by Mya Havens
But a look in the east from Hotel Maricopa during the evening reveals a skyline in a marriage of eternity with the sun where it retreats in glowing amber too weak to provide light. As the road meanders through the hills, it takes a sharp turn, and one encounters a bridge. Under the bridge, River Honiara roars furiously towards the cliffs and the lake. Just past the bridge is a signpost that reads, “Welcome to the land of the Nangoni.” At the top of the hill, a breathtaking view awaits the visitor. Beautiful mabati and tiled roofs dot the hills. Red, blue brown, white and black against a backdrop of green trees and fertile red soil. Multicolored flowers and dome-shaped eucalyptus trees and well-trimmed bushes make the place feel like a park.
Doves, eagles, and sparrows add their melodious tunes to the clean, fresh air. Here, nights are clear, and the fathomless skies are dotted with stars. Hotel Maricopa is where Sizo found refuge. In that awful morning, he had rushed to work and taken a six-month “study leave”. He bought a new sim card and blocked his dark past from humanity; at least for the time being. He had frequented this place severally and liked it very much. The manager was his friend, and at least he would put up with him. He needed peace and with time, the sexual urge came haunting him every time he would see beautiful women swimming in their bikinis in the hotel’s swimming pool. But remember he was under a vow never to deal with the ladies again. Fantasy and masturbation located Sizo, like a stealth cougar. He also would watch Solomon his host bring in girls and enjoy raw sex in the next room.
The emotional bargain in Sizo and the joy that sex elicited caused a broad smile to mushroom on his face. He vowed never again have a family and women. For who had the strength to go to prison for his underage crimes? Time processed him, and Sizo felt guilty of his thoughts of trying to spy on his host's sexual orgies. Anytime Solomon came with a girl; Sizo would tip-toe to his door and join the train of two mortals having loud sex, albeit alone. There was this woman that Sizo loved and loathed in equal measure. She would groan and utter incomprehensible stuff during orgasm. It was sex that bordered on wild horses mating. Sizo would emotionally admit to the never-ending fear of being found out on voyeurism which is a crime.
But a catwalk in Hotel Maricopa broke all the vows that Sizo had made. One girl's lanky legs and soft, smooth skin made her the people's bet which drove Sizo crazy. He now wanted a woman for sex. Her bone structure was perfect. Her beady eyes and a large broad smile convinced her that she would be the next “Face of Maricopa.” Her towering figure and a 36” waistline were the perfect settings of a winner. At 5’ 8” she found herself stooping to reach her fellow competitor's 5’ 5” frame whose shoulders didn't fill the horizon.
Her broad face with the high cheekbones framed by luxuriant, expertly coiffured hair gave her a unique beauty that would be a force to reckon with. She wore a most expensive outfit, a gorgeous sky-blue chiffon miniskirt. And she came out quite strongly on the ramp. This girl took to the catwalk like a veteran who had been there before, but somewhere along the line, her confidence seemed to desert her. People couldn't tell what had happened to her. She just appeared to lose it. Instantly, even her gorgeous sky-blue chiffon miniskirt seemed to lose its appeal and suddenly clung to her waist like a man on the brink of drowning but getting a straw as a reprieve. It takes confidence and the right carriage and posture to make a gorgeous outfit work.
With that gone, just about everything else that had been going for her just gave way. Even her tiara went a little askew, hanging over one of her eyes at a rakish angle like a soldier's beret. Her efforts to regain her composure after this were all in vain; she just couldn't recover at all. It was a rather dismal performance for someone on whom so many people seemed to have pinned their hopes. As she left the stage afterward, it must have dawned on her then that she had lost it and that her opportunity was gone because the spring and swag had gone out of her step. The shouts of appreciation from her fans - who stuck with her regardless of her dismal performance - were deafening, she knew that her chances had fizzled away like vapor.
The second contestant was tall and of Nilotic stock. She was lanky and of a dark complexion and indeed stunning. At 1.73m she was the perfect image of God's creation. The lady looked young and impressively shaped, her short pitch-dark hair sparkling like so many diamonds in the multi-colored reflection of the lights. The dress specially designed for her by one of the beast designers in the country made her look even more stunning, with a dazzling smile fixed in place. When she took to the ramp, she looked a bit tense and nervous, but determined to beat the stage fright. Watching from the shadows, Sizo could clearly tell that she was exhaling gently through her nose to remain calm and collected. Her fans enthusiastically applauded as she took to the ramp. It was obvious that she had a great following, just like the first one.
Then the last one came. She was so nervous - would she make the cut? She was slim enough, or as gracious and beautiful as her competitors. Like a peacock, she put forth on a magnificent show by spreading the train of her kitenge (dress) into a dazzling fan. The dress had been designed to be a bit conservative, concealing without hiding her natural charms. At least she stuck to her religion and culture to that extent. Her strong will and imposing personality had already overcome the stage fright, Sizo guessed. Taking her time, unlike the others, she gracefully took to the catwalk, breathing deeply from the diaphragm so as to contain any lingering stage fright. She remembered to keep a confident and calm smile on, while making steady eye contact with the audience. The applause she received for her effort made her confidence grow.
