Hooking Alexander Pt. 01

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Erotic romance fantasy.
2.3k words
4.43
9.7k
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Part 1 of the 5 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 02/21/2018
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Renate Giwa was in a rut. The sole of her right foot tapped the floor. She blew out a protracted, heavy sigh as her eyes scanned the blank Microsoft Word document open on the screen of her desktop computer.

Scratching the back of an ear with one hand, she muttered, "She walked into his room and... um, no... she stepped into... no... the first thing she saw was his manhood... what? Manhood? Really? Ugh... dammit!"

Her right hand grasped the mouse on the desk beside the computer keyboard but didn't move it. She glowered at the screen. The page was as blank as it had been for the last three hours. Dammit!

For nine whole months, she hadn't written a new novel and her fans had started to complain. Fuck them. No, not really. She loved them. She was grateful to them for their support. It wasn't their fault that for the first time in her life she had run out of ideas. This wasn't just writer's block; it was a freaking writer's iron curtain!

She rolled the mouse on the surface of the desk, watching the cursor move round and round. What was her freaking problem? She was living her dream life, for goodness sake. Author of several enormously successful erotica books and owner of a thriving magazine. She owned two houses, this one, and another one in Lagos State, Nigeria. Her wardrobe boasted more than a few designer label clothes. She'd just turned thirty two days ago and her birthday party had been attended by the crème de la crème of Ghanaian society.

She eyed her watch. Nine-thirty PM. Through the two windows in this room, her office, slate-grey tendrils of moonlight seeped in and then vanished, chased away by the bright fluorescent lights on the walls and on the ceiling.

Nine-thirty. Outside her door, the party was already in top gear. Her twenty-eighth—or was it twenty-ninth?—harem party. Dammit, she should be at the party. She was hosting it. She should be on her knees now, receiving a hot guy's cock in her pussy, not here... staring at an empty page.

It had been a while. Eight weeks, to be exact. Her vagina was hungry for some loving... the problem wasn't her body. Was it her mind? Was she too bored to satisfy her carnal needs? Dammit.

Beyond her doors, people were having sex. Lots of it. These harem parties had been her brainchild. Through these parties, she'd given men and women, both human and Nephilim, the opportunity they'd been craving, to have sex with angels and with each other. She'd designed them with an oriental theme in mind... gold couches, incense, soft music, golden bowls of fruits and flowers strategically positioned at corners of the rooms and satin drapes demarcating the private rooms from the main hall.

Of course, these parties were discreet, top-drawer affairs... for the few humans and Nephilim who knew that angels were still on earth and were able and willing to pay large sums of money to fuck them. The angels attended these parties for free. Everyone else paid.

Renate relaxed in her leather chair. Her lips twitched in a smile. That day, almost six years ago... she was still a stylist, working in a hair salon. That day, she'd been braiding her longtime client's hair and her client, a woman in her forties, had whispered something to her. A secret. There were angels on earth and she'd met a couple of them.

Naturally, Renate didn't believe her, at first. Come on... angels on earth? Give me a break! Yes, sure, they'd been here once before and conceived the first set of Nephilim. Everyone knew that! But, then, they'd disappeared. Some had returned to heaven. Some had died off.

But, then, she'd met friends of her client who had had stories to tell about their encounters with angels. She'd listened and then, gradually, started to believe. The stories were similar and the women who told her these tales were educated, intelligent and successful women. Maybe, it was all true.

Maybe.

Soon after, she began a blog and these women became anonymous story contributors. The blog was a complete success, almost from the start. In one year, she'd gathered about four hundred thousand subscribers. It seemed people wanted to read about angels fucking women. The blog spawned her magazine, Female and Proud, and the magazine launched her erotica novel-writing career. She'd given up her job as a stylist so she could concentrate full-time on her businesses.

A pop-up box appeared on her computer screen. New mail.

Renate sat up and peered at the screen. From Marcel. He was an old friend. One of those who'd been there from the very first harem party. Now he was a patron—a very generous one—and, an angel.

Quickly, she switched to her inbox and clicked on the mail.

