Kihika the Sleuth

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The report has come in at last. You have no idea how eagerly I have waited for it.

The best part is that Nyathira, my wife, has come out shining. She has resisted all the attempts at seduction for nearly three months. Part of me feels very proud of her. Yes, I admire her beauty, her figure which she works diligently to maintain. She has very little ‘mama fat’ on her except for cute love handles above her bums, as well as the bums themselves and her thighs. I have noticed various men salivating after her. Problem is, I have no way of telling her these things. Like all married couples who have been together for many years, compliments are no longer easy to give or receive. She also has a very sharp mind, so that when I decided that I must know for sure whether she fucks someone else, I had to be very careful how I went about it.

Two and a half months ago, an opportunity fell into my lap, so to speak. A message came into her phone while she had slipped into the bathroom. By whatever stroke of luck the screen lock had not yet activated, so I was able to read it. It was from an Airtel number which I was quick to store away, telling her that he has enjoyed what they had shared that day. I froze. Had they been in bed? It was not clear from the message. I scrolled up to see if any other messages from this Kim gave any clue. I had no time come to a conclusive answer before she unlocked the door and came back to where we were sitting. I shoved the phone between the cushions just in time.

All night I was tossing and turning, seeking a way of making sure that my wife was still my wife. I decided on a frontal attack. I would use my contacts in the CID to find out who this Kihika Kimani really was. Then I called the number and told him straight out that he was fucking my wife. He spoke in a haughty tone, denying everything. I had no hard evidence yet, so I could not proceed at that point. I continued my researches, and it came out that some five years ago there had been a case of handling stolen property against him, brought by his Indian employer. The file took a long time to locate, but it showed that the case had been abruptly cut short, a sure sign that someone had been “got at”. At the time Kim had money so he must have put some in the right hands and the matter was hushed up.

I called him with this information, lying that the Indian was still pushing the matter, though meeting with resistance. I had him just where I wanted him, when he asked me what we can do about it, his pride almost dissolved. I asked him to come to my office later in the week. When he came I could see that he was probably of good family, well brought up, with good manners and an air of confidence. But I could tell that he was no longer in his former status; he was broke. His clothes had lost their former glory. My spirits rose.

“Good morning Mr Kihika!” I greeted him, showing him to a seat.

“Good morning to you.” He did not yet know my name.

Once having established he was in my power, I told him of my plan. Everything depended on whether he had already been to bed with Nyathira, which I had reason to suppose was not the case. He agreed to work with me on the plan, which gave me a weak assurance that they were not yet lovers.

Over the last two months we have tried to seduce my wife to sleep with Kim. True to form, she has given him encouragement, expressed enthusiasm for outings, but slithers smoothly away before it can happen. Sure, they have gone out for lunch, but only on days when she was going out for her music lessons; never has she agreed to come out just for him. They have also gone together to a place in Ngong as members of choir they both belong to, and she accepts to go in his company, to which trips I have contributed small amounts. All this is typical of Nyathira’s personality type!

The report he has written me says all these things in detail, though he has been telling me the outcome of each event. However, two matters arise.

One, he adopted the strategy of assuring her that he will only be a side-dish and not disrupt the marriage, or our children. Neither will his loving her threaten her position in the church. In my opinion this was a weak strategy. I am not able to form a firm opinion whether she would have fallen if he assured her he would take care of her when she left me. The other matter arising is that of his finances evidently being straitened. She must have picked it up as quickly as I did, with her sharp eyes and mind. This would prevent him being able to fulfil ‘matters arising one’ should it arise. So the project and its report are not as conclusive as I would have liked.

The other part of me still has doubts as to the loyalty of my wife. Perhaps I should seek another decoy who will be more bold, so that Nyathira will not doubt his ability in any regard. I cannot hope for something to ‘fall into my lap’ again, and it will likely cost me a lot more than Kihika Kimani’s small sums.

