Sex and the Masai Mara....
“Nothing risqué, nothing gained.”
Alexander Woollcott
Things at the early edge of the year turned hot and ripe in the Mara. We animals are a strange lot. We haven’t managed the veneer of civilization that you humans have accomplished. We are not even a full generation out of savagery and jungle tactics and (much to the discomfort of we apes, who consider ourselves the closest thing to man) it is evident. This manifested itself in the taking of the tigress, Tawny Tigeres, by one who we all considered to be faithful and highly evolved – Sam Simba. Mind you, Tawny was all liquid nitrogen and molten lava entrails at the thought of her boss, Sam. It wasn’t virgin meets the wolf man by any means. Tawny is an aggressive but very good hearted sort. She is the daughter of Dr. Frank and Melba Tigeres and well grounded in family values. The Tigeres clan is quite special. Immigrants from India, they bonded tightly as a family unit, discarding all notions of customary tiger singularity. Frank loves every one of his numerous offspring. Tawny confessed to him over a midnight cup of coffee in her parent’s rambling quarters that she was in love with the married Sam Simba. Unlike many father’s who would have blithered and blathered at the thought of his daughter bedding a married male, Frank sat quietly and discussed the matter with his lawyer offspring. Cool heads prevailed as was customary in the Tigeres family. I suppose this is the reason that all Tigeres offspring live blissfully and with immense fulfillment in the clan compound.
Sam Simba didn’t blush or hide behind his indiscretion. He met Tawny in the break room the morning after their coming together. They were due in court in an hour. She, dressed in designer ensemble and he, wearing one of his signature business suits of perfect seam and cut, got a cup off coffee and stroked one another tentatively.
“Tawny, you touched something subterranean within me that hasn’t been responsive before last night. I’m still reeling from the effect.”
“Sam, I know. We don’t have to speak of it yet. You did the same for me. I know you love your family. I don’t mind being a mistress – at least with you. We’ll talk later.”
They gifted one another with a swift but meaningful kiss and went to court. That day, Sam Simba and Tawny Tigeres were so attuned that they easily won their case, creaming the opposition. It was as if the legal thought that emitted from one was picked up as almost a sentence ending by the other. They interacted to the point that Judge Bo Bonobo took off his glasses and gave them a thorough cleaning on the odd chance he had missed something.
Sam and Tawny in his office at Simba Brothers.....
Shane Simba was feeling the range grass – fortunately – with his wife, Betty. They were making love in the mostly unlikely places. The attic in the antiquities area in the State House, where they both sought a manual of historic interest, was one very erotic venue. Another was the midnight murkiness of the watering hole on their bush property. Their toes mired in loose morass, they made love with Betty’s legs wrapped around his waist. Jumping out, they ran to the house, mud clotted and laughing to take a cleansing shower and repeat their lovemaking in the luxurious stall under the foaming, warm water. Something unleashed in the hypnotic telling of his brother’s demise had set a part of Shane Simba free. He was almost bubbly, hopping into the office and greeting his secretary, me and Tulip Tan, in a most gregarious manner. His light green eyes, often clouded and troubled, were now clear and – yes, I believe it to be so – happy.
Betty with Shane at the bush house.....
In my own household, certain friskiness made its debut. Lachlan and I, having made our big move to live together, relaxed and enjoyed a good many uninhibited moments of intense passion.
The only animal seemingly untouched by what I could only imagine to be a premature bout of spring fever, was Bertram Baboon. As if he insisted on being the iconoclast, Bertram waxed morose. I decided to invite him to lunch at OKAPI’S and sound him out. We had been inordinately busy in our lives and careers, missing many of our habitual luncheons through necessity. Today he had grabbed an early table in the booming restaurant while I was a bit late from an errand for Shane. I saw him from the distance of the reception area, impatiently drumming his fingers on the table cloth. I approached and sat down. He blessed my presence with strained expression and martyr’s eyes.
“I can tell you’re annoyed at my tardiness but I had to find something for Shane,” I said, taking a sip of the martini he had preordered.
“Naturally, it’s always about his majesty. You and Betty both whirl like dervishes around the great lion emperor in his carpeted and hushed kingdom.”
He sighed noticeably like a simian version of Camille. I knew I had left him to lie fallow too long in his perceived misery whatever it entailed. The waiter brought his tray of crudités which I hoped would alleviate at least some of his angst. He grabbed a radish and devoured it like a major predator suffering lack of sustenance from a famine.
“Bertram, I can tell by your use of excessive and dramatic verbiage that you need to write a screen play post haste.”
