Love Affairs

Part I

When you have everything, what could you possibly desire?

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His Royal Majesty, Pierre Paul Abutu Ph.D. (Honoris Causa), JP, the current Attah of Igala and a native of Igalamela-Odolu Local Government Area of Kogi State, Nigeria, is my name. This is my story, and these are my love affairs.

I was born more than thirty years ago to the immediate past Attah of Igala, and my late father, Dr. Peter Ilemonan Abutu. I was his only son among eight children. Being the only son of a billionaire international businessman, shipping magnate, agro-exporter, solid mineral exporter, and realtor had its perks. As early as I can remember, I was sent off with my mother, Lady Grace Ojochide Abutu (my father’s second wife), to live in Switzerland.

I grew up living in a milk-colored seven-bedroom mansion, with a gum-cum-dojo, mini-cinema, suspended vegetable garden and swimming pool. When I became a teenager, I later understood that my mother had some marital issues with my father, before opting to live in Switzerland. She handled some of my father’s business activities and called him thrice a week.

Many might think I sound weird for telling these love stories of mine. Even though my father was a polygamist with three wives and eight children, I ended up with only one wife, not because I loved her deeply, wanted to obey the Holy Bible, or loved women a lot, but because it was the right thing to do. I won’t deny the fact that there had been immense pressure from countless subjects of mine, including my elder sisters, to outdo my late father. 

While in Berne, Switzerland, I never lacked anything, and I could describe my mother as one over-protective lady. Apart from ensuring that I had the best of everything and was raised ‘in the way of the Lord,’ my mother went to great lengths to make sure I had little or no association, friendship, or acquaintance with the opposite sex while I was in Switzerland.

A few weeks before my eighteenth birthday, there was a global summit of world leaders somewhere in Davos. My father was in the entourage of the Nigerian President as the representative of traditional rulers in Nigeria. The entire summit went on smoothly until I went to the convenience of urinating. A young married Swiss lady, who I believed was not up to thirty-five years old, entered and locked the main door to the convenience. She was five feet, nine inches tall, with blonde hair she packed in a bun atop her head. She wore a pretty knee-length navy blue gown with platinum-encrusted necklaces, earrings, and bangles. Her body was curved like a bottle, while her well-shaped breasts protruded slightly from the upper part of her gown. Her nails were beautifully done, while her entire skin was spotless. She had dark eyes and her from her physique, I knew she would have been visiting a gym at least twice a week. 

According to her, she had been watching me all evening and could not take her eyes off me while attending to the world leaders. Before I could respond, she placed her writing pad and pen beside the granite holding several wash hand basins and undid her zip. My countenance remained unchanged as her gown fell on her pair of black suede shoes and around her heels.

“What’s your name, Madam?” I whispered, while looking away from her white brassiere and panties.

“Marilyn,” she responded.

“Tell you what, Marilyn, you’re beautiful, sexy, and fit for a woman, but I don’t do married ladies, okay?”

“But, I like you, your charm, your physique, please… just a quickie, I beg of you…”

“Please put on your dress Madam Marilyn. I’ve heard enough,” I looked away as she reluctantly pulled up her gown and dressed up as if nothing happened.

“When you get home this night, sit with your husband, tell him what you need, tell him what you want and tell him where he is 

lacking towards you, okay?”

“Okay, Pierre Abut, I’ll do that… I’m grateful”.

I made for the door, and gripped the doorknob with my right hand when she picked up her writing pad and pen and walked towards me. She embraced me before I could refuse, kissed my left cheek and dropped her complimentary card in the chest pocket of my suit.

“Call me,” Marilyn whispered and was gone.

I never called her, but I kept the card nonetheless. That was the first time I’d beheld a naked woman. Funny enough, I felt nothing, and the memory still amuses me. I believe she had the talk with her husband as I recommended. The only time I remembered the colour and design of Marilyn’s brassiere and panties was when I followed my mother to several fancy shops to buy underwear.

The years went by and I finished my elementary school and high school education in Berne and Zurich. Though I spent most of my holidays assisting my mum in attending to my father’s business concerns, thoughts of love, emotions, female companionship and erotic desires always crept into my brain. Several weeks after the completion of my high school education my mother informed me that I would be returning to Nigeria for my tertiary education. Although I had mixed feelings, I knew I had no choice in the matter. Be that as it may, it would definitely be fun to see my fatherland again. 

Two months later, while driving towards the Zurich airport, my mum made me realize that it was necessary I familiarize myself with my roots and country since I was the first (and only) son of my father and future heir to the Igala throne.

The thought of being a traditional ruler bored me, and I always reminded myself thereafter of how bad my French was. The language was dull and commanded no excitement as far as I was concerned. I smile whenever I think of the countless sex education lessons my mum gave me while in high school. She always had this crazy mortal fear of how horrible my life and future would be if I had a child out of wedlock.

A few weeks later, I arrived at the Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport in Abuja. Before going to see my father at his palace in Idah, Kogi State, I paid the Swiss Ambassador a visit at the Swiss Embassy, situated at Maitama, in Abuja.