EXTRACT FOR
White Wife, Black Heart
(Author Unknown)

Chapter One

    

    Alana's eyes fluttered open. Everything seemed at first blurry but seconds later the darkness of the bedroom came sharply to her eyes. She felt someone's breath on her hair and even without raising her head from his shoulder, she knew she was doused with the comforting warmth and presence that was her husband, Morgan. She lay on his arm which in turn hugged her towards him under the sheets. His breath issued a light snore from his nostrils and she made a mental note to have him make an appointment with their physiotherapist when they return home.

    Home. That word seemed to smack into her head like a gunshot. 

    Where were they anyway? This wasn't their bedroom. No way this could be their home! The curtains were wrong??"never would she have picked such creamy color for curtains. Also the room looked almost completely dark, unlike theirs, and she could barely make out anything from behind the curtains. Or was it still midnight?

    She pried herself off her husband's arm as quiet as she could, not wanting to disturb his sleep, and sat up on the bed in her kimono-styled nightdress. She ran her fingers through her eyelids then pushed her full blonde hair back behind her head then got up from the bed and stretched, followed by a mouth-stretching yawn. She approached the windows facing the west side of the bedroom and pushed the curtains open. 

    The world she gazed at was different from the one she was expecting to see. But then again, this wasn't anywhere close to her home. The sky appeared dark blue and hazy, although over the crowns of the palm trees yonder, the dawn was fast approaching. In Zagreb, by now the sun would be in their face and the climate cold. Here the sun came late and the weather was humid. It was the month of June, the middle of the rainy season in the country, as if they couldn't have picked a better time for a vacation.

    She drew back the curtains and yawned once more. The clock on the nightstand made the time as six-ten a.m. Dana would still be asleep in her room, she thought. Best not go wake her up, not when she'd been tired from much of the jet lag when they arrived at the airport. They had checked in straight at the hotel after a cumbersome drive navigating through the city traffic. Morgan had promised his friend was going to show up today, and then they would get to enjoy their holiday here. Alana already was starting to have reservations about them having any bit of fun in such a place. She felt comfortable being in familiar surroundings than stuck at places far from wherever. She would have preferred if they'd hopped on a Mediterranean boat cruise... or travel to Turkey. So many times she'd talked about embarking on a trip there. But no, Morgan had overruled her this time around, told her he'd had this dream of wanting to see Africa. Good enough he had a very good friend here, in Nigeria, who promised to take care of them all through their four-weeks stay. Like that was something reassuring she should take with to the bank. Hadn't she heard a lot talk regarding the people from this country? Of how a large number percentage of them were unemployed, dubious, and how their preyed on others like them, and most especially how they as well preyed upon white people? But her husband, sweet of him, had promised her nothing of such was true. 

    "There's enough bad people out in the world, darling," he'd said to her solemnly. "We're going to Nigeria, and we're going to have ourselves a good time while we're there!"

    So confident he was, she'd hands-up off the project and left everything regarding details to him to take care of and gone about her job teaching Constitutional Law at the state university. 

    Dana, her sister, had driven by the house two days after Morgan and she had finalized talk regarding their holiday travel. Alana was forty-one years old, whereas her sister was thirty-six; both of them still retained the translucent blonde hair they'd inherited from their mom. Dana had come to their home that Saturday afternoon filled with complains as had been the case since the previous month. Morgan and her already knew what the complaint would be about before she even took a seat and began pouring out her heart. It was about Christophe, her husband. It always was about Christophe. What was it this time? Christophe suspects she's been sleeping around. All the time flying in a jealous rage whenever she returned home from work some minutes later than usual. Always he had a thousand and one complaints: the way Dana dressed, the type of blouse she wore to work, the way she made her hair... three days ago he'd had the audacity of visiting her at her place of work and confronting her boss whom he suspected was keeping Dana tied down at work so they could sneak off to whatever secret rendezvous they were having. Dana had been terribly embarrassed and they'd had themselves a shouting match when they arrived home. Alana and her husband were just as perplexed by Christophe's behavior. Figured her sister needed a break from her present situation, Alana had let her sister into their impending holiday travel and asked if she'd like to come along. To Alana's surprise, her sister had openly accepted. But what was most surprising was to her was that when she told her of where they were travelling to, expecting Dana too to express some concern about it, she'd been giddy with excitement, saying she'd rather take a vacation to hell than spend one more night quarrelling with her husband over nothing at all.

    So it had been worked out: Morgan had fitted Dana into their travel plan and had made the calls to his friend down in Nigeria regarding their impending visit and take care of their hotel booking arrangement. Alana had spent much time consoling her sister than bothering to know what got her husband smiling and laughing whenever he was on the phone with his long-distance friend, whom she later got to find out his name was Leo. Alana knew virtually all of her husband's friends except this one. Morgan was vague about where or how they'd met, and seeing he wasn't keen about revealing it, she let it go for the time being. Though once in a while, as the day of travel fast approached, she kept picturing what his friend might look like and they sort of person he might be. 

