It showed a group of people sitting in benches or pews, seemingly attending a church service. Henry looked at the various faces that could be distinguished, recognizing none of them. In one of the back rows, however, he spotted Mrs Rokota, sitting with legs crossed. Unfortunately for her, under the back of the bench in front of her a small gap faintly showed the underside of one thigh. His heart beat with excitement at this sight, for she was a woman he had salivated over. He had held fantasies in his head about fondling those so-seductive hips.
He had met her at the Alliance Française where she was the Head Librarian, and he visited that cultural Centre several times a fortnight for the various activities on offer. He had, at one time or another, enjoyed art exhibitions, plays, and short courses to improve on his language skills. He also belonged to the library where he went to read, borrow books and exchange them when he had finished with them. He noticed Mrs Rokota as soon as she took up the post from the previous occupant, a taciturn Frenchman who had held it for more than ten years.
She was Madagascan, of medium height and light-skinned. Her eyelids were a bit on the heavy side. But what struck him the most was the width of her hips, coupled with the apparent thickness of her thighs. As she walked through the reading hall he followed her while keeping up the pretense of reading, his attention stolen by the sway of her hips. There was another of her quirks that held his attention: she tended to let her knees part slightly when she sat, affording him a view partway up her thigh. This would whip up his emotions to fever pitch. By all indications she would be completely unaware that she was over-exposing.
Afterwards as he lay on his bed about to fall asleep, he fed these images through the iMovie software of his mind exaggerating every detail until he was having his way with this married woman. He saw her sitting at one of the staff stations, whether for a consultation with a staff member, or sorting out a problem or query, he had no way of knowing. But after an interval, as she relaxed one knee parted company from the other, exposing an expanse of thigh. In the movie he was now directing, he could reach over and fondle one smooth, soft knee and then the other. He could hear her speech with the assistant begin to falter as his hand explored her further inland. He inserted his hand more properly between her thighs, letting his fingertips slide softly over that tender flesh. She involuntarily parted them further, allowing him to caress them with more purpose.
In the convenient fashion of dreams and fantasies, his mind got rid of the assistant at a stroke, leaving him alone with the woman he desired with his whole being. She could now part her legs fully for him, and soon he arrived at their junction, encountering her panty-clad pussy. He could feel the solidly packed mound, his finger tripping into the slit between her lips. Her heat reached the skin on the back of his finger; soon he felt the beginnings of her wetness. Crooking his finger he grazed the whole slit, trembling with excitement when he thought of the sensitive clit just below where his fingertip grazed. Taking courage, he inserted one joint under the elastic of her panty, causing a surprised gasp to escape her mouth.
Flesh encountered flesh now. He went against the lay of her pubic hairs, then down with them. Pushing the elastic to the side, he inserted his finger into her wet, leaking slit, causing her to jump. Turning his palm he entered that kingdom while her hand joined his. Suddenly he pushed hard, sliding the second joint into her. He heard her sigh of contentment as he set up a rhythmic motion in and out of her, finger-fucking her. Barely any time had passed before she caught her breath, tightened her hold on his hand, and a thick warm liquid flowed all over her pubis and his hand. At this point in his fantasy he came in reality. He had wet his sheet with fresh sperm. Now his worry was how his housekeeper would wash the sheet without seeing that slippery patch. He thought he would fix that in the morning, but anyway sleep overcame him.
Almost every morning he woke to this fantasy, soiling his sheets even more with his excretions.
Now, seeing her in that photograph that seemed to have been taken at a church not that far from the Alliance gave him a thrill of excitement. If she attended church there, it could mean they hosted a French service. Henry determined to find out for himself since he did attend that church from time to time. He determined that he would, even though he had not planned to, attend services at the nearby church to see if he could learn more about the Librarian. Maybe if he met her in that more relaxed atmosphere, he might be able to speak to her.
On Sunday morning Henry was up early, showered and put on a suit. He drove the short distance from his flat to arrive in time for the second service; the children's service for the primary boarding school had just ended, he learnt from the large board posted just inside the entrance. It also showed the other services that would follow. Near the bottom he saw another that almost caused his heart to stop; a French service at 11am in the Old Church. He had no idea where this was located in the large compound but he determined that he would find it since he had slightly more than an hour before the French service was to start.
It did not take much time or effort to locate what was called Old Church. He was shown to an ancient-looking building beside the huge multipurpose Hall. He could hear the loud music from giant speakers as the Youth service progressed in that Hall. The small old church had a plaque beside the double doors that indicated it had been built in 1910. He walked through the door to encounter an aisle between two rows of pews. The floorboards echoed the sound of his shoes. Henry read a board telling the story of the origins of the church when this building had been made, then some twelve years before the present time it had been moved stone by individual stone from its original site beside the highway to its present one inside the church compound.
