He arrived and entered her home. She wasn’t in the kitchen as she usually was this time of day. She spotted him and called out. He came to her back porch where she sat on a stool, operating a manual churn. Her hands flew as she worked the wooden handle, intent on her task.

"What are you doing, Maggie? What is that thing?"

"I am making butter for your morning crumpets, Love," she answered, blowing him an air kiss.

"You can buy butter at the store. I want your attentions now. I’ve had a bitch of a day in court."

He approached the stool and attempted to take her from her chore. She resisted.

"Dear One," she answered, kissing his mane. "I can’t leave the churning now. The butter will be ruined. It will only take an hour more. Have a seat and get comfortable. Make yourself a drink."

"I don’t even like butter, Maggie. Leave that thing and come sit with me. I want to take a bath."

"I must churn, Darling. You are such an instant gratification chap," she giggled.

"Of course I am. Instant gratification is what male lions do for a living. Are you going to come upstairs with me now?"

"No."

Shane was blown away by his Scottish Geisha’s refusal to budge from her butter making and cater to his needs. Maggie Gordon, in her zeal to please him, had created a monster in the already spoiled lion prosecutor. He turned on his heel and went upstairs to take a bath. He drew the water and got in. He had brought the Scotch with him. He relaxed in the tub and thought of the sleek and glossy fur of his wife, Catherine. He closed his eyes and could smell the fragrance of her Shalimar perfume created by Guerlain. He conjured up her paws with the elegantly polished nails. He got out of the tub in a mighty hurry, got dressed and went down stairs where Maggie still sat at the churn.

"Your timing was off today, Maggie. I’m out of here," he told the surprised woman.

    He headed northwest toward the Masai Mara. When he reached his destination, the hour was rather late. He let himself in and went to the living room and then his study. Catherine sat at the computer.

"Cathy, thank goodness you’re still awake. I have missed you terribly."

"What happened to Farmer McDougal’s widow?"

Catherine lit a cigarette and looked at her husband.

"That relationship is going south."

"What happened? Is it sheep shearing time and she asked you to help or did you bring down some of her prized cows for your evening meal?"

"None of the above," he answered, leaving the room to get himself a stiff drink.

She followed him to the kitchen. She just had to get the skinny on this one.

"I never figured you for the rural type, Shane, but at least give me the courtesy of an explanation as to why you suddenly miss me and have eschewed Old MacDonald’s tart."

"If you must know the gory details.....she was churning some butter and wouldn’t get off her stool and give me some. Is that hinky enough for you?"

Catherine exploded in laughter. She was in such a fit of giggles that tears rolled down her cheeks.

"You mean she preferred the churn’s handle to yours? You must be slipping."

"We seem to have a new Catherine here. Not the sobbing, paw wringing Catherine that is, quote, ‘drowning in the murky waters of my adultery’ but a new one that is filled with amusement at my peccadillos."

"Yes, we do. Which one do you prefer?"

"I don’t know. I’ll decide later. What’s the news around here?"

"Ralph Lyon declared God to be a predator and I am carrying a male cub."

Catherine and Shane debate....

    Betty Chimpo lit a Kool and pondered. She was on her patio with her evening libation. Joshua was playing at her feet. She was enjoying her haphazard relationship with Micah Mbubé. For some reason, her infatuation for Shane Simba kept her from real emotional involvement with the lion actor. Micah provided great sex and amusing verbal interplay. Of course, these pleasures went with a super sized ego, replete with selfish demands. Yet, Betty still found Micah good company. He had taken to coming to her home on a regular basis. He displayed no interest what so ever in her young son, Josuah Simba and avoided the times when she was visited by ‘that adolescent, precocious and thoroughly obnoxious brat of yours’. This was Micah’s description of Arlon Lyon, Betty’s oldest son.

"You don’t seem to like kids," observed Betty, one evening after sex.

"Why should I?"

"I thought all male lions loved offspring," she countered.

"You thought wrong. Anyhow, male lions enjoy the fruit of their own seed. My father killed all of the cubs in the pride he took over. Mother had to protect me from the next set of roving males. Thank goodness I was old enough or I would be feeding the worms in Kruger Park."

"I think you are too spoiled and in love with yourself to enjoy cubs."

"That too."

