Cocktails and Charm from Nairobi with Love (Part 2)

FOREWORD: So this here is another story, this time a work of fiction, penned by a Kenyan KDian, a follow-up to the first part which was published in November 2014. Well, Cornelius seems to have gotten his mojo back and here’s his offering, the start of a new fictional series. Check on it.

*

Previously on Cocktails and Charm from Nairobi with Love, Max is looking to change jobs from his current place of employment FundiCorp to Placcard Advertising as a Digital Communications and Public Relations Specialist. And while that transition is in progress, he’s got a gang of three best friends, Mercy, Jeremy and Mwendo, and a neighbour, Ndung’u, whose booty calls he loves to answer.

*

Club Shilling was conveniently located next to one of the leading Radio Stations in the city. But the province wasn’t the best; it was a dingy, plain street lined with a lot of industrial warehouses in what was a neglected part of Nairobi, one which was however crucial to the city’s existence. The glittering skyscrapers to the North and South of Kenya’s capital often forgot that they owed their grandeur to the fumes and mechanisms out of this area.

Tonight though, the reason Max and his friends were here wasn’t industry, but pleasure. Club Shilling was a new stripper joint frequented by the middle class and an often good looking crowd, a true page out of Chris Brown’s Beautiful People. Because it had debuted, it had quickly become the talk of the town, its newness an appeal that pulled a crowd of revellers every night. Nairobians with a thirst for the night life loved to have an affair with new and shiny things.

None of the four friends, Max, Mwendo, Mercy or Jeremy, owned a car. They were all just starting out in their careers, and were quite modestly successful in their crafts: Mwendo was into autos and dealerships, Mercy had a budding career in music, though her main toast was teaching at a local girls’ high school, and Jeremy was a stockbroker.

“Sweets, I love you,” Mwendo hollered over the Dawa he was sipping as loud music and louder conversations raged around them, “but you need to donate those condom shoes to the Salvation Army, stat!” He gave a pointed look and smile at Mercy’s feet as he finished speaking.

Mercy was clad in a sparkling spaghetti top over snug white pants and her short hair was pulled back in a French bun, which served to accentuate the warm but lightly applied tones of her makeup. She looked great, except for the flats that she had on. Mercy always wore flats.

“Shut up, Mwendo,” she shot back. “You know I look good tonight as I always do. Instead of hating, why not appreciate.” She mimed the dusting off of imaginary lint from her pants.

“It’s all working well, except for the shoes, darling,” Jeremy interjected, causing Mwendo to crow in delight and exchange high-fives with him.

“Oh you two are just a bunch of haters,” Mercy said while executing an eye-roll, before turning to Max for support.

“Well, I’m here to enjoy the eye candy, and hopefully get lucky,” Max said, following his words with a giggle as he recalled what had happened with Ndung’u at his apartment just a few hours ago.

***

Ndung’u was calling out Max’s name with an increasing pitch that only heightened Max’s urgency to climax as he plugged Ndung’u over and over on the couch. Max felt his eyes roll to the back of his head, as his member unbelievably swelled to an even harder length in anticipation of his ejaculation. Ndung’u’s legs were spread out widely to enable Max’s rapid penetration, and his hand worked feverishly over his dick as he masturbated himself in tandem with Max’s thrusts.

“Oh fuck me, baby!” he panted harshly. “Please, don’t stop!”

“Yes, I’m fucking you!” Max grunted as he jerked back and forth. “Oh yes, I’m coming, oh yes!”

“Me too!” Ndung’u’s fist was flashing up and down over his erection now. “Oh yes, come for me!”

Both men were clearly nearing the peak. And just then came a steady knocking on the door, one which was followed seconds later by the fumbling of keys. Max and Ndung’u were startled, awkwardly caught in that place where they were both unsure whether to continue with the race to their orgasm or stall to comprehend what was going on.

The later took over as adrenaline shortcircuited the passion driving Max to panic. He jerked his throbbing erection out of Ndung’u’s ass and began hurriedly snatching at his clothes strewn about the room. His erect cock, which was still encased inside the condom, slapped against his thighs as he darted about. Then he sped into the bathroom, leaving Ndung’u still half-lying half-sitting on the couch, apparently slower to react to the turn the evening had taken.

Ensconced inside the bathroom, Max grabbed some tissue from on top of the toilet cistern, pulled of the condom, neatly wrapped it up in the tissue and proceeded to quickly flush the evidence. Then he proceeded to get dressed while striving to regulate his breathing.

When he felt suitably in control of himself, he eased the bathroom door open.