Renate, be careful. Just this afternoon, I received word that the Soldiers for Unity know about your parties. They, most probably, have one of their members acting as a guest, or as one of your security people. Keep an eye out and if you need any help, don't hesitate to let me know.

Marcel

Renate's brow wrinkled. Dammit! She didn't need this. Why couldn't the Soldiers for Unity mind their own freaking business? My goodness, these days if it's not one fanatical group of mindless idiots, it's another. On one hand, there was the League of Humans who hated Nephilim and wanted to eradicate them from the earth. On the other, these idiots, the Soldiers for Unity, who loved everyone. Everyone, except angels. How did they even find out about the existence of angels?

Dammit!

***

Alexander Nasser watched, one eyebrow raised, as his best friend, Adam Kalu, wrestled with his gold-coloured tie, tugging it out from under his collar and yanking it off past his head.

"We can wait till we go back, you know. We're returning to Lagos tomorrow."

Adam tossed the tie into the backseat of the Neter Group company car, a black Cherokee Jeep. He threw a glance at Alexander. "I can't wait. I'm horny now."

"How many times have you attended these parties?" Alexander asked.

Adam shrugged and slammed the left passenger door shut. "I guess... two or three... don't worry, Alex... you'll enjoy it."

"If you say so." Alex pursed his lips. They'd flown into Accra from Lagos only this afternoon. Adam had come for a business meeting with the head of the Neter Group's main ad agency. He'd chosen to accompany his friend. Even though he had his own work in Lagos waiting for him. He should probably have let Adam travel alone. But he was too used to worrying about him. Too used to acting as his protector.

Alex glanced at Adam. Six foot tall and fit-bodied, in a pinstriped suit and a white shirt. "And, what is the aim of these... what did you call them... harem parties?"

Adam's big eyes, the black irises, rimmed with gold—Nephilim eyes—stared at Alex through the clear lenses of his horn-rimmed eyeglasses. "I've told you... it's for humans, Nephilim and angels... you can be yourself here... you don't have to wear your contacts or hide your tattoo..."

"I have that in Lagos..." Alex muttered, trotting in step with Adam as he moved away from the car. "At Augustine's orgies."

Adam sniffed and ambled forward, up the dark, shadow-strewn street. He asked his friend, "How often are those orgies? Not very often. You know that most of the time, you have to disguise your true nature from the women you sleep with."

"Okay." Alexander gave a short nod. "But this is my first time here... in this city, at this party... I only came here because of you. It'll just be one night of being my true self and then, tomorrow, I'm back to pretending I'm a man."

Adam rolled his eyes. "Well, at least, you'll have this one night. Stop whining."

They strolled side by side. All around them, the street was settling into shadows. Night was falling.

Alex said, "I'm glad you're back. I've missed you."

Adam chuckled. "You sound like you haven't seen me in years. You came over to London for a visit three months ago."

Alex laughed. "Yes, okay. When will your two years away be up?"

"I still have a year to go in the London office and then, I'll come back to Lagos." Adam flung a glance at Alex. "And I've missed you too."

Alex's eyes brushed the street. At the end was a wrought-iron fence and gate. Was this where the party was being held?

"Technically, I'm on vacation." Adam said. "The head of the agency, Midas Magic, has been insisting on speaking only to me. His company does most of the Neter Group's ads so I couldn't just ignore him."

"And yet, he wasn't even in his office when you got there."

"A sudden trip... according to his PA..."

"But he knew you were coming."

Adam raised and lowered his shoulders. "His PA said he'll be flying back into Accra tonight. But I couldn't wait for him."

"What's his deal? Why does he need to see you?"

"Well, because I'm the Head of Publicity and Media in the Neter Group. His work with the Neter Group has put him and his company on the League of Humans' radar."

"So, he's scared?" Alex scowled.

Adam glanced at Alex. "He has good reason to be. The League is getting stronger every day. Anyone involved in producing manna, in any way, for the Nephilim population is at risk."

Alex muttered, "The members of the League of Humans are a bunch of crackpots."

