The Prickly Pineapple

"You! Do you think I am your age?" she asked the young man, fiercely. She managed to make it sound very naughty, dirty and unprofessional all at once. He had only been employed two months before. He had been really awkward when he first joined, with shirts that showed they had been washed too many times, and coats that were oversize, probably handed down from his uncle or perhaps the local teacher. But now he was in a smart blue suit, a light shirt and a tie with blue, white and black stripes. Even his fuller cheeks seemed to show that he was healthier. I now watched him shrink back with embarrassment.

"Some boys think they are more men than others," Salome continued to mutter under her breath. I wondered what he had said to her. It looked and sounded as if he had started seducing her, making the mistake many had made before him. She was a small-bodied woman, whose smooth, dark features made her look like she was still in her mid-twenties, while in fact she was married and had two children. When I had first learned of this I was incredulous. How could that be true? She did not look anything like that. Yet she already had five years experience here at Bank of America Overseas. I still struggled with that knowledge.

I had seen her getting very agitated if a man asked her a personal question. She seemed to think he was after nothing but her cunt. It did not matter whether the man was an older one or as today, a younger fellow. She fought all of them off with the same vehemence. I was in awe of her, maybe even feared her a little bit. I could not imagine the whole department hearing her asking me such an embarrassing question. It was an open plan office occupying the whole floor, with the department head at the 'front' near the lift and stairs. There was no other escape except that door to the stairs. I wouldn't know where to hide!

Nevertheless I pondered the question of why a lovely woman, who was possessed of such good looks could be so hostile to all men. I wondered if perhaps the belligerence was a cover. But from what, I could not tell. She was an enigma to me, but I could not discuss it with any of my colleagues, who talked about her in dismissive tones, as if they had decided she was beyond redemption.

Fortunately she had never lashed out at me in that way. Instead, earlier in the year when she was expecting her third child I would ask her if she wanted anything when I went out for lunch. She had grown very large, and I could see it was difficult for her to move around. At first she looked at me suspiciously, as if even that was a devious way to get her to remove her panty for me. But I would tell her of the café where I usually ate, and that they had meat pies, chicken pies or kabobs.

"Give me ten shillings. I will bring you a chicken pie."

Allowing herself a sideways smile, she would get up to get to her handbag. Her body language said that were it in her power she would not accept such an offer, especially coming from a man. This happened a few times before I took it into my hands to bring her a snack without asking for her money first. But she made a point of giving it to me when I handed her the brown package. I did this openly so that she would have no reason to accuse me of doing her favours secretly.

One afternoon after we had balanced our work for the day we were around our section's table updating ledger cards in preparation for an upcoming audit.

I turned to her and without warning asked her, "Was, or is, your mother entrenched in the local church, the women's group, the fellowship and so on?"

She turned surprised eyes to me. "Why do you think so?" I thought I could read some fear too.

"Oh," I said lightly, "sometimes having such a mother can place very high demands on the children."

She looked steadily at me. Then she seemed to click her mouth, dropping her eyes. I feared I had offended her. She shook her head, eyes still fixed on the cards she was working on. "Surely how can you think such a thing?" She did not look angry, which gave me some relief.

"It's common enough," I shrugged.

"I think you are very clever, Richard. How could you possibly know that?" I waited breathlessly for her next words. She continued in low voice. "She was very hard on us, especially myself as the firstborn."

"What a coincidence!" I let my eyes open wide in amazement. "I am also firstborn in my family." I forebore to add that that could be the reason we seemed to rhyme so well.

Now she lifted her eyes to mine. "My mother made me feel that I could never be as good as she. Even today I cannot measure up to her."

"I do not agree with that, Sal." I saw her jaw drop. "I don't see a bad woman. I see one who is dedicated to her work, and to her family."

"Nobody has ever said anything like that to me. Even my husband nowadays agrees with my mother against me."

"Firstborns feel for each other. You can always trust me." I took the bold step of laying my hand on her arm.

Tears formed at the corners of her eyes. Suddenly she pushed back her chair and hurried towards the stairs. I suspected she wanted to rush to the ladies' room to regain control of her emotions.

