious to know why he was here telling me all of this. I asked him this same question. He seemed to fidget before he opened up to me.

“Look, I’m levelling with you here. All of what I just said to you was stuff I wanted to let you know when my colleague and I visited you the day before. Of course I couldn’t say nothing ‘cause he’s ranking officer, but I really feel the pain you had when we told you about your girlfriend missing. You and her engaged?”

“No, but we were talking about it once we were done with school. This whole thing seems like some weird type of dream. I wish I could have her here with me right now.”

“I know the feeling. I’ll bet she too would be thinking the same thing also. This is all off the record, all what I just mentioned to you. I figured you’d be wanting to do something about it, though my colleague doesn’t think so and I’m not going to tell him anything either. Whatever it is you think you can do to get your girlfriend back, my advice to you is do it. Damn whatever anybody else might think or say.”

He reached for his wallet and pulled out his card and gave it to me, told me to give him a call if I needed any sort of help or assistance. He finished his soda, squeezed the can and threw it into a trash bin. He told me good night as he got into his car and drove off. I watched his car enter the traffic and disappeared from site while I stood there next to mine sipping my drink and mulling over everything he’d said to me. Was he really being serious about the State Department unable to do anything about this? Of course he wouldn’t have come and revealed all that to me if it weren’t true. I thought about my impending trip to New York City and about the detective I was going to meet. I thought about Catherine and her parents out there in Nigeria missing, about her wishing I was coming to rescue her. All of a sudden my resolve grew stronger.

I finished my soda and got into my car and drove back home.

ON A MISSION

The following day I gave my folks an excuse that I was heading to New York City to check out a new college scholarship program. It was a sudden thing that had come up and I just need to know as much about it as I could. I kept it vague enough so they wouldn’t get to throwing too many questions my way; it was a miracle neither asked why I didn’t bother enquiring about the program online than wanting to venture out into the great unknown that was bustling New York City. I guess the good thing was that they trusted me well enough and knew I wouldn’t be telling them such if it wasn’t really important. The next morning I got to the Greyhound station in time and switched off my phone as the journey started, not wanting my parents to try and call me should they be getting too curious and wanted to get in touch suddenly.

The ride was a long one. I tried not to fall asleep on it but couldn’t help myself. Every hour I’d pull out Catherine’s photo and stare at her eyes and try not to worry too much about whatever she might be going through right there and then. I’d bought two cans of soda and some biscuits and I kept leaving my seat to take a piss all through the journey. We stopped when we were halfway to New York City at a Macdonald’s and I bought some French fries and hamburger but didn’t have much appetite to eat it all; I went with a soda instead.

We got into New York City sometime past four in the evening, which was a good thing too; enough time for me to meet with the detective and maybe find myself a room in any Howard Johnson Inn to spend the night and return back to Buffalo in the morning. I took in the New York City skyline and wished Catherine was there beside me to absorb the majesty of the skyscrapers as well. The bus slide into its port at the Greyhound station and myself and the rest of the folks inside came down and got our luggage, except for me it was just a carry-on bag. I left the station and stepped out into 8th Avenue and switched on my phone and gave the detective a call. He answered on the third ring, asked if I was in the city now. I told him I was. He told me he’ll send me his address. I hung up and seconds later I got a text message from him that had his work address in Greenwich Village. I wandered down the crowded street a bit, pushing my way past the throng of tourists then found myself a taxi and gave the driver the address and then we were off.

I pulled into the neighbourhood of the address the detective gave me and the taxi dropped me off in front of an old red-bricked brownstone apartment building. The street sign was there and the number on the building told me I had the right address. I settled my fare and went inside. I pressed the intercom button and he told me to take the elevator up.

I got to his floor and couldn’t believe it when I saw his name on the glass portion of his door: THADDUES BLACK: Private Eye, it said. Unbelievable, he was real after all; I thought I was in the twilight zone. I knocked on the door and a woman’s voice told me to come inside. I entered the office and there was a white lady there seated behind a desk. She was hot-looking and I don’t know, but something about her, just seeing how she was dressed, got my chest fluttering a little.

“Hi. I’m Sarah Longhand,” she got up and shook my hand. “Hope your ride from Buffalo wasn’t too tiresome. Mr. Black has been expecting you all afternoon.”

She knocked at his door and opened it for him to enter. I was still in mild shock at what was happening ... but nothing knocked the breath out of me when I entered the office and there was the master detective standing behind his desk waiting on me. He was just as dashing as the writer had portrayed him to be .

“Michael Paymer, correct? I’m Thaddeus Black; welcome to New York City.” He came forward and shook my hand. “Pleasure to finally meet the fellow I was speaking with on the phone.”

He was still shaking my hand and I allowed him to shake it some seconds longer while still staring at him not believing my eyes. Just to make sure I was on the right page and wasn’t losing my mind or something, I’d carried along the novel of him and I was in the middle of reading it over again. I took it out my bag and gave it to him, asked if he could autograph it for me. He looked at me with a sort of raised eyebrow and then laughed. He held the book in his hand and looked it over like he hadn’t actually known of its existence.

“About the first time anyone’s asking me to autograph anything,” he took a pen out of his front jacket pocket and scribbled his signature on the title page of the book then handed it back to me. “I hope I didn’t give you that much of a shock when I first told you my name.” he indicated at a chair for me.

“Actually sir, the fact that you even exist is stunning to me,” I said while lowering myself to the chair. “I never really thought you were real.”

“I reckon so. Not your fault thinking such. Damien is an old buddy of mine and it took a lot of convincing on his part to write something out of me. He too said it’ll be almost unbelievable for anyone to think he was really writing about me, and I guess that charm worked out just fine until he got your call and then I got a call from him telling me about your problem. A good thing you’re here in person to tell me the problem up close. Phone conversations tend to wear me out. You had a bite of anything since you got here?”

“No sir, I haven’t.”

He pressed an intercom button and his secretary entered his office and he gave her some money to run down across the street and buy me something edible. She left the office and then it was just the two of us. He undid the buttons of his jacket and leaned back in his chair.

“So Michael, care to share with me everything about what help you want?”

“It’s about my girlfriend, Catherine Morgan,” I gave him her picture. “She and her parents went on a summer trip to Nigeria a couple of days back and now they’re both missing, presumed kidnapped.”

***

I narrated to him everything, starting with the State Department men paying me a visit and then I reached into my bag and extracted all the online newspaper clippings I’d been reading since and laid it out for him, including the photograph of Catherine. I told him about the conversation I’d had with Clarence two nights ago and of the bureaucratic stonewall he and his partner were presumably having with the ongoing case. I paused when a knock came on his door and his secretary entered with a take-away meal and a soda she’s gotten from a Chinese deli shop. I watched as she exchanged some interesting look with the detective and then he slapped her butt as she turned to leave. I concluded my story with how I’d gotten in touch with his writer friend - crazy as that might sound - who had in turn called him and of me coming down here to meet with him. I opened my take-away meal when I was done and listened while he threw several questions at me and then gave me his piece of mind.

“This is some work you’re getting your head into, Michael.,” he surmised. “It’s a real back-breaker. For a minute when my friend called telling me your beef, I thought he meant it was something happening around where you’re at. But now you’re mentioning Nigeria. That’s way over in Africa and that’s international for me. I doubt if I’m going to be much help to you.”

That wasn’t what I’d hoped to hear him say. “I never figured it that way. Just thought I’d level it out with you, hear whatever advice you can give me on where to turn to.”

“Ain’t no advice I can give you besides saying this is way bigger than you and I, kid. This is politics and international shit that’s beyond what you and I can handle.”

I didn’t say anything; I was feeling a dark cloud over me and I didn’t like it.

“You ever thought of taking this to the Nigerian embassy? Maybe meet with some consultant there who could help. I think they’ve got an office here in New York City, or else down in D.C.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. But like what the State Department guy said to me, I doubt if they’ll be of much help. Besides, the Nigerian embassy person would just shoo me away if I tried.”

He got up and went and stood behind his chair gazing out his window before turning back at me. “I don’t know how I can help you out here, Michael. I’m sorry but I just can’t. I wish I know what to tell you, but this goes beyond my pay pocket.”

“But I figured ... I thought you could help give me some pointers or something. Anything.”

“Only likely point I can give you is what I’ve already just told you. Take all this stuff you’ve shown me and head over to the embassy and make a compliant. Either that or get in touch with the U.S., embassy down in Nigeria and let them be aware of this. Anything short of that and I don’t know what else to say to you.”

“But that’s not going to bring about anything,” I complained.

He shrugged at me. “Hey kid, what would you want me to tell you? It’s a tough world, and like what the State Department fellow told you, the wheels of bureaucracy grind pretty slow. Sorry.”

The dark cloud I was feeling over me was now pouring rain down my head. I felt devastated hearing that. And to think I’d come all this way for a possible means of getting this done. Suddenly the food I was eating had no taste in my mouth anymore. I gathered all the stuff I’d laid on his table and threw them into my bag. I picked up the snapshot of Catherine and looked at him.

“What you’re saying is I should return home and forget about all of this, is that what you’re saying? I should just sit back and let my girlfriend and her parents rot in whatever hell hole they’re in right now. Who knows if they’re being tortured right now and Catherine’s probably being raped by who knows whom. You want me to just fold my hands and make like none of it bothers me at all?” I was raising my voice and didn’t actually know it. I threw the photo inside my bag as well and zipped it up and got up, feeling pretty mad and frustrated about everything I’d been hearing. “Well, I’m not going to fold my hands and forget about all of this. I’m going to rescue my girlfriend no matter how I try. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

I was so angry I couldn’t see straight as I barked my chin against the foot of the chair while making for the door.

“Michael, hold it,” he called out to me and I turned to look at him, still excited and gloomy from the adrenaline pumping inside me. “Come back let’s talk some more. No need you leaving here in that state.”

I returned to my chair; I apologized for losing my temper and he calmed me down and said he’d expected that. He left where he stood and returned to his chair.

“It’s not often I meet someone like yourself who’d talk about wanting to do whatever they can about getting their women back.”

“What can I say: I love her. She’s an angel, and she means a lot to me.”

“I notice that. So then what you got in mind of what you’d want to do? You want to head down there to Nigeria and see if you can figure this out on your own? You going to be a one-man army to try and rescue your girl and her folks from whoever’s holding her hostage?”

“Yeah,” I blurted without even thinking about it. “Why not? If the big boys in the State Department can’t do anything, well then maybe I can.”

He laughed. “That’s damn noble of you, kid. I admire your courage, but it’s stupid. This isn’t some bunch of street punks you’re going after. What you think you’re going to do when you get there? You’re going to bust heads and kick asses and blow up buildings like you’re Rambo till whomever’s got your girl steps out and hands her over to you? And even when they do, you think they’re going to give you a free ‘get away’ ticket out the country?”

That had me stumped a bit. “Well ... I haven’t really thought it over yet, but that’s kind of what I’d like to do. I don’t know anything about blowing up buildings, but I’d sure like to travel down there and see what I can find. I know it sounds kind of hard and foolish.”

“You’ll never know until you try,” he said. He leaned forward on his desk and looked at me earnestly. “All kidding aside, Michael. How serious are you thinking of going with this? I mean forget about all this talk we’re having right now, what I want to know is how really fucking serious do you want to go finding this lost girl of yours?”

