Life indeed, is the ultimate paradox. I am a living proof of that. Who could have thought the wickedness of my envious siblings could have landed me here? Here am I, the Personal Assistant to the Nigerian Ambassador to U.S. It is like a dream, a great marvellous dream.

            My wardrobe is furnished by Savile Row, i eat what i like. I have a pool of state of the art cars at my beck and call. Thanks to my boss, I rub shoulders with the movers and shakers of not just the American society, but the world at large. That reminds me, am yet to collect my copy of the portrait i took with president Obama and Ban ki Moon when I had to represent my principal at a White House Dinner last week.

            God, I thank you. But for God. Who or what am I ? the funny part of the whole thing is that i seem to have the Midas touch. Everything I say or do, end up being the perfect thing. At least so my boss keeps saying. Could this be why the old man seems to be delegating all his responsibilities to me recently?

            Whatever, i do not mind the experience and exposure that comes with standing in for my boss every now and then. It is the envy and negative attraction it provokes that i do not like. Already I have overheard murmuring that i have charmed my boss out of his wits. So much so that he prefers me above even his children and wife.

            Talking about his wife.  About the only dark cloud in my bright sky.  His wife.  Pretty, sophisticated and young. These are virtues not vices. But she is also a thorn in my flesh. Women, there is no understanding them. Particularly irritating is her habit of sending me on fools errands. Just yesterday, at a time she knew i was bound to be very busy at the embassy; she gave me an urgent call to come over to the house urgently. Quickened by the desperation i detected in her voice, i set aside very important assignments to see to her since my boss was away on a trip. And alas, what did i get for my trouble? Questions to which she already knew the answers: when will my boss, her husband, return? When am i closing at work? When will i ever have time for myself? Questions, questions and more rhetorical questions. Strangely, while badgering me with all these questions, she did not deem it fit to switch off the Plasma T.V. which curiously was showing nude women and men in some interesting positions.

            Beats me why she did that. An idle hand really is the devil’s workshop. That reminds me, I have the chapter four of M .Sc thesis to finish. Yes, in a couple of months’ time i would bag an M .Sc. who knows, what else could follow that with my boss telling me of a placement in the Presidency. God, once again, I thank you.

            His breath in my ears and the caressing friction of his hairy broad chest on my bare backs is sheer heavens. Oh, to have those long capable hands around me, cuddling me, and tracing lines all over me. Just to have his lips graze mine in sweet passionate kisses is pure heavens. But the fool will have none of me.

            He will not even look at me. Ebony magazine, Times and all the tabloids compliment my beauty. Heads of state quiver in passionate anticipation at my mere appearance at occasions. Captains of industry covet me at every opportunity. Even i have caught pastors gazing lustfully at me on one or two occasions. But i am not good enough for him. What have i not tried to gain his passionate attention? I have winked at him till my eyes hurt. I have exposed myself to him to no avail. I have subtly expressed my feeling to the useless homosexual countless time. Yet, I could have being addressing a corpse for all the response I got for him.

            Something must be wrong with him. Could he be gay? I think it is that stupid religion of his. Always reading and praying over the Bible as if I, and others, are not also Christians. He must have contracted some kind of religious virus. Virus or not, i must have him at all cost. Which man can resist my charms, my beauty?

            Could it be a dream? No. Yes , it was a dream. O.k. if it was not how did she gain entrance into my apartment? What with all the domestic servants all around. Not to mention close circuit security cameras jotting the nooks and crannies of the villa. Did she actually steal into my room? Somebody definitely stood by my bed, touched me, and actually kissed me. The lipstick on my lips is a proof that somebody stole into my room last night.

            I have never been a heavy sleeper. So how come i slept through it all? It must have been the soft drink she served me last night. I should have suspected foul play when she insisted on serving me herself. Gosh!, she must have slipped some drug into my drink. The fool i was!

But come to think of it. Why would she descend to such despicable depth? Why does she insist on ruining me? It beats my imagination.

More baffling, she had the gut to SMS my phone with details of her lust for me. And what is this nonsense she is ranting about being of any assistance to me? As if i lack for anything.