From that day, there was never any hesitation about bringing her a snack for lunch when I went out. Everyone in our section marveled at how this sharp-tongued woman had taken to me. Nobody, not even another woman would dare to offer to do anything for her, for fear of being brusquely refused, with harsh words to follow. Many said it was the coming baby that had become partial to me, which inaccurate sentiment I did not bother to correct. On her last day of working, she brought me a bar of chocolate, probably as thanks, or a farewell. I never worked out which, though it could have been both. She had the baby two days after that, meaning she had stayed on as long as possible so that she would have more time with the baby during her maternity leave.

Surprise, surprise! When she resumed duty after those two months, she brought me a present. I was so moved by that gesture that I felt a glob stuck in my throat. There was no more need to bring her snacks because she was now able to go out for lunch. You are probably thinking that we became so close that we went out for lunch together. You would be mistaken. Our friendship however remained firm so that we could converse freely, but she held back even from that, fearing that other people might mistake it for a change of heart, instead of her having gained a true friend in me, as she put it. She did not want to change into a social being just yet, which gratified me. This situation, while pleasant, could stay that way for months without anything more happening.

I decided to pull us out of that backwater by asking to walk with her to her busstop one day after work. She accepted very readily, to my mild surprise. Halfway through our walk, she turned to me suddenly and said, "Would you object to having tea with an old woman?"

I pretended to turn round, looking for the said person. "Where? Which one?" She merely laughed and led me into the Lamu Coffee House. This was sectioned off in little bays whose walls were curved much like the streets of that coastal town. Each had a double swinging door, so that we were effectively completely cut off from other eyes. After the waiter had served us he left us to ourselves.

"I wish I could sit here with you until dusk. I so much want to enjoy your company, but you must understand I have a small baby waiting for his milk."

I stretched my arm towards her breast. "What has reminded you of that? Do they itch with milk?" She slapped at my hand away but with such a big smile that I could appreciate her beauty for the first time.

We finished our snacks and I let her leave as I was in no hurry. I would stay on a little longer, reading my book, and only leave after dark. So we made as if to hug, but came together for a kiss. I gave it to her right on her mouth.

With a cheeky smile she said, "You have been dying to do that, you naughty thing!"

"Two months was a very long time without seeing you, Sal." I could bet that her heart was beating wildly as she pushed the door to leave. Before she let it swing back she looked back at me with tender eyes. "Good night," she paused as if she wanted to add "darling" but then walked quickly away.

I hardly read anything after she left, because my mind was teeming with possibilities. I so wanted to suck those milk-jugs and give her delirious pleasure. I could almost hear her excitement as she gave voice to her ecstasy. My cock stayed hard the whole time I was there, from my imagination of what I would do to her.

These brief, hurried coffee dates became more and more frequent, where she could let herself become open to me about her feelings. She had come to admire me and was getting to be as much in love with me as I was with her. This made our time at work rather difficult, since we were at pains not to reveal our liaison to workmates. I had heard horror stories of workplace romance but I did not imagine that Salome and I could fall into such a hole.

We did not work on Saturdays. Weekends thus became a torture without seeing my beloved Salome. Sunday could never go by fast enough. Oddly enough, I looked forward to the first day of the week; I did not have Monday blues at all. I kept wracking my brains to find a way to see her on a weekend.

The suspense reports clerk, Sospeter, had a handwriting that was so neat that nobody could be found to replace him. When he went on leave only one other person could do them, although he had been promoted and was in another section. Sospeter was also very talkative and didn't always take care with his words. He received Salome's sharp tongue one morning when he mentioned that her handbag was new, but very smart. She took umbrage at the mention of 'new' and completely ignored the compliment.

"Did you buy it for me? I would like to see the handbag your wife has!" Everyone was stunned by the vehemence of her attack.

Sospeter could have tried to mollify her but instead sought to make fun. "My wife has no need of those things. She lives in the countryside, and only needs the rough baskets."

Some tried to smile at this but this only spurred Salome further. "You are not qualified to judge a woman's accessories. You have never bought one."