It was a serious question, and prior to that moment I hadn’t really thought of it. I felt like from the moment those State Department guys paid me a visit and clued me into Catherine missing that I was on some sort of mission and was only now about to accept it.

“Yes sir, I am fucking serious,” I said with such boldness.

The detective didn’t speak for a second or two. He was kind of sizing me up, wanting to know just how serious I was. Then he sat back, laughing, slapped his palm repeatedly on his desk blotter.

“You’ve got balls, Michael. I’m not trying to discourage you or anything. Your girl’s pretty. God knows if I’m in your shoes, I too would want to move mountains to get my woman back. But you need to be aware of what you’re trying to get involved in. This ain’t some bad guys from around the corner you want to tackle. You’re going to be moving into hostile territory. You’re going to be in a world that no one would want to seem welcoming to you. Most importantly, you’re going to be alone. Very, very alone. You think you can handle that?”

I told him I would.

“You got a passport?”

I told him I have one.

“You’re going to need a visa to get there. Okay then. Maybe we should postpone things for tomorrow. Where will you be putting up at?”

“Right now, I don’t have anywhere in mind - I just got off the bus. Was thinking maybe motel or something.”

“Nah, save your money. You’re going to need it where you’ll be going, if really you decide on this. Come by my place, we can talk more afterwards.”

He got up and called out to his secretary and told her it about time for her to start closing up. He began putting some files away inside his cabinet drawers and pulled down his curtains. We left the office with his secretary joining us. He went to where he’d parked his car - a classic Coupe DeVille with all the metal glitter, exactly the same type of car his writer friend wrote in his novel; that shattered any further argument I might have about him not being real and he saw the look in my eyes and laughed at me. I got into the back seat while he shared the front with his secretary. I got the feeling there was more than a working relationship going on the way she fawned over him as he drove. When saw her place her hand over his crotch one time we got to a red light. He too squeezed her thigh and they were both laughing and making out like I wasn’t in the car with them.

He got to his place and he parked his car across the street and then went over and he let us both inside. He told me to use his shower if I felt like it. I took my bag into his bedroom while Sarah his secretary went into the kitchen, singing to herself while she did. She had a great body even with her clothes on. I went into the bathroom and didn’t come out for another ten minutes while I was busy having a shower. I came out of the room feeling refreshed and went and changed into a fresh pair of clothes. Thaddeus Black was in the living room with his shirt loose and his shoes off and was watching a program on the TV when I came and joined him. Sarah appeared with two bottles of beer and told us dinner would be ready in a short while. He slapped her butt as she scuttled back where she’d come from. I tried not to follow her movement but my eyes couldn’t help it; the detective too noticed my looking and he smiled at me.

“She’s a fiery-looking thing, isn’t she?” he asked me as if he expected me to know. “Yeah, she takes good care of it. That’s one slut who can take dictation and knows how to stitch a button on a shirt without spilling a glass of wine in her hand. Very hardworking.”

I didn’t know if he was being metaphorical or otherwise with what he just said. I decided not to pursue it. There was an NBA game on the TV and we both watched it while we drank our beer. Neither of us said anything for a while, then suddenly he broke the silence and asked me a question that took me by surprise.

“When was the last time you got laid, Michael?”

I choked on my drink and coughed. “Wh ... why do you ask me that?”

He shrugged. “Nothing really. Just having a man-to-man conversation with you, if it’s alright, I mean. Nothing to get upset about.”

“Yeah, sure ... well, it’s ... been a while for me.”

“Your girl halfway across the world, I can understand that.” He drank his beer. “But here’s a question I know you ain’t thought about yet, but I think you ought to really. Let’s say you do head down to Nigeria and you do find your girl over there ... what if she don’t want to come back to you? Ever thought of that?”

I looked at him saw he wasn’t joking. It was a strange question and I hadn’t thought about it either.

“No, I haven’t thought of that,” I said, kind of taken aback by his question. “What makes you think she wouldn’t want to come back? She’s in trouble right now.”

“You’re a smart kid, Michael. Have you ever heard about something called the Helsinki Syndrome? It’s a phenomenon that happens to kidnapped victims sometimes when they start feeling pity for their captors. It’s happened in in some scenarios before, and I’m not ashamed to say it, I once got involved in a case that turned out that way. Some rich dude’s wife fell in with the wrong crowd and hit her hubby for a large piece of guineas - that’s money, I mean - and the dude asked me to help get her back. I did get her back unharmed, of course. But about a week later I got a call from her man again saying his wife took off the night before in her car and some money from their joint account. She left her wedding ring on the dresser next to the bed with a note that simply said: ‘I want a divorce’. Nothing I can do about it since this time she left on her own free will. His lawyer drew up the papers and gave her the divorce alright, but that was the last time he heard from his ex-wife. He’s still clueless as to where she is now, most likely gone back to the same crowd from whom I rescued her from. Not that I’m trying to dissuade you or anything, just want you to think about it when you’ve got time and ask yourself if it’s all really worth it.”

He went back to watching the game and drinking his beer. I sat there watching the game too but my mind wouldn’t stop mulling over what he’d just said to me.

Some minutes later Sarah returned from the kitchen and announced that dinner was ready.

***

Something woke me up late in the night. There was a bumping type sound. I reached my hand out in the dark and fell down something as I then found the switch of the bedside lamp and flicked it on. I was in Thaddeus Black’s bedroom -he had taken out a folding bed and said he would crash in the living room. I couldn’t tell what time it was as it was dark outside and the bumping noise was still happening.

I came off the bed and went to the door. The noise was coming from outside, and now I could hear someone groaning too. I opened the door and stepped out into the corridor.

The noise now was unmistakable: that of two people fucking. It was coming from the living room. I inched my head towards the doorway and peeped into the room.

Thaddeus Black was on seated on his long couch and his Sarah sat on top of him grinding her buttocks down on his thighs and they were both naked. I had my mouth open as I watched. I wanted to turn away but I couldn’t help but watch. I’d never seen a white woman having sex with a black man before. I wasn’t naïve not to know about interracial dating, just that where I live it’s not often you get to see such and here it was happening before my eyes.

I watched them kiss each other; his hands caressed her buttocks and he slapped her ass cheeks loud. The couch groaned from their weight - the sound of what woke me up - and she groaned into his ear and kept talking wild crazy words to him. She held up her tits to his face and giggled as he sucked on each of them. My God, just standing there watching them was bringing wild thoughts into my head. Down in my shorts I was getting a hard-on. I’d never had sex yet; Catherine and I had sworn a vow of celibacy until when we got married. But I couldn’t help what I was seeing. I had jerked off plenty of times, and whenever I did it always made me feel guilty. A lot of times before I’d go to bed I’d pray about it and ask God to forgive me. I couldn’t help myself then when I was doing it and I couldn’t help myself now either. My hand sneaked into my shorts and I was stroking my erection before I knew it while the detective kept on banging his hot secretary.

He said something to her and though I couldn’t catch what it was, the crackle of her laughter told it she was into it. Her held her tight and lowered himself to the fold-out bed that was spread by his feet on the living room floor. He came on top of her. She held him down to her chest, her feet high above his back, and I could see his shaft sinking down between her legs and the sound of her moaning climbed higher and higher. I could feel my hand working fast on my dick; I could hear myself gasping and didn’t want to stop. What drove me further crazy was hearing the crazy stuff she was saying as he kept pounding down on her hard.

“Fuck me, Thad! Awwhhhh God, I want your black cock in me all day ... Ugghhhh ... Ohhh ... fuck me anytime you want!”

“You’re my bitch secretary, you know!” he grunted at her face.

“Ohhh yes! I’m your fucking white bitch secretary! Fuck my bitch secretary pussy!”

He pulled out of her and made her turn over on her arms and knees, sticking her ass back at him. He slapped his cock on her butt playfully. The sound of her voice told me she wasn’t liking it. She reached for his cock under her legs and pushed it into where she wanted it to. He was fucking her harder now. I loved the sound of her butt slamming back at him. She dug her head under and kept groaning, still talking wild crazy stuff. He grabbed at her tits and still kept on fucking her from behind. I too was feeling some heat from what I was doing and as I listened to his secretary’s cries grow higher, so too my hand-stroking went faster and then I came right there on my hand.

That did it for me. I turned back and went into the room and closed the door behind me. I looked around for a rag but couldn’t find any, I rubbed my cum over my thigh figuring when I take my morning shower I would wash it off. I lay in bed listening to them fucking, wishing that was me doing the same thing to Catherine. I picked up her photograph which I’d left on the cabinet drawer next to the table lamp and took one long good look at her smiling face before dropping it back and turning off the light.

***

Morning came and my phone’s alarm clock sounded off when it struck 6:35a.m. I got up from the bed and did a couple of stretches, did some calisthenics and loved the sound of my bones cracking as I twisted my torso to either side. There came a knock on the door and I told whomever it was to come in. it was Thaddeus Black. He entered with the fold-out bed, smiling at me.

“Hope we gave you some entertainment last night,” he laughed and looked down at my legs. “All that dry cum you’ve got there on your thigh must have been for something.”

He went on laughing and I could do nothing except blush.

TRAVEL

It was happening. I was onboard a Virgin airline thousands of miles above the earth circling the other of side the world, destination Nigeria. I had an aisle seat, economy-class. The seats were narrow and I made mine lean back so I could stretch my feet as I tried to catch some sleep. A thick-set Nigerian woman in a native attire sat next to me munching on a candy-bar she had brought with her. I’d consumed my lunch and felt satisfied at least for now. Only thing I was looking forward to was when we would get to land.

It had been four weeks and some days since last time I was with the detective.

I had returned home to Buffalo the following day after we’d met, though not after I’d researched through the Nigerian embassy’s webpage for means of securing a travel visa. Returning to home to Buffalo, I had filled up the necessary travel form and paid the required visa fee and with my passport in hand I’d returned to New York City a few days later and went to the Nigerian embassy in Manhattan and submitted my form along with my passport. I was told to return in a weeks’ time and I had to bite down not to show my impatience. Bureaucracy everywhere, something the world is never going to do without. Thaddeus Black told me to stay the week with him instead of heading back home so soon, and it was a great idea as my body was sore from the ride; I did call my folks and told them I was safe with a friend. Thaddeus Black was fun to be with and he made for interesting company the likes I probably wouldn’t have had being with someone else. The man never seemed to run short of women, white women especially. If he wasn’t returning to his place along with his secretary it was with some other pretty woman and I’d stay awake jerking off to the sound of them fucking in the bedroom while I lay on the fold-out bed; most times though I preferred the couch.

All through much of my time I wouldn’t stop thinking about Catherine. God knows what she might be going through down in Nigeria, whatever horrors she might be living. I did call Clarence again to know if anything new had turned up. Sadly nothing and what made it dire was that they were soon going to close the case and move him to something else. I opened up and levelled with him about what I intended to do; I felt better sharing the detail with him than with Arnoldson. Surprisingly he didn’t try to talk me out of it or come down on me for even thinking of attempting such a crazy stunt. He wished me best of luck, told me to be careful and to keep in touch if by chance I stumbled onto something when I get down there. His card had his email address on it and if I couldn’t call, I could always write to him. I promised to do that.

