Thank you Melanie for that email on the identity of Mr. X. I was a little bit of a coward and today, I realized that there is no need to hide his identity. And yes, he is a he, and I am a she. So, I am embracing myself to some serious stuff and possible tussles between my agent and me, if I do choose to disclose his name.
Sometimes in a girls life, shit happens that has no logical, karma, scientific and whatever form of justification. For me the shit has visited me twice. The first is insignificant in this tale, but the second… oh, it surely is. I can sum it in three words… words that will state everything in clear and precise terms:
Mr. Waweru Gatonye. Lawyer and senior counsel. Well, I don’t understand the second part, but that is the part where all the young ambitious lawyers bow and scrape at the beck and call of the Senior Counsel. Now, that is a good thing, to have people bowing and scrapping, at your beck and call... life is a great thing, this way.
So, WG, as I shall call him from here hence, does sound better and more precious than Mr. X, you do agree?
Mel thanks for the tip. I am also experiencing some great tingling niceness that was not there beforeJ
When wg called me on e Thursday evening, and asked me to go to his office: St. Ellis House, 6th Flour, he was very precise on how I was to make my entry: I was to appear after 6.30 pm, call before I get into the elevators, not tell a soul where I was going, and yes, to bring him a bar of chocolate. On arriving: having to enter on the second door from last, direct to his office, and not having to use the main door, he was already there. Waiting for me.
I walked in with a smile, because he stood and greeted me with a broader one:
“And how’s the great lady?” he asked in his signature greeting mode. I was happy to see a friendly face.
He welcomed me to the seat, those black/brown leather seats and sat next to me, in a very very familiar way. Alarm bells shot up, but I ignored them... noooooooooooo, he wouldn’t dare.
He asked me to make myself a cup of coffee, because he had had lunch… Mama (his term to his wife), makes and packs him great lunch on a daily basis. It apparently makes s her feel important and useful, as any woman should. The chauvinistic prick!!!!
I made myself coffee, with bread, and a good spread of the honey. Perfect honey from some good Nuns who are his clients. He also happened to mention that he does a lot of work for the catholic mission. I was impressed, and yes, you guessed right, he is Catholic.
Taking my tea in nervous anticipation, I took time off to look at the great book collection and was impressed, he also did impress upon me that, yes they are expensive, and no, not many lawyers can afford them, especially the Luo lawyers, who are such tribalists and (how do I put in this delicately?)… a special people. Not special in the kind that makes you want to be with them, love them and own them, but special in the way that makes you want to take them to some schooling and teach them how to invest, marry one wife and maybe use a condom, in order to ‘not be HIV positive). I was impressed. Partly because such profound words and statements show a lot about a man, but because, after all is said and done, when a man tells you that and politely adds that he has employed Lous in his office and respects them, you cant help but want consider him ‘special’, or just surmise that he is indeed a bigot.
Anyway, a ma ca talk, and I can only, but listen. Waking up to place my cup back, he tells me that I do indeed look very nice. I then realize what he is up to. This man, he wants to fuck me. WOW!
BTW, I haven’t said the reason i had came to see him in the first place, have I? well, Mel challenged me to be honest ad to give every sordid detail, so here it goes. WG called me at 10am. In a polite manner, he told me that he wants to help me wit my legal issue, the one I had told Mrs. WG about, and so, I was really looking forward to this. However, when a man starts ogling at your ass, when you are at his office at 7pm, you have but two choices: either to go home, or fuck him. Since he wasn’t used to female rejections, I chose the easier way, I chose to stay. I am not looking forward to the sex, but damn! I think I just got my periods.
So, I sit down and he removes his tie, walks to the adjoining office, which is the pupil’s reading area as well as the fridge, all the while questing me about my health status, and I can only think of one thing: He wants to screw me without a condom. And here he was telling me about the Luos.
He comes back and asks me to lie on his chest. I am not sure how to feel, but I do. I lay far back and place my head on his broad chest. He smells nice. Of perfume and something else… AGE!!! I am the first person in history to smell a man’s age.
He tells me about his favorite son, who is currently in
Suddenly, he stops talking and switches to Kikuyu. He tells me of a doctor he knows. A very good friend of his, who has done some discreet things for him in the past. A great friend indeed, to whom I shall have to present myself to the following day and have an HIV test!
I can’t breath. Is he serious? He wants be tested just for a fuck? Please, let him buy a condom, or ten, if he can manage it, and get over and done with it.
I ask why? And he says he wants to be safe. He has had many women in the past (BUT AWAYS OE AT A TIME, AND HE IS A FAITHFUL SUGARDADDY!).
the nerve
I don know what to comment when a man tells me that he is faithful, yet he has a wife, at home. A fucking wife, whom he had just referred to as Mama… but if you are calling your wife mama, then, well, maybe you are allowed to be that pathetic.
I applaud his ethics, damn, he is faithful!?! I am astounded by the corruption of the English language and the interpretation of fidelity… for a Catholic former alter boy, nonetheless.
He throws me off, silent, and asks m to kiss his nipples. Yes they are nipples, and no, they are not big. They are however, sensitive, and the man can only speak in tongues!!!!! YES, YES, YES.
It takes me while to find out what a man likes in bed. But for wg, it was the nipples. I massage them and lick them.
I alternate between sucking the left one and massaging the right one. Reflexively, my hand moves further south and I am not sure, but did he just say…Mama? I don’t know, it could be Ma! But, he is delirous from pleasure and I am gagging from shame and guilt. I try to stand. I can’t take it any more. Taking my hand off and running my palms over my creased skirt, I realize that what I was about to do was not only wrong, but it is immoral, unacceptable, and possible illegal.
He looks at me with glazed eyes and grabs my hand.
“If you leave now, you won’t get out of this building. I will have you arrested and you may never see the light of day again. Come back here and finish what you started. And I will say this for the last time. If you ever try a stud like that again, you will pay. Now,” he paused and gave me a once over. “Remove those pants and spread your legs on the sofa. You are not going anywhere.”
XOXO.
Dirrty Mistress.
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