The Maid’s Son: Crappy friends…

The Maid’s Son: Crappy friends…

By JJ Mponye:

Allowing oneself to continually walk in a path littered with temptation is like trying to perfect salsa moves with the devil. He will step on you and drop you down because that is how he likes it best.

I had heard about the new breed of liberated working class women who wanted to have babies without masculine attachments but had never imagined that I would meet one. At least not in the form of Pam, one of Tricia's most trusted lawyer friends.

Pam is an intelligent and successful lawyer who lives a comfortable life. She drives a luxurious black Mercedes Benz S320. She is single and will most likely remain single for the rest of her life. I hope she does because I always pity the unlucky guy who would have to spend the rest of his life waking up next to her. Anyway, I believe that no man in his right senses would make the sacrifice of marrying her. You see she is a bit masculine in appearance and behavior. Viewed from the back she can easily pass for a footballer in high heels and a dress. I have seen her bully men at her work place and at parties. She is an extremely confident, loud and insensitive talker who can stand up to any man and unleash a tirade of abuses when she feels offended in anyway. Sometimes she is too straight forward for my liking.

Last evening she walked into the clinic as we were getting ready to close. Liz, my nurse, did not even bother to bring me her file. Pam just walked in like she was getting into her bedroom.
“Hey Tiger! Good evening.” Pam announced her presence.
“What brings you here at this time is the Candida back?” I teased her. “And please don't come in here Tiger-ing me. You know my name!” I followed with a warning.

When she sat down, winked at me and leaned forward exposing her cleavage – which was already annoyingly visible anyway – I knew at once that she was not a patient. She must have said a lot for a couple of minutes while I unconsciously nodded my head but most of it was blown by the wind. My eyes were fixed on her chest.
Two melon sized breasts were disgustingly struggling to pop out of her white linen blouse. And she seemed to be encouraging them whenever she tagged on her blouse. I think in her mind she must have thought I was getting floored by her gadgets. But I was not!

“Pam, why the hell do you expose those things like that? People already know you've got them; you don't need to prove it to them! Do you?!”

“JJ, I dress to feel good about myself, not to show what I have. If you see what I have and get bothered about it then that is your problem, not mine. But JJ, you are diverting me! You were not even listening to what I was saying.”

“And what were you saying anyway?”

“JJ let me cut this short. We have talked about his before, so don't stress me. Here is the plot for the evening. I want to take you out for pork and a few drinks – just name the place. We'll end up at your place so we can spend the entire night trying to get my new egg fertilized.”

“Good Lord! You must be kidding me Pam! Are you sure you didn't leave your brain in the car?!”

“JJ, I am very serious about this. I want to have a child. In fact I need to. And you must be its father.” I listened on in disgust as one of Tricia's most trusted friends made her filthy proposal.

Pam has a very smooth skin. I often think it would have been a very lovely one had it not been very dark. It is so depressingly black like the soot emanating from a paraffin lamp that has just been fitted with a new wick. Her head, which is almost as round as a ball, is perennially low on hair. I think she deliberately keeps her hair short because she must have inherited poor quality hair from her ancestors. She is blessed with a pair of lovely large bright eyes, which, unfortunately, together with her short hair and tiny ears make her look like a frightened cat that had just been deliberately immersed in cold water. Her unflatteringly huge lips look like they have just been immersed in red Sadolin paint. One cannot help noticing some little red mucoid strings of lipstick dancing in between her lips as she blubbers away. Her figure – funny that I should really call it that – has been progressively distorted by the unending bouts of pork and beer.

I looked her straight in the eyes as I got up to pick my bag and said, “Pam, I might be sexually starved but if sex was food I would rather die of hunger than eat of your evil dish. I wouldn't eat it even if you paid me a billion dollars!”

“But you have done it before! And I didn't pay you the first time! You can always do it again my Tiger.”

“Do you understand the meaning of the words gross and regrettable mistake? What happened that unfortunate night was a mistake. It will never be replayed. You deliberately got me sozzled and raped me you evil woman!!” I tried to defend myself, unaware that Liz was standing by the door. I guess Liz had come in to check whether I would drop her off to the taxi stage or I was still busy with the patient. She simply said, “Have a good evening doctor. See you tomorrow.” before walking away. I have never felt so embarrassed in my entire life.

“It might have been a mistake on your part but it wasn't on mine.” Pam continued unbothered about the shame that was eating me up. Liz knew I had slept with this disgusting woman!

Tricia often encourages me to hang out with Pam when she is not around. Just for company's sake. “I trust her. I trust you. And I know you wouldn't do anything creepy with her,” Tricia usually says before setting up unnecessary dates. About four months ago Tricia called from Nairobi and said Pam would pick me up and take me out. It was my birthday and Tricia was away for a conference so she delegated her 'most trusted' friend to spoil me. I can never forget the horrendous experience of waking up in the morning and finding Pam lying beside me. In our bed! Naked! And snoring like a pig. When she awoke she praised me, calling me her Tiger. She was very happy because, while in my wasted state, I had told her, “you should help me coach Tricia in these things.”
It must have been the embarrassment of Liz dropping in on us and the fact that I had no better way of getting rid of Pam that made me decide to go have a drink. With Pam! We set off for her favorite joint in Kamwokya, The Cool Breeze.

I could tell she was delighted that I had accepted to play her game.

But none of us was certain of how the night would unfold.

To be continued…

Founder and Editor in Chief of the Readers Cafe Africa

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