Last week we brought you the first episode of Sex In The Mother City. Kitty Warner introduced us to our intrepid sex pioneer, Kira, and her exciting exploits around the Mother City. Kira enjoyed an after-dinner snack on on the wheel of fortune with the man of her dreams. But Kira has eyes, and sophisticated pallet. Will she be able to hold on to her honey pot, or will sweeter flavours lure her away? Sex In The Mother City is based on true happenings in the Mother City (names have been changed). Follow the link for episode 2.

A Met Meeting

Monday 8:30am. Morning. A man lying naked next to her. A new man, a gorgeous and passionate man. The landline phone breaks through her silent adulation, she races downstairs to answer it.

“Morning, darling.”

“Oh, hi, love.”

“Woke you up, huh?”

May God forgive her lies; she was not made to resist such temptation.

“Ja, sort of.”

“You haven’t exercised the horses yet?”

“9:30am.”

“You ok?”

“Sure, just tired, restless night”. Oh, so wonderfully restless.

“Well, I am back on Wednesday – Milan tonight again.”

“Great.”

“10:15am International Arrivals, please make sure there is a car there for me when I arrive. Lots of love.”

“Hmmm. Bye.”

“Bye then.”

Cellphone. Hers? His.

“Ja, I will be there now, hold them for me.”

“Coffee?”

“No, I have to go.” He takes her hands, kissing them. “Can I shower quickly?”

“Sure.” Thank goodness, Precious, their domestic, has the day off to go to the clinic; although now Catherine will have to walk the dogs herself today.

Her cell. “Hello.”

“Cat, what happened with Andrew last night?” It is Kira, her confidante.

“Um, he is still here.”

“What? He stayed the night? Wow!”

“Can I call you later? He is just coming out of the shower.”

“Ok. Later.”

Catherine was having an affair. Recently married (nearly a year now) to a hugely successful man, 15 years her senior, she lived in a vast suburban mansion on the Constantia Ridge. Charles had lots of horses, her passion, and a beautiful home. Charles also travelled a lot.

She had first met Andrew at the 33^rd J&B Met. The J&B Met was Cape Town’s hottest horse racing spectacle. With less poise and dignity than other national or international events of this nature however, people were mostly there to enjoy a raucous party.

Starting with the delicate taste of strawberries, dashing tailored suits and women in their most elegant or creative and colourful creations, this day usually descended into celebrated debauchery. Charles’ company had a fully catered tent, and Charles owed one of the competing horses. Catherine had spent much of the day making idle chit-chat, sipping champagne, and eyeing the decorative wear of the other ladies. By late afternoon, after someone had passed around a plate of special brownies, Catherine found herself lounging on a couch watching one of the senior executives, underneath a nearby table, fumbling beneath the skirt of a client’s wife. Above the same table the oblivious client guffawed at another senior exec’s jokes whilst his wife made little whimpering sounds. Catherine wasn’t quite sure what to make of her new role as voyeur, but the special brownies had certainly mellowed her. At an adjoining table, the financial director’s wife, breasts bursting from her dress, balanced unsteadily on the table-top. She had been singing “Don’t cry for me, Argentina” followed by a number from the Parlotones. Catherine remembered thinking that she actually had a superb voice before she watched her tumbling to the ground.

“We need a bunch of fillies for the next race, my dear,” and that was the last thing Catherine remembered clearly before Andrew dragged her by her arm over the racing track’s barrier and back into a nearby tent.

‘Well, thank you. Thank you so much. Seriously thank you. And well, thank you.” She could just make out a handsome face and a friendly smile.

“Only too glad to be of service, madame. Dangerous spot to be hanging out, the track.”

“Lots of very fast horses,” she agreed.

Daddy Down Under

She must have given him her number before stumbling back to the corporate tent, because she received a text a few weeks later inviting her to a music gig on the roof of the Granddaddy hotel in Long Street. Long Street was not usually her kind of vibe, but she was curious, remembering an attractive man. She invited Kira to join her.

He was the lead singer in a small melodic rock band. He wore a crazy hat sporting a fake diamante and did a lot of leg kicks when excited on the guitar. He had an Aussie twang, something she had not remembered from the Met.

Kira knew the drummer and he confided in her that Andrew thought Catherine was gorgeous.

“But I have a husband.”

“I told John that, but Andrew still wants to know is he wasting his time?”

Catherine was not sure if she should have taken this as a warning; a cavalier approach to the sanctity of marriage. But she was drawn, fascinated. He oozed sex appeal when he performed. Catherine knew she was in trouble.

The band finished their set.

“Kira, I have to go. I don’t think it is a good idea to stay.”

“Ok, hun, I understand. Drive safe.” Cheek kisses good-bye and Kira disappeared into the crowd.

As Catherine was leaving Andrew grabbed her arm.

“Come and have a drink with me in the downstairs bar. Don’t leave just yet. I find you very attractive. I would like to talk to you.” That smile. Her stomach flipped.

“As long as you are not disappointed if the outcome of my staying does not amount to exactly what you may expect.”

“And what would that be?” A cheeky grin. “Women, why do they always expect some sexually ulterior motive?”

“So you don’t want to sleep with me?”

“Of course I do, but I don’t expect it; and I want you to stay regardless.”

“I need to go home, but I would love to hear you sing again.”

He walked her to her car, paid the car guard. Catherine had had only one drink all evening, but she felt completely intoxicated.

Against her black Z-4, he kissed her full on the mouth.

“Do you like kissing?” he whispered in her ear.

“I love kissing.”

“I would like to take you into one of those trailers on the rooftop and kiss you for hours.”

Her body was suddenly standing to attention. It ached for him to touch her.

“Carefully, anyone could see us. I know a lot of people in this town.”

“I could always be your cousin.”

“With a serious lack of boundaries.” They both laughed, and he kissed her deeply one more time.

That night Catherine thought of him as she coaxed her body to climax in bed, alone.