    Chelsea Cheetah was feeling horrible. Her relationship with Clint Cougar had hit a snag due to his intense working hours. She was pulling together the next ballet to be staged by the arts center. Another factor in her shitty day was dealing with Jean Pierre de Leon, the principal male dancer. The chosen ballet was to be Giselle. Jean Pierre was in a fit.

"Giselle is choreographed as a ballerina’s role. I just knew you would stage one that focused on yourself."

"The male dancer has enough moves," argued Chelsea.

Jean Pierre’s day had also gotten off to a rotten start. He was living with Charlotte Elephanti and sharing a bath with her husband, Cappie Cape Buffalo and his tick bird, Bertie. They had moved past Bertie pooping on his silk tights but now had another problem of major proportions. Cappie had a habit of depositing droppings on the shower floor to be taken down the drain by the water. This particular morning, they had failed to dissolve over the drain and Jean PIerre had slipped on one, injuring his arm. There had been great weeping in the Elephanti household as Jean Pierre was comforted by the always charming elephant matriarch.

"That is a very uncivilized habit of yours, Cappie dear......defecating in the shower stall," she had chastised gently.

"I know," was Cappie’s only response as he sat glued to the Nascar races emitting from the satellite television.

    Micah paced around Betty Chimpo’s living room, drink in paw. He had a problem. When Micah Mbubé fancied himself to have a problem the universe had to focus on that and that alone. At that particular moment, Betty’s comfortable parlor comprised the universe.

"Betty, you have got to play opposite me in Picnic. Roy Lee is going to cast that bitchy little leopard half-breed wife of his in the role. I’ll be in misery."

"Micah, I simply hate acting. I am a writer. I did that one role in Fatal Attraction as a lark and favor to Roy Lee and Bertram. Besides, I am too old to play the female role."

"Go to that plastic surgeon of yours.....get a botox fix. Do something. You’ll be great," he argued.

"Chloe is okay. She’s a great little actress---won the damn Oscar."

"She’s a raving bitch. She wants Roy Lee to have that role so she can play opposite him. He’s the only one that will tolerate her shit."

"You will be fine with her, you’ll see," soothed Betty.

"I guess she’s better than that fucking baboon, Boop or whatever her name is."

    Lachlan Lion picked me up on Friday in his green truck. He swung onto the road to Thika.

"So glad you could come with me, Maurice. We’ve seemed to be busy as African honey bees lately."

"I want you to make a special trip with me soon. I need you to be the one when I go to my home in the old city of Mombasa. Lawrence left it to me and I haven’t been there since he died. It’s a lovely place. Can you do that?"

"I’d love to, Maurice. Next weekend, maybe?"

"That would be good."

We stayed in a small lodge near Thika Falls which is a spectacular sight. We dined on simple fare and spent our nights making love.

The falls in Thika, Kenya.....

    Shane Simba returned to Nairobi and finished out his trial week before returning to Catherine that weekend. He knew that he and Catherine were intrinsically bound by an unbreakable chain consisting of physical desire and the workings of their brilliant and complicated minds. The fact of their children added to that bond.  He had delighted in the fact that they would soon have a son. They spent the weekend in Mombasa where they played on the beach with their daughter, Staci. They walked to Wally’s Beach Pub and dined on steaks, drinking their fill of the draft beer.

    Tookie Simba was invited to Mombasa that weekend by Ashley Lyon. This was permissible since she was Leah’s aunt and great aunt to small Imani. The nanny didn’t question the fact that ‘Aunt Tookie’ stayed in the room with Ashley. She, being a country lioness, decided it was all in the name of good clean family fun. Arlon, on the other hand, knew better.

"Are you banging Aunt Tookie, Dad?" he inquired.

"Arlon, you are too damn big for your trousers," complained Ashley. "Buzz off and ride your wave runner."

    Ashley took Tookie to Wally’s Beach Pub. There she saw Shane, as he approached the bar for more beer.

"What the hell are you doing in Mombasa, Sis?" asked Shane.

"I’m here with Ashley Lyon. He’s in the crapper."

"Since you have such a great head for business, you must be his temporary fuck while Leah is gestating in the clinic."

"You are one sarcastic bastard, Bro. I am only making a living doing what you put out there for free."

"It’s the ‘making a living’ part that makes you so socially unacceptable."

"A whore by any other name is still a whore, little brother."

"Touché!"

He headed back to the booth and Catherine.