**Arrivals**

Agbagwa summoned a taxi at the airport's main exit, he thought back to the two customs officers who'd escorted him into a small office. At first, the short fat blonde in her late forties had been aggressive and very cheeky. The other -- a slim young man with short fair hair -- hadn't spoken much. Between them, they asked many questions and, even though Agbagwa told them he was a prince in his country, they still persisted in searching his belongings.

His opened bag revealed lots of dried plants, some small glass bottles, and clothes.

"What is all this?" the small woman had asked sternly.

"These items," Agbagwa answered, "Are all vital to my stay in your country."

The blonde looked at her colleague who nodded and aggressively stepped forward.

"I can assure you they are quite safe. I can prove it," Agbagwa said, reaching into the bag. He pulled out a small package, unfolded it, and showed the officers a large leaf with ashes and powder inside.

The officers stared at Agbagwa. "You cannot bring these items into the country in your personal luggage," the blonde officer stated. "They must be declared. And we're not satisfied with the reasons for your visit or length of stay."

"We're going to recommend that you're sent back on the next available flight," the man said. 

The blonde was about to continue when Agbagwa invited them "Please look closely, these items offer no threat" he held up the leaf and contents.

Both officers leaned in willingly, they could smell the faint musky fragrance from the leaf and decided to lean closer. 

Agbagwa began to weave the leaf gently in front of them, both deciding to continue with their fragrance investigation of the item.

The powder mixture began to fill the air as Agbagwa began moving in bigger faster circles, the particles visibly in the air as both the officers moved closer and took ever deeper breaths, allowing each of them to inhale and fill their lungs.

He watched as they slowly straightened up, blank expressions on their faces. 

Agbagwa smiled. "You're feeling calm," he proclaimed.

"You feel safe and relaxed listening to my voice, don't you?" They nodded. "You're both satisfied with my reasons for coming to your country. I'm on holiday and have only holiday clothes in my bag. You're happy to let me be on my way."

Agbagwa closed his bag then looked at the entranced officers. He smiled and examined their ID badges. "Officer John, tell me what it's like working with Officer Hughes here, from a male colleague point of view."

The young man stretched and yawned. "She's a bitch. The rest of the guys call her the Poisoned Dwarf or mini-Hitler. She's the strictest in the department and takes her work far too seriously all the time. We have a laugh because she's never had a guy and we believe that she'd lighten up if someone gave her a right good fucking."

"Would you like to fuck her?" Agbagwa asked.

"No, I'm recently married."

"If you weren't married, would you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Well, first off, she's old enough to be my mother and she's not attractive. She's overweight by about four stones and has a face like a witch. And then there's the fact that all the guys hate her."

"How long have you been married? Do you have a picture?" asked Agbagwa.

"Four months," said the man, pulling out his wallet and sliding out a picture of his wife.

Agbagwa took the wallet and the photograph.

The woman was fair-skinned and had long, curly red hair. She looked about twenty-two years old.

"You are lucky, she's very attractive. But, from now on, you will want little Hitler here. She's now your ultimate fantasy: a small, fat, ugly woman. Even when you make love to your wife, you will imagine Officer Hughes." Agbagwa took a deep breath then continued, "You won't want anyone to find out, but you'll still long to have a secret, passionate affair with her.

You'll stay with your wife because she's the perfect cover, no one will know about your embarrassing passion." Agbagwa returned the wallet, minus the cash he'd found.

"Officer Hughes," he said, turning to the blonde, "what do you think about your fellow worker's thoughts about you?" As the woman stared at Agbagwa, her cheeks flushed.

"It's embarrassing. I'm only strict and aggressive because I'm unhappy. I only have my job."

Agbagwa pondered. "From now on, you will drop that attitude. You'll be upbeat, confident, flirty, and sexually adventurous. You'll let any guy go all the way with you. Also, you'll know that Officer John here fancies you, but doesn't want to act because of what people will say." The woman nodded.

"I also want your bank card and PIN as payment for this gift. And tell me a hotel where I can stay and use your card for payment. One month from now, you'll both meet me there and let me know how things are going."

The woman pulled a purse from her trouser pocket and handed a card to Agbagwa before writing her PIN on a piece of paper along with the address of a hotel.

"Okay, I leave now. When I've gone, you will forever follow my instructions. I'll see you in a month."

On his way out, Agbagwa glanced back and saw the woman was leaning her broad ass against the table, arms straight out behind her, and she was giggling at the man. The young officer was staring at her massive tits.

***

"This is where I wish to go," Agbagwa said, handing the cab driver the piece of paper with the hotel's address. The driver nodded and drove him there, pulling up on a busy city centre street. The African Prince paid with some of the money he'd taken from Officer John, then walked into the hotel.

He walked past two blonde women sitting with coffees, one in her late forties, the other around twenty, possibly the daughter, he thought. They looked at him, clearly judging his appearance. Two older men at a nearby table were discussing something on a piece of paper.

The check-in seemed to be taking a long time, probably because it was not Agbagwa's name on the card. He prepared his powder and, with a careful, well-placed blow, the man whose name badge said Jeremy soon changed his snooty attitude.