Thaddeus Black kept on being a cool host and whatever he could to stop me from being moody about what lay ahead of me. He saw the burden on my face and told me it wasn’t something to get too hung up about - I was going to get the visa, no doubt. Least I could do was cheer up about being alive and enjoy the moment. He took me out to several of his nightlife haunts. He introduced me to a couple of his social friends, regaled me with anecdotes of his life as a private eye, said it wasn’t all smoke and mirrors as his buddy had painted it in his book; there was some danger involved, though not the sort most would understand if they haven’t lived the life. He offered to get me laid but I always declined. The only girl I wanted in my arms was Catherine; none would do but her. I did get a kick though watching him work his way with the women in the bars he took me to and then bringing them home with him and listening to them fuck in the bedroom. Every night ended up just the same way. I’d never met any man who had as much sex as he did.

The week came to an end and I returned to the embassy to pick up my approved visa, it was like a rock had been lifted off my shoulders. Thaddeus Black wanted us to celebrate. We went to a bar that evening and one of his girlfriends came and met us there with a friend of hers. Once again I declined the offer. We had a couple of beers and then the four of us went to his place. I stayed up late flipping through the TV channels while he and both women made a hell of a noise inside the bedroom. What a guy.

I almost didn’t feel like returning home after he’d dropped me off at the Greyhound and we’d shook hands and he told me to keep in touch. He gave me some pointers before I left: watch my money and only spend when I need to, especially on food and transportation; try not to be too obvious; blend in, even though down there I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb because of my skin; and make friends only when necessary, find someone who can make things easy-going for me. But most importantly: don’t ever try to be a hero. If I see something I couldn’t handle, bail out and fetch whatever authority I can find to handle the situation. I hope to pay him a visit when I return.

I’d started preparing for my travel when I returned home immediately. My folks had enquired where I was packing a bag to but I lied that it was a summer project trip I’d signed up with the school to be involved in. I told them I’d call them in a few days once I’d gotten settled in. I didn’t know how long I would be gone and I’d nearly withdrawn much of my savings to make the trip with.

It seemed so long ago that all that had happened. Even now it was still hard for me to believe that I was actually travelling to a foreign land all by myself. I have been to England before, but I knew this trip was going to be like that. A part of me trembled with anticipation at whatever was bound to come my way that I didn’t yet know about.

A day had slipped away. It was early morning when our plane entered Nigerian airspace. A lot of the passengers inside clapped their hands and whopped with joy as the plane touched down on the runway and we taxied towards the Cape City International airport. We filed out of the plane and I followed the movement of the crowd into the airport and waited to claim my baggage. Clarence had emailed to me discreetly much of what little information he could as to the name of the resort Catherine’s parents had paid for. I had visited the resort’s online website before departing Buffalo, right after I’d gotten my approved Nigerian visa and made reservation for a room to go with the visa application. They sent me a return mail declaring that they’d received my deposited payment and travel iternary and would be sending a delegate to meet me at the airport at the scheduled time of my arrival. It was a good thing too because standing there in the airport while crowds of Nigerians and foreigners pushed past me to get at their luggage, I felt like someone actually lost. Not to mention that it was the wee early hours of the morning.

I found my bag and went with the crowd heading towards the outside of the airport. there were plenty of taxi drivers hanging about and several of them accosted me asking if I needed a ride; they were talking so fast I could barely catch what they were saying at once. I politely shook my head and kept on out of the airport.

There was a strange odour about the air I couldn’t tell what it was with the crowd jostling to get past me and people talking and shouting and car horns honking at the same time, it looks like chaos about to happen. People pushed past me without care. I went and reclined my back against the side of a van thinking what my next route would be. A good thing I still had the resort’s information in my bag.

“Good morning,” I heard someone say to me. I turned my head and a black man stood there wearing a shirt with the name and logo of the same resort I was here for. The man was smiling at me. We shook hands and he introduced himself: “My name is Elias. Queensland Hotel & Resorts welcomes you to Cape City, Nigeria, sir.”

I told him my name and that I was delighted to be here. He helped me with my bag and I walked along with him towards the resort’s van parked not far from the airport. He opened the door and I saw there was a white man seated inside wearing a straw-type of hat. Elias told me to wait inside while he went to fetch others whom he was there for. I sat next to the man with the hat and he introduced himself as Hugh Lawrence, a Briton. He was in his early-forties, greying hair and goatee beard and rumpled clothes. He asked where I was from and I told him. He gripped about the heat and opened his shirt to dab his neckline with his handkerchief. I too was uncomfortable sitting there and wished for Elias to find whomever he was out looking for and hurry back so we could get to some meaningful civilization.

He did find whom he was looking for - two white women, one of young enough to be my age-mate. Elias stowed their luggage in the back of the van while the ladies climbed into the van and we exchanged greetings and handshakes. The women were both blonde and Canadian; the older had a streak of grey in her brunette hair. Her name was Anya Dubois and the young girl that was a near copy of her was Heidi. Elias jumped into the driver’s seat and started the engine, enquired if we were all okay in the back. We answered that we were, and then we were off.

It was a relief when we finally broke through the near insurmountable traffic that was at the junction leading out of the airport. There was a cacophony of blaring car horns and people stepping out of their cars haranguing with each other. Elias remained in the vehicle. Hugh laughed and told me this was his fourth time of being in Nigeria and he was starting to get used to the traffic situation; Anya and her daughter replied each other in rapid French; above our heads airplanes took off into the night’s sky.

The drive was a long one. I didn’t realize I was dozing until we drew to a halt and Hugh tapped my shoulder and told me we’re there. A film of sweat clung to my face and wiped it off with my handkerchief and looked out the window and true enough we were just driving past the gate of the Queensland Resort. The van drove round a circle fountain and Elias brought the vehicle to a halt.

It took little time for me to get my room key having confirmed my reservation and then into the elevator I rode to the second floor where my room awaited me. I tipped the porter after he’d laid my bag on the bed and he bid me welcome and closed the door as he stepped out of it.

I fell on the bed, tired. Finally I’d made it. I couldn’t believe it: all the endless days of talking and thinking things through and now here I was. In the same resort where my darling Catherine and her parents had stayed in before being declared missing. I was finally here; this was a big start in the right direction. The time on my watch was reading back home; here it was way past midnight. A day had just about gone by since I bid JFK goodbye and now I was jet-lag tired. I needed a shower but didn’t know if I could make it into the bathroom in time without passing out. I managed to unzip my bag and dig out my night clothes and changed into them before crawling into the bed. I was asleep before I knew it; I even forgot to turn off the lights.

***

I slept fitfully like one who hadn’t wished for sleep in a long while. There was a measure of light behind my closed eye lids and I probably still would have been sleeping had the cleaning lady not rang the doorbell wanting to know if I was up already. I got up with a groan, went and answered the door and told her to return in an hour. Wasn’t till I glanced at the bedside alarm clock that I realized it was a quarter past eight already; usually I was up by 6:30a.m. Then I reminded myself I wasn’t in Buffalo anymore, and I’d forgotten to change the time on my watch last night before I passed out.

The bathroom was inviting, especially the shower went I stood under its gushing water. I could almost feel New York leaving my body as I sponged my body and when I stepped out of the stall with the towel around my waistline, I felt somewhat renewed. I put on some clothes and got to putting the rest of my stuff away. I left my laptop on the reading table and when finished I called up the lobby and had them send me something to eat. I enquired as to their Wi-Fi system and within minutes I was hooked up. I wrote separate emails to Clarence, to Thaddeus Black and to my parents to let them know I’d arrived and would be keeping in touch later on. I wouldn’t be surprised my folks had tried calling me and couldn’t get through.

Catherine and her parents had checked into one of the apartment suites located on the sixth floor as Clarence’s information had told me; he’d furnished me with their room number too. I would have to figure out a means of getting into the room, maybe make an excuse of not liking my single room and wondering if I can change to see the suites to know if it’ll be to my taste; the least choice would be to bribe someone to let me into it. I thought about my other companions who’d arrived the resort - the Brit and the two Canadian women, wondering where in the hotel they might be.

A knock came on my door - my breakfast had arrived. The cleaning lady who’d knocked earlier returned again and this time I allowed her to do her work while I went on with my breakfast.

***

Find a friend, especially one who’ll make things easy-going for you.

Such were the words from Thaddeus Black I still remember. It was going to be a little tough finding or at least getting to know my way around things in here. I needed someone whom I could share some measure of trust with. The question was who.

I went down to the bar to get myself something to drink, but more to start finding my way through how I was going to go about my search in the resort. I felt exhilarated but at the same time overwhelmed by what lay ahead of me and I was hoping I hadn’t really gotten too over my head on this. For one thing I didn’t know to start or where to begin. I nearly fell off my stool when a hand landed on my shoulder. I turned my head and there was the smiling face of the Brit of the night before; he still had on his straw hat and he tipped it in courtesy and said hello to me.

“Hey there, buddy. Just the right man I’ve been searching around for,” he said as he pulled back a stool and planted himself on it. “Was wondering where they got you locked up in this building. Didn’t know how to find you and was busy wondering about it and then here you are. Jolly nice running into you again.”

“The same here,” I said, shaking his hand.

I was having myself a beer - Corona. He ordered the same himself. His words were so rapid I could barely catch what he was saying.

“Was admiring the ladies down at the pool section,” he winked at me as if in confidence. “Saw those two hotties we shared the van with last night too. Looking lovely in their bathing suites. Wonder where their men are. You curious?”

“Not really. They look pretty close, probably sisters.”

He snorted. “Those girls ain’t no sisters any more than you and I aren’t from the same mothers. Wonder how I came by that info?”

Listening to him talk was enough to make me know he was a pompous ass. I wasn’t really curious as to whatever information he had but decided to humour him. “Tell me.”

“Fellow that brought us in yesterday - Elias. I ran into him this morning and he and I got to talking a little this and that, and then he opened up to me. He’s a smooth operator, that bloke is.”

“He as well tell you what the ladies are here for?”

Hugh nodded. “Some man’s supposed to stop by later this evening. Fancy guy. Elias wouldn’t tell me who, but I guess he’s being careful not to find out I’m blabbing about it.”

That piqued my interest. The Elias fellow could just be the friend I’ve been thinking about.

“Where can I find him?” I asked.

***

I headed out towards the beach where Hugh told me he last saw Elias helping some of the staff putting up the cabana umbrellas. It was a hot day and a strong wind blew from the sea ruffling my clothes, blowing back my hair and cooling the heat that was within my clothes. There were other foreign couples running past me towards the sandy shore of the beach as if the water was going away. It occurred to me to wonder if the alleged kidnappers had in some way selected out Catherine and her parents along with the other couples and why hadn’t they gone after others. I made a mental note to ask Elias something regarding that once I’d gotten cosy with him.

As I got closer towards the beach I saw Elias and he saw me too and we both waved at each other and he told me he would be with me shortly as he was still helping set out lounge chairs and cabanas some feet from the shoreline. I looked out at the beach and sighted one of the Canadian women, Heidi, running towards my direction. I waved at her and she looked at me and smiled and came to meet me. We shook hands and told her she looked great in her swim suit; she thanked me for the compliment. She had a lovely laugh and her English was so fluid with little accent in her voice. I remarked that she had studied music at a college in Maryland.

“So, how come you’re out here all with yourself? I thought you’d be out with your friend?”

She said: “We were together a while ago, then she went out for a swim with a friend of hers. I don’t know where they’re at - oh, there they are.”

She pointed behind me. I turned towards where she meant and saw her friend, Anya in a light pink bikini walking with one of her arm wrapped around that of a black man. The black man was tall, broad-shouldered and athletic, wore knee-length shorts and had a towel draped over his neck looking like he just stepped out of a gym and he was saying something to her which got her laughing.

