Try a dirty weekend - it could be therapeutic!
July 31, 2006
WHEN last did you have a dirty weekend?
A weekend you went away from the mad crowd with only one thing on your mind-to have a surfeit of sex?! We were in a comfortable lull at the business courses I run with Joel when he suggested for a trip to Togo. A business associate of his was giving his daughter away and Joel had promised to be there - it would also give me an opportunity to relax - something I hadn’t done for a long time - so I jumped at the chance. Besides, any time spent in the company of Joel is always memorable - he always sees to that.
A day before the trip, Linda, my younger friend, the ex-stewardess raising a daughter whose father she would never know, dropped in for a chat. She’s currently involved with a much older man who spoilt her rotten. I was happy for her - she deserved all the lucky break she could get. When I told her about my weekend away, she snorted. “I hope it works for you,â€? she told me. “Paul (her new man) took me on a weekend away recently to his country home of all places! The way he talked about the building and its surroundings gave me an impression of a spa, so I eagerly went with him only to discover the place was smack in the middle of nowhere. Nobody lived in it except some few hands at the outhouse who helped on the farm. So all we did was eat, watch video films since the telly couldn’t pick up the signals from most television stations, and have sex - you could scarcely call it love-making.
The man’s penchant for pounded yam is unbelievable. Thank goodness he has a good cook who could pound the daylight out of the yam! It was a novelty at first to eat the stuff with fresh vegetables and bush meat but after a couple of times, I got fed up with the stuff. Eating was the next best thing to sex. We scarcely had much to talk about because of the age gap. “In the meantime, lover boy, who I’m sure must have come with enough supply of viagra, was for ever pouncing at the slightest opportunity. I couldn’t get away fast enough and it will take a lot of arm-twisting for me to get away for any weekend whatsoever with him. And I must first know the destination!�
I assured him Joel was nothing of the sort. A bit of a rascal, he is a real adventurer whose escapades bugles the mind. The last time we’d met in London, I was very happy to have a friend around after about a week with my cousin and his wife. He checked in at the Churchill and I didn’t need that much persuasion to move in with him for the five days he spent there. The double room with fresh fruits, assorted chocolates and fluffy toweling robes were welcoming indeed. The next morning, we were still at it hammer and tongs when a key turned in the lock. Who’s that?� we chorused, diving under the bed covers! A maid apologised and quickly shut the door. This happened again twice more, and we were about to complain when we realised that in our eagerness to have fun, the do-not disturb sign was turned inward, leaving a please - make-the-room sign for the cleaners.
The next evening, Joel treated my cousin and his wife to dinner which was lovely until he dragged us to a posh wine bar. The bar was all sophistication with the literature on each of its cocktail more interesting than the concoction handed to us. But we were happily slushed by the time we left the bar. We were all walking merrily along in the cold night when Joel herded us to a door-way purportedly to watch a film. He paid for the four of us and my jaw almost hit the floor when we saw the film that was playing and the beady eyes of the perverts that were watching. “Blue film!� cackled my cousin as he excitedly took a seat eagerly joined by his wife.
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I reluctantly sat through a few minutes of the obscenity when I noticed dark images of the fingers of one that had been reflected on the screen and dancing all over the nude bodies. The culprit was my cousin whose wife was now looking disapprovingly at him. I gave Joel a nasty nude and stood up - the men most reluctantly followed. On the way out, they both sniggered suggestively and asked if we wanted to buy any sex toys - the assortment of gadgets on display was enough to make you puke! They were discreetly exhibited in a glass box on the way out - a lot of them looking extremely life-like!
The rest of Joel’s stay was most enjoyable indeed and he took us to his club on his last night. He has this old-model Mercedes he drove around, courtesy of his associates. Instead of driving straight to the club, however, he parked the car a few blocks away. “The club is posh you know,� he explained, “and members are lords and millionaires. The snooty doorman is bound to look at this clap-trap of a car with distaste and might not ask for it to be parked.� I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! As we got to the entrance of the club, the doorman, with a posh accent asked for the keys to Joel’s car so it could be properly parked. Joel told him not to worry, that his chauffeur had gone to park his car! It was the most idiotic thing to do as far as I was concerned and the amount on the bill for our meal and house-champagne as Joel produced his credit card, would keep me in luxury for a week if I were to spend it in less up market surroundings!
So this Togo trip wouldn’t be boring if Joel’s escapades in London were anything to go by! We went in one of his posh cars and he drove. “No matter how loyal your driver is,� he told me, “he’ll sing to ‘madam’ if the bribe is right.� A chronic philanderer indeed. After a few couple of stops on the way for some refreshments, we eventually arrived our destination. A very impressive looking five-star hotel with the presidential suite Joel asked for taking almost half of a top floor. “What do we need all this room for?� I asked him. “It’s only for two nights�. “Candy�, he reasoned, “don’t you want to be spoiled?� Put that way, who was I not to forget my penny-pinching ways?
And spoil me he did. He ordered an elaborate dinner to be served in our suite. So while piped music filled all the rooms, the meal was served by four waiters dressed in immaculate white uniforms. I was impressed alright but didn’t think all this show of wealth was necessary. Maybe it was about time I asked for a raise in the professional fees I charge him! He certainly has more than enough cash to throw around.
“With all that food and good wine, the night was a bliss. Bright and early the next morning, Joel was up, asking me to get ready, that we were going to town to do a bit of site-seeing. The town looked dingy after the hotel’s surroundings but we broused through some interesting shops, bought a few interesting items before Joel took me to the local market. He made his way to a shack that was obviously a buka and plunked himself on a bench. We were given curious looks by some of the customers but Joel ignored them, ordering the local khenki and fish stew and bottles of the local beer. Talk about jumping from the sublime to the ridiculous. You can turn up your nose all you like,� said Joel with a twinkle in his eyes, “but the food here is good and cheap. An opportunity for you to see how the other half lives here!� I was all for it.
I love eating for a start, and the fresh tilapia fish stew in front of me was steaming hot. I dug in with relish! Unfortunately, it almost spoilt my appetite for the wedding feast later in the evening. A very lavish party by that country’s standard, it wasn’t a patch on the no-holds barred Lagos weddings! It was a well-rested and well-loved me that eventually made my way to my flat at the end of our trust. The catch about Joel is that he is most unpredictable and dull is not how you’ll describe him. The weekend away left a dirty smile on my face! Deji is the predictable one and I wasn’t surprised when he called almost as soon as I came in, wanting to know how my weekend away with friends to Ibadan went! I gave him a boring account of an imaginary wedding and how I was glad to be home. With a satisfied smile, I was the cat who got the milk. Once in a while, life sure puts a smirk on your face!
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