Sospeter prepared to reply, but Harry, an older man, signed to him to drop the subject. We all breathed a sigh of relief when Sospeter held his tongue. Salome muttered some harsh words under her breath, which Sospeter was ready to respond to, but Harry held his gaze, warning him.

One Thursday, when her new baby was six months old, I ventured to ask her where she would be on Saturday afternoon. I timed the question for when we were having one of our coffee dates. By now she could express her feelings for me freely, but only behind the swinging door of our cubicle at Lamu Coffee House. I discovered she could kiss quite passionately.

"What took you so long to ask, you coward?" Her eyes glittered with mischief. "I have known you would escalate this one day, only I didn't know how soon you would do so."

I could never have asked for a plainer way to be accepted. "Come and have lunch with me at the Nairobi Club day after tomorrow." She lived in the neighbourhood of the Club and sometimes went to watch tennis matches there. My parents had been members of the Club since we were children, so that we had junior memberships. As soon as I began to earn my own way, I had upgraded mine to a full membership. The concierge had the understanding that I took a room once in a while, when I had had too much to drink and did not want to try to get home in the small hours.

That day, it was a buffet lunch. We had a very good time together knowing that nobody knew her there. Furthermore I was on good terms with the whole staff. So we could be as uninhibited in our behaviour as at Lamu Coffee Shop. As we had dessert, I excused myself for a short while, going to the accommodation steward and booking a room. When I came back to our table and told her what I had done, she gave me a wide-eyed look that spoke volumes about her deepest feelings. But her body language also continued to be affectionate, revealing that her emotions were quite mixed.

I led her upstairs. The bannisters were mahogany, delicately carved and highly polished. The furnishings of the Club had not changed much from the colonial era when it had been built. It was said that wherever two or three Englishmen found themselves together they formed a club! Nairobi Club had been established in 1911, to be followed by others, the most famous of which was Muthaiga Country Club. It established by settlers, businessman and farmers who felt that the government officials who frequented Nairobi treated them as inferiors. So they banded together and established their own club.

The bedrooms were spacious and very tidily kept. I opened the door and led Salome in, closing it behind me. She came into my arms at the merest invitation and clung to me. Maybe I have already told you she was a short woman, not much more than 5'3". On the other hand, I topped the 6' mark before my 16th birthday. Her arms came around my waist more than the chest; but it was still a loving embrace. I could not kiss her without pulling her away from me to allow myself to bend. But there was another way.

I sat her on the bed, covered in a flowery bedspread. I could hold her better and then bring her in for a tender kiss. She responded with vigour. I spared a moment to reflect that this was not the same woman who worked with me in the department, who was at war with anybody sporting a beard. She was soft, sensuous and very willing in my hands. I decided that I would not postpone our joys another moment. Stopping to take her clothes off, I did not register what they were, only that I left her in a light pink panty and a white bra. I pulled mine off efficiently and hung them up in the closet just as I had done hers. We crept under the covers in our underwear.

Her small hand wrapped itself around my cock. "Do you mean to put this huge thing inside me."

"Yes,to give you huge pleasure!" I said as I sucked her left breast into my mouth." Her squeezing game on my cock intensified. I sucked the other one as well, while my hand felt her pubic hair. As soon as I touched her wetness, she stiffened suddenly. "Oh, darling, darling!"

I positioned myself over her aiming my weapon at her secret place. As soon as the helmet touched heart lips, I slithered in smoothly. "How long have you planned on doing this to me, you naughty?"

"Almost every day, my sweetheart!"

"Yet you wear such an innocent face." She rubbed the side of my cheek as she said this.

I thrust deeper and deeper on each stroke, serving to stop further speech. When it came, it was a scream.

"Oh, jaysus! You have corrupted meee-ee!" She was coming again. This provoked me to release my semen into her.

We wanted to lie there luxuriously, but we did not have that kind of time. She had to rush back home.

Off she ran on her short legs, hoping her husband had not returned. It was very good first date.

On Monday she was able to tell me that it went well. The baby was fast asleep and the hubby had not returned. Now that baby could have solid foods he could be left for longer periods. After all on weekdays he only suckled in the mornings and then again in the evenings. I thought on another weekend I would take her further afield and maybe we could have real fun with each other.