“Your friend is pretty looking,” I said.

“Don’t I look pretty enough?” she said.

“You look far better than her,” I turned to her.

“That’s a lot better. You here alone or with company?”

I’m alone. No one with me except myself.”

“Standing here, you don’t look so alone right now,” she flashed her eyes at me.

I was thinking of a snappy return to her flirting when her friend along with her male companion joined us. Anya and I shook hands and introduced me to her friend, Olu Shango. He was tall and bulky up-close and my hand practically disappeared in his when we shook hands.

“Hey there, Mike. What’s up with you, white boi?”

White boy?!? I’d never heard anyone call me that before. Almost at once a part of me didn’t like him and I hopped he wasn’t staying in the resort so I won’t have to run into him too often.

I talked with Heidi for a while and we exchanged room phone numbers and promised to meet down at the lounge later during lunch. She waved goodbye to me and ran over to join Anya and her friend as they in the direction of the lounge hut.

“I see you were talking with the Canadian ladies,” said Elias. I’d totally forgotten about him.

“Yes, I was. The British fellow you picked me up with last night mentioned that they aren’t related.”

“They’re nieces,” he said. “Though you won’t know just looking at them. But that’s not what you wanted to see me about, is it?”

We found ourselves a lounge chair and sat down. I stared at the Canadian women; a part of me felt wounded watching the way the women appeared to fawn over their black companion, then returned to Elias.

“I want to know if I can trust you, Elias. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you about and I think you’re the only person I can talk to. How well do you know the people that work here in this resort?”

He didn’t appear surprised by my words. In fact he seemed somewhat bemused by it. I know that’s probably because I wasn’t the first foreigner to want to confine to him about something. “I know just about everybody that works here, and they too know me. You want me to make a special favour for you: you want a woman for the night, you want to score some powder ... I can get you whatever it is you want for a price.”

I told him no, I didn’t want any woman ... and I wanted no drugs either. However what I wanted was simple: information.

“Information?”

“It’s about those white couples who got kidnapped three months back,” I said it straight, not mincing any words.

Elias looked at me as if expecting me to say more. I’d expect some type of reaction from him but he seemed so cool about it, like he’d been expecting me to say exactly such.

“You’re related to any one of them?”

“Sort of. I’d like to know what happened to them during their stay here.”

He got up at once. “I’m sorry I can’t talk about that. The police already quizzed me about it and I told them everything I know. You’ll get better luck asking them. Good bye, sir.”

I came after him, tried to hold him back but he flung his arm off me; the look he gave me now was dark.

“Look ... I’m sorry, I was just trying to - ”

“I don’t know what you’re about, sir. You’re going to get me in trouble talking with you.”

I tried to calm him down even though his eyes were still fuming at me.

“I apologize, Elias. Look, do you remember her?” I took out the photo of Catherine from my shirt pocket and presented it to him. I was frantic to get him on my side. “She was one of the women kidnapped. Her and her parents spent a night here at the resort and that was the last time anyone saw of them. Please, all I want is whatever information you can help me with finding her.”

He looked at the photo; the angry look slowly left his face.

“She something to you?” he said to me.

“Yes, I’m her boyfriend. We’re supposed to get married soon.”

He gave me back the photograph. “How you want me to help you?”

I thought quickly, wracking my head for whatever I could think of. “Well ... first I’d like to know what suite she stayed in - what room. I know her Dad paid for one of the apartment suites on the sixth floor, is that correct?”

He nodded. “You want to go in there and look around? There’s nothing there, you know. The police went away with everything they had.”

“I’m aware of that, but I’d still like to take a look in the room just to see what it was like. Is there any chance you can help me with that?”

Elias was silence for a moment, then he broke into a smile, and then laughed. “There’s two options you can go about doing that: the lady that works the lobby during the night shift, she’s a friend of mine. I could talk her into doing it - you have trouble with your room and was wondering if you can see the apartment suites. I’ll get her to get me a room key to escort you upstairs, but that’ll be hard because she’s not going to want to give you the keys to that apartment your friend stayed at.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because there’s people in there right now,” he said to me. “Your best bet is go with the second option - try talk to the persons in that room and see if they’ll let you in.”

“That sounds like a safe bet. Where do I find this couple occupying that suite? How do look for them?”

Once again he burst in laughter. “You don’t need look too far - you were talking with one of them a moment ago. That’s them over there.”

He indicated with his head behind me. I turned and saw Anya and Heidi seated at a lounge chair with their black friend Olu next to them.

“You want into the apartment,” Elias said to me, sniggering. “Get them to take you in.”

He walked away leaving me standing there tongue-tied. I could still hear him laughing.

DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE

Noon, the following day.

I’d been watching Heidi and her niece as much as I could and realized they stuck to each other like glue. I’d run into them later long after my conversation with Elias and tried to engage in conversation with them, but they seemed preoccupied with their Nigerian companion and I had to let go. I hovered around the resort’s bar/restaurant area hopping to catch sight of Heidi; I even left word at the reception to alert me should they caught sight of her. By the time I got the word, she and Anya were jumping into a car out of the resort ... with their friend Olu leading them along. Whoever he was and whatever type of hold he had on the women I couldn’t comprehend.

But the next day I decided to take my mind off trying to spot Heidi alone and after giving my parents a call back home (catching them early in the morning since New York was five hours behind), I went down to the beach to get a feel of the ocean on this side of the world. I rented a surfboard and into swam far into the water with the sun behind my back. The water sure felt good. It helped take my mind off what I was in Nigeria for. For the near hour I was out there surfing over the waves, the thought of Catherine was almost a memory in my mind. It wasn’t until I got tired and came out of the water that she returned to the front of my head.

I returned to my room and suspected something amiss. At first I couldn’t notice it but gradually it came to me to suspect that someone had been in my room. My laptop was still on the reading table, but its position had changed; whoever it was had left the lid half open. I booted my system up and checked on my work; I doubt if whoever it was had actually gained through my password. Probably had been in a hurry to have left the lid half open. My bag was still in the closet and everything else was in it, but it too had a look that something or someone had gone through it. Either that or I was starting to get paranoid for no reason.

My money was in my wallet - some hundreds and my credit card, plus some debit cards, and they were still with me. At least that I can rest easy about.

I went into the bathroom and took a shower. I came out and was thinking of what to wear for the evening and what to do later on when a knock sounded on my door. I went and took a peek and there was Heidi standing out in the corridor. I opened the door and let her in; she practically pushed past me like someone was after her.

“Hi,” she said to me. “The lady down at the reception told me you were asking about me?”

“Yeah I was, but - ”

A knock sounded at my door. I turned to Heidi and she whispered for me to tell whoever it was that she wasn’t here then she went to hide inside my bathroom. I opened the door with the chain handle still on it and peeped whoever it was. It was the same Nigerian fellow who’d been with her and her niece at the beach yesterday, Olu Shango. Even with my door between us the man was so intimidating I thought he was about to burst through.

“Help you?” I said to him.

“You can start first by letting me in,” he said to me.

I couldn’t comprehend what type of silly game must have gone through Heidi’s mind to want to bring him here to my room and wasn’t thrilled about it but opted to play nice and loosened the chain link on the door and opened it for him to enter. He entered my room like it was actually his. The polo T-shirt and jeans he wore almost didn’t seem to contain him.

“Was looking out for you yesterday,” he said to me. “I’ve got a party this evening and I figured if you ain’t got much to do you can come out and join us.”

“That’s pretty kind of you, but unfortunately I do have things to do. Sorry.”

“Yeah? Such as?”

“I’ve got ... work to do, how’s that any of your concern?”

He shrugged, turning his head around my room. “No concern at all, white boi.”

“Excuse me, my name’s Michael.”

He shrugged. “Whatever, white boi. You seen Heidi around? I got word from the lady downstairs saying the bloke in this room wanted to meet with her, and that bloke happens to be you. What you want to see her about?”

“That’s got to deal with personal stuff involving myself and her and not you,” I said to him.

He stood there looking at me with glaring eyes. I was huffing in my chest, angry that this muscle-bound Nigerian would barge his way into my room the way he did and start throwing questions at me like I was ignorant or something. If it came to a fight, I knew I couldn’t possibly take him down, not with that size of his ... but hopefully I wouldn’t make it easy for him either.

“Look, I just stepped out the shower right now and need to put some clothes on and be alone with myself, so if you don’t mind.” I indicated at the door.

He looked at me and then shook with laughter. He came and tapped my shoulder in a friendly manner like we were buddies all along. “Chill, white boi. I was only just messing with you. You get your ass ready at about seven. Got a party I’d like you to be in. You see Heidi around, tell her to give me a call.”

“If I see her I will. Bye for now.”

I closed the door behind him, glad to have gotten rid of him. I returned the chain back to its lock and turned the key in the lock as well then went and put on a pair of shorts before coming to knock on the bathroom door. Heidi stuck her head out after I’d told her he was gone. Now was her turn to look embarrassed.

“I’m sorry I led him here. Didn’t mean for that to happen,” she said.

“I’m not complaining. At least now you got to see what my room looks like.” Instantly it clicked in my head; I saw this as the opportunity I’d been waiting to find. “Although this means you’re going to do me a small favour.”

That spurred her to jump into my arms bringing her lips to mine. I baulked and pushed her aside. She caught the gesture and looked at me hurt and surprised.

“What? Did I do something wrong? Don’t you like me at all?”

She threw the questions at me rapidly.

“No, no ... not like that, Heidi. You’re beautiful and everything, except I ... I’d like you to do me some other favour first. We can always do this other one afterwards.”

That seemed to mellow her somewhat, there was scepticism in her eyes.

“Okay. What’s this favour you’re asking of then?”

“I’d like to see what your room looks like. Think you can take me up there?”

Her features broke into a smile when I said that.

“Oh wow! Sure, I’d love to show you my room. We can go there right now; Anya wouldn’t be there, I doubt.”

I wasn’t going to miss this opportunity. I grabbed a T-shirt and worn on my flip-flops. Together we left the room and headed towards the elevator.

***

She never questioned my curiosity as to why I wanted to see her room; I doubt if she even thought about it aside from that it sounded kinky to her.

We arrived at her apartment suite and she let us both in. Her niece - she admitted to it during the elevator ride after I’d asked her about it - wasn’t inside as she’d hoped; she pointed at Anya’s room and she went and knocked on it and was rewarded with the silence. She took me into hers which I recall Clarence informing me in his mail that it was the same room Catherine had slept in when she and her parents arrived here. The room was spotless and neat. The windows closed to the world outside. I tried picturing Catherine lying on the bed, putting her bags away in the closet ... going into the bathroom to take a shower.

“What do you think?” Heidi said to me, spreading her arms at the room. “Lovely isn’t it?”

“Much lovelier and bigger than mine,” I admitted.

“I’m not too comfortable with bigger rooms. Usually I’d have wanted something like yours, except Olu preferred Anya and I here; he made the arrangements.”

“This Olu fellow, what is he, your guardian or something?”

She was about to say something when there was the slamming of a door. I jerked my feet thinking it was her bedroom door but it wasn’t. Like kids playing a game we got closer to her door and peeped out the side. There was the voice of someone laughing - a woman’s voice. It was Anya in her swim suit being grasped from behind by her Nigerian lover Olu Shango. They sauntered into the living room, laughing, and slumped on a couch kissing and fondling each other. Anya came down from the couch and knelt before him, fumbling and pulling his jeans down his thighs and Heidi and I watched as she lowered her head down on his crotch, both of us ogling the sight of her exquisite butt. My mouth came open as I watched Heidi’s niece suck on her black boyfriend’s monster cock. I couldn’t see all of it but the sight of her bobbing her head up and down, choking on a few inches of his shaft was enough to tell me he had something.

