ETHIOPIA
Even nectar is poison if taken to excess.
Hindu Proverb
He lay on the bed in the hotel room in Addis Ababa. He was smoking a cigarette with a Scotch beside him on the night table.
“Why don’t you have a last name if I may offer a dim-witted question?” he asked, taking a sip from his drink.
She was brushing her hair in the stained and slightly cracked mirror of her lackluster room. She turned around and looked at him trying to subdue the wealth of emotion that flooded her at the look in his sea green eyes.
“Because my pride was too small and insignificant to be of interest to Animal Planet and the Discovery channel. They gave us no pride name. We simply didn’t qualify so I didn’t bother to take on a surname in the face of that fact,” she laughed. “On the other hand, it’s obvious why you are named Simba….”
“Swahili and all that good stuff,” he chuffed.
President Shane Simba had come late at night to the cheap hotel which held his lover, Jane the lioness, reporter for the Masai Mara Daily news. He got off the bed and came to hold her tightly against him, their embraced selves reflected in that same mirror.
“You are not insignificant to me, Janie,” he breathed into the fur of her neck.
the lovers in Ethiopia
He walked into the mansion with his customary long strides. He called to all, especially Solly, his recently born. Various servants came when summoned by the returned president’s voice. Sean, his son, and stepsons, Joshua and Jason came forward to greet him on their way to a soccer game. Staci, his daughter, was at a pre-game soccer rally.
“Darling, you’re home,” said a familiar voice.
Betty came forth holding the pièce de résistance which was their newborn son, Solomon Figan Simba. Shane took him from her and nuzzled his small spotted head.
“What about me?” she chortled, holding him closely.
“You too, Mrs. S.”
That night he made love to her before rolling to his side and falling into a deep sleep. She laid awake, starring into the inky blackness and hoping she was wrong in sensing something amiss.
“Are you fucking nuts, Jane?” asked a boggled Luke Leoparde.
They were at his house in Mombasa. She and Luke had remained great friends despite the fact of their broken engagement due to her parent’s refusal of a leopard son-in-law.
“I’ve confided in you, Luke, because you’re my best friend now,” said Jane “And I need to talk to someone.”
“You couldn’t stand male lions, now why this motherfucker who embodies everything you said you detested in them?”
“I don’t know, Luke. The heart is an organ of fire. I saw that in some film or other. There’s no reasoning with it,” she almost moaned.
“He will tire of you, Jane. He tires of everyone except his children. He is detestable. You will be destroyed by him.”
“Thanks for the boost up, Luke. I really needed that.”
Dr. Cate Ocelot ran to the car that was waiting on the curb outside the Mental Health Center. It was a sunny, very breezy Friday afternoon.
“Let’s go, Sloane,” she instructed, leaning over to kiss the male lion’s handsome face. “And this must be your Georgy.”
Georgy Simba leaned up to give the pretty ocelot a kiss on the cheek.
This was to be Cate’s first time spent with Sloane Simba’s daughter that he thoroughly doted on. They were headed for Sloane’s bush home after a stop at Margaux’s Fine Wines and Meat for thick steaks and vintage ales.
Alexander Simba was seeing rather a lot of Cameron Caracal and as a result, being thoroughly pussy whipped. He, unlike the other Simba males, simply could not get a bead on his females. He had been knocked around emotionally by his demanding ex-wife and mother of his children, Lucy Cougar. Now here he was in the almost constant company of the very strident Cameron Caracal, female attorney and ball buster extraordinaire. Cameron had already attempted to twist a knot in Steven Simba’s tail but had failed to do so, having been dumped by him most unceremoniously. Now here was the perfect one to work her very dubious magical on – the hapless Alexander. It was a good thing he had his work at the garden center, in addition to his personal rose stand. He needed the solace of his botanicals – badly.
Moreover, as if not to forget Lucy Cougar, she was now husbandless, with three cubs and an extraordinary home built for her by her multibillionaire great grandmother. She badly needed to drum up business of a personal nature. The draw back to her private kingdom on the Mara River was that it was very far off the beaten path. Her children milled around her as she took a last look at herself in the antique, gilded mirror that hung over the polished Mahogany dressing table in her boudoir. She liked what she saw. Lucy had always been extraordinarily pretty and to add to that factor, she was still quite young. Being the daughter of Bernard Cougar and Sylvia Leoparde Cougar, she had the look of her cougar dad with a few fetching leopard spots on her face – a gift from mom. She bid her kids adieu and made her way to the garage where she chose her Mercedes for the evening’s venture.
The Watering Hole Pub was its usual, festive and noisy Friday night self. Animals bumped and ground about to the amazingly loud hip hop music emitting from the juke box. Lucy made her way to the bar, catching stares of admiration from lingering males. This is the ticket, she thought, adjusting her dress. Once there, she ordered a Cosmopolitan. She looked around and saw a male lion that was full of mane and slightly resembled Roy Lee Simba. He stared at her with intense yellow eyes.