“I am stalled in a quagmire of creative blahs. The studio is on hold so Roy Lee can once again be a father. Not that he doesn’t already have a plethora of unorthodox offspring. We have no productions at the moment of a film sort. Our major stars like Chloe, Micah and Simone have all turned to the theater. I am at my wit’s end and taken to strong spirits.”
He sighed again and summoned the waiter for more drinks.
“Since when did you wait for Roy Lee’s actions? Bertram, you are the innovator. Why don’t turn you turn your talents to writing a play to be produced by the arts center which has quite a reputation for excellence, I might add.”
Suddenly Bertram’s slumped form rose to such a posture of importance that I feared I might have created a new presidential candidate.
“Maurice, how long have you been this brilliant?” he asked, wiping a bit of radish from his lower lip.
“I was always thus,” I giggled.
“This is an idea filled with genius. I must explore the possibilities. Who do I ask about this?”
“Why me, of course. I created the damn thing.”
Sam Simba and Tawny next got together at her bungalow in the Tigeres compound. It was meant to be for drinks and consultation of personal matters.
“Sam, I am in love with you. I know you are married and not exactly known as a player. I respect that. For you, I will be a mistress.”
Sam stared at the amber liquid in his drink for long moments.
“Tawny, I never expected in my most remote thoughts to have this happen to me. I wanted children and a loving wife. I married Betty twice with this in mind and it failed. Then I met Allison and she seemed a dream come true. We have four sons and are expecting another litter. Nevertheless, since I have met you I have been on fire again. The way we work together and then our lovemaking is not to be believed. I feel alive again, young and wonderfully free. I never thought I could feel this way again in my life. I just seemed to age prematurely after everything went down with Betty.”
She came to sit closer to him on her comfortable couch in front of the stone fireplace with the cozy, crackling fire.
“Sam, I will play this any way you want but just know that I love you very much. It is a first for me.”
“I can’t give you up, Tawny but I don’t want to hurt Ali either. I’m not a duplicitous animal for the most part. I will just have to play this by ear.”
They made love in her comfortable bed with the handmade quilts handed down for generations in the Tigeres family. They were crafted of silk and exotic patterns reflecting the family’s East Indian roots. Sitar music played in dulcet tones from a far corner of the bungalow. It was as wonderful as the first time. They reached dizzying heights of excitement. Once again, Tawny allowed Sam the lead, not wanting to take over and lose the feeling of being totally feminine for the first time in her life.
Sidney Simba, it seemed, was quite sincere about his rehabilitation. Lachlan didn’t count his chickens at this point but he had hopes for Sidney. He had turned Cary Caracal Simba’s counseling over to Dr. Gus Leo. Gus agreed with Lachlan that Cary seemed to be going along for the ride to please her husband.
Ashley Lyon stood in his kitchen on Leoparde Drive. He and Leah were getting their children off to school. Their oldest daughter, Imani, was in a pout. She was sniffling over her steaming bowl of oatmeal, her tears dropping in the glob filled concoction.
“Staci can do anything she wants, Dad,” wailed Imani, referring to her cousin, Staci Simba.
“Staci is older and in a higher grade in school, Imani. Eat your damn breakfast. We’ve got to get going. We’re late.”
“Don’t shout, Ash,” admonished Leah with a tiny conciliatory kiss to her hubby’s ear.
“I hate this shit,” cried Imani.
“Don’t say those words, Imani. I won’t have it,” shouted Ashley.
“You and Mommy are never here anymore. We just have the nannies.”
Leah stiffened. She had put her children first always, taking the role of mayor only when she thought they could do without her part of the time. She realized that she had to work overage on many days, attending to matters of churlish behavior on the part of Mara citizens. She had not intended it to be that way. Her mind was in a whirl, as she finally soothed Imani and sent her off with her dad and adopted sister, Kitty, to their school. Leah’s mind was wracked during the work day. Vonda Vulture, her secretary, took note of her beloved boss’s quiet countenance. Leah Simba Lyon was known for her bubbly and effervescent personality at most times.
“You look distraught, dear,” cackled Vonda.
“I think my children need more of me than they’re getting, Vonda. I wonder if I need to resign.”
Vonda was alarmed. “Dear, why don’t you speak to your uncle? He has the power to make changes in the Mara’s constitution. You could be aided by a deputy mayor who could be elected. The mayor’s role, these days, is really too much for one animal to handle alone.”
“Why, Vonda, that’s a brilliant idea.”
