Behind Closed Doors

Chapter One

Henry closed his eyes to shut out the light, his nostrils drawing in a lungful of breath into his body as chaotic thoughts raced through his mind. He could hear the incessant annoying drone of the ceiling fan in the room as the blades churned out cool breeze in the hot air of the afternoon.

That was precisely why he sometimes felt that he hated Nigeria; sometimes the afternoon weather in Lagos could be so atrociously hot, the sun beating down on the inhabitants of the countrys most populated city with a feral ferocity that burned at the skin.

And his mothers refusal that he could attend the Business Executives Convention which was hosted in Cairo, Egypt, with her when she was planning to go compounded his problems. Hed always wanted to go and see the cradle of civilization with his own eyes; to see the very magnificent pyramids; watch the artificial irrigation methods that had been utilized by them in the ancient times, but Rosalie had been adamant.

According to her, if he went, then hed undoubtedly miss out on a lot of his lectures on campus because of the fact that the new semester was already around the corner. So he was left here in Lagos with his friends, all of whom were the spoiled sons and daughters of the elite social class like he was.

He made a snort of annoyance and buried his face into the feathery softness of his pillow. Oh, the hell with it.

"Henry Johnson."

He squeezed his eyes tighter, pretending to be asleep so that Richard, his best friend, would vanish into whatever thin air he'd materialized from and leave him alone to enjoy his dejection. He was in a foul mood, the implication being that he was not in the mood to see anybody and be forced to engage in idle chatter. And who was it that had dared to let the guy into the house without first consulting him in order to ascertain whether he was in the mood to entertain any visitors? He was wondering this as he drew his knees up to his chest, curling into a fetal position that he hoped would convince Richards hawk-like eyes that he was asleep so Richard could turn round and leave.

"Henry Johnson," Richard called out in his unmistakable voice, and this time, it sounded closer.

Henry peeked at the guy surreptitiously from underneath his lashes and saw the slim-fitting jeans that were in the field of his vision, then he shut them again, and his mind willed the guy to go away. He wanted to stay right here in the comfort of his room and be left alone with his thoughts without the constant yapping of the voice of his friend disturbing the flow of his thoughts. Though his lids were squeezed shut, he could feel the shadow of Richards body leaning forward; he inhaled the scent of his cologne, and then he felt the shadow receding, heard the tread of boots moving across the red carpet and then out of the room.

With a heartfelt sigh of relief, he opened his eyes and swung his tired feet off the bed to the floor. Moving swiftly but silently, he went to the window, parted the thick brown curtains that shut out the penetrating rays of the sun, and then he peered out into the garden, his eyes fixed on Richard Oke as the latter walked to his compact car.

Henry sighed and shut his eyes, his fingers balling into fists as a wave of emotional pain swept through him with the piercing precision of a surgeons scalpel. As was customary with his body whenever he encountered Richard, hot desire and revulsion simultaneously rippled through his frame and he shuddered.

He could never fathom why he found the guy so darn attractive, and what made his dilemma worse was the fact that Richard was his closest friend; they did everything together. And every moment he spent with Richard, every moment that Richard stood so close to him, their bodies touching, sent hot flashes of lust assailing his senses but he was always unable to do anything about it and this was torture to him. It drove him crazy. It was a prospect that thrilled and repelled him－being sexually attracted to his fellow guys was something he'd never envisaged at the onset of his puberty years, and being attracted to Richard specifically filled him with annoyance and emotional pain.

"Henry? I thought you were asleep."

Henry spun round to the sound of the tentative female voice. It was Mrs. Oyono, the woman who had worked for the Johnson family as a cook and housekeeper for as long as he could possibly remember. She lived in the servants quarters with her family, and her jovial nature, plus the motherly influence shed asserted over Henry, endeared her to his heart. However, what she didn't know was that he'd had sex with Linda, her eldest daughter. He'd done that because the chit had come on strongly to him, and he'd also needed desperately to reassure himself that he wasn't queer; that he couldn't possibly be gay. Such a thought was inconceivable; not in his fathers house, and certainly not in the Nigeria of his time which viewed her gay citizens as demon-possessed souls who had to be either committed in a psychiatric ward or delivered into the hands of pastors for exorcism.

"Richard dropped a note for you on your dresser," the woman continued quietly. "You should call him later today."

As the woman turned to leave, Henry almost called out to her to have some lunch sent up to him in the room, but the truth of the matter was that he couldn't bear to choke down whatever morsel of food that would be served to him into his mouth. He was loaded with dread due to the fact that he was the only son of his father and the sole heir to the sprawling Johnson family estate which was an import/export conglomerate that had ruthlessly swallowed up its less prosperous rivals. They had over a thousand employees nationwide, and they conducted their business with countries across the globe. The Brian-Johnson Ltd earned the bulk of its money by doing business with countries where the labor was ridiculously cheap so as to maximize profits and expand its horizons. They were a very rich and very powerful family with connections in all the right places.

"We want you to know the real value of what we have in this family," his father had said succinctly. "A man must appreciate what he has in order to be able to use it properly. So, you're going to study Business Administration."

That had been in 1997, when Henry was twenty, and he'd gone to the University of Lagos. Now, two years later, he could feel everything moving on more swiftly; he was now becoming more actively involved in the business of his family; he attended a myriad of business conventions and worked in the family offices during the semester breaks. . . It was a fast-paced, heady life, one that was filled with fun and excitement, pleasure and responsibility. But he was dreadfully scared because he knew that very soon; he would have to start a family of his own so as to ensure the continuity of the Johnson family name. Their legacy must live on.

But, deep in his mind, he felt that he could not be what everyone expected him to be. He had no sexual feelings for women; his liaison with Linda had thought him that lesson. It had made him aware of where his sexual fantasies really lay.

And he was filled with nothing but horror for what the future held for him.