She Finally Snags Governor's Son

Jeff thought for a bit then said, "Only two more, then I quit. After all, I am driving." He and his friends had been drinking at the Rushmore Club in Thogoto since early evening. He felt slightly tipsy, but was not drunk. It took hard drinking of very strong alcohol to get him drunk. In fact, his friends could not remember him in that state. Nevertheless it was now true that if he was pulled up by traffic police he would test high above the permitted levels.

They cleared all their bills and filed out. Tonight he was driving the Mercedes 350 SLC. The others went each to their cars. That was the last they saw him alive. On the bypass the car suddenly went into a spin, rolled on the tarmac, then skidded down the slight slope on its roof, crushing it and the occupant. Jeff died of massive head injuries even before the first car came along on that lonely stretch. To make matters worse it was almost 2am.

There were three men and a woman in that car. They fought to extricate the lone man from the wreck, but found he was already dead. While the men had been battling to prise the metal apart, the woman had been calling police and ambulance services. As if they were on standby for just such an event they arrived within twelve minutes. The body was removed to the mortuary after identification. The good samaritans were shocked to learn he was the son of the governor of Kurd county.

The news hit the headlines from six am sending shock waves throughout the nation's eight counties, but most of all Kurd. Messages of condolences poured in to the radio and TV stations, for the Governor was popular even outside his home county, having served in several capacities in the National Government before running for the gubernatorial seat.

The funeral was sure to draw huge crowds. The police department closed off many roads leading to the farm on which Jeff was to be laid to rest to allow for the procession led by the Archbishop of the Diocese.

Of all events Pamela would not imagine missing the funeral of her classmate, with whom she had shared a desk. She knew all of Jeff's siblings since they had all attended the same school. As instructed by the police she parked at the Riverside Academy's playing fields and had to walk to the graveside, along the closed road, into the gate of the homestead and round to the back where she could see the sharp tops of the canopies. She walked into the field with a few minutes to spare, so she went over to where the family were gathering. She paid her respects to the older siblings, finishing with Andrew the youngest. She was immediately struck by his striking similarity to her classmate Jeff. Andrew seemed to remember her best of all; after all he was younger and as usually happens, children take note of those ahead of them more than those in lower classes. In fact he drew her into a hug.

"Thank you so much, Pamela for your message of condolence, and for coming!" he said, sounding sincere. He patted her back familiarly.

She felt a warmth spread through her body. "You guys were good friends back then. Too bad we scattered across the globe in search of education."

"Now we are back. Make a point of seeing me when all this is over."

"Sure. Let me find myself a seat before they are all taken."

"This canopy has more seats than we can fill. Find a space somewhere in the middle," pointing.

"Thank you," as she spotted a row of unoccupied ones. On her way she looked over to where the Governor was seated with his wife, but it was clear the security would not allow her near there.

The service droned on in the fashion of older men, who seemed to like the sound of their own voices imagining that the rest of us shared in that self-absorption. Finally it was time to move to the graveside. Pamela saw Andrew looking behind him as the procession escorting the pall-bearers edged towards the freshly dug grave. She thought that as the religious men had said so much already that there would not be much to say. But no, speaker after political speaker was called forth. Her only consolation was that as soon as he could, Andrew came to where she was standing and they chatted softly, respectfully. He asked for her number by simply opening his phone book, starting a new entry and handing her the phone. Her heart leaped, this being one of her goals in showing up today: to find a way of reaching Andrew at a time when his emotions were heightened. She punched in her number and name, then handed the phone back. He had made her life so much easier by bringing himself into her orbit so willingly.

Finally it was over, the soil returned to the grave and garlands laid. Mourners were invited to some snacks in the field near where the service had been held. After choosing from the snacks offered, Pamela made use of the number she had just been given by sending a message of consolation to Andrew, while she nibbled. She had no idea when he would find time to read his messages.

She walked back to the school to retrieve her car, getting annoyed that her heels kept sinking into the soft, wet ground. She wondered why she hadn't noticed as she was arriving. Perhaps I was slightly nervous, she told herself. Back in the school field, she got into her car, drove out and back onto the highway. In a little over an hour she was home.

In the evening she checked her WhatsApp messages more than once to see if Andrew had read her message. It made her heart race when she saw it was 'blue-ticked' but it fell again when she saw no response. No matter, she said to herself, the man is going through a lot. He will respond when he gets through this. To her great surprise a new message tone sounded in the middle of the night. She woke, rubbed her eyes of sleep and tried to focus them on the screen. There was the reply to her message, and just as if he was the one pursuing her, he gave her a date for the following week. He wanted her to come to dinner at the Sankara in Westlands. If it was an honest-to-goodness seduction, this was where she would have pretended to be shocked, then hesitate as if she had no interest.