"Dangerous crackpots," added Adam. He gazed straight ahead. They were almost there. He said, "The last time I was here, I came with Augustine. He was very popular at the party."

Alex smiled. "Augustine is always popular with the ladies. Most of the stories in Female and Proud are about him."

Adam grinned. "Don't tell me you read the magazine..."

"Not really. I just skim through it..."

"Skim through... yeah, right."

"Yes... well, ever since you told me that one of my favorite authors owns Female and Proud."

"How many novels of hers do you have?"

Moonlight bounced off the diamond stud in one of Adam's ear. Alex watched the stone twinkle. "About four."

"I'm going to tell her you're one of her biggest fans."

"Please, don't." Alex's eyes widened.

"What? It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Does she join in the action at these parties?"

"I don't know... not often is my guess..."

"What else do you know about her?"

Adam scratched his head. "Um... she's, I think, thirty years old... a quarter Italian... she's Nigerian but she's been living in Ghana for years... ever since she graduated from the University of Accra."

The gate loomed in front of them. On the other side of the gate, stood a bungalow with cream walls and a triangular red roof, partially enclosed by a clump of trees.

Adam and Alex halted. "This is it," said Adam.

Two burly men, wearing dark suits that strained over their bulky muscles and wraparound sunglasses over their face, despite the lack of sunlight, pulled open the gate and plodded outside.

Their furrowed brows smoothened as their glances fell on Adam. Big teeth flashed from their large mouths.

"Adam!" One of the men said. "Long time."

"Hi, Dede." Adam nodded at the one who'd spoken.

His companion stuck out a hand. "It's nice to see you again, Adam."

"Kwame, right?" Adam asked, a smile on his lips. He shook the proffered hand.

"Yes, yes... you remembered..." the man beamed with joy.

"Let us in." Adam's glance swept from one man to the other.

Dede angled his head at Alex. "Who's this?"

"He's my friend, Alexander."

"We've never seen him before," Kwame said.

"Yeah, this is his first time..." Adam stared at the men. "What's the issue?"

"We can't let him in—"

"—what?"

Dede spread out his hands in a supplicating gesture. "It's not our fault. The boss said we shouldn't let anyone new in."

"He's an angel." Adam snapped, planting his hands on his waist.

Alex cringed as two sets of eyes, concealed behind two pairs of sunglasses, swung in his direction. Hiding his identity had been his reality for close to three hundred years. Now, hearing Adam say it out loud, so casually, to these two goons, pushed drops of sweat out of his armpits. Breathe, Alex.

Dede tore his glasses off his face and inspected Alex from head to feet. "He looks like an angel."

"Would I lie to you guys?" Adam asked, lips twisted.

"The thing is... we're under orders. The Boss said no one new." Kwame mumbled. "We know you, Adam. We know your father is a high-ranking angel but orders are orders..."

Dede explained, "a lot of things have been happening recently... we've had tall men wearing golden contact lenses, claiming to be angels... our boss was nearly mobbed at a Female and Proud event by the League of Humans..."

"Why would they attack her?" Adam frowned. "She's human."

"The magazine has Nephilim on staff. So you see, we have to be more careful these days."

At his sides, Alex's hands fisted. He'd heard enough. Coming here had been Adam's idea, not his. "Adam, let's go."

"No, Alex..." Adam's black eyes shone. "They can't turn us away."

"We're not turning you away." Dede murmured, sighing.

"I won't go in without him." Adam glowered at Dede. "Call your boss. I want to speak to her."

Sighing once again, Dede rooted in his jacket pocket for his phone and stamped away, out of earshot.

Wishing he was anywhere else but here, Alex's eyes surveyed the dark street. Couldn't they just leave?

Dede returned. "She says she'll be with you in a minute."

Adam muttered, "She better be."

"Adam, it's not our fault..." Kwame said.

"We're just doing our jobs," said Dede.

A minute later, the gates opened and someone walked out. Alex's gaze switched from the street to this newcomer. His eyes expanded as he looked at her and, out of nowhere, his heart began to pound, faster than usual.

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