Dick Simba runs into Lucy Cougar in the Watering Hole Pub...
“I’ll bet you’re one of those freaking Simbas,” stated Lucy with what she hoped was sarcastic aplomb.
“So I am indicted already,” he said, stepping closer.
“I hope you’re not Alex’s brother.”
“I am half his brother,” said the lion. “My name is Dick.”
“All you Simba males should be named Dick,” snarled Lucy.
“What is that god awful concoction you’re drinking? It looks like blue syrup.”
“It’s a Cosmopolitan.”
“Oh damn, another Sex and the City fan, I’ll bet.”
“Why would you assume that?”
Dick Simba wanted to get laid this night and this little female, though pretty, was turning out to be a thoroughly tetchy.
“Never mind, no need to start a quarrel over something as petty as one’s choice of liquor. Do you have a name or do you have to be put on the witness stand to give it up?”
“You are a smart ass, sir,:” huffed Lucy. “Probably one of those goddamn lawyer Simbas.”
“Do you mind my asking what you have against my pride, especially these days when we have a member on the throne?” he laughed. It was filled with insolence.
“I was married to one. I have three cubs by him.”
“May I ask which one or would that be too pushy?”
“Alexander.”
“Really? You can relax, I’m from another mother.”
“Who is your mother, Sarah Lee?”
“Oh God forbid, not her. My mother is one you probably never met during your association with my pride. She’s very disreputable and lives in a trailer. Even Roy Lee couldn’t kick Mom's ass into respectability. She cusses like a sailor and drinks like a mule at the watering trough. Leander and Sarah Lee simply detest her and the feeling is mutual. Now let’s hear a bit about your heritage.”
“I’m Lucy Cougar,” she stated and waited for his reaction. None was forthcoming.
“You don’t look like an African cat. In fact you resemble an American puma.”
“Don’t you know who my family is?” screeched Lucy in complete and very sincere horror.
“I don’t believe I do. I have spent these last many years in Amsterdam getting my free education so I can return my due to the pride.”
“My dad is Bernard Cougar, the former vice president of Kenya and my mother is a Leoparde family heiress.”
“So we’re rich – that would account for the snotty attitude.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“You are quite unpleasant so I’m assuming that’s due to the silver spoon stuck up your ass.”
“You are horrible,” screamed an irate Lucy, slamming him across the face with her paw.
He grabbed her wrist like a shot out of the dark. His eyes were fierce and golden.
“Don’t feel free to hit me ever, you out of control little wench.”
Lucy began to weep loudly. She had never been one for subtlety. It drew appalled stares from the assembled crowd. Dick put a paw to her back and pushed her toward the exit of the pub. Once in the night air, she turned to him.
“Why did you make me leave?” she growled.
“I didn’t make you do anything. I can’t afford a scene in there. I am just back from Holland and a standing member of Simba Brothers law firm. I live a few steps away in those town houses. Come to my place. I’ll make you a drink and you can chill out before you return to the scene of the crime.”
“You’ll try to rape me,” howled a distraught Lucy.
“Believe me; you have cleared my mind of all thoughts of sex for the rest of the evening.”
She followed him to his townhouse. She was impressed on entering his living room. It was tasteful with a comfy couch that faced a fireplace. On one wall was a very elegant entertainment center. He went to his kitchen and brought back a bottle of wine and opened it. He poured a glass for Lucy. He handed it to her.
“I don’t have the makings for your goopy drink of choice so you will have to settle for this.”
“So you work with Alex at Simba Brothers?" she asked, taking a sip of her wine.
“You must not keep up with your ex. He is no longer a practicing lawyer. He works with Sid at the Simba Garden Center. The pride so thoughtfully purchased it so Sid and Alex could work in the soil as they seem predisposed to do. The pride is great at meddling and arranging the lives of the various members.”
“You sound bitter.”
“We owe our lives to the company store, I believe that song goes.”
“You didn’t want to come back to the Mara?”
“Not particularly. I was having a great time enjoying the fruits of the hash bong in the delightful cafés in Amsterdam. There is also something about Dutch women enjoying the exotic. I was having the time of my life but then all things must come to an end when you are a Simba. The pride owns you.”
They chatted some more, Lucy almost polishing off the bottle of wine. Finally, he stood up.
“I think it’s time to return to the pub. It’s late and I want to get laid – my original intent this evening.”
“Don’t you want me?”
“No, I think not. You are pretty enough but all those prominent family connections might fly back in my face.”
He pulled her from the sofa. He then kissed her like she had never been kissed before, deeply and with total sensuality. Lucy's toes tingled along with other parts of her anatomy. She clung to him. He pushed her away.
“Let’s go,” he said, turning off the lamp near his couch.
In the parking lot of the pub, she told him she wasn’t going back in.
“Suit yourself,” he shrugged.
“I like you,” she stated with widened eyes.
“I’m not sure I can say the same about you but I will admit you make for an interesting if not volatile evening. Ciao.”
He turned and walked toward the pub. She watched him until he was through the door and no longer visible.