tagLoving WivesOut of Africa

Out of Africa


No graphic sex, no wives hung out to dry and only one person killed.

Sorry, but you've been warned.

Please enjoy.


The great door to the old Victorian building that housed the prison clanged shut!

Imposing though the building undoubtedly was, I, like many before me, preyed silently that I'd never have to see the damn thing again.

Twelve months!

A year with my life on hold, waiting for this day, waiting to see whether I still really had a family.

Waiting to see whether the beautiful young woman who now stood there nervously before me, could forgive me for what I'd done, and whether once we were back in the real world, I could return the favour.

It could have been worse; much worse really, so I couldn't complain.

A two year sentence, reduced for good behaviour, and now the nightmare was over. At least that part of it was over, and now to see if another part was beginning.

I'd killed a man you see.

Killed him in cold blood, though even now, I couldn't honestly bring myself to regret it.



"Is this where I get my ticket?" This vision of loveliness asked me as I stood guard at the door to the local village dance.

"You could ......" I started to say before cutting myself off abruptly. A girl like that probably didn't want to know that she could have my ticket anytime she wanted.

"Yes," I carried on. "Two pounds please."

Ok ---- Not quite so catchy as what I'd intended, but it did draw a smile from the sweet young thing.

"Are they any good this group?" she asked, all bright eyed and beautiful.

"Terrible," I replied. "But the beer is good and the company friendly."

"How friendly?"

"See me in the bar in twenty minutes and find out," I shot back.

"I just might do that," the pretty little dark haired beauty smiled back at me, as she took the ticket from me and slid her slim shapely body past me into the church hall where the music was blaring out, that sexy little swing of her hips, hopefully, perhaps just maybe for my benefit.

Bloody hell!


Some time later, my turn at the door over, I found myself at the bar chewing the cud with a group of pals, and informing one another what we might do with every pretty girl who passed by.

As if!

"Any of you see the pretty little dark haired girl who turned up a while ago?" I asked casually, taking a swig from my pint. "Who is she?"

"No idea who you mean, Dave" replied Fred, and the other two shook their heads in agreement.

"The one with the legs," I added tentatively.

"Oh her," butted in Alf with a grin, the others doing likewise.

"That'd be Eve Meadows," joined in Joe.

"Eve Meadows," I repeated. "Never heard of her."

"You wouldn't have Dave," Joe threw in. "She got religion a few years before you moved down this way."

"We've all been to Church from time to time Joe," I reasoned with him.

"Yer Dave," he came back. "But her, she went there for God she did, not to meet up with boys."


How odd! We all nodded at one another, all more or less in agreement.

"She wasn't wearing the sort of skirt that most girls would wear to church," I pointed out, still eager to find out a little more about her, though the church bit didn't exactly excite me overly.

"Most girls that go to church don't have legs like hers," sniggered Alf, pulling a face.

"Most women don't have legs like Eve, full stop," laughed out Fred, and we all joined his laughter ---- you know ---- the way real men do.

"Was a bit short wasn't it?" carried on Alf after the laughter died down.

"Bloody short," threw in Joe, nodding his head in reflection.

"Never seen her in a skirt that short before," commented Fred, who seemed to have known her for the longest.

"Nice pair of pins though," I threw into the mix.

"Yes," they all agreed. Eve Meadows had a pretty fantastic pair of pins, and was showing an incredibly high percentage of them off that night, between her little pelmet of a skirt and her dainty high heels.

"Not much in the boob department though," mentioned Alf. Well he would wouldn't he ---- He never dated any girl with less than a huge handful and a bit left over.

"With legs like that a girl wouldn't need big tits," I pointed out, and it was no surprise that not one of them deigned to argue.

"D'you think it really was her that did that streak?" Fred asked after a few minutes, peeking my interest.

"What streak?" I demanded, maybe a little too enthusiastically.

"At the rugby club a few years back," reminisced Fred. "We'd just beaten Kettering and won the league."

"And she did a streak after the match?" I gasped out.

"If it was her," pointed out Alf.


"Except for trainers and a mask," confirmed Fred. "Absolutely starkers."

"Doesn't sound like the sort of thing a church going girl would do."