But she had placed herself in his crosshairs by attending Jeff's funeral. So she indicated her acceptance by asking for further details.

"What time would suit you best, 7 o'clock or later?"

It seemed he was online at that precise moment. "Make it 6:45 for 7," he confirmed. She wrote back accepting that time.

The days and hours seemed to drag over the rest of the week and over the weekend. After work on Saturday she was lost for what to do all afternoon and evening. Where she always had a destination and company for 'nyama choma' (roast meat) and drinks, that day she just pined for Andrew. She prevented herself calling him by main force. She merely had lunch at a quiet restaurant, dragging it to the longest it could possibly take. Then she decided to visit her aunt who lived all by herself, delighting the old lady with that surprise. That visit took her to dusk, and then she really had to home. There she killed time by watching movies from Netflix on her smart TV. Sunday afternoon, when she came home from church, went by like the previous evening. But if she tried to recall the story on any of those movies she came up empty-handed. In truth her mind was fixated on the upcoming dinner with Andrew.

Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday were taken up by work, taking her mind away from her need of Andrew. If he wanted to sleep with her, despite all she had been taught, and society's heavy approval of sex, she felt that she would not be able to resist him. Why should she hold him back, if they were going to be in each other's lives; they might as well get into each other's pants! Her mother, if she discovered her daughter planning to let a man past her panties on the first date would call her all manner of names. So would every woman she had ever known. So would Andrew, if it came to that. She planned to educate him on the primitivism of prevailing attitudes.

Wednesday afternoon came, and her mind was a pulp. She could barely concentrate on the most basic task. She drove home, took a long bath, slipped on a long, figure-hugging dress, with a slit halfway up her right leg, and a low neckline. Andrew would be no proof against her wiles. She drove out of her gate at 6:30 aiming to be at the Sankara just before the agreed 6:45. She turned her car over to the valet and walked into the main doors, oozing seduction.

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"It was a system calculated to defraud women in sex," she was telling him passionately. "Desire was, and still is, said to be the man's sole right. The woman's role is merely to decide whether to 'give' or not. That way, women were deluded into thinking that they had real power in bed, but that was only true in the early stages. As soon as she became a wife, her body belonged to her husband; she had no real power to refuse him if he wanted sex. Neither does she possess the power to demand it from him. To a large extent it is still true in our day, only that sex has become highly stylised and shrouded in mystery. The biggest sponsor of this was, and still is, the Judeo-Christian tradition."

Andrew was looking at her as if something that had been disturbing him for a long time had suddenly made sense. "So the modern man is doomed to spend lots of time, effort and money in pursuit of woman, yet it is all hypocrisy!"

"There should be no reason a woman or a man cannot tell the one he or she is attracted to that they are!"

"If a man tells a woman that he wants her, he is accused of taking her for a prostitute. If it was a woman, she is taken to be exactly that. So they indulge in a fancy dance whose ultimate aim is a vigorous time between the sheets, but it cannot be approached directly." He was smiling at the thought as he said this.

"That's exactly right. It has left women disenfranchised, unable to voice their desires to their men, having to wait until approached. Even then they have to pretend not to want that which they are most hungry for. Idiocy!"

"It makes you wonder how intelligent people can allow this scandal to continue!"

Having cleared that particular bush they could plough the land of their desires freely. Andrew did what he had dreamed of doing, but told himself he could not do it on a first date and still remain decent. He fondled her waist, occasionally straying to her hip. She looked into his eyes as if daring him to go beyond, as if they had reverted to former thinking. But he soon felt her fingers fumbling with his zip.

They turned slightly in their seats to allow this groping to get going properly. His hand explored her tummy fat, while keeping an eye out that other diners would not see or discover what was going on right in front of their noses. She did not open the zip but massaged his cock under the trousers. Soon the meal was over.

"Should we adjourn elsewhere?" he asked her.

"My place or yours?"

He said, "My place today. Next time we can use yours. I can hardly wait to give you what you deserve."

They each got their cars brought to the front by the valet and he drove off, keeping her in his rear mirror. It was a short distance to Parklands Sports Club, where he booked a room.

"I thought you were taking me to your house?" she queried.

"I changed my mind as we drove out of the Sankara. I had not prepared myself for a guest so it is pretty messy. My cleaning woman does not come until tomorrow. If it was day after tomorrow we would have gone there."

He took the key from a bemused-looking night porter, who kept taking covert glances at Pamela. They went along a never-ending corridor until he got to the door, opening with a slight bit of trouble as if he was unused to this side of his behaviour. Andrew was almost trembling with anticipation of delighting this woman who had removed the need to be hunted endlessly, while all the time she knew she was going to give in.

He was so impressed with the masterful way she had brought them to this threshold; their love was going to be deep, satisfying and last them their whole lives.