He heard murmured voices behind a door to the right of the entrance, guessing that those in charge were readying the service so he joined the few people already sitting in the pews, choosing a position not far from the back.
Mrs Rokota came out of what he had taken to be the vestry carrying the open Bible, leading the others. The service ran in familiar fashion with the exception of the language, and afterwards people shared juice and biscuits in front of the church. Here he was introduced to the husband of Mrs Rokota, a plump man with greying hair whom he had earlier spotted playing the keyboard. He spoke to her among the throng and was delighted that she recognised him from the Alliance. Taking advantage of the engrossing conversations going on around them, he slipped his business card to her. He joined another group in conversation, then another, circulating as much as he could. At a suitable moment he excused himself and went down towards the car park. Before he reached his car his phone vibrated in his pocket.
It was a message from an unknown number, but when he opened it, he read, "Merci beaucoup pour votre numero (thank you for giving me your number) Henri, -Nivo Rokota." She had wasted no time in giving him her contacts. He did not pause to wonder where her husband was but he shot off a reply.
"You're most welcome, madame!"
"Coming to Alliance this week?" His heart was beating somewhere outside of his chest.
"I will knock on your office door when I do."
"You are welcome to do so, any time." His palms were sweating as he drove out of the church compound, thinking that the following day, a Monday, he would return one of the books that were due on Wednesday if only for the chance of seeing her again.
The wind played with the serviettes on the table, ruffling the pages of a magazine that Henry had been reading before Nivo arrived. He had left her behind in the library, giving her time to arrange matters before joining him for lunch. It would not do to be seen leaving together. At that moment they were waiting to be served what they had ordered.
In answer to her query he said, "I had worked in a bank for seven years before joining the computer company."
"Why would anybody of sound mind leave a bank to work in a small company?"
He had to chuckle at that. "I felt I had seen everything to be seen of the bank's computers. I needed a bigger challenge, which the bank would not allow me; you had to do things in exactly the prescribed manner. Would you know that a colleague of mine was given a warning letter for trying to reverse an erroneous entry without going through the set procedure. He had used his brainpower, but suffered for it."
She shook her head sadly at such shortsightedness. Then her face brightened. "So you wanted to work in a place where you could take shortcuts?" The smile on her lips robbed the words of any sting.
"My passion was in computing so I desired to immerse myself more completely in the field."
"You do not seem to work much with computers now, except as tools for your writing," Henry had not expected that she was that perceptive.
"I worked in that arena for more than twenty years before moving away from it, bitten by the wordsmith bug."
Henry continued enjoying his crumbed fish with rice.
"Where did you learn to speak such fluent French, in the 'parisienne' mould?"
"Not deliberate. It was part of the school curriculum in high school. Ok, one might say it was deliberate when I chose to keep up with it when most other boys dropped French to take Kiswahili and Literature in English in our third year. It left but six of us."
"Your teacher must have been French or French-educated."
"Probably, but we never got to ask them. In our first year our teacher was a Goan, and thereafter it was a Kenyan woman who I remember as being very good at handling boys."
"How many books have you written so far?"
"Five. Two are guidebooks one of Nairobi and the other about Mombasa. The others are novels," he told her.
"You must write a French novel soon," she charged me. He acknowledged in his mind that he had to accept that he had thought along these lines, but did not feel it was yet time.
"I do not think I am ready for such a challenge," he trembled at the prospect. What if he wrote complete rubbish by using slightly wrong expressions, and became a laughing stock?
"The best way would be to start. The making of mistakes and correcting them is part of the adventure."
Henry contemplated his writing adventure in the earliest days. Although he was unable to find really atrocious writing from his early days he had learned much along the way. But he did not really think he could start from such a strong position in a foreign language, and told her so.
She replied that perhaps her experience could be put to good use. He could not believe his ears! Was she saying that he had the chance of spending time with her day after day?
After this he had no alternative but to launch into his French Adventure, as he called it thenceforth.
Every week Nivo met with him at her club, just across the road from the office. Together they went over what he had put down, examining it for glaring errors. "I am not an editor, so I may not know all the rules, but when your editor works on it, he will polish it."
"I really appreciate giving me your time and presence. You could have asked me to send it along by email, WhatsApp or FileFling. After working on it you could send it back the same way, but you chose to spend time with me physically." They were sitting in a private room where they would not be disturbed by other guests.
"That would be quite impersonal, wouldn't it?" She let her palm rest on his thigh, sending a warmth through to his skin. Henry was not sure whether it was her body that was warmer than his, or there was something else there. Certainly, he got heated up by that gesture, and keeping his eyes on hers, moved his palm onto hers. Slowly she moved them up his thigh towards the crotch, stopped and back down again to his knee. Then she made another pass, this time stopping at the junction of his legs, eyes boring into his. He read something mysterious in those pupils as they gazed at his.