"That was before she got so involved in the church," piped up Joe as if that explained it all.

"But why did you think it was her?" I followed up with. "If she had a mask on."

"The legs Dave," Fred informed me as if I was a bit dense. "She would still have been a school girl back then, and was a bit on the skinny side, but she always had great legs."

No tits though," Alf put his penneth in. "Never did have." But everyone ignored him.

"But she never admitted it then?" I probed; more than turned on by the thought of a girl brave enough to do something like that. Forgetting in the heat of the moment that what my first wife ended up getting up to after doing something not dissimilar had ultimately led to our divorce.

That was different though, as Eve hadn't done it at her office Christmas party, and hadn't ran into the stationary store, and let three of her male colleagues catch her.

"No," went on Joe. "Never admitted it, but never denied it."

"When she finished school, she left the this area and ended up in Africa somewhere, and we never saw much more of her after that."

"What a waste," murmured Fred, but before I could press them further, two of their wives turned up and the subject of the lovely Eve was promptly dropped from our conversation.


"You're right," a musical voice beside me at the bar said to me some half an hour later, as I waited to be served. "The band was terrible."

Oh Hi," I responded, a bit lost for words for once in my life.

"Can you get me a coke please?" she asked me, offering me some money.

How couldn't I? ---- And of course I didn't take her money.

Twenty minutes later we left the village hall, hand in hand, and if my pals were still waiting for the round of drinks I'd been sent for, then they'd be a long time waiting, wouldn't they?

I walked her home and we talked all the way. I discovered she was in her late twenties, about two years younger than me.

That seemed just about right to me, and the simple kiss that she bestowed upon me when I left her at her door stayed imprinted on my memory for hours afterwards.


The very next night, not being one to let the grass grow under my feet, I picked Eve up and whisked her away to a swish restaurant. When she'd opened the door she fairly took my breath away. Some women know what their best features are and I guess Eve was one of them; my eyes being treated to her slim body encased in a tight dark crepe dress, that seemed to mould itself around those delightful little breasts of hers, and came to an abrupt stop so high up her shapely thighs that I couldn't hide my reaction.

"It's new," Eve told me nervously. "Do you think it's too short?"

"It's fantastic," I gasped in admiration.

"Maybe," she giggled. "But is it too short?"

"Give me a twirl," I instructed my date, and she obliged, spinning around slowly on her three-inch high heels.

By Golly she was gorgeous, and it was difficult to tear my eyes away from those legs to take in how her long brown hair framed her cute face and tumbled down to her shoulders.

Mine --- all mine for the evening at least ------ Bloody unbelievable.

"When you've put your tongue away Dave," she smiled at me. "Is the dress too short or not?"

"Far too short," I joked back to her. "You could get arrested."

"I could always go and change into something else," Eve answered uncertainly.

"No damn way," I insisted, and took her arm and led a still giggling Eve out to my waiting car.

Now at this point I should perhaps point out that I was doing Ok financially, and drove a low slung TVR sports car, and helping Eve getting into the car with that dress on would almost warrant a short story on it's own. Let's just say that by the time I pulled away from the kerb, I was comfortable in the knowledge that my date did indeed have panties on, and that they were white, very small and had little blue flowers embroided along the top.

Wow ---- Was I looking forward to that evening.


The evening passed extremely pleasantly, me telling her tit-bits about my previous life and her filling in a few gaps that my pals hadn't told me. Not, as it turned out, that they knew that much about her. Not only had the girl got into religion in her last years at school, but she'd carried it on through her college days, where she'd qualified to be a teacher, and eventually found herself in Kenya working in a missionary school, teaching young African kids.

Eve had very obviously enjoyed her experience out there, but was strangely reticent about explaining why she'd come back.

"It was just the right time," she explained shortly. "Some things changed and it simply didn't suit me any more."

There was quite clearly more to it than met the eye, but at the time I was more interested in how an ex missionary girl might react to my advances, than why she'd packed it all in. Well, a couple of hours later I found out of course, and I have to confess that I didn't go home disappointed. I certainly didn't end up in bed with her you understand, but the way she kissed and nestled her slim body into mine as we said our goodnights at her doorway promised fine things in the future.

