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Chapter 4

Kimathi hummed aloud to Jonas Gwangwa’s “Flowers of the Nation” as he drove along the M1 North freeway. With one hand firmly on the steering wheel of his X5, he relit his cigar as he passed Gold Reef City casino. Puffing on his cigar, he watched the smoke billow towards the windscreen. He was happy that his gambling habit wasn’t as out of control as it had been in the past. The last time he had been at the casino was about six months earlier, when he lost twenty-five thousand rand in one night.

It was about quarter past eleven when Kimathi arrived at the “super sex market” of Oxford Road in Rosebank. After drinking countless tots of cognac alone at his home that day, the need for passion was bothering him, demanding his utmost attention. He needed a sexual encounter as a matter of urgency and he knew a few girls along Oxford who, for a small fee, specialised in making lonely men like him happy.

Kimathi parked his car on a dark, tree-lined street near the Nelson Mandela Children’s Foundation. His aim was to avoid the prying eyes of any­­body who might recognise his car. The street was completely deserted except for a car parked in the shadows a few metres ahead. Maybe somebody like me is also searching for the kind of passion that comes without the exchange of tender words? He remembered Ludwe confiding in him, during one of their sexual escapades in Mafukuzela Camp, that sex is one of the most basic needs of life because society has to reproduce.

Careful not to attract attention, Kimathi switched off the X5’s lights, picked up the half-smoked cigar he had placed in the cup holder next to the gear lever and lit it again. His mood brightened at the sight of three prostitutes in bikinis. They were standing across the road under a streetlight, which made their heavily made-­up faces glow. While Kimathi’s lips sucked at his cigar, his eyes scanned the three prostitutes as he checked for the assets he desired. Large breasts, a big behind and dark pigmentation were his obsessions.

While Kimathi was studying the three women, two tall black transvestite prostitutes with long false nails, large earrings and wigs appeared from his blind spot and knocked on the window – their eyes talking to him in a suggestive language. Kima­thi removed the cigar from his mouth and grinned at them, before pressing the button to roll down the window slightly. It was evident that he was not interested in them, as he covered his face with his hand briefly before giving a loud sigh.

“Not tonight, thank you,” he said with exaggerated politeness.

A white armed-response vehicle passed by, and the two male prostitutes banged the roof of his car in disappointment. They walked away. Across the road Kimathi spotted a lady with shining thighs. She was wearing a very tight miniskirt, and her smallish head was crowned with a blonde, Brazilian-weave hairpiece. He recognised the hairpiece because another prostitute had told him about it on one of his previous visits.

Kimathi emitted a low whistle to attract her attention, and she walked seductively towards his car. Her skirt was split halfway up the left thigh, and she shook her body like a samba dancer as she walked towards him. Kimathi wondered if that was just the way she walked or whether she was doing it to arouse him. As she neared the car, most of her left leg showed, awakening his lust. In his mind, she became a pure, pink, twenty-seven carat diamond from the Big Hole of Kimberley. His cognac-addled brain convinced him that she was of a rare quality that he didn’t expect to see along Oxford Road.

With a wave of his hand, Kimathi invited the lady inside his BMW. As she opened the car door, he noticed that she had huge eyelashes and thick make-up. She was the perfect shape for his desire. Her breasts were like the halves of watermelons, and she smelled of musk. That’s it, she’s mine tonight, he thought.

“How are you, sweetie?” Kimathi asked, his mouth curling into a smile as the lady put her small brown handbag on the dashboard.

“Hot and horny as hell, and how about you, my darling?” she replied, rubbing him between his legs. As she did so, she made sure that her miniskirt rode up.

Kimathi was already in a state of excitement. “How much will your company cost me tonight?” he asked, breathing quickly, his eyes glued between the lady’s thighs.

“It depends on how much fun you want, darling,” she responded with a false smile. “Five hundred for a suck and fuck.”

Kimathi smiled and licked his lips. He didn’t mind the scar below the lady’s bellybutton, which was an obvious indication that she had produced a child.

“Shit! Inflation is a bitch in this country, isn’t it?” he said, not meaning it.

“Like the Americans say, ‘In God we trust, but in business we pay’,” she replied jokingly.

“There is something familiar about you,” Kimathi concluded after scrutinising her face again.

“Oh, really?” She shrugged while playing with her long red fingernails.

“Yes. Your voice sounds like someone I know.” He gave her a conspiratorial look.

“Is she also in this business?” the lady asked as she looked in the rear-view mirror before glossing her lips with lipstick retrieved from her handbag.

Kimathi looked at her face and her breasts, and then between her thighs, but he said nothing. It was as if he was trying to discover the source of her attraction.

“Well, I think you forget easily, my dear. I’m Lakeisha from Tanzania, your favourite one. Remember me?” She winked at him and smiled. “I gave you Greek last week.”

Kimathi briefly covered his face with his hands, but he couldn’t remember her. All he knew was that he did not like the idea of taking prostitutes to his house. Instead, he preferred an exclusive spot in Saxonwold, a big guarded estate belonging to some white businessman. It cost only a hundred rand to park there for three hours, and once you found your spot, you could do a quickie behind the steamy windows. It was cheaper than booking a room in a hotel, which was why Kimathi fondly called it the “budget hotel”.

