The wedding reception was running a bit late. The bride and groom had not yet arrived at the venue, yet most of the guests had already been served lunch. The grounds of the Jockey Club were immaculate, the grass well trimmed, especially on the Parade Ground where the winners of a race would be brought to prance around to the applause of a select crowd. The whole horse-racing do was one the legacies of the British colonials. Indeed the majority of the horse owners, Club officials and even some jockeys were the sons and daughters of these former masters of this country.
As we ate, I bent my head to speak to Ellen. Her neckline dropped in such a way as to let me see the top part of that beautiful breast I was sucking just a week past. My eyes swept downward to take in the rest of her full matronly figure that I so much enjoyed to hold, fondle and caress. When our eyes met, I hoped none of the other people at our table would notice the spark that jumped between us. There were two officials of the Woman's Guild, a deacon or two and one of the older male members of the choir, seven of us all told.
I silently thanked whatever force was at work to assign her as the liaison elder for the Choir, forming the link with the Kirk Session, the council of elders and priests that ran our church. She had turned out to be so cheerful and so much at ease with us that all the tensions of the previous year lifted like a mist.
I had been struck with her from the first I had seen her being presented as the new liaison at the beginning of the year. I was to gather in the coming months that she was one of the wealthier members of our church, lived in the posh Karen area, which in colonial days had been a reserve of the whites. Gradually, with the coming of Independence, Africans had come to own property here; her father-in-law was one of these.
"On my walk about the Racecourse, I read on the notice board that you could sponsor an upcoming race meeting in honour of an anniversary, your birthday, a birth in your family or some other important occasion," I whispered.
"Sponsor? How much?"
"Oh, only 25,000 shs plus VAT."
"I would have thought it'd be more," said Ellen, shrugging.
She was aware that my eyes were raking her body up and down, and shot me a half-reproachful look. She tugged her neckline up to cover her tits, but since the design of her dress was that of a low neckline, this gesture was not as effective as it might have been, and I smiled, light mockery in my eyes. She lowered her hand below the table no doubt intending to slap my thigh, but realized someone at a neighbouring table might see.
The MC was already having the DJ play some rousing numbers and calling up the women to dance to them, filling in the time. Some minutes into this, he announced that the couple had arrived. Women old and young, even those still sitting at their tables now stood and rushed to the entrance to welcome the bride with singing, ululations and dancing. The MC guiding them, they escorted the couple to the bridal table and returned to their seats.
As Ellen approached our table, I could see she was looking so enlivened by the dancing. Those who belong to the church do not normally go out to clubs, and indeed would be frowned upon if they did. Weddings were the only place where women can let go of themselves, sometimes in full view of their husbands.
The speeches began. The groom's parents would say a few words (and some, insensitive to everything would drone on and on), then present their gifts. The bride's parents would follow this in their turn. While this was going on, the electricity between us reached a peak. We slipped out by different exits with enough of a delay to allay any suspicion.
We came to her car by different routes and, once inside, fell upon each other in hungry, urgent kisses, lost to this world, or to the possibility of being spotted by church members, deacons, or heaven forbid, an elder! However, we cut it short and I drove out of the Racecourse grounds, avoiding the usual traffic jam towards town, headed to the recently completed by-pass. This brought us onto Mombasa Road after some kilometres, whose smoothness and jam-free expanse I enjoyed, until we came to the junction with Namanga Road that eventually leads to the border with Tanzania. But we did not get that far, stopping at Kirenga, where I knew there was a decent hotel.
We checked in and hurried as much as decency allowed to our room. As soon as we were inside, we grabbed each other with urgent, hot lust.
"Oh, Jules, Jules, Jules!" breathed my Ellen. My hands were roaming all over that wonderful body. Though not very big from waistline up, she has huge hips, bum and thunder thighs. In fact, her tits are only just borderline B-cup; any smaller they'd be A's.
"Darling Ellen," panted I, as I kissed her, letting my tongue wrestle with hers. We were still standing in the middle of the room.