They liked her too! Perhaps, she had saved the best for last after all. The good thing about coming last is that you learn from the mistakes of those who had gone before you. She was determined to not lose her focus the way her competition had done. She stopped midway, with hands akimbo; keeping what she hoped was a dazzling smile in place. Then she slowly sauntered to the end of the catwalk, turned around to show off her best side and the other side too that was just as good perhaps, before turning back the way she had come.
“Solomon, kindly get me a woman, I am a burning like a volcano. I will blow up if nothing happens.” Sizo vehemently told his host. “Those gals just killed it. Man shall not leave in the past Solomon,” Sizo begged. I cannot get you a woman, man. You are here on sabbatical leave to try and mend your ways and return to your family.
“I will be doing your family a lot of injustice if I allow you to have all these babes in bed with.” Solomon sealed the fate of Sizo with a word of finality. But with the lapse of time, Sizo resolved that masturbation would bring him satisfaction rather than a Sherry-Maryanne concoction again. From then on, Sizo's indulgence in his curiosity was within his conviction that voyeurism was the only antidote to the mess he had put himself in. If voyeurism was an invasion of privacy, then, what did you expect him to do to quell his burning sexual desire?
He would move around and see women swimming in the pool from the second floor. But with time, Sizo would move around and got to know the massage parlor of Hotel Maricopa. It was on the second floor from where he would spy through the key hole when he heard a man gyrating and a woman mowing like a cow. From peering through the key hole, the woman would rub the client's back with oil. The man would roll as his dick would rise like a dinosaur from the dead age. And with time, the masseuse would embrace the client in wild love. They would bathe in their real and anticipated sexual bliss.
The woman had had maintained a wasp-like waistline. Glowing dark skin and chip-free nails had become her trademark; a departure from the rough, reptilian, street urchin-like skin that had dotted her job-seeking mission months before. Sizo knew her before. They cuddle for warmth like Siamese twins with hot sex. They would press their bodies into a vast ball of imagined fur all in the name of sex. The woman would relax and allow the social hierarchy of the high and low-ranking share the same tight space in a sexual bliss according to the unwritten sex code of humanity.
But her hair had by now been transformed or,
let’s agree, had been translated into a long natural bouncy and well-groomed ponytail hair all in anticipation of getting male clients. She would walk the parlor with swag that left the man mesmerized. The pitch-dark skin of the man would be oiled and smoothened, with the eyelashes at times dyed in mascara. The forlorn, far-away look in the man would be replaced by an expectant one; evidence of what sex can do when given time, space and energy. Sizo would yearn for more action, and when it would come to an end, Sizo would be dismayed.
Sex on the massage table fascinated Sizo. He could not imagine how men had mastered the art of sex. He never believed their action could lead to injury by attempting sex acts on a massage table. There was no time for such thoughts. The masseuse’s sex with a client was never comfortable as she would struggle to twist the man's legs and other body parts. Sozi would be intoxicated and think of going back home to Maryanne. Out of curiosity, Sozi managed to get a vantage position through a slanting window below. It would reflect the whole action and Sizo would get the entire fulfillment. The woman would squeeze herself onto the foot of the massage table and push her posterior to the sky, and hot sex would be administered.
“Man, without an emotional attachment, we cannot achieve orgasm,” the woman would cry out. “Today, I am teaching you a new style which is called the spoon,” the woman would tell the man while Sizo would watch without blinking.
“But how do I achieve this position?” the man would inquire. “I will lie on my side while you will scoot up behind me,” the woman would tell the guy. “Instead of moving in and out, stay inside me and gently thrust against the front wall of my vagina,” the woman would tell the guy. And as the action took off, Sizo could tell a fulfillment of these two people’s cuddly needs. The woman could declare, “I did not know you are such a good student, you have given me consistent stimulation into my G-spot. I am happy since I am just about to achieve orgasm,” the woman would point out.
“I can feel that you are not able to penetrate me as deeply as I would want, man but I will guide your hand to my hot spot,” the woman would tell the man and in no time, they both climaxed and were in the best perfect post coital position. From the look of things, Sizo could tell that they were in supreme pleasure and the right mind-set.
“It is not a massage parlor but a sex parlor,” Sizo said as he stopped watching.
“Have you ever tried what is called an all-fours pose?” The woman asked the following day with a different man. I want to assure that I will enjoy more in the doggie-style position but you can also enjoy it too if you are set mentally, the woman said.
“I have never tried it, but you can teach me, Sophia,” the man said, and Sizo got to know the woman’s name. “I will lie on my stomach and lift my butt slightly so that you can enter me,” Sophia said. The man had an idea and so he propped himself up with his hands in a push-up position. Sophia did not want the man to lie on top of her.
And like a male dog, the man started moving in and out, which enhanced the friction as Sophia gently ground her clitoral area against the massage table. At some point, the man sat and Sophia straddled him and they came face to face. In this position, Sophia had excellent control over the angle, speed and motion as they enjoyed their hot sex. Sophia would use her legs and arms to move. Sophia swayed back and forward and would rub her clitoral area against this bull of a man. Sophia was a master, for midway through the sex; she leaned back a little and created an enormous G-sport stimulation. Then the man played with her clitoris while Sophia's breasts were perfectly aligned with the man's mouth and they were channeled into another world.