Something was pressing my shorts. I looked down at Heidi’s hand squeezing my crotch. Heidi had a coquettish smile on her face. She stuck her tongue into my ear and pulled at my earlobe. I felt my prick give a kick; her hand kept on squeezing my erection. I wanted to push her away ... I wanted to fight her off me ... I didn’t want to be in the room with her any longer. My mind, my body - my soul and my cock - was for Catherine, and no one else. I wanted to push her off me and run away ...

But I couldn’t. I was too weak to want to do anything except inhale her sweet fragrance and allow her to keep pressing her hand against my crotch. I didn’t want her to stop; I wished for her to do more.

She did eventually. While I returned my eyes out the half-inched open door to stare at her niece ingesting the black man’s cock, Heidi slid down to her knees and unzipped my fly. I tried to take her hands away but she kept at it and I gasped when I felt her hand wrapped around my dick and pull it out its hiding place. Droplets of pre-cum stained her lips as she stroked my hardness and she licked them off before bringing her lips to my prick’s head. I held my breath for a second as the sensation of her lips washed over me. I gradually exhaled it. I alternated looked down at what she was doing - she’d paused in her sucking my cock and smile at me before putting her lips back to work again - and resumed watching Anya and what her black lover was about to do to her.

Anya was up on her feet now and hurrying to get out of her swim suit but Olu seemed impatient and I watched him pull her down towards him and she straddled him. She moaned as he ripped her panties off her and I watched mesmerized as he pressed her ass down on his prick. Anya was giggling but it turned into a loud cry, throwing her head backward when his cock went up in her. I nearly jumped. Hearing her cry so loud I thought he was hurting her. She reclined forward, her tits brushed over his face and I watched him suck her breasts like they were ripe oranges while her ass rose and fell on his cock.

Heidi was still sucking me and now she’d undone my short’s top button and let it fall to my ankle and was tugging at my balls while she rolled her tongue over my prick’s helmet. My eyes felt like they were on fire and I could barely stem down my gasps. I’d never had a blowjob this good before. Matter of fact, this was the first blowjob I was getting; Catherine had only given me hand-jobs and that was it. Had I known it would be this good ... I’d probably have made her given it to be before she left with her parents.

SMACK! ...

“Aaahhhhh! ...”

SMACK!

“... Aggghhhh!”

It sounded like a gun going off. I turned my head and there was Olu slapping Anya’s buttocks. Anya was riding him harder now, moaning louder too. She got on her haunches and I licked my lips as I watched the perfect half-circles of her ass bounce up and down on the monster black dick that was fucking her. Olu made her sit back down and lifted her off the couch and brought her down on her backside. He pulled his shirt over the back of his neck and got down to fucking Anya. I watched as he drove his cock back and forth, in and out of her open legs, listened to the voice of her screaming frenzy. I listened to her beg him not to hurt her ... fuck her harder ... she hollered his name over and over again ... then her voice broke into a panting frenzy as she murmured that she was about to cum. Still Olu was like a monster and didn’t let off what he was doing to her. I could hear her cries inside my head. Her voice merged with that of mine. I too could hear myself screaming ... except the reason for mine was coming from the raging storm I was feeling inside my prick.

I don’t know what happened except I couldn’t take it anymore. The reflex got to me. I pulled my prick out of Heidi’s mouth and nearly bit my tongue from the pain I felt as her teeth scraped against my foreskin. She fell on her buttocks and at that moment my cock let loose a stream of semen and spewed it over her body. In the living room Anya was still screaming her joy of climax ... as was I too. I was breathing faster, my hand shook as I kept stroking droplets of semen out of it.

The strength in my legs went like spaghetti and I slumped to the floor still struggling to catch my breath; my shirt was half covered with sweat and I had it over my brow. My arms felt weak as if they’d been glued to my side and wouldn’t come up. Heidi still remained on her butt with her legs spread, giving me a mixed sort of like that was a likeness to anger and surprise; some of my sperm was on her face. I wanted to say something to her but no words except gasping air came off my lips. She got up and marched into the bathroom. I could hear Anya’s voice giggling once again. When I’d gotten some strength back I pulled myself to my feet, careful not to trip on my shorts, and peeped out the door. I caught sight of Olu picking Anya up from the couch to where her room was; they left their clothes behind. I heard the door close behind them at the same time Heidi came out of the bathroom holding a towel to her wet face. This time I did manage to say something.

“Sorry about that,” I said sheepishly.

“You should leave now,” she said.

Her voice sounded like sandpaper. I opted to leave while I still had some dignity intact.

I saw Anya’s torn panties lying halfway on the couch. I don’t know what came over me then as I saw it but a part of me wanted to have it as some memento. I picked it up and shoved it into my pocket and as quiet as I could, though I could hear Anya’s moaning voice coming from behind her door, I opened the apartment’s door and stepped out into the corridor. I rode the elevator down to my floor feeling hopeless, dejected and stupid.

I returned to my room’s floor; my hands were wet as if I’d dipped them in a pool of sweat and my key slipped off my hand twice as I tried to enter my room. When finally I got in, I closed the door behind me and leaned against it. I was shaking, but it wasn’t from fear but excitement. That was my first time of enjoying foreplay. At that moment I recalled the times Thaddeus Black back in New York City had wanted to hook me up with women friends and had I known such would be most enjoyable I never would have turned down his offers; what a fool I’ve been. My mind was vividly recalling every nano-second that had taken place with Heidi while she sucked me ... while I watched her niece getting fucked. It got me growing hard again. I took out Anya’s torn panties off my pocket and pulled down my shorts and grasped my cock which was wet from Heidi’s saliva and my ejaculate and started stroking. Plenty of times in the past I had jerked myself when reading some erotic magazine or fantasizing about Catherine. I’d picture her naked on my bed and me making love to her ... but not this time around. This time my mind was centred on Anya taking that monster dick her boyfriend Olu had fucked her pussy with. I jerked my cock as I wrapped her torn panties around my shaft and went on jerking my meat to the memory of her screaming and hollering from the pounding she’d gotten. I shut my eyes and breathed out of my mouth and relieved every image of what I’d seen. I was jerking my cock so hard and fast, sliding Anya’s panties over my pecker like silk. The pressure was building inside my head and down in my balls sac. I recalled the moment of her screaming out that she was about to cum ... that was when I raced into my bathroom and kicked up the toilet seat, took aim with my dick and I shook all over like a cat that’d been doused with water at the same time groaned as I squirted my semen into the toilet bowl. Some of my semen came off on my hand. When I was done, without thinking of it, I rubbed Anya’s panties over my semen-coated prick and licked it off with my tongue. I’d never tasted my cum before. I should have been disgusted by what I just did ... but instead I liked it. I really, really liked it.

I flushed the toilet when I was done. I washed her panties in the sink and hung it somewhere to dry and took a shower.

***

I did fall asleep after I’d had my shower and it was my room’s phone that woke me up. It must have been ringing for a while. When I reached for it, the handle fell off and I grumbled as I rolled to the bed’s edge and picked it up and murmured something sounding like ‘yeah’, into the mouthpiece; the sky outside my window was dark purple.

“Hey there, white boi,” said the man’s voice at the other end of the line. I recognised the voice right away and it made me groan inside.

“Hi there Olu,” I said.

“You still asleep or you awake now? You forgot about that party I told you about?”

I glanced at the alarm clock beside the bed; 7:45p.m., it said. I couldn’t believe that I’d slept that long.

“I don’t know if I can make it. Is it possible I take a rain check on you?”

“No such thing as a rain-check in my dictionary, white boi. Our ride leaves here in thirty. Get your ass up right now and come meet us down here in the lounge. Don’t make me come up there and do it myself.”

The line went dead after that.

I dropped the phone and punched my pillow wishing it was Olu’s face. The nerve of him to talk to me like I was a kid or something; and he still won’t stop calling me that stupid name ‘white boi’. Oh well, it was late already and I was stumped as to where my investigation was going. I had been to the suite Catherine and her folks had stayed in but nothing there could lead me any further. I might as well put on a happy face and go have some fun time, whatever Olu had in mind as regards to fun. Anya and Heidi will be downstairs with him, I figure. After what I’d done to Heidi back in her room I don’t know if I could stand looking at her at all.

I washed my face in the bathroom and splashed some cologne on and put on some lotion too and got another shirt to wear and stepped into a pair of jeans. My wallet in my pocket, I arranged my laptop and my bag and every other thing so I’d know if anyone else steps into my room while I’m gone. When I felt alright with the arrangement, I turned off the lights and left the room.

It would be the last time I set foot in my room. It would be the last time I set foot in Queensland Resort.

***

The elevator deposited me at the lobby and I strolled towards the lounge area. A voice was hollering out my name. I turned my head and there was Hugh hurrying as if to catch up with me. There were other people walking by and some turned their heads to see him coming towards me; he was wearing a safari shirt and matching shorts with the straw hat on his head, looking like the world’s worse tourist.

“Hi there ,” we shook hands. “Seems like you’re the only foreigner I tend to be running into in here. Lots of other Brits around but the look like pests to me.”

“Maybe if you talk nicely to them you might get a better response,” I snapped back, pissed at him for calling my name out the way he just did.

He was holding my arm, keeping me standing there alongside him. He pulled me closer at the same time led me off the walking path of other people strolling past us; he was grinning at me as well.

“I saw you earlier in the day. Looks like you’re getting cosier with those Canadian broads.”

“We met for drinks and that’s it. Nothing to be cosy about.” What I should have said was ‘none of your fucking business, buddy’. But that didn’t seem to get through to him.

“You went up to her room, didn’t you? I know you did.”

I screw my brow. “The hell are you talking about? How the hell would you have known about that?”

“I know because I too have got some interest in that room that they’re staying in. That’s the same room that American couple that got kidnapped stayed at, right? You know what I mean, don’t you? That’s what you’re here for, I know that too.”

All of a sudden I didn’t want to be seen with him anymore and I wrenched my arm off him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about or what you’re here for, but this is the last time you and I ever speak like we know each other.”

“I’m a reporter, Michael,” he said with desperation in his eyes, still trying to hold on to me. “Investigative for the Guardian. I checked you up the night we got in here. I’m sorry about your girl being missing but that’s what I’m here for, to find out what really happened to her and the other missing Yanks too, the same as you. Care to talk with me now?”

“No, I don’t. You’ve been sneaking around watching me since we got here and now you expect us to become pals? And since when do Brits actually care what happens to Americans that go missing?”

“Some do, and some just to sell paper. But I’m here to get to the bottom of it, and that’s what you’re here for, aren’t you?” He was talking pretty fast, looking beyond my shoulder while he did. “Look, my source tells me there’s some type of racket going on in this resort and who knows which of these foreigners will be the next to get kidnapped. I want you to work with me on this, Michael. Tell me what you know and let’s get the word out about this place.”

“Tell me one thing first. How did you get to know I was at the Canadian’s apartment, and why did you break into my room?”

He faltered when I said this. “Break into your room? When?”

I was about to say something more when a hand slapped my shoulder. I turned my head and there was Olu Shango grinning at me.