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The bahis firmaları Woman’s Guild scarf; Nyathira is finally caught

It was New Years Eve. My wife and I wanted to be at the watch-night service to welcome the new year and the decade. Many people at the office or among my friends believed that we were already in the third decade of the century. I think the change from 2019 to 2020 had caused them to think that 2020 belonged to the new rather than the old one, forgetting that there was no Year 0AD; we start counting at 1AD. Decades, centuries and millennia must therefore start with a year ending in “1” rather than “0”. It was difficult for them to accept that today, 31st December 2020 marked the end of the second decade and that 1st January 2021 brought in the new one. The same thing had happened at the new millennium, when we heard of a Millennium Bug that was to attack computers on 1 Jan 2000. In fact the millennium started on 1st Jan 2001, but the magic of four digits changing from 1999 to 2000 had caught the world’s imagination and the new millennium was rung in a whole year early. Some individuals and companies made a fortune selling ‘Bug fixes’.

Anyhow, so here we were at church with the choir leading in the singing. As soon as we had arrived, my wife went off into the choir room to prepare for the service. This was the normal pattern when we arrived at church. During the service they would be sitting in the choir stalls, and I had become accustomed to sitting with the ‘civilians’ as she liked to call it. We would get together after the service was over, which was what I expected even today.

I could see where they were sitting from my seat nearer the front than usual tonight. Gideon the choirmaster sat at the end of the alto row where my Nyathira always sat so that now he was next to her. I could see them sharing jokes that made them smile and other times laugh while holding their heads low. Perhaps they did not want to disturb the others around them. Then I noticed something else. He seemed to have touched her side, which has always been quite ticklish since her youth. She jumped hard when he did that, then collapsed in laughter, but tried to hide it by looking down.

I was surprised at myself that I had not picked up on an obvious fact. When the choir stood to present their first number, I saw the tall figure of Kihika in the tenor section. I tried to mollify myself that it must have been because everyone was standing that I had not become aware of his presence earlier. But with his height I still should have. Furthermore there seemed to be strange faces in the other sections as well. I am no musician myself, but I could still feel that the quality of their singing was somewhat different.

The flirting between my wife and the choirmaster continued throughout the service. It was beginning to irk me that they could be so careless, sitting as they were in plain view of everyone. During the prayer, I caught Nyathira slipping a large envelope in among the copies of music the choirmaster had placed on the pew in front of them. It must have been a card. She remained with her head bowed while doing this. The choirmaster acted like he had seen nothing, afterward letting his eyes rove over the congregation as if he were trying to locate another member of the choir who was sitting among them. But I did catch him slipping the sheaf of papers into his bag at another random moment. I thought I had discovered the reason why my project with Kihika had been so inconclusive: her lover was the choirmaster, her music teacher who gives her lessons twice a week. But why had I never noticed anything during the past year when he had been doing this?

The minister took a moment to introduce ‘friends of our Choir’ who had joined us for the watch-night service, Kihika among them. There were several women, but only Kihika and one other man in the bass section. She asked the congregation to join her in welcoming The Tremblers with a hearty clap.

Some minutes shy of midnight candles were lit from the minister’s large one and passed from one row to the next, each lighting his or her neighbour’s. At some point all the lights were switched off. I thought I detected, in the gloom, heightened activity on the flirting front. The New Year was rung in amid lots of shouting, whistling, followed by a fanfare by the instrumentalists. Then the joint choir sang the last hymn and it was over.

Tonight, like other times at church, I was not in a hurry to leave the pews, since I would still need to wait for Nyathira to emerge from the choir room after ‘de-gowning’. When she came out she was in a cheerful mood, holding my hand in the dark as we approached our car. The exchange with her music teacher, in the unusual setting of a night service seemed to have affected her. In bed she was more frisky than normal. She kissed me so hungrily that my irritation began to evaporate. By the time she tickled my nipples my cock was standing kaçak iddaa at full attention. She slithered on top of me and massaged my cock with her cunt lips, driving me higher and higher. My anger all but vanished, she lifted herself and inserted my cock into her invitingly wet cunt. She made gentle movements keeping me in the shallow end. I decided to incite her by rubbing her asshole.