    Alana had made sure she wouldn't be missed from her lecturing at the university. She's been working herself tooth and nail since the semester began, even the Dean had encouraged her to take a break from the office and head out to wherever. 

    The days had moved onward with all three of them marking the days on the calendar as the date of travel approached. Morgan had made arrangements with an older sister to look into their three kids while they were away. The kids, being their natural self, had protested against this interference, claiming that they could look after the house their selves easily. 

    And so they'd boarded their Lufthansa flight and a day later it had brought them to Port Harcourt International airport. The first thing that hit Alana was the heat. All of a sudden she was sweating buckets as they made their way through the airport concourse with their luggage in tow and hopped on a taxi which had brought them to Hotel Presidential where Morgan's friend, Leo, had previously made two-room reservations, both adjacent to each other. Morgan had called him afterwards to let him know they'd arrived. Alana had retired to bed while Dana, feeling energetic from the flight, had changed into a bikini and trooped downstairs to make use of the pool. 

    In the evening they had gone downstairs to a barbeque party, all three of them looking causal in jeans and shorts and t-shirts and tank tops. There were other foreign couples there which made Alana warm up to the setting now she knew there were others like her around. A local band played highlife music on a lit stage while several couples danced before them, some throwing money at them. Alana moved her shoulders in rhythm with the music. Morgan was happy seeing she was gradually loosening up and starting to relax. They ordered steak with onion rings and fried chips. Their drinks arrived not long before and so did their meals and they dug into it. A while later, Morgan asked Alana for a dance but she declined, saying she was much too full. Dana agreed and they went towards the stage to join the other dancing couples there. Watching her husband holding her sister's hands as they swayed to the music made Alana feel as if she were missing out on something. In a way she was, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it. She was amused at the same time jealous seeing her Morgan dance with her sister, and were it not that it was Dana, she would have tore towards them and scratched both their eyes out.

    Still she felt like she was missing out on something.

    An hour later they decided to call it a night. Walking out of the elevator and going in the direction of their rooms. Alana and Morgan said goodnight to Dana them disappeared into their room.

    Morgan searched the living room's wall for the light switch but Alana snapped at him not to bother. She jumped upon her husband and plastered him with kisses. They groped each other as they fought their way towards the bedroom and fell on the bed. 

    "You bastard," she cursed him at the same time moaned as he freed her breasts out of her bra and t-shirt and began sucking on them. "You Croatian bastard, you dare dance with my sister and now you've gotten me so wet! I want you to lick me up!"

    She shoved her husband's face down between her legs. Morgan fumbled with the buttons of her shorts and pulled it down her legs along with her panties. She squirmed with excitement and moaned as he brought his lips to her wet pussy, flicking his tongue over her clit. She got disappointed when less than two minutes later he raised his head from between her legs. Morgan never seemed to enjoy pleasuring her much with his tongue though he much preferred it when she did a lengthy session on his cock. Within seconds he'd stripped himself of his jeans, pushing it down his thighs then he fell on top of her, aiming his cock between the slit of her pussy. Alana gasped from the immediate contact. Her hands reached for her husband's face and found his lips with hers. Though the room was dark, periphery light filtered in from outside the curtains enough for them to carry on with their love-making.

    Morgan hammered down hard on his wife, burying his entire length of cock inside her. The sound of their moans was nearly simultaneous as couples who've made tons of love to each other would most likely sound. The sex wasn't a marathon one either as several minutes later it was finished just as soon as it had started. Morgan grunted deeply as his body became tense with imminent depart of his load of cum. Alana was long familiar with his style of love-making and could even guess when his moment was coming. She wrapped her legs over his waist and squeezed his shaft with her pussy muscles, inducing him to cum faster than usual. Few seconds later that was exactly what happened. Morgan off-loaded his batch of cum deep inside his wife's cunt and remained like that till knowing he was done, slipped out of her and collapsed on the bed.

    Alana waited till she'd gotten her breath back, then she pulled herself from the bed and switched on the room's lights as she stepped into the bathroom to wash off. She threw her clothes on the floor and first washed her face in the sink. She took a moment to check herself out as she stood there gazing at her reflection.

    Her days of youth and glory were far behind her, she knew. Her cheeks were much fuller now and her body had long lost the supple frame she once possessed back in college. Her tits were still round, her hips wider with an ounce of fat around her mid-rib. Her lip lines had a downward twist about them, as if she was all the time frowning. She turned to her side and examined the downward slope of her arse. She asked herself a pressing question: is this a body Morgan is still happy making love to? The answer always eluded her, and basically she was afraid of what it might reveal. Her middle-aged insecurity, for one thing. The thought had always been in her head that her husband might be, or probably was fucking some young tramp. She didn't know, nor could she tell... just that woman trepidation ringing in her heart that he had someone else on the side. If it was true... what would she do? Hate him? Despise him for doing what comes natural? She didn't want to think about it. The thought of it scared her. She turned away from the mirror and went to have her bath.