“What’s up, white boi. You just like me running around this building looking for you, is that it? Who’s your friend?”

I introduced him to Hugh. They shook hands and Hugh took his leave, telling me he would catch up to me later. Olu steered me towards the lounge.

“I’m not one used to be kept waiting, especially not by white bois such as yourself. And the ladies don’t like it either.”

“For the thousand time, my name is Michael. Why can’t you just call me that and still calling me this ‘white boi’ stuff?”

“My bad, Michael. Now click your heels and let’s get this party rolling.”

He had his arm around me, hugging me and laughing like he’d just shared the world’s dirtiest joke and together we went into the lounge where the ladies were waiting.

Anya and Heidi were deep in conversation and they stopped almost immediately when we came to their table. They were both looking hot and gorgeous in their evening dresses and high heels. Heidi had her leg crossed over the other; she looked good in her dress. I wanted to walk up to her and pull her into my arms but the icy look she gave me as she saw me there cut that dream short. I shook hands with Anya and said ‘Hi’ to Heidi; her reply was distant. The ladies had their drinks in front of them. Olu said they needed to be on their way right now. They hurried up with their drinks and Olu escorted Anya with her brimming with smiles as she locked her arm around his while Heidi walked as if I wasn’t there beside her.

“I’m sorry about this afternoon,” I said to her, keeping my voice low so no one else would hear.

“You were pathetic,” she said to me.

“Like I said, I was sorry. It was my first time.”

She snorted. “You could have fooled me.”

I clamped my mouth shut, not knowing what else to say to her. We strolled through the lobby and went out the revolving doors into the evening. The air felt refreshingly different and cool as we stood there. A slick black limousine pulled up in front of us and the four of us got in and then drove out of the resort’s gate.

The hour was late, but it seemed only I noticed that in the car. I looked back at the resort as we drove away from it. It was as if a part of me knew I wasn’t returning anymore.

I was heading down the rabbit hole and didn’t even know it.

LIGHTS GO OUT

The car’s interior light remained on. There was a wine bucket with us in the car and a bottle of wine nestled inside it. Olu Shango picked it up and popped the cork. Anya and Heidi and myself held up our glasses as he filled it for us and we made a toast to a fun-filled evening. Anya was all giddy with excitement; Heidi too seemed expectant of what the evening might bring; I was the only one who remained clueless and had nothing to do except sip my drink and I smacked my lips as I savoured the taste.

“Wow! It’s getting hot in here, isn’t it?” Anya fanned at herself after draining what was in her glass. She pushed down the ‘V’ section of her blouse; I could make out the tan outline of her bra though she wasn’t wearing any. “If I were a cat right now, I’d purr.”

She and Heidi gave a giggling fit. I watched as she stretched her legs and dropped one over her black boyfriend’s thigh. Her skirt rode up her thigh, giving me an excellent view of her naked pussy. I wouldn’t be surprised Heidi too wouldn’t have on any panties and that got my erection squirming inside my jeans.

The car went over several potholes and bumps on the road; it added to the frolicking erociticity taking place inside the limo. Anya was kissing Olu, her hand grasping his hardened crotch. Heidi left where she sat beside me and went to sit next to them. She too joined in kissing Olu; afterwards he allowed both women to share an intimate long kiss. I sipped my drink, rubbing my hard-on, watched as Heidi unzipped Olu Shango’s pants and fished out his erect snake. She gave me a look before lowering her face down his crotch and wrapping her lips around his prick’s head. I was a little flustered and angry sitting there watching all of that. I didn’t deserve to be there - I thought she and I had something going on. I was fuming within myself as I watched her continue to swallow that thick black cock and barely get it all down her mouth. Her niece came down and joined her. Now both women were taking turns flicking their tongue and sucking on Olu’s cock like a popsicle and he lounged back in his chair sipping his wine, groaning and pushing either woman’s head down on him. At one time he looked at me and grinned.

“You like what you’re seeing, white boi?”

Where it not that I was in a vehicle and we were moving past traffic I probably would have opened the door and jumped out and taken my chances and walked back to the resort ... if I could find it since right at that moment I couldn’t tell what section of the city we were heading to. Street lights shone their glare through the tinted glass at us and the city moved at frenetic speed and that was all I could make of the city around it. I turned my face to look out the dark window but couldn’t shut out the sound of lips smacking, the moaning voices or that of Olu telling the women what to do. I turned to watch them and now he had his jeans down his thighs and Heidi had near loosened her dress, hiked up her skirt and now was about straddling him.

“Go on get that black dick, dear,” Anya urged her. She stroked Olu’s cock in her hand and I watched her hold it as Heidi lowered her ass down on him.

I couldn’t take the sound or sight of Heidi riding Shango’s cock from my mind even as I’m telling this story. I watched the roundness of her white butt grind against his black skin as she leaned against him. Her niece knelt down and kissed her butt and sucked on Olu’s cock. She caressed her tits behind her dress and fingered herself. She turned to look at me sitting there feeling miserable and came to seat next to me.

“You enjoying the show, Michael? I know you’d like to get a taste of my niece,” she cooed into my ear. She picked up my hand and directed it to her pussy. “I know you’d love to get some of this pussy too, wouldn’t you?”

Her face was inches from mine; her nose breathed against me; I could smell the taste of wine coming from her. Yes, I wanted her in every worse way. I wanted to do to her the things that her black boyfriend was right now doing to her niece. I wanted to fuck her hard and more ...

She crackled and pushed my hand away from my cunt, sliding away from me as if I were poison.

“Too bad you’re not going to get any. Don’t take it personal, but I don’t fuck white men; my Master wouldn’t like it if I did,” she cocked her thumb at Olu. “Neither does Heidi.”

Heidi was moaning and jerking back and forth in a frenzy by now. The car bumping over potholes only exacerbated her cries. Olu Shango had his hands all over her ass cheeks and kept bouncing her hard on his shaft. I kept rubbing at my erection inside my jeans and watched like a love-sick pussy at the sight of her ass cheeks sliding up and down that black monster; I could make out her pussy juice pouring down his thighs. I didn’t realize that I was licking my tongue over my lips, enjoying every second of the action.

Anya buried her face between her niece’s ass cheeks and when Olu’s cock slipped out of her, groaning, she took his cock into her mouth and sucked and cleaned every trace of cum he spewed out. He thrust his thighs upward even with Heidi still hanging on to him, pushing his prick into her niece’s mouth. Anya kept on sucking him even as he grew soft then she withdrew.

There came a knock on the plexi-glass separating us from the driver. Olu pushed on a button that lowered the glass down some inches. The driver told him we were soon arriving at our destination. Olu pressed the glass back up and brought Heidi down from him. Both women straightened out their dresses. They opened their handbags and quickly reapplied their make-up while Olu pulled back his jeans and inner shorts and fixed his belt back. I could feel my cock dying back inside my jeans, too disappointed. I looked out the window and saw that we’d just driven into a compound and were now approaching a mansion-like house. The limousine drove round a wide circle and came to a stop in front of the house. Two thick black men in tuxedos manned the doorway. One of them approached our door and held it open for us to climb out. Olu had his arms around both nieces and led them inside; I followed behind.

The other man in the tuxedo opened the door for us and we walked inside to join the party ongoing.

***

It looked like a tuxedo party to me; nearly all the men in the room were in white or black tuxedo except Olu Shango and myself. There were lot of white couples there with their wives, everybody sipping wine, conversing, laughing ... looking here and there. Soft music played above our heads.

We were in a large ballroom; the furniture was arranged in a sort of wide circle formation with a set of long chairs aligned head to toe in the centre like a long ‘I’. Nobody sat on the long chairs. I looked around and couldn’t find Olu anywhere though I saw Anya and Heidi mingling with the crowd, laughing and talking as if they were familiar with the people here. I notice there were some white men walking about serving drinks on trays. They were naked except for the pair of loin clothes they wore that covered their crotch region; neither seemed to care as to their nakedness. One of them stopped in front of me and asked if I cared for some Champagne. He offered me a glass of bubbly before moving along past me. I watched him go, cringing with revulsion at the sight of his loin cloth barely covering his ass cheeks. So repulsed was I wondered if this was some gay enclave I’d allowed Olu to bring me to. If it were then how come the white women?

I wandered amongst the crowd, said hello to several before finding myself a couch and sat on it with my drink still in my hand. I turned to my left and there was an older man seated there sipping wine off his glass. He looked to be in his forties. We exchanged handshake and I found out he was an American.

“Tim Simmons,” he introduced himself.

“Michael Paymer. This is some strange party,” I said, making conversation.

He smiled. “Don’t get down about it. The fun part hasn’t even begun.”

We kept talking. One of the naked white men servants came and filled our glass before heading over to do the same to some group of women who stood chatting with each other. Tim pointed out his wife, Monica, to me, standing across the room chatting and laughing with some other white woman.

“What’s the deal with the naked white men,” I said to Tim. “Is this some crazy party or something?”

“You don’t know about this party?”

I shook my head. “Some black guy, Olu Shango was the one who brought me here along with two other women.”

The man looked at me with amazement. “You came here with Shango, is that what you just said?” he turned his head all round the room looking for whom I’d just mentioned. “He’s not here. He’s probably upstairs getting ready,” he said.

I was confused now. “Getting ready for what? What did you say was going to happen afterwards?”

“Excuse me.”

He drained his glass and got up leaving me still confused over whatever was about to happen. He went over to where his wife was and whispered into her ear. Her features appeared delighted with whatever he’d told her and she too shared it with her friends as he left her and went to a gathering of other white men and talked to them. Someone came and sat next to me. It was Heidi.

“Having a good time?” she asked.

“Having a swell time. What’re you doing here?”

“What does it look like? I’m waiting for the party to begin. It should happen anytime from now. The boys ought to be coming out soon.”

“What boys?”

“I’m still mad at what you did to me,” she said.

I thought she was joking. “You’re mad at me after I’ve seen you sucking Olu’s cock in the limo we rode it?”

“Don’t take that personal. Anya and I don’t fuck white bois. Not since we hooked up with Master Shango.”

“What? What did you just call him?”

“He’s our Black Master,” she looked at me as if I was dumb. In a way I was.

“What does that mean ‘he’s your Black Master’? What is he, some karate black-belt sex freak body-builder or something? And if you say you don’t fuck white guys, then what were we doing in bathroom then?”

“I wanted to suck your cock,” she declared. “What did we think we were doing besides that. I’ll see you when the party’s over.”

She got up and left me sitting there looking and feeling like the world’s biggest fool. I finished my drink.

I noticed the white men were now leaving the room. I saw some kiss their wives before trooping out; the black men in the room remained as they were till it was just them and the white women and they were nearly all in equal number. Sometime later the lights in the room dimmed. The soft music that had earlier been playing died away and a drum roll sounded like something about to reveal itself on a stage. I got up from where I sat as several of the naked white men came and started pushing aside the furniture, leaving just the long line of chairs in the centre of the room. One of them set a podium stand in front of the long chairs. Myself and everybody else stood further away from the centre of the room. A black man in a priest’s cloth holding a Bible approached the podium. The lights became bright once again and I saw it was Olu Shango himself. A church hymn began to play - the familiar church tune announcing that a wedding about to take place. I was still craving for answers at whatever was about to happened when a double door at the other side of the room opened and a marriage procession strolled into the ballroom.

