A warm welcome to Kitty Warner, who will be writing for us on a weekly basis. Sex In The Mother City‘s format will be a chronicle of Cape Town life, documenting various (s)exploits in and around Cape Town. Sex In The Mother City is based on true happenings in the Mother City (names have been changed).Follow the link for episode 1.

Flipping on the switch

Cape Town – what a beautiful city…St Tropez, sman tropez, Beverley hills smeverly hills. Cape Town, baby, is Port Pretentious for a reason. A vibrant enhanced blonde of a city possessing European undertones, African overtones, and raw boerewors to make the best sausage connoisseur (or perhaps in this case connoisseur-ess) want to bite.

So this is you, on the Atlantic Seaboard, 2oceansvibe radio podcast from your blackberry whilst driving down High Level Road in your mini convertible, BBM-ing, tweeting, facebook-ing, or if you’re a thirty-something seventies-born newly single female, good old texting from your cellphone.

Technologically Kira felt as if she may still belong in the dark ages, but she was certainly on her way to becoming enlightened.  Sexually that was. Sex, sex, and sexy…She was starting to ooze those pheromones. Hot blasts of hormones that turned bodies into craving, desiring sexpods.

Recently single, Kira had starting shagging a gorgeous, much younger man. This was surprising for her, because only a few weeks before she had been told by one of her male Italian playmates that, at only 35 years of age, she was past her prime.

“My baby, there are so many young things out in the city, you are getting old. Past your prime, my lurvy.”

But Kira had flipped on the switch. And the result was startling. Sex was on offer everywhere. Hell, the other night even the car guard had said that he didn’t want her money honey, he wanted her love! (He would have done well, since she did consider her price a little above the value of the usual rhino green.)

Her mojo was leaving a libidinal wave in her wake, she felt alive and downright sexy – even if her skin was no longer supple and sun damage free; and little lines were very apparent around her eyes.

She was also beginning to consider high quality cosmetics (and high cost too). Where a little dove soap and some Like Silk face cream used to suffice, the Clarins range was now a “stranded on a desert-island” essential.

Offers of threesomes and foursomes, young male models, billionaires, strippers, and international entrepreneurs…All of them were becoming part of her personal story: her sexual tapestry and social discovery. In the 7/11 buying milk she was picked up by doctors. In coffee shops she was yodeled by German graphic designers, men in gyms, at charity events, fashion shows, buying dresses in boutique shopping centres or lingerie at the Sexpo…The list went on. Connection opportunities were prolific, and Kira felt as if she was going into mojo overdrive.

A Benefit and a Cellar

Julian had approached her at a charity music benefit and asked her out. She had attended the glitzy and ostentatious birthday bash with two friends; a close girlfriend, Tarryn, and a guy friend, Jack. Kira loved to dance. Whether sober or tipsy, if there was a dance floor to be made, she mdae it. The event was attended by hundreds of people and there they were, just the three of them, Jack, Tarryn, and Kira dancing alone to the DJ’s tunes in the big open space where the audience for the charity music gig had originally stood. Kira loved the way the music made her feel: generous, liberated and warm.

Bumping into her as she was leaving, he had said that he liked her energy. Later he had told her that the little shorts and knee high boots she had worn that night had helped, but he also liked the way she had moved freely whilst dancing with her two friends.

She was unsure of him at first. He spoke in a very distinguished manner, having been schooled privately overseas, and he presented himself with a party personae (which was all she had managed to engage with). He was however, very good looking, and when he had asked for her number she had challenged him to find her. Social media meant never having to hand your number out ever again.

And that was how they made a date for dinner. Upstairs at Beluga, in an intimate wine cellar over cocktails and sushi, this young man became interesting and sexy. When they were the last diners in the wine cellar, he made a suggestion.

“I am going downstairs to find our waiter and order a final cocktail; while I am gone I want you to think about how you would like to use this space, considering that we are now alone up here.”

Kira’s pulse had quickened as she caught his suggestive gaze before he made his way downstairs. The heat between her thighs was palpable. Images forced their way into her mind of her on the table, under the table, against the vintage wines stacked high in their dark wooden sleeves, naked and writhing.

The cellars walls were made of glass, below them the rest of the diners were still finishing their meals.

He sat down, took her hands.

“Time to go.”

“I thought about how I would like to use this space.”

Lips on lips. She wanted to rip her dress off with that long deep kiss. He tasted so damn good.

And then they were on the Wheel of Excellence; the next stage of their first date. A modern day ferris wheel with pod-like capsules, delivering views of the Mother City twinkling at night. And he was between her legs, his head beneath her skirt, his tongue making her want to get on her knees to show her gratitude, and thank the universe for her life and all its beautiful moments.

Tune in next week for some more Sex In The Mother City..