Ok, granted. There are one or two things i d love to have. At least, having my aged father and siblings enjoying with me in God’s own country would be marvellous. Poor souls, only God knows how they are faring back home. What with the global economic meltdown and the peculiar challenges of living in Nigeria. Oh, how i long to see them all again, to embrace them.

But did she not say in the SMS that all i need is to do her bidding, and whatever i desire shall be granted? Perhaps, she could speak to my boss on my behalf concerning my siblings. Can she do it? Will she do it?

Perhaps, this is all a prank- One big, sick and stupid prank? I do not trust that woman. It cant possibly be a prank. If it is, it has gone too far. She actually sneaked into my room in the middle of the night and did all sorts of things to me with her hands, tongue and God knows what else. No it can’t be a set-up. I have a text message from her to prove that she has been seducing me. Why give me such damning evidence to use against her, if she is really baiting me? No, it is definitely not a prank.

Oh God! No, it is a sin. I can’t commit such a terrible sin against my boss, my conscience and my God. I can’t!

But she promised to make my wildest dreams come true . If only i would do her bidding. Is it not said that heaven helps those who help themselves?

I knew it. I knew that boy is loaded. I just sensed it the first time i laid my eyes on him. Just like yesterday, i recall the homeless, helpless, and wretched boy. But somehow, i knew enough not to judge a book by its cover. I knew that boy has potentials.

Yes, literarily and figuratively, that boy is loaded. Years of wishing, nights of daydreaming, days of seducing, eventually paid off. At last, i struck gold.

What a capable man, though a little inexperienced. But he is such a fast learner! Within minutes, the student became the teacher, and the passenger became the driver. He sure knows how to take charge.

Oh, what a rough rider he is. Pumping and huffing, stroking and fanning, all at the same time. Oh, the wonders he performed with his tongue! He certainly knows where all the bones are buried.  Such tireless energy. What a horse!

He is definitely earning his keep. Yes, what was it he was saying about visa for siblings back home? This guy can be so naive. I thought he was going to make an impossible demand. Visa? Vanilla, consider it done. Nothing, no price is too great for the pleasure this bloke can give a lady. Oh, my very own pleasure factory.

“You mean he is totally beyond redemption?” listening to the man on the other side of the line, he cuts in again. “Now, let us get this straight. He is my executive assistant. I mean, my Personal Assistant. more than that, he is like a son to me. So, come clean with me. Do you really mean that the best medical care money can buy cant help him?”

“Ok. But i have heard of special vaccines that can suppress the virus”

Clenching his fist, he retorts again, “What do you mean his’ is a rare breed of the virus?”

Ok, see at the golf course, then. Thank you, so much, doc.

Like a man who has just received his death sentence, he flung his phone aside and slumped into rather than take his seat. The ambassador cuts the picture of a father bereaved of his only child. Unmindful of his surrounding, he began to mutter to himself.

But how can this be? A promising young man cut down in his prime. Just like that! Joseph! My own Joseph! Dying of HIV! An innocent young boy who does not womanise, smoke, nor engage himself in any irresponsible past-time. Of all people, he had to contract AIDS. Not just ordinary AIDS, abut a wild strain of the wretched virus, that is absolutely resistant to all known HIV vaccines. Talk about tough luck.

A promising and disciplined young man. Now there he lies barely days to the grave. And there is nothing, absolutely nothing, i can do to help him. Why, Joseph, why do you have to contract this wild strain of the HIV/AIDS virus, this implacable harbinger of rapid death?

And what was this the doctor was saying about contracting the virus from a dormant vector? Whatever that means? Does that mean whoever he contracted it from can never be harmed by the virus? But Talk about a human biological weapon! But whoever is infected by such person is doomed beyond any medical redemption. That is, except if such person has an ‘O+’genotype. Come to think of it, isn’t that my genotype?

Oh, poor Joseph. To have come this far, only to end so tragically. What a waste.

But how could he have contracted such a virus? I know for sure he does not womanise. So that rules out the possibility of his contracting it through unprotected sex. His moral rectitude his a major reason i love him. The barber shop! Yes, he must have been infected at the barber shop, while sharing razor with an infected person. Those wretched, careless barbers.

Well, what has been done can not be undone. I have got to arrange for his return to Nigeria. It is cheaper to fly the living rather than the dead. Oh, poor boy.