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[Duc78]

This is a story I found online - it's so hot, I need to share it with you!
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Joyce sat in the living room of the Gundy’s home, nursing a soda drink and watching a re-run of Friends on their cable TV. She had one foot crossed over the other and every now and then glanced at her watch, wondering how long she’d have to wait. The subject of her wait was presently upstairs getting dressed.

She turned her head when she heard footsteps coming from the corridor. It was Daniela. She wore a white PVC leather jacket that stopped at her knees, and knee-length black boots. Her hair was fixed in an intricate bun behind her head; her makeup looked gaudy and extravagant. Joyce thought she looked like she was heading to a rave party, not some meeting as she’d earlier mentioned. It was the meeting that was the reason why she was here.

Joyce had taken her husband Claude’s word and decided she wanted to get involved with her best friend Daniela’s Arts program and see how she could make use of herself. She would have been content with being one of Black Master Olu Shango’s sex sluts, except the reality was that Shango had as much devoted time to spend with his other women than dedicating himself solely to her. Joyce didn’t obviously agree with it, but knew there wasn’t anything she could do about it. His other women—Amy, Cherry, and even Daniela—married white wives just like here, were just as happy and content with his arrangement. They knew no matter what, Shango would always seek out their time. It was their duty to keep themselves ready for whenever he called. That much Joyce had gleamed from her numerous talk with Amy. But in the meantime, being a white wife stuck in Abuja, Nigeria, what she needed was something doing to help take her mind off not thinking about him being with here daily. Daniela had promised showing her the ropes of how she went about her charity work, and since then Joyce had been working smartly alongside her. Daniela had previously mentioned to her about wanting to meet with some low-level politicians whom she desired their help breaking through numerous bureaucratic red-tape in order to obtain necessary funding for her program. Looking at her right now, Joyce was baffled if really this was a meeting they were going or something else.

“Sorry for keeping you long,” Daniela said. “Just needed to make sure I wasn’t missing anything.”

“That’s some crazy nice jacket,” Joyce remarked.

“Thanks. We’d better start leaving. The worst thing you ever want to do is keep a bunch of politicians waiting.”

Joyce drank her soda while Daniela went and switched off the TV. Daniela took the soda can from her when she was done and went to dumb it in a trash bin in the kitchen. Joyce picked up her handbag as Daniela switched off the lights before they stepped out of the house.

Daniela’s car was waiting for them in the driveway. The Gundy’s home was twice the size of what Joyce and Claude lived in. The garage contained three vehicles. Daniela had previously given Joyce a tour of the compound. Daniela was 43yrs old with two kids who at the moment were in school back in the States. While showing her friend around her home, she’d also disclosed some of Shango’s clothes in the closet one of their guest rooms for whenever he felt the urge to spend a day or two. Her husband Tom didn’t mind. Matter of fact, Daniela explained that Shango always demanded Tom wears his chastity cage device on his penis before leaving for work. Joyce couldn’t help been fascinated by that, wondering if possibly she could apply the same sexual restraint on her husband.

“I doubt Claude would dare think of wearing one,” she admitted.

“Maybe not right away, but give him time,” Daniela said. “Tom used to think like that before, but not anymore; Shango took care of that.”

Daniela had a Fulani mai-guard that watched over her home. She signalled him from his gate house before getting into her car and stopped to put on her shades before starting her engine. The mai-guard opened the gate for her and she waved at him as she drove out into the street. Joyce noted the time on her watch. 04: 12 p.m., it said.

The sun was a sensuous ball of yellow hovering above the city rooftops. They drove toward the heart of the city. Daniela made conversation while she drove. Joyce had enquired where the meeting was being held, but Daniela didn’t respond with an answer.

“It’s a secret,” was all she said.

They drove along Nnamdi Azikiwe highway and soon entered an exit route that led into the district known as Wuse Two. Joyce hadn’t yet visited this part of the city and she soaked in the view of the clustered homes and mosques in the distance while Daniela continued rambling about her upcoming arts project and the energetic Nigerian staff she had working with her. Joyce had met much of her staff workers and was just as impressed by their hardworking devotion.

