Udoka, a lonely psychiatrist, had lost two of his high-net-worth clients during the Covid era. One Friday morning, he lost his lovely wife and the house he had built from his life savings to a fire that gutted his street with clustered buildings. The predicament lowered his zeal for work, and there was hardly a day when he didn’t get drunk during that period.
He had promised himself to stop sleeping around with women and focus on rebuilding his good fortunes.
Recently, after attending an international business meeting in Atlanta to purchase medical equipment for his clinic, he took a cab back to his hotel.
Sitting in an armchair near the bar with a drink in hand, he contemplated new business opportunities under the soft glow of the chandelier’s round crystals. He had gulped down one glass of Rémy Martin when a pretty woman sitting about ten yards away from him winked at him.
The afternoon was warm. The lobby was nearly empty and the distant hum of vehicles plying the road was present.
Instead of focusing on his drink and the proposals from the meeting, he lifted his head to steal a glance at the woman, trying to figure out if she was looking at him. She didn’t seem disinterested, but like a much-needed light shining through a crack in a dark cave, she winked at him and gestured to come over.
Sometimes on overseas trips, he needed company. This afternoon, in his current frame of mind, she wouldn’t make an evil company, at least to get to know her. With a half-smile, he nodded.
Moments later, the slim, pretty, thirty-ish woman stood up and crossed the red oriental rug to his table. She wore long, dangling earrings, a blue flowered silk sleeveless gown, and a pair of jeans.
“Lisa,” she said, sitting on the armchair opposite him.
“Udoka.”
“We have a perfect chemistry that I hope we can harness for good.”
Udoka raised his eyebrows and offered her a smile. “Are you alone?”
“That’s a good guess.”
She reeked of expensive, sexy perfume.
Udoka said, “Do you mind a drink?”
“I need a drink, but I’ll buy you one,” Lisa said, walking to the bar.
With fingers rounding his open lips, he felt surprised. He cleaned his sweaty palms on his jeans on the lap and then sat upright, admiring the catwalk of the tall woman.
By two forty-five, she returned with two glasses filled with Rémy Martin. Although the sunshine was no longer embittered, although beauty had its intentions hidden within, Udoka thanked her and took a sip.
“You like the taste?” Lisa asked.
“Different. But I like it.”
While Udoka took the second sip and put down the glass cup on the round table covered with flowered styled cloth, the wall clock behind Lisa became blurred. He blinked, trying to adjust his focus.
“Is something wrong?” Lisa asked.
And those were the last words he could remember.
(To be Continued)