He leaned towards her and pursed his lips in a kissing attitude, meaning to draw off with a sucking sound if she did not welcome him. Shock on him, when she too leaned towards him pursing her mouth in the same way! Their lips came together, while his grip on her hand tightened, locking in a passionate yet gentle kiss. They moved closed lips against one another, before he suddenly opened his mouth and gave his tongue free rein.
Henry felt her twitch for a second before relaxing and opening her own mouth, admitting his tongue into her mouth. Tongues played with each other while their owners became more and more inflamed. Twisting their bodies towards one another they caressed more than just legs. His hand moved to her waist to reach her fulsome midriff. Then he moved around to her back and caressed her all over her back and shoulder blades. This easily brought him to her upper arms, the well-filled out arms of a mature woman. He squeezed them gently, feeling pleasure coursing through her body by the sounds reverberating through her mouth into his. He took the liberty of visiting her breast, squeezing the whole of it in his palm. She jumped slightly at this.
Then he moved his hand to pinch her nipple. He was thankful that she did not have a padded bra. In fact it felt like a light one, probably lace. This sent her kissing into a frenzy, inflaming him yet further. He moved his other hand from hers on his thigh and it joined the other on her breasts. He squeezed and pinched them, then brought them together as if he was going to give her a titfuck. Then they went down her body through her waist until they met at her lower stomach. He enjoyed the little fat gathered there, which seemed to excite her the more. Her legs parted to the maximum distance allowed by her wide linen skirt, allowing his hands to descend to the top of her pudendum. She gasped into his mouth at this intrusion, which he took as licence to do more.
He let his thumb slide along her slit through her panties, rubbing and expanding it. He felt the nub of her slit, causing him to jump in his turn. The other hand which was just rubbing the lower stomach and upper pudendum came to her thigh then past the hem of her skirt to her knee. He inserted a thumb under the hem of the skirt and pushed it back approaching her pussy. Soon enough, his hand arrived at her pussy, still covered in panty fabric. Now both thumbs could strum her lips in tandem causing her to throw her head back in ecstasy, letting out a wail.
It was time to take things to a higher plane. He inserted thumbs from opposite sides under the elastic of the panty letting flesh touch flesh. The wail she gave was even louder than before, as if in anticipation of what was to come. One thumb sank into her very wet slit and slid up and down that wetness. The other sought the clit, rolling it around like a marble in oil. Her thighs set up a trembling of their own as if she were cold. As he increased the speed of rubbing on her slit, the more she trembled.
"Aaah, mon Dieu!" she suddenly ejaculated. The thighs stiffened tightly about his hands. He felt an increased wetness that told him that she had hit an orgasm, soiling her panty. He chuckled quietly as the nub of his thumb continued working the clit in slow circles. He felt a clenching around the thumb that was still in her slit.
"I want this cock!" she said breathily as she fumbled with the zip of his trousers. She managed to unfasten it, pull it down to his knees together with his underwear, letting his cock spring out.
"What a magnificent love machine!" She fell back, throwing her legs up in the air, and her shirt onto her tummy, leaving the soaked panty in the open. Henry swiftly dragged it off her thighs and up through her legs. One side seemed to get stuck on her shoe, and he tugged it impatiently, the elastic came off with a snap, stinging his hand. He flung it onto the floor, grabbing his very rampant cock in his left hand, while holding her leg with the right. He lowered her onto her.
In the moments before he made contact, her eyes were rolling from side to side without focussing on anything. She was anticipating being speared with that cock. She felt him stop at her entrance, run the head up and down her slit, spreading her juices all over her inner lips.
"Please come in now!" humping her pelvis. He let go of his cock and let it find its home by itself. Which it did very competently, as if it had been down this way only recently. He sank all the way into her, due to the abundance of juices she had let forth, keeping his eyes fixed upon hers. As he began a rhythm on her very wet, eager cunt they looked intently at each other.
As he drew back he could feel some coolness on his cock where it was covered in her juices. Then he pushed insistently back in. Soon she was meeting him as he moved inside her.
"Aaah, my sweet!" he exulted as the pleasure spread like wildfire from his groin, up his backbone and to his whole body. He speeded up his strokes taking her with him up the escalator of ecstasy. Their bodies slapped noisily as they were both taken up in the delight of loving each other. Her second orgasm hit her without notice. Her pussy walls clenched and unclenched violently. He could not take it any more and he felt himself shoot past the point of no return. Even if the door opened and the Bishop appeared he would have been unable to stop himself!
"Aaah mon bon Dieu!" he cried into her shoulder. Soft movements allowed him to continue experiencing her, while mini orgasms shot through her body repeatedly. Gradually they climbed down from the peak they had ascended together. They wrapped themselves about each other like serpents in the Garden of Eden.