“Oh yes, Lakeisha,” Kimathi finally said, dropping his hands from his face. “Now I remember.”

Kimathi kept quiet for a moment as if he needed time to digest what he had just said, then, on a sudden impulse, he put his left hand on her right thigh. Lakeisha smiled and showed him her slightly protruding teeth, which nearly spoiled her beauty. Her right hand reached out and he felt it touch his left thigh. With her eyes closed and mouth open, she fell back on the seat and spread her legs. Her hand moved between her legs, her middle finger moving as if she was stimulating herself. He was no longer sure if she was faking it.

“How much is fun with you today?” Kimathi asked again as he sucked in his breath.

Lakeisha did not answer him immediately, but continued playing with herself, shutting her eyes and moaning. The heat between Kimathi’s legs was hammering harder as he watched what she was doing. He did not resist as she curled her fingers around his erect penis and massaged it.

“The usual price,” Lakeisha whispered in his ear. “A thousand at your place.”

“Give me a good price, Lakeisha.” As he spoke, Kimathi moved his hand up La­keisha’s thigh. “You know I’m your best customer, don’t you?”

“I know that,” she said, digging her fingers deep into his scrotum. “But business is business, darling.”

Kimathi felt a glorious energy spreading through his veins. He wanted to be on top of Lakeisha, to devour her. He could not endure it any longer, and moved his hand between her thighs. As he did so, Lakeisha reached for his wallet, which he had placed between the seats. Kimathi didn’t complain as she removed a wad of notes, lust was running through him and he didn’t care how much money she took.

Kimathi was still enjoying the delight that prostitutes afforded lonely men like him when he heard a window breaking nearby. This was followed by the sound of a car alarm going off and as Kimathi watched two guys ran past his car and disappeared behind some big trees. Seconds later two Chubb security vehicles raced past him and stopped by the parked car. Kimathi thought of driving away, but decided against it. He didn’t want to attract unnecessary attention from the security people.

As he was about to chase the prostitute out of his car, there was a tapping on his window. A torch flashed on to reveal the scene between him and Lakeisha inside the car. Lakeisha opened her eyes wide; two police officers were standing outside, looking at the wad of notes lying between them. Upon seeing the two officers, Kimathi permitted himself to get angry and began selecting the precise wording of his official protest.

“What do you want?” he asked them as he opened the window slightly.

“Step out of the car, please,” demanded the shorter of the two policemen. His breath smelled of raw onions.

“Why? Are you arresting me now for asking for directions?”

“Yeah, right, asking for directions with your finger on her shaved pussy,” jeered the officer with the onion breath.

“That’s an assumption,” Kimathi responded, trying to contain his temper.

“You’ll tell that to the magistrate,” the taller officer said. “But now we are going to the police station with you.”

“You can’t do that,” Kimathi protested. “I’m calling my lawyer.” He took his cellphone from the dashboard and held it in his right hand. “I will sue your asses for defamation.”

Before he could dial, the taller officer opened the car door. “Have you been drinking, sir?” he probed, looking at both Kimathi and Lakeisha accusingly.

“No,” Kimathi replied, his face tensing with anger. “Do I look like I have been drinking?”

“You have to come with us to the police station so we can breathalyse you,” said the taller officer with malicious delight.

“Why?” enquired Kimathi, rearranging his facial muscles into a frown. “I think you are now violating my rights, gentlemen, and that is against the constitution of this country.”

“You are coming with us in the van,” said the officer with the onion breath. “I will drive your car while you sit in the back of the van.”

“No way,” Kimathi said, his anger nearly choking him. “You are not arresting my car, are you? I will drive it myself.”

“Not when you have been drinking,” said the taller officer. “You can’t drive the car.”

“I told you, I’m not drunk,” Kimathi insisted.

“Well, we now have three charges against you,” responded the officer with the onion breath, shaking a warning finger at Kimathi. “One, resisting arrest; two, interfering with police duties; three, buying sex from a prostitute. How about that?”

“Do you know who I am?” asked Kimathi. “I know people in high places. I will call the Commissioner of Police, and you’ll both lose your jobs.”

“We don’t care who you are,” said the taller officer. “This is not Holland. Prostitution is still illegal in South Africa.”

“Who said I was buying sex?” Kimathi responded, sounding offended. “I was just asking for directions.”

“Yes, we know, with your zip open,” the officer with the onion breath responded sarcastically.

“Fuck off! You imbeciles! You will all pay for this!” Kimathi threatened as the two officers dragged him out of his car and began to force him into the back of the police van.

The two officers didn’t answer him. Instead the officer with the onion breath dismissed him with a wave of his hand and the taller officer gave him a look that said: don’t fuck with us. He then got into Kimathi’s BMW with Lakeisha.

As they drove in the direction of Hillbrow police station, Kimathi’s eyes bulged with terror as the reality of the situation started to dawn on him. His libido was diverted, there was a more pressing matter at hand – the possibility of sleeping in a police cell. He was already imagining the embarrassing headlines in the newspapers, and the damage they would do to his chances of winning the tender he was about to apply for. The last time his reputation had been at stake was when he had been working in the Presidency and a female colleague had accused him of sexual harassment. Although the case had been dismissed, due to a lack of evidence, it had done a lot of damage to his relationship with Anele.