“I cannot take it again. I am sick, and I do not know what to do? I cannot shrug off this addiction. It is a desire to time and again watch people engage in sex without their know-how?” Sozi lamented to Solomon that evening.
“You are a crazy man; you are supposed to have become a spymaster?” Solomon told Sozi as they were having supper. “Hopefully, your sexual fantasies and urges will fizzle away before your six months are over.” Solomon concluded.
Chapter 5 – Men At Work
“I cannot take it again. I am sick, and I do not know what to do? I cannot shrug off this addiction. It is a desire to time and again watch people engage in sex without their know-how?” Sizo recalled his lamentation to Solomon.
“You are a crazy man; you are supposed to have become a spymaster?” Solomon’s words started to appear in a sad image as Sizo slept in Solomon’s house at Maricopa hotel.
“Hopefully, your sexual fantasies and urges will fizzle away before your six months are over,” Solomon’s words started to create hope in Sizo.
Sizo wanted to go back home but he could not overcome the unholy mess he had put himself in with Sherry, Mwanga’s daughter’s and the counter betrayal that Maryanne had hatched with Charles Mwanga.
“I will wait until I have overcome the shame and the trauma of having engaged myself in a cycle of shameful sex. I am happy that Solomon allowed me to hide under this magnificent hotel. Otherwise, I would have been at the mercy of shame with nowhere to hide.” Sizo consoled himself.
When Solomon returned from the office, he found Sizo sleeping in his bedroom of this spacious house. Sizo thought it was Amina who had come back to the house and so he continued sleeping. Sizo cherished Amina’s pilau whose smell would waft through the ventilation spaces to get to Sizo. Amina, the lady from the coast had won Solomon’s heart and Sizo’s stomach. Sizo never dared joke around with Amina, his helper’s wife. It would be like committing suicide if he dared approach Amina for raw sex.
He kept his vow of never wanting to have any sexual intimacies with women. Solomon also knew that Sizo would lose his opportunity of hiding at Maricopa hotel if he dared venture into Solomon’s wife. Sizo’s mind finally found sleep and was now snoring like a hog.
“Solomon is past his benefit to me since I am in the last episode of draining his last dime. Never mind that Solomon’s is as old as an ancient stone but my beloved Bobo, it is only a space of time and we will be together as a family. You allowed me to fool with this hotel manager in order to pay for our children’s school fees and your upkeep. My having sex with Solomon has nothing to do with love. It has more to do with what I can get from him. I am still at Maricopa hotel sweetheart and waiting for my time to strike and come home with a good fortune. Just play it cool and remind our children that I am in Dubai and will be coming very soon.” Amina wrote in his WhatsApp.
“Kindly confirm that you have received ten thousand shillings in your phone through Mpesa, our money transfer system. I will be coming anytime soon after doing my last phase with this good-for-his-cash bloke. I love you Bobo.” It was the message Amina, the longtime wife or girlfriend of Solomon had written to his husband at home. She did it oblivious of the suspicion by Solomon. Amina had left her Samsung Galaxy J7 on the table in Solomon’s house at Maricopa hotel.
“What a whore… what a whore…what a fool I have been?” Solomon was livid like a human volcano seething with magma of betrayal. Solomon held the phone after reading Amina’s flirtation of betrayal in her WhatsApp. He moved up and down like room. Solomon looked lost in his thoughts. It was difficult for him to comprehend what had just happened to him.
“Am I past my benefit to Amina… why was I so dumb to be taken for a ride by Amina?” It was hard for Solomon to comprehend Amina being another man’s wife with children. Amina had vowed under the seething African sun that she had separated with her former boyfriend whom she had referred to as a hacker. Amina said that the boyfriend was a man with no chills or frills. He had therefore and joined a nanny for his upkeep. Solomon had bought Amina’s lie and for two years, he had funded Amina’s unquenchable desire for money in a program she tagged “no finance no romance” that had left Solomon’s coffers dry.
“My dear Solomon, my mother is sickly at home…my sisters have been sent away from school due to fees arrears…. our land is being sold next month due to a loan…” It was an endless scheme that dug a hole in Sol
omon’s bank account. It was now a shell of a bank account with only two thousand shillings from the mind-tingling three million shillings some few months earlier.
“How I wish I never gave in to the desires of the flesh and the pride of life. How I wish the enticing butt of Amina had not broken my vow never to date a woman whether black, white or yellow. I am now a wasted man with nothing other than a meal of pilau. I thought Solomon and Delilah’s story was a fable. I have ended up like Samson who was taken to the barbers by Delilah,” Solomon uttered these words as tears welled up in his wine-intoxicated eyes. He desired to shed tears to reclaim his sobriety but it was too late.
Chapter 6 – Boyhood
Solomon’s mind returned in time to his early days as a young boy. “I recall how from an early age, I felt detached from girls. I found it hard to fit in. I was a loner, awkward and out of touch with girls. I was out of place.”