And so, of course, it came to pass.

The two of us discovered to our joy, that we suited one another in so many ways. Had our differences of course, especially the religious bit, but they just seemed to accentuate quite what a great couple we made. Very early in our relationship, I asked Eve if she would move in with me, but of course, her being a churchy type of girl, she hesitated. Actually, let's be honest here, she simply said NO.

No, she couldn't as it wouldn't be right, and would be frowned on by her parents and all the people at her church.

I could understand, sort of, but wasn't at all happy. I brooded for a bit, sulked a little, and even cancelled a date or two, but quickly came to the conclusion that all I was doing was hurting the pair of us.

Trouble is that I'd fallen in love with the damn girl, and felt pretty certain that she felt the same way about yours truly.

So, just four or five months after we'd started dating, I surprised the pair of us one evening by popping the question!

In fact I had thought it out, and I was thirty and Eve not far from that magic number, and I somehow knew that we were ready for it. I'd got to that stage where most of my pals, the normal ones that is, were having kids and enjoying their families.

I wanted the same thing for myself, and I'd never met a woman that I wanted to settle down with so badly before, and that included my first wife; the bitch.

So, there we were. I asked her to marry me, and her eyes brightened, her face broke into a smile, and then .....

Then she burst into tears and they didn't seem to be tears of joy.

"I can't marry you Dave," she sobbed when I asked her what was wrong. "There's things about me that you don't know."

Well, you can imagine the thoughts that a statement like that created. Anyway, a bit of cajoling and even pleading, and Eve at last admitted what her problem was.

"Dave, do you ever wonder why I never invite you in when you pick me up and drop me off?" She started nervously.

"Some times," I replied. "I know you live with your parents, but I've only met them the once, and they seemed OK with me."

"They were," Eve continued, avoiding my eye. "But there's another reason why I've never invited you in."

"Which is?"

"Samantha," she answered in little more than a whisper. "She's nearly three years old."

"Your sister?" I sort of assumed. "I didn't know you had such a young sister."

"Not my sister, Dave," she shocked me with. "My daughter. I'm sorry, It's stupid of me but I've just never had the nerve to tell you."


Well that was indeed a shock, and I stared, speechless at her for some moments.

"Why didn't you tell me before," I eventually stammered.

"I know. I should have done Dave," Eve replied, sniffing, her tears still wet on her cheeks. "I just didn't find the right moment. I was frightened that it might create a problem for you."

"Well it certainly is a problem for me Eve," I responded, with what I thought was a serious tone.

"I knew it," she sobbed back, her tears welling up again. "I'm so sorry."

"The first problem as I see it Eve, is that you've got a daughter that you've deliberately kept hidden from me, haven't you," I summed up the situation.

"Yes, sorry," she mumbled, unable to face me.

"But the real problem," I continued, fighting to keep my face stern. "Is how can I be a daddy to a girl I've never met yet."

"Well I suppose ...." She started, then hesitated, looking up at me in surprise. "What do you mean Dave? You don't mean ..."

"What I mean honey," I interrupted her with a huge grin on my face. "Is that if I'm going to be Samantha's Daddy, then isn't it about time that you introduced us?"

Well, I never actually got a response to my proposal, as Eve leapt up, flung her arms round my neck and smothered me in kisses. I'm not sure she even agreed to marry me in actual words, but I thought I was safe to take her actions as a 'yes'.


The very next day saw the pair of us stood nervously at her parent's front door, ringing the bell even though she lived there, the two of us assuring the other repeatedly that everything would be OK. Her dad answered the door and shook my hand with a smile that was a lot warmer than the only other time I'd met him, and 'Mum', as she became from that moment on, simply welcomed me with a hug, too choked up to speak at the beginning.

I then sat there, my heart thumping while I waited for 'Mum' to bring my potential future daughter down from her room to meet me.

I really didn't know what to expect, but realised that this first meeting could be so vital.

What I didn't expect, was the prettiest little coffee coloured child that God in his wisdom, could ever have created.

She was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. A veritable work of art no less.