A white man, probably in his fifties or late-forties with grey hair and naked except for the similar loin cloth he was wearing escorted a white woman - his daughter? - into the room; she wore a white wedding dress. A trail of five bridesmaids followed them, holding flower bouquets. The bridesmaids all wore similar bras, panties and nylon stocks and garter belts and high heels. Behind the bridesmaids came a trail of white men - the same white men who’d earlier being in the room - all dressed in loin cloth attire. It had the atmosphere of some strange gothic wedding.

I must have felt my jaw hit the ground. I rubbed a hand over my eyes to make sure I wasn’t seeing things.

The white men stopped and watched as the procession went on towards the podium. From another doorway the other side of the room a white man, dressed in similar outfit, walked into the room followed behind by a group of black men, and came and stopped at the other side of the podium. The white women all seemed to moan from the sight of the near naked black men. Their skin glistened with some oily sheen; they wore Speedos with noticeable bulges in the middle.

The older man let go of his daughter’s arm and handed her to the younger white man who just entered the room and he then went to join the gathered naked white men at the back of the precession to watch. My eyes went back and forth at everybody in the room and I wondered if everyone in there was insane or getting close to it. What sort of debauchery was this?

Olu Shango, the man dressed in the priest clothing, began to officiate; the hymn music died to a low murmur.

“Ladies and gents,” he spoke out loud. “White married sluts and married white bois as well. We’re gathered here to witness the marriage and submission of Wendy Parkes from Rhode Island, to Donald Murray from Chicago. Anyone who don’t think this event should take place, speak right now and get out or shut the fuck up forever.”

Nobody in the room said anything.

“Good. Now, would the ring bearers step forward.”

One of the bridesmaids and one of the black men from the groom’s section came forward and handed a pair of ring to the groom and bride. The room was quiet you could hear a pin drop. Shango officiated on the couple saying their marriage vows. It was something I’d never heard before ever in my life.

The Groom: “I swear and promise on my honour and life to love and cherish you with all my heart. To submit to you. To be your unswerving sissy white boi. To perform whatever cuck hubby duties you demand of me and never deny your need and desires to your Black Master. Also to uphold whatever demands that’s required to keep you and him happy and together.”

He slipped his ring into her finger.

The Bride: “I swear and promise on my honour and life to love and cherish you with all my heart and soul. To dominate you in whichever means I’m meant to. To keep you in line in faith and duty to whatever demands and desires my Black Master wants of me, and make sure we remain submissive and devoted to his love together.”

She slipped her ring into his finger; behind me I heard one of the women behind me exhale like she was watching a heartfelt scene in a soap-opera drama. I saw one or two of the bridesmaids holding a handkerchief to their eyes. It was crazy.

“By the power vested me in,” Olu Shango’s voice boomed out. “I now pronounce two man and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

Loud cheers, hurrahs and hand-claps went off in the room as the newly wedded couple shared a brief kiss. Two of the white men servants came forward and lifted the podium away. Olu Shango took off his priestly robe and threw it aside; he stood naked underneath wearing Speedos too. The bulge in his crotch apparent.

“And now, as your Black Master concerned, you’re both going to fulfil your matrimonial duties to me. On your knees, both of you.”

The groom and bride did as he ordered them to and knelt before him. The bride cast her bouquet over her head; one of her bridesmaids caught it. Olu seemed to be enjoying himself. I couldn’t believe I was in that room at that place, at such moment in time watching what was about to happen.

“Take down my Speedos and worship me,” he said to the couple.

Groom and bride - white husband and white wife - I watched as they pulled down his Speedo pants and the room went in awe as his cock fell out into full view; his cock seemed to have grown in size since last time I saw him wielding it. The wife held his cock her face with what looked like love. She wrapped her mouth around his shaft and pulled back on it. It gave a slight ‘pop’ sound. She sucked on it some more ... then I watched horrified as she passed it to her hubby. I watched the white married groom suck Shango’s cock just as his wife had done while everyone in the room watched. He passed his cock back to the wife and she resumed sucking it. Shango held their heads in both hands and thrust his cock back and forth between their lips. Both of them slobbered over his cock’s foreskin like the world’s most edible banana.

He pulled the bride up to her feet and pushed down the top of her white dress and sucked on her breasts while her husband went on sucking his cock. Two black men from the groom’s train came over and ran their hands over the bride’s backside as the groom moved back away from them. The bride went back on her knees and took turns sucking Shango’s cock and the other two black men’s shaft. One of the black men pulled the groom’s head towards his crotch and he was sucking his black cock within seconds.

“Don’t she look wonderful?”

I turned to look who it was that said that to me and was surprised to see it was Anya, smiling at me. She had her glass before her lips and rolled her tongue seductively over the rim and flashed her eyes at me in a sort of ‘come-on’ gesture.

“Yes ... yes, she does,” it was all I could say.

She giggled. “I’d love to find me a white hubby to marry like this.”

“I’ll bet.”

Shango now had the bride bent over, reclining against one of the other black men who held on to her. I watched her suck the black man’s cock while Shango fucked her from behind. She had a mouthful of the man’s cock in her mouth but that didn’t stop her noise from escaping her mouth. I could hear her loud and clear from where I stood; the smell of sex pervaded the room like an aftershave lotion. Around me the crowd in the room cheered what was happening; I looked at them as if they’d all gone mad.

Yet something strange was happening to me. The squirming down in my crotch was getting harder and harder I couldn’t stem it down. I looked around and saw that some of the white women, even the bridesmaids, were fingering and caressing themselves as they watched; some were kissing the black men standing beside them. The white men all near-naked in their loin cloth stroked their pricks. I couldn’t help grabbing my jeans crotch while I continued to watch what was happening.

The brides’ cries now enveloped the room. Shango groaned behind her. His hands held her arms hard and strong, her dress packed in a parachute-like fold over her backside while he kept fucking her. Her hubby was sucking two cocks of the other black men before him. His wife kept hollering and whimpering from the sex she was getting. Shango gave a final cry and brought her down to her knees and we all watched with awe as he squirted his cum and sprayed it over her face.

It was mesmerizing, and everybody in the room moaned as they watched it happen. Some of them whipped out their cell phones and took snapshots of it. They needn’t have bothered as I observed a three-man camera crew walking in the out rim of the event capturing every intimate moment on film.

The bride licked his prick when he was done; her face covered with his cum. Her hubby came to her and he helped lick off some of Shango’s sperm from her face and shared it with her. The room exploded with a standing ovation after that. The moment seemed to seal their marriage; I too couldn’t help being moved by it.

Now the black men came and arranged themselves and stood on top of the long set of chairs facing us; they’d removed their Speedo pants and all the women in the room marvelled at the sight of erect black penises staring at them. There were seven black men in number, aside from the ones standing with the crowd.

Shango had amazingly recovered from his sex bout and was standing beside the long chairs facing the crowd, still looking authoritative even when naked.

“Alright, now time to get this party started. This is to the bridesmaids and the white bois in the room. You all know what’s expected of you, SO GET TO IT!”

He clapped his hands and that sort of sent off a near stampede as the flock of bridesmaids and the white men in the loin-clothes hurried over to stand before the black men on the long bench to suck their pricks. There was one bridesmaid and one white hubby to each black cock standing on the long bench and even that wasn’t enough. Several of the black men had two white women sharing his cock with one of the white men struggling to sneak a taste. It was like watching children fight over candy bars.

“Hey there, buddy!”

I nearly jumped as someone tapped my shoulder from behind. It was the American guy whom I’d earlier been conversing with - Tim Simmons. He too like other white men in the room was dressed in his loin cloth, grinning at me.

“You enjoying the show?” he asked me.

I nodded my head. “Looks like this is the party, right?”

“Oh yeah, but it’s just getting started. My wife is one of the bridesmaids and I’d better go join her. Catch you later.”

He left me and went to join the melee that was taking place in the centre of the living room. I found myself a chair and sat my weak self down. My mind and my eyes whirled like crazy as I watched the congregation of white men and white women feasting upon whichever black cock they can find in the room. It was the most outrageous type of orgy I’d ever seen. The ones who’d been standing and watching were now attacking the black men next to them; everywhere I saw clothes flying off bodies, I saw naked white women sucking cock and some getting fucked as well. The camera crew trained their light over the spectacle and walked here and there, filming the action.

I looked out for Shango.

There he sat on a couch with two bridesmaids taking turns sucking his monster dick while the bride herself stood over his face with his head between her legs; her hubby knelt beside them stroking his meat and licking his lips. The women made room for the husband to come suck his cock while they kissed their way up his crotch and torso. Shango had his hands on the bride’s ass cheeks - she had gotten out of her dress except for her wedding veil that was on her head - and I could see his tongue lapping up and down her pussy while she writhed above him. One of the bridesmaids pushed her hubby aside and then she mounted his cock and proceeded to ride him; the husband kissed Shango’s feet while the white woman rocked her buttocks on his cock, screaming out her pleasure.

Except for the air conditioner pouring cool air into the room, everywhere reeked of cum, sweat and every other malfeasant smell I can think of associated with sex. The camera crew were torn between recording Shango pound the bride as well filming the rest of the orgy that was ongoing in the room.

Some of the black men took the women they were with out of the room, probably upstairs. Others remained there. Bodies mingled and fought over each other. The white women bent over and each other’s pussy while a black man hammered them from behind. I saw Heidi taking a black dick from behind and loving it. She was on her knees and had her face pressed down between those of another white woman. I looked around for Anya and couldn’t spot her. She was either in the room or had followed one of the men upstairs. I did see the American fellow, Tim Simmons. A black man was thrusting his cock in and out of his mouth while another white woman - his wife probably - knelt beside him awaiting her turn.

The air was getting thick for me; I felt like one choking. Plus I’d had enough of the sex-crazed event I was seeing.

I got up and headed towards the doorway from which we had come in. I practically ran towards it.

***

I was grabbing at my crotch when I stepped out of the house and closed the front door behind me - I badly needed to take a piss. The two men who’d earlier manned the front door weren’t there anymore; across from the fountain circle at the other side of the house were a parked row of vehicles and behind them thick bushes. The ground of the parking area was covered with gravel stones. I hobbled towards them and checked to make sure I was alone. I didn’t see anyone around and the vehicles all looked empty. I went to the back of a parked car and hurriedly unzipped my jeans and groaned with relief as I felt urine pour out of my body; I shook as I stood there emptying my bowels. I heard a car door open and slam close followed by the approaching sound of shoes marching on the gravel. I had just finished doing my business and was zipping back my fly when the sound of the shoes came to a stop and I sensed they were behind me. I turned around and there was a short man standing there in a dinner jacket and waistcoat with a walking stick in his hand. A tall dark man dressed in a suit with an imposing stature like Olu stood behind him staring at me. A light from a lamp that lighted the premises provided enough dull gray light for me to make out their faces. The short man had a cigarette in his mouth and lit it with a Zippo lighter.

“You are Michael, aren’t you,” he said to me. “Michael Paymer, I mean.”

“And you are?”

He pulled his cigarette out his lips and blew smoke into the air. “You’re an American. You’re here looking for someone, am I correct?”

“Who are you?”

“Catherine Morgan. Ring a bell?”

I came at him. “I said who are you, mister?”

There came a fresh set of footsteps. I didn’t catch immediately where they were coming from and I was late to find out as the outline of a shadow appeared from behind me. I turned to look but too late. Something hard and heavy rammed at my face, hitting the top side of my forehead. I felt my head hit the roof of the vehicle beside me and then I stumbled and fell to the ground.