“…thank you for the shopping,” Ndung’u was saying to the younger male who’s back was to Max, “and tell mum that I’m grateful for the chapos.” Ndung’u looked up and his eyes fell on Max. “Hey Max, meet my younger brother, Tim.”

Max emerged from the bathroom and reached out his hand to shake the youngster’s hand. He was taken aback however by the ugly look that eclipsed the boy’s face when he turned to him. Max was familiar with that expression. Tim seemed to be silently telling him: ‘I know you two were just fucking, and I know my brother is gay. I’m not, and I’m only okay with this in theory, not in practice.’ The youngster looked like given the chance, he’d spit on Max’s face.

Max returned the boy’s scowl with a stiff smile, nodded his goodbye at Ndung’u, and hurriedly made his exit.

***

“And what are you so happy with yourself about?” Mwendo directed at him, cutting into his brief reverie.

Max cleared his throat. “If I tell you, I’d have to kill you,” he sallied as he brought the Tusker Malt he’d ordered up to his mouth.

The foursome howled with laughter at that.

As they carried on with their banter, the club’s hostess, a socialite who tottered above 6-inch Louboutins and was clad a skin-tight little black dress which could barely hold in her enormous derriere, sauntered onto the dais in the center of the room to announce that the dancers would be coming on stage shortly.

Max chose that moment to excuse himself for a quick run to the restroom. He started for the flight of stairs that led to the access-way towards the toilets. His gait was measured but he kept his head halfway down, as he liked to avoid any unwanted stares. He was reserved by nature, and wasn’t one for brazenly encountering contact, visual or otherwise.

Ribald laughter coming from a table on his right caught his attention and made him to look that way. The brief distraction caused him to bump into someone in front of him.

“I’m sor –” he’d started to say as he looked up at the face of the person he’d collided with. The rest of his apology petered out of existence the moment his gaze settled on some rather familiar sensual ruddy lips, lips which made him so instantly parched, he absent-mindedly licked his own.

“Hey… Max?” The man said his name with a question, as though he wasn’t quite sure it was him.

Max nodded at the incredibly gorgeous, deejay housemate of his friend, Lucy, who he’d met awhile back. “Hey, Imani,” he greeted.

“Yo, it’s good to see you, man!” Imani stretched out his hand and Max clapped it, before getting pulled into a half hug and a tap on the back. “It’s been a minute since we met.” Imani said as he pulled back with a broad smile.

“I’m surprised you remembered my name,” Max said, feeling heady with Imani’s scents. “Great memory you have there. It’s good to see you.”

“I never forget a face, man, especially one like yours,” Imani replied.

Especially one like mine? Max thought as he did a mental double take. What especially one like mine? he wanted to ask. Instead he said, “What are you doing here?” His eyes crawled over the guy in front of him, drinking in the sight of him in combat trunks and a tight fitting blue V-neck T-shirt that was branded with the words ‘Club Shilling’. “Don’t tell me you work here.”

“Yup, I do. I perform there.” Imani pointed in the direction of the stage.

“Really!” Max drawled, feeling a rush of pleasure as he slid his gaze to the stage with its poles and the dancers who were beginning to strut out to the cheer of the revellers.

“Not there, silly!” Imani said with a chortle. “There!” He pulled Max’s chin in the direction of the DJ booth, which was located close to the stage.

“Of course I knew that,” Max said, chuckling abashedly. “You’re the deejay, of course I knew that.”

“Right,” Imani said with a grin that told him he didn’t believe him.

Max swallowed, as images of a semi-naked Imani grinding and shimmying about on the stage filled his mind.

“Hey, why don’t you take my number,” Imani’s voice cut through his raunchy imaginations, “and we’ll catch up later after the performances?”

Within seconds, they’d exchanged their contact information and parted ways. Max found himself halfway back to his table before he realized that he was supposed to be going to the restroom.

But who cared? Imani was here, and he couldn’t wait to watch him in action with his beats. He soon joined his friends, whose attention, like everyone else in the room, was on the stage. There were four poles situated on the stage with a floor that gleamed like it got polished every half hour. The dancers were all female, wearing skimpy yet surprisingly classy attire, and their bodies were statuesque, enhanced by their sinuous and energetic moves which entranced the audience, evidenced by the cat calls that resonated all over the room and the bills that found their way from the clubbers to the dancers’ girdles.

Mwendo, Jeremy and Mercy were grinning at the performances and bobbing their heads to the music. But Max had eyes only for the sinewy, captivating DJ producing the beats behind the dancers. His concentration was so rapt that when Imani suddenly turned and caught his eyes, he was startled.

And then his heart stopped when Imani winked at him.

Written by Cornelius Kubwa