Her colouring was no more than the equivalent of what a couple of weeks in the sunshine might have produced, but her huge dark eyes, wide smiling mouth and mass of black curly hair gave the game away.

She stood there frowning at me, clutching tightly at her Granny's hand, unsure who this new strange man was.

"Hi Samantha," I called to her. "Would you like this Mars bar, I've bought you? Your Mummy says they're your favourite."

Little Samantha looked up at her Granny, and she in turn nodded that it was OK for her to have it. The little sweetie took several nervous steps towards me and reached out and took the chocolate from me, staring at it uncertainly for some moments.

"Would you like half," she asked in her little girly voice, trying to smile at me.

"Only if you come and sit on my lap and we eat it together," I answered almost without thought.

"Granny and Grandpa and Mummy call me Sam," the little bundle informed me as she climbed confidently up onto my lap. "What's your name?"

"My name's Dave, Sam," I told her. "But maybe you could call me Daddy if you wanted."

"Daddy," she repeated with a thoughtful little frown. "Like a real daddy, like my friends have?"

"If that's Ok with you Sam," I replied, feeling the tears welling up inside me.

"Ok," she smiled happily at me. "I think I'd really like that Daddy."

As Sam wriggled her tiny body to get more comfortable, I looked up at the other three, trying to hide my tears.

I needn't have bothered.

Eve and her mum were stood there with tears streaming down their cheeks and her Dad sniffed loudly and suddenly had to find something else to do in the other room.

The rest of the evening passed equally well, and by the time little Sam was packed off to bed, she left me with a chocolaty smudge all over my cheek. I settled for that, as I never did get my half of her chocolate bar. I suppose good manners in a three year old, can only be expected to go so far after all.


I didn't push Eve to explain how little Sam come about, knowing that when she was ready, then she'd tell me.

"You and Sam really seemed to hit it off," she remarked casually the following evening, though her eyes gave the lie to the casual bit.

"Certainly did," I replied, equally casually, equally unable to keep my concerns hidden.

"You haven't asked me about her," Eve continued. "About how come she's coloured and who her father is?"

"I know you'll tell me when you're ready," I answered. "I assume her father's no longer on the scene."

"Right there! He's still back in Africa."

"I sort of guessed that," I told her. "Judging from Sam's age and how long you've been back in the UK."

At that point Eve launched into her tale of how Sam came about and a lot of other things as well.

She'd gone out to Kenya a virgin, and stayed one for over a year till she 'linked up', as she called it, with a young and up and coming preacher named Joshua, who was helping at her school. One thing led to another and they ended up having sex, with the pregnancy being the result.

Joshua kept promising to 'make things all right' whatever that meant, but when her condition became obvious, then the local Bishop took a hand, decided that the charismatic young preacher was too valuable to risk losing, and promptly packed poor Eve, lump and all, back home to England.

"But this Joshua guy," I protested. "Didn't he argue? Didn't he stand up for you?"

"I think he tried to," Eve explained, obviously unprepared to condemn her ex lover out of hand. "But you don't know what it was like. Out there in East Africa the head people in the church were very powerful and used to getting their way. I guess he just did what he was told, just the same as I did."

"But he abandoned you Eve," I pressed her, feeling aggrieved. "He didn't fight for you. He left you with the problem."

"I've never seen my Sam as a problem Dave," she protested, a frown forming on her face.

"Well ... Well ...."

But that was as far as I got, as Eve smiled, close to giggling. A moment later and we were both laughing and cuddling one another for all we were worth.

"Well if Sam's a problem, then she's my problem as well now," I eventually managed to get out.

"That's the best thing you could have said honey," was the reply, and all seemed well in the world again.

We never discussed that situation too deeply after that, only that the church or maybe Joshua sent a monthly small sum of money towards Sam's upkeep, though in reality it was hardly enough to keep her in mars bars. Joshua had kept in touch for almost a year by post, till he visited England on a fund raising crusade of some sort when they'd met up again.

"Till his visit I'd sort of kept a candle burning for him," Eve admitted. "But when he went back after a couple of weeks, then I knew that it would never work out for us, as he was destined for great things back there, and a white wife with an illegitimately born child simply wasn't what he needed."

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