“Aaaah, darling!” In trying to escape my finger she drove into me, sinking my pole into her very depths. I chuckled. “You have just come from church and yet you’re so naughty!” She slapped my groin. The woman then proceeded to fuck me so vigorously that she came in only a few minutes, screaming loudly and squeezing me between her thighs. I felt her juices between us as she subsided. I was astonished that the idea of Nyathira coming on me while fantasising about the choirmaster did not displease me as much as it might have. “I must be thinking with my phallus,” I berated myself.

She woke me up in the morning with her mouth on my cock. After making sure that I was all rigid and hard she threw one leg over me, bringing her cunt near enough my cock that she could reach under her and grip me. She slanted my rod and inserted it into her at a slight angle. As she began moving her pelvis to fuck me, she said, “How’s that for an italicised fuck!” sending me into fits of giggling. This only fuelled our fucking. This time neither of us was in a hurry. After all it was New Year’s Day.

Over the next few months The Tremblers choir increased its activity. My wife told me that they met at different venues, including some homes. In fact Kihika had started the trend by inviting them to practice at his house. The Ngong contingent was large enough that alternate practices were held in venues there, sometimes at a hotel owned by one of those members, a wealthy woman, whose husband had died the previous year. I divined by various means that she often went in the company of her teacher but at other times with Kihika. I concluded this was just a smokescreen so that nobody could decide whether she had a relationship with either of the men. Since I had found that she seemed to have no interest in Kihika my suspicion moved to her teacher. The thing that puzzled me was that he had been teaching her for nearly a year yet I had not detected any whiff. “That’s what comes of marrying a smart wife,” I said to myself. “I may be the lawyer but she had just as much brains herself.”

“Did you notice a very tall man who sang with us at the New Year Eve service?” asked Nyathira one evening as we had dinner.

I debated within myself whether it was a trick question. I took the chance that she did not know what Kihika and I were up to last year. “He was only one of two men who had joined you. How could I fail to notice?”

“He is the one in whose house we sometimes practice. I suspect he is trying to get into the pants of a friend of the rich woman in Ngong.”

I gave her the expected shocked look. “Did you not say they also belonged to the Guild?”

“I think he should know that, and respect our scarf,” she said vehemently.

“You people hold that scarf in very high esteem, it seems to me.”

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Gideon’s car swerved suddenly into a narrow street that I knew led to a quiet tourist hotel. So this is where they come for their trysts? I will have you by the balls in a short while, I swore under my breath. He ducked furtively into the hotel’s parking’s entrance. I parked beside the road and waited for a decent while before confronting them. Then I drove into the parking, leaving my car at the farthest end and walked towards the hotel’s entrance. I kept a sharp eye out for Gideon in case they were lingering at the restaurant confident that their movements had gone undetected. Puzzlingly, I could not see his car in the relatively small parking space which was not full.

I walked into the restaurant and was lucky enough to see Nyathira sequestered in a corner with another woman. Where on earth was Gideon? I sat behind a pillar and ordered a ginger ale. They finished quickly and I was forced to leave my drink unfinished to follow them. At the reception they received a key. What was going on here? Who was this woman with my wife? A decoy for Gideon, I wondered. As I passed beside the reception desk I took note of the place I had seen the clerk reach into. Number 11 was not on its hook, so it must be the rendezvous. I have caught you, Nyathira!

I followed them surreptitiously up the stairs to see where No 11 was. I saw them open a door down a corridor whose last door I could read as 16. I then went back to my drink to give them time to settle down. 20 minutes went painfully by before I approached the door. Next to 16 came 15, 14, 13 and then 12. 11 was next, and my heart was beating wildly. I knocked sharply with what I hoped was some authority. As soon as the lock turned I barged in.

To say Nyathira looked shell-shocked is to indulge kaçak bahis in a profound understatement. I turned around looking for Gideon but came face to face with a mature woman of about my age, in a short pale pink chemise. This caused me to sink into confusion. Two scantily clad women in a room for upwards of 20 minutes could only mean one thing. I have been sharing my bed with a lesbian, or at the very least, a bisexual.