Everything become dark. I passed out.

***

There was a ringing in the back of my head. It left the back of my head and spread like a disease over my skull. My brain was in a skiff being bombarded by waves of the ocean. Each slap of the wave sent tremor of hurting pain across my brain and all over my head. My eyes were open but I couldn’t make out anything. Everything around me seemed dark and murky. There was the tiny blink of a light but it wasn’t enough for me to make out where I was. I was inside a coffin, at least it felt like it. My head banged against the bottom, sending shards of pain all over my brain and spine. I could barely breath. I tried to open my mouth but that wouldn’t happen. I panicked; inside my head with my brain still lost at sea I panicked. My hands. I tried to move my hands but they wouldn’t move at all; the same with my legs. They were bound together. I was moving. I could hear a sound running under my head ... then a bump.

I was in the trunk of a vehicle.

How long was I in there, I couldn’t tell. My eyes came awake and then slipped back into darkness. I didn’t notice it when the car came to a stop even. The trunk opened and a pair of dark men stood there gazing down at me; I could barely make out their faces and I blinked from the light one of them shone down at me. Hands reached into the trunk and pulled me out. I was still struggling to breath. The half carried and half led me towards a metal door. One of them opened it and together they led me down a long corridor. At the end was another door. My eyes closed up ... they came open again as we went from one door after another.

They led me into a bright room and sat me on a chair. One of them pulled out a blade and cut the bounds of my hands and legs then pulled off the masking tape that had been over my mouth. A door opened and the same short fat man who had been talking with me back at the parking space entered the room with his walking stick in hand. He plumped down on a couch across from me, sizing me up, I think. He took out a gold case and pulled a cigarette out of it.

“Welcome to Nigeria, Michael. Please tell me how has your stay been so far? Pleasant, I hope.” Out came the Zippo lighter and he lit his cigarette while smiling at me. One of the men left my side and fetched a coffee table with an ash tray for him then stood by his side gazing at me.

“So far so good,” I said. “Who are you and what am I doing here?”

“I will answer your questions,” he puffed on his cigarette. “My name is Ali. I am a businessman. You are an American who’s turning into a nuisance. You’ve been looking into my business, and I thought I’d bring you here to meet with you in person.”

“You kidnapped Catherine,” I said to him.

“Kidnapping is such a foul word, Michael. Whatever gave you the idea that I did?”

“Looking at you, I can tell it’s what you do. You took her and her parents ... and others. At the resort, it was you that broke into my room, wasn’t it?”

Another puff of his cigarette, and then he nodded his head. “I like meeting people who dare to put their noses in my affairs. You seem like a good kid. Clean-cut and everything. I wanted to know if you had someone involved with you. Or some people.”

“I do. The U.S., government knows I’m here. If I get missing, they’re going to come looking for you, you bastard,” I spat the word at him.

He laughed, tapped ash off his cigarette. “Nobody knows you’re here, Michael. Come to think of it, do you know where you are right now?”

He waited for me to answer. He saw the dumb look on my face and he and his men laughed.

“You’re not in the States, Michael. You’re in Africa right now, lost and alone. There’s no one coming for you.”

“What did you do with Catherine?”

“My friend at the resort told me you’re her boyfriend, correct? How noble of you to come all this way to find her. I do have good news for you though. You will get to meet her. But first, you’ll have to submit.”

“What are you talking about? Submit to what?”

He looked past my head. The man who stood behind me came around and pulled me up to my feet and slammed his fist into my mid-section. The pain was abrupt. I cried out at the same time doubled up and fell to my knees. I remained that way leaning on my forearm on the floor while my other clutched my hurt stomach, coughing and groaning from the pain; I hadn’t yet gotten over the knock on the head I’d sustained back at the mansion.

Ali left his couch and came and stood before me. “I want you to learn where your place is in the scheme of life, Michael. It’s something that’s never taught in your public school system or law schools, but it’s something a lot of you white bois ought to learn.”

He snapped his finger. One of his men went out of the room. Ali grabbed hold of my hair and made me sit on my knees. His face stared grimly at me.

“You’re about to have an epiphany the likes you’ve never had before, Michael. Something a lot of you need to learn to be.”

His man returned with a white woman and white man coming behind him. The white couple were naked and they both wore dog collars on their necks of which the man pulled them forward with a leash; the white man had some contraption that looked like a cage on his penis. The man handed both leashes to Ali who then pulled the couple to come kneel before him. He puffed on his cigarette and dumped the ash on the white man’s head. The white man gave no response.

“Kiss my shoes, white boi,” Ali said to him.

I watched as the white man lowered his head and did as Ali told him to. He kissed his shoes with such devotion as if he were spit-polishing them. I watched with numb fear and shock even though I was still reeling from the punch in my stomach.

Ali kicked him away and waved his finger at the white woman to inch closer towards his crotch. He didn’t need to tell her what he wanted her to do. She unzipped his fly and pulled out his semi-erect penis and put it into her mouth. Ali turned to look at me, grinning. He cupped one of the woman’s breasts in his hand and fondled it.

“You’re sick,” I said to him, sickened by what I was seeing ... though not totally as it brought back images of what I’d seen taking place back at the mansion. My mind recalled images of Thaddeus Black screwing his secretary ... of Olu Shango fucking Anya in the resort and then Heidi inside the limousine ... and then at the mansion where the white couple had kneeled before him sucking his cock. It all was sickening ... and yet there was a stirring I couldn’t deny.

“I’m special, that’s what I am, white boi,” Ali said to me, laughing. “This is the future, and you’re in it right now. Hey, you!” he snapped his finger at the white man who then came towards him and the white woman stepped aside and allowed the white man to suck his cock as well. “This is where all you white bois are meant to be at the black man’s feet, Michael. You’re ignorant of that, but you’re going to learn. Starting now.”

He looked at his men and nodded his head. The two of them came to my side and helped me up to my feet. One of them held my arms behind my back tight while the other freed my belt buckle and loosened the top button of my jeans and zipped down my fly and allowed my jeans to fall to my ankle. He pushed down my briefs as well and exposed me to the room. At that moment I felt small ... naked and insignificant. I was turning beef red. I tried to free my arms from the man’s grasp but he merely twisted it high up my backside hurting me some more.

“I’m going to give you a benefit of getting a taste of what you’ll soon be doing, Michael.”

He indicated at the white couple to come to me. Still on their knees, the white woman took my penis in my hand. Right away as she touched me I could feel an awakening. Still I tried to struggle but it was no use. She brought her lips to my dick and though she didn’t kiss me, merely rubbed her lips back and forth on my member. My prick was kicking to life; I felt pre-cum ooze out of my slit hole. Her partner, the white man, inched closer. It was he who opened his mouth to suck my cock. The man who tightened his grip on my arm warned me not to make any move or else he’d give me another punch. I dare not kick the white man off me. I writhed and kept moving my waistline to push him off me. The man held my waistline and kept on pulling my cock with his mouth. I couldn’t help it - I was beginning to luxuriate in what he was doing to me. I’d never had another man suck my cock before, and never have I assumed myself to be thought of as gay ... but this was unlike any experience I’d had. I could feel my prick getting hard in his mouth. I watched him slobber and droll over my cock. The white woman fingered my ass cheeks and I cried out when she dug her finger right into my rectum. I groaned from it and tightened my ass muscles but it didn’t stop her from doing what she was doing. It hurt at first, but afterwards I began to enjoy it and I loosened my ass muscles to give her finger further room while her partner went on swallowing my prick. I was still fighting to be free, and yet I was groaning from what he was doing. Ali and his boys were laughing at me. I don’t know how long I went through the trail until I felt the tickling down in my balls. I couldn’t hold it back; by this time I was panting like one riding a treadmill.

I was on fire - I felt every hair on my body stand erect as I ejaculated my load.

I shot my load into the white man’s mouth. He took in everything I had to give till I felt like falling from being weakened. The other of Ali’s men appeared with a plastic plate and he presented it to the white man’s face who then emptied my load of cum onto the plate. Ali’s man dropped the plate on the floor and took the white man and the woman’s leash back to Ali who pulled them to kneel by his side. He signalled the other of his man who then let go of me and I fell to the floor with my jeans and briefs hanging down my legs. I was all sweaty still trying to catch my breath when Ali’s man brought the plate with droplets of my semen on it and gave it to me. I was trying to figure out what they wanted me to do with it when Ali spoke to me.

“Don’t let’s waste time, Michael. It’s your mess and that means you get to clean it up.”

Was he crazy? Insane? I looked at him, looked at my plate ... I looked at the white couple kneeling on either side of him, their faces listless to my plight ... I looked up at his henchmen who in turn looked grimly at me, wanting to hurt me if given the chance. I could see it in their eyes. Neither of them seemed to be fucking around.

I still had the plate in my hand. I shook my head at him.

Ali’s voice turned cold. “Take the plate to your lips and lick your semen clean. Do it, white boi, or else I’ll have my boys hold you down and squeeze your nuts till you beg them to stop.”

“No ... please ... I can’t - ”

“You can, and you will!” he shouted, then turned to his men and nodded his head.

The two henchmen came at me, but before they could lay their hands on me to do further damage I brought the plate to my lips, shut my eyes, and poured everything down my throat. I licked up my semen, every drop of it, and gave gagging fits when I was done. I showed them the plate to know it was empty and allowed it to fall from my hand. I felt suddenly sick.

Ali was laughing at me. “that’s good, very excellent, white boi. You’re still a far way off, but you’re learning. And you’re going to learn more.”

I rested my back against the arm of a chair and stuck out my tongue, obsessively wiping off what stain of my semen was on my mouth. I could taste it in my mouth; it felt like a taste that was never going to leave me. It brought back the memory of earlier in the day when I’d jerked off with Anya’s torn panties and then licked off my cum. Hard to believe that I’d done both of such in less than twenty-four hours. Was it a harbinger of what I was turning into? Of what I was becoming?

One of Ali’s henchmen brought me a glass of wine and told me to drink it. I took the glass from him and not caring what the wine was about I threw it down my throat and gave the glass back to him. Ali meanwhile had returned to his couch and lit himself another cigarette.

“There’s nothing richer than tasting a black man’s semen, Michael,” he blew smoke in my direction. “It’s what white women long for, and white bois too, whether old or young. There is nothing more insignificant that a white boi’s semen. All white bois are meant to ingest their sperm. That’s the lesson you just went through and there’s more to come.”

“Let me go,” I said to him. My voice sounded more like a croak. “Please ... I’ll return home and not tell anyone about you ...”

He sniggered. “What do you think you know about me that makes you think I’ll be afraid of you even telling anyone, Michael? Before your plane brought you to this part of the world, had you ever thought you’d run into me ever before?”

I looked at him, not knowing what to say.

“You came here to find your lost girlfriend. You might get to meet her, and you might not. But you will become that which you’ve always wanted to be but didn’t realize it until now, Michael. I promise you that.”

“What ... what is it?” I was starting to see double of him. Everything was becoming hazy before my eyes; everything inside the room was losing focus. I blinked a couple of times and ran my fingers across my eyes and still everything was looking distorted before my eyes.

The glass ... something in the glass!

I rose to my feet. I tottered. I could hear Ali laughing.

“What do you want me to be?”

“What all white bois ought to be, Michael. A white boi-slave.”

I fell back on the floor and everything went dark once again.