He quickly ran from behind the desk, took Agbagwa's luggage, and led him to the lifts.

Out of the lift, Jeremy stopped at room 413 and Agbagwa saw an older gentleman, probably mid-fifties, emerge from room 411. He was with a very attractive, tall blonde woman, around thirty years old. She was immaculately presented, obviously a woman who spent a lot of money and time on her appearance. She wore a full-length fur coat and black heels.

The man never even looked at Agbagwa but the woman gave him a look that suggested she was disgusted by his appearance.

Agbagwa watched as the couple walked to the lift, arm-in-arm. In the lift, they kissed, then separated to either side of the lift car.

"Who be that?" Agbagwa asked Jeremy.

"That is Mr. Forest. He's a very important businessman.

He always books two rooms when he's in town."

"Two rooms... is one for his daughter?"

"She's not his daughter, she's his girlfriend. The other room is booked in case his wife comes to the city. In fact, his wife and daughter are visiting him today for lunch," said Jeremy, opening the door for his master the African Prince.

Agbagwa went to the bathroom and returned with several pieces of tissue. He walked to Jeremy and pulled hair from his head. He flinched but said nothing. The witchdoctor placed the hairs in a tissue, folded it, then put it under a book on a table by the window.

"You will tell me more about this Forest man," said Agbagwa. "But, first, pour me a drink."

"He is a very successful man," said Jeremy, pouring the drink as Agbagwa sat in a chair close by. "His company owns lots of companies... that's what he does, buys and sells other companies."

"And what of his woman?"

"Ah, Miss Grant. Her name is Sophie and she was a part-time model. She gave that up when she met Forest. That happened in this very hotel about eight years ago and they immediately started this discreet arrangement. Everyone in the hotel has been warned to keep it quiet."

"When they come to stay, what are they like? How are their personalities?"

"Mr. Forest is no problem. He generally never looks at you and has few dealings unless he's unhappy with something. Miss Grant, on the other hand, is not very well-liked. She is short-tempered and discourteous. She's threatened many of the staff regarding their jobs."

The bulky man rubbed his chin, then pushed himself from the chair. "You will open their room for me," he told Jeremy.

**Room 411**

Jeremy returned shortly with a key and they went into room 411.

Agbagwa picked up a man's jacket from a bedside chair and pulled a long, blonde hair from the shoulder. He placed it in another piece of tissue and folded it.

Then he lifted a short grey hair from the collar of the jacket and placed it in yet another piece of tissue, and folded it.

Jeremy followed Agbagwa as he left the room. "That will be all, Jeremy. I will contact you later," he said and went into his room.

Over the next few hours, the witchdoctor made male and female dolls from materials in his bag. He used candle wax to seal the hairs onto each of the dolls, including one of himself, then bound his doll and Miss Grant's together, facing each other.

He drew love symbols on her doll and chanted.

A little later, Jeremy phoned to say Sophie had returned to the hotel and Agbagwa waited outside his door.

Leaving the lift, she had to walk toward him to reach her room.

"Come to me," he said as she approached.

"How dare you," she yelled and haughtily walked to 411.

She opened the door then she looked back at him. "Don't get too comfortable," she sneered. "Security will be moving you shortly."

She stepped inside and forcefully closed the door.

Back in his room, Agbagwa held Sophie's doll and commanded, "You will come to me."

He waited for her knock at the door. Nothing. "You will come to me now," he repeated, but no one came.

He waited a few moments and tried all his procedures again. Sophie still didn't respond. Eventually, Jeremy phoned to say Mr. Forest had returned and was complaining at reception about the black man in room 413.

Agbagwa picked up the Mr. Forest doll and ordered, "You will drop the complaint, it has merely been a misunderstanding. Return to your room."

Jeremy called again. "It's okay, Prince Agbagwa. Mr. Forest has explained the misunderstanding."

Agbagwa listened in as best he could as Mr. Forest re-joined Sophie in the next room, Agbagwa settled down to eavesdrop.

"Did you get that bastard moved?" Sophie was definitely angry. "How dare he talk to me like that?"

"It's all sorted." Mr. Forest adopted a soothing tone. "Don't worry about it. Let me cheer you up."

"Do you think you can?"

"I can sure as hell try."

The sounds of the couple kissing and their passions rising came clearly through to Agbagwa. He was totally absorbed when a knock at his door startled him. He quickly recovered, ceasing his eavesdropping, and opened the door to a young girl with long, blonde silky hair.

She wore a black jacket over a red top, and black trousers.

"Yes?" Agbagwa said.

"You don't know me. I got your room number from Jeremy at the front desk." She put both arms behind her back, clasped hands, and looked down at her feet.

He recognised her as the blonde sharing a coffee with her mother from earlier.

"I had to find you," she muttered shyly and nervously.

"Who are you, girl?"

"I'm Sarah Forest--"

"Ahhh, the daughter of the Mr. Forest staying in 411? The businessman who owns lots of companies?"

"Yes. well, he is not in 411, Do you know my father?"

"We have met. Come to me, girl."

Without another word, she stepped into the room and shut the door as Agbagwa realised his imposed target had been missed, but this may work out he thought.

To be continued