“Darling, please it is nothing like what it seems!” pleaded my wife.

“What does it seem to be?” I retorted. “Can you see it from my angle?”

The other woman put in, “We were discussing the future of Tremblers choir.” I vaguely seemed to remember her among the ‘friends of the Choir’. Could this be the rich widow of Ngong?

I snorted loudly in derision. “Naked?” pointing at her exposed thighs, and at my wife trying to cover herself with the sheet.

“Please sit down and listen to what we have to say, Darling!” wailed Nyathira.

I stormed out of the room in a blind rage. If I stayed another moment there I would have committed something, for sure. I descended the stairs and into the reception area without really seeing where I was going. I rushed out into the parking and was nearly run over by a dusty pickup truck that was leaving from the goods entrance. In my car I sat with tears stinging my eyes. What had I not given my wife in all the time we had been married? Did she have to go undressing for another woman? So was Gideon the decoy, or what role was he playing? How long had this been going on? I could not reconcile my mind to these events.

I drove out slowly. In my pain I could not go back to the office. Instead I went to Four Seasons Restaurant to calm my nerves with a drink. I could not get my head around the fact that a full member of the Guild could take such a path as my Nyathira had done. How long ago was it that we had a discussion about the Guild scarf and how important it was held to be? Had all that come to nought?

As I sat there nursing my third drink I heard someone pull a chair at my table and sit down. As I lifted my eyes, a hand was laid tenderly on my forearm. “Baba Tom, please listen to me.” I was profoundly shocked to come face to face with the woman in room 11.

“What could you possibly tell me to improve this situation? Haven’t I seen clear evidence that your scarf is not as exalted as you people claim?”

“Please do not blame the Guild for anything you have seen today!” she said soothingly. “I have sent your wife to my house to relax and gather her wits about her.”

“If she has any left,” I burst out before I could stop myself.

“I know you are hurt, Baba Tom. But I want you to know its neither your wife, the scarf, the Guild nor even the Church as a whole that has hurt you.”

I looked at her incredulously. ‘Was this woman out of her mind completely? What nonsense is she spouting?’

I simply blinked and went on looking at her, dumbfounded.

“In fact what you chose to believe has led you to the hurt burning in your breast right now.” I thought nobody could descend lower on the scale of stupidity. I was still tongue-tied.

She continued, “The only reason there are so many churches in the world today, all proclaiming one saviour is this: we each choose what to take from the Bible and ignore all else. Catholics have a separate belief, and Anglicans, Presbyterians, and Methodists likewise. Even those lumped together as Pentecostals are separate and you cannot imagine them sharing an altar for more than a day. Once the ceremony that brought them together is over they simply turn backs on each other and return to their individual altars. Don’t ever expect Ecumenism to go anywhere.”

She was getting my attention now. I thought about how the attendance at the annual ecumenical service had been dwindling over the last ten years. Had it run out of steam? “Do you want another drink? Make it a stiffer one.” She called the waiter and ordered two glasses of whisky.

“So your wife has not turned her back on your love or yourself. I inducted her into enjoying what a woman can do to her alongside what she enjoys with her husband. We have chosen to believe what suits us and ignore the noises made by fanatics that women like us will go to hell.”

“Weren’t you married until last year? How long had you been playing your husband?” I asked her bitterly.

“I have enjoyed both my husband and a woman for most of my married life,” she answered levelly. “I have observed no difference between us and those who shout loudest about hell fire. They too have their own preferences. I used to call them ‘weaknesses’ before I discovered that truth.”

I saw a glimmer of hope that my Nyathira had not departed from me for good. I loved that woman with all my being. “So you want to fuck Nyathira with your toys and leave her to come back to me?”

“I will not harbour any jealousy against you, her husband. You and I can continue sharing her.” This was more than I could take but Liza laid her palm onto my arm and squeezed gently, communicating understanding and friendship. Over another few drinks this woman brought me to see sense from her perspective.

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