Daniela drove into Aguyi Ironsi Road from where she entered a secluded government quarters. They pulled to a stop at a security outpost manned by two soldiers; a bar pole blocked the road that led further into the compound. One of them approached their vehicle and Daniela wound down her window to speak with him.

“I’m here to see Alhaji Aminu,” she said. “You can call him. He’s expecting me.”

“Let me have your names, please.”

“Daniela Gundy, and this here is my friend, Joyce Baskin.”

Joyce waved at him warily. The soldier looked in the backseat before returning to the security booth. Daniela tapped her fingernails on the steering wheel while they waited.

“They always do this, don’t worry about it,” she said. “They’re always itchy with their security detail.”

“You still haven’t told me who we’re here to meet.”

“I told you already, politicians. They work in the ministry of Culture and Tourism. They’re really the busy sort. Trust me, it took me so long just to get a sit-down with them.”

“How long do you think we’ll be here,” Joyce asked. “I don’t want to get home after Claude; he often gets antsy when I’m not there.”

“Will you stop worrying too much about Claude,” said Daniela. “Nothing he doesn’t know is ever going to harm him. Trust me on that.”

The security guard came out of the outpost and raised the bar pole and gestured at Daniela to drive through. Daniela smiled and waved at him as she drove into the compound.

The road was cobbled narrow, barely wide enough for two cars to drive in. It wound round the back of the building and opened into a large parking space on the other side. They passed several men along the way, all of them wearing military outfit.

There were several vehicles and lots of empty space in the parking ground. Joyce noted three black Mercedes parked in a row, all bearing Nigerian flags on their side windows. Some uniformed men stood idly against one of the Mercedes, smoking cigarettes. They slowed their banter while observing Daniela as she spurn her car in a reverse then eased backwards into a free space. Joyce kept her eyes on the uniformed men staring morosely back at her. The car drew to a stop and she looked at Daniela who switched off her engine and was all smiles like this was just a typical day for her.

“You ready?” Daniela asked before opening her door, grabbing along her handbag.

Joyce wanted to say something, but couldn’t think of anything concrete. She shrugged her shoulders and did like her friend and exited the car. A strong breeze blew at her face and Joyce took a moment to sweep her hair back in place before slamming shut her door. She held onto her handbag and came around toward Daniela who was shutting her door and throwing her car keys into her handbag.

“Which way are we going?” Joyce asked.

“Just follow my lead,” Daniela said after adjusting her jacket collar.

Joyce walked beside her as they went toward a row of bungalow buildings past the parking lot. The uniformed men had resumed their banter though Joyce turned toward them and caught their leering stare and she almost feared they would come after them and ask whomever they were here to meet.

“Don’t worry about anyone else,” Daniela soothed her. “They know me well enough here already; you’re safe with me.”

“You certainly get around Abuja a lot.”

“You’ve no idea,” Daniela laughed. “Spend as much time with Olu Shango, and soon enough, you will, too.”

The cobbled path they walked led through a row of adobe-type houses. Each house spotted a small garden in front of it. Flies buzzed over Joyce’s face and she kept waving her hands before her while still keeping alongside her friend. They passed some men along the way. Joyce caught the men’s ogling stares—one even flashed her tongue at her.

They came to a bungalow building and Daniela indicated it as the one they were heading. Two men stood at the veranda talking but they stopped as the two white women approached. Daniela walked up the short flight of steps to the veranda and smiled at both men.

“Hello. I’m here to meet Aminu. Is he around?”

The men both nodded and one of them gestured at the front door. Daniela thanked them before heading toward it. Joyce waved furtively at the men as she followed Daniela into the apartment.

They stepped into a dark corridor. There was a living room at the end of it and Joyce thought she heard men’s voices coming from that direction. Daniela led the way toward it; the sound of their shoes made distinct noise that would have alerted anyone to their presence. The corridor seemed to trail like an unending path before them. Joyce turned to look back at the front door, half expecting the men outside to appear there.