Leah bounced, in her usual gregarious fashion, through her Uncle Shane’s office at the State House. She greeted all warmly including the baboon secretary and Tulip Tan who happened to be encased in the usual cables beneath the second desk. The secretary announced her arrival and Leah was shown into the inner office of the President. She took a seat after giving Shane a cheery kiss to the side of his face.
“What’s on your mind, Leah?” he asked, as the houseboy brought in a silver tray with a tea service.
“I’m in a dilemma, Uncle Shane. I don’t know whether to resign my post or just what to do. My children need more of me than I can give because we are forced to work overtime these days. The Mara is growing and popping in many directions. Vonda, my secretary, suggested holding elections for a deputy mayor. Is that too far off the track, Uncle Shane? Is it feasible? I know the work load is so great that I don’t get away from the office until nine or ten most nights.”
Shane lit a cigarette and thought for a while.
“You know, Leah, you are probably right about the work load increasing now that the Mara is, in effect, the center of Kenya’s government. You don’t really have anyone that can take over from you in case of illness, am I right?”
“You are right. My secretary is the only one that can take over in case I croaked or got sick,” she laughed.
Shane called for me.
“Maurice, we need a feasibility study on revamping the government structure of the Mara. Can you handle that?”
“Yes, of course I can but will Sloane be able to help? He is so up on the law.”
“Yes, that’s a good idea to let Sloane’s ministry handle the restructuring.”
Sidney Simba got a furlough from the mental health center; the reason being to survey his new kingdom consisting of the flora and fauna inhabiting the Masai Mara Garden Center now owned by the Simba Pride Corporation. The signage was already in place with its new name: THE SIMBA GARDEN CENTER. Sidney was taken on the tour by the former owner, Aurora Leopardiaz Cougar, who was accompanied by her two vivacious and frisky adopted leopard cubs. Sidney felt a sense of peace as he followed the leopardess through the rows of flourishing and very lush plants, flowers and shrubs.
He returned to the mental health center and looked for his wife in the recreation room. She wasn’t there so he went to her room. She was lying on the bed, the shades pulled, and the room dreary. He sat beside her and took her paw in his.
“Cary, I just toured the garden center. I think it is going to be a wonderful thing for us to do.”
“I’m not interested in plants, Sid. I was a psychiatrist. Now I’m not anymore,” she said, beginning to cry.
“Honey, this place is so soothing. We can both recover there among all those growing things. Then when you’re better and drug free for a while, maybe Lachlan will give you a second go at it.”
“I hope so, Sid. I really do.”
He sat for a bit patting her paw and hoping that things would work out for them.
Sidney Simba at the newly purchased Masai Mara Garden Center..
The governmental structure of the Masai Mara district was overhauled to allow a deputy mayor and executive assistant to be allowed. One was an appointed post. The other was elected. The word went out officially that elections would be held for a deputy mayor three months hence. Hats were tossed in the ring. One such hat belonged to Carolyn Cape Buffalo. The other was tossed by Maude Hyena. Irma Impala joined the fray as did Beryl Bushbuck. Dodi Dik DIk Lyon, who has tried every conceivable job slot in Kenya, couldn’t resist. She proffered her name for the position. The race was on. Shane Simba groaned and hoped, privately, to his wife and I, that Maude would lose the race.
Those employed by Simba Brothers could not help but notice the enraptured aspects of Sam Simba and Tawny Tigeres. Always knitted tightly in court battles they became more pronounced in their bonding. No one, as of yet, suspected a romantic relationship, Sam being known as a puritanical sort. They spent many hours together in either his office or the conference room. Sam, in the comfort of his river home, would play with his children and observe his pregnant wife, Allison. He sought guilt within himself but, strangely enough, could find none. He wondered at this. Possibly, he thought, it could be that Allison was so tightly knitted with her pride that one or more of her sisters or aunts were always present. She had not been the same with Sam since he banned her father, Old Scar, from living within their walls due to his unsavory personal habits. These days, Sam and Allison’s marriage was more of a family affair, lacking the passion of the earlier days. She seemed contented mothering his children with her and the two sons by Betty. One aspect of Sam’s adultery was his more relaxed attitude toward his brother, Shane, and Betty. Sin does create some strange bedfellows. He began to allow Jason and Joshua to spend every weekend with their mother and stepfather/uncle. He went with Tawny to her bungalow in the Tigeres compound, two nights a week. Allison was accustomed to her workaholic husband’s long hours at the office. Sam would come home around midnight to find Allison ensconced with her aunts and mother or maybe a sister or two. She would greet him warmly enough, asking if he wanted food which he refused, having eaten with Tawny. He would then go to bed. Much later, Allison would slip quietly next to him and fall into immediate sleep.