A bright, blinding light is being shone through the car window. Picture this. You are half naked under the cloak of darkness, doing the dirty, and all of a sudden, the floodlights come on. And you have a rapt audience watching your every move. The prude and I scramble to pull our clothes on.
“Open up!” says a gruff voice as he taps repeatedly on the window.
“Calm the hell down and give us a minute,” the prude shouts as he zips up his trousers.
Oh, crap. This must be the most embarrassing day of my life. We have been caught going at it like rabbits in the parking lot of the Nairobi Polo Club! This will be fodder for gossip for years.
I frantically search for my panties and pull them up, wondering if anyone is recording this.
I had tried to keep an eye out as best as I could while simultaneously riding the prude. Clearly, I failed.
We must now exit the car to face the shame of what we were interrupted doing. That can’t happen. If word of this gets out, my blackmail scheme will completely fall apart!
Let’s rewind to half an hour ago, when we walked outside the clubhouse to head to his car.
“Where is your ride?” the prude had asked.
“I don’t have a car,” I responded.
“Shall I call you an Uber?” he asked.
“Can’t you drop me off?” I countered.
“To South B? With Alcoblow? You must be nuts,” he said.
“Okay. Call an Uber. But can we just sit in your car for a few minutes?” I asked.
“No, that’s not a good idea,” he responded. “My car is well known here.”
“Just for a couple of minutes,” I insisted. “I have your champion’s reward, remember?”
He reluctantly agreed. “Make sure you don’t leave anything in here. I don’t need the drama,” he said as he opened a door for me.
This guy’s wife must really have him on a tight leash. I slid into the front seat and waited for him to get in alongside me.
“So? What’s my reward?” he asks.
I’m not sure if he’s drunk enough, but he is sure acting like he is. He unzips his trousers and just sits there, watching me. Awkward. The parking lot is more or less empty and we are parked some distance from the nearest car.
“I never cheat on my wife,” he says with a slur. What the hell does he think this is?
Next thing, he is all over me. His hands are on my boobs. My hands are inside his jodhpurs. I’m not sure this is the time to bring up his wife. Maybe he is drunk.
We start to kiss. He expertly discards my panties with one hand and uses his fingers to stimulate my rose bud. We don’t have time for this. I need to get him inside me now! I straddle him and we start to make love. He doesn’t mention condoms. So far so good.
I use every trick known to man to try and make him climax quickly, and just when he’s almost there…
“Boss! Fungua mlango!”
Those words ring through the night and the torch is on our bodies. Another voice speaks in English. “Open up!”
How many of them are out there? So here we are, scrambling to get dressed, and the only thought in my head is to bolt.
“Drive off!” I say.
“What?” he asks, looking my way.
“Drive off! Now!”
He hesitates for a second then he starts the engine. With his lights on, we can assess how many of them are there. It’s only two askaris.
“GO! GO NOW!” I scream.
He slams on the accelerator and we hightail out of there.