The journey through boyhood is littered with a myriad of challenges especially if you do not have an elder male to guide you through the treacherous waters. I am often embarrassed whenever I remember the things I did in an effort to earn admiration and respect of my peers during this transition.
Soon after high school, I would spend most of my free time hanging out with three close buddies. During the day we all worked in various ventures only to meet at a local bar in the evening. That was before betin Kenya so we would shoot the breeze, play pool and stake small amounts that would go to whoever wins the game.
This one Saturday afternoon we are hanging out at our favorite joint, Mrs. Officer song by Lil Wayne & Bobby Valentino is playing in the background then at that very moment an off-duty local female cop walks in, sits at the bar counter and orders a beer. She is in cargo pants and a brownish tank top.
My boys dare me to go touch her ass if I was a man enough. Back then everything we did was pegged on one’s masculinity. Seeking validation from the boys was a fulltime gig. I was scared but I knew I had to do it lest I lost their respect. I muster some courage then walk up to her.
She is surprisingly receptive. Soon enough she was laughing at my perfectly timed jokes. After minutes of harmless banter, I decided to go for the jugular vein.
” Is your ass real?”
This was during a period padded panties and other tricks used to accentuate derrieres had taken over the country by storm.
“What? Does this look fake to you?…ehh?” She retorts.
She twists her back to face me. I instinctively place my hand on her behind like a detective to unearth any signs she might be sporting a fake ass.
“Damn, it’s natural!” I exclaim.
Just then it hits me, I’m actually touching her. I quickly pull away my hand bracing for a hot slap across the face. To my utter surprise, she smiles.
“Don’t be scared, I don’t bite.” She says with a wink.
Although I am shocked, I act unperturbed. She begins throwing raunchy statements and gets all touchy. I play along. After a half-hour of flirting she finishes her beer.
“How about you walk me home?”
I signal my boys I’m off.
She claims to have a slight headache so we pass by a chemist. I wait outside while she goes in. I could tell she is a regular from her conversation with the attendant. I see the attendant quickly wrap some meds in a tiny envelop and hands over to her. Being a hawk-eyed dude I get a glimpse of the writing on the green packaging. POSTINOR-2. I assume it’s a new type of painkillers.
We walk to her place which is close to the bar. For some weird reason, she is overly chatty and touchy. We get to her place. An old dilapidated structure with four units on the ground floor. Her place is untidy, I cringe at the sight of the mess. I take the couch as she pours whiskey into two glasses hands over one to me.
“Do you dance?” She asks.
“Of course,” I reply. Back then I was pretty good at break dancing.
She walks over to her stereo and plays some reggaeton tunes.
Ms. Officer grabs my hand and pulls me up from the seat. I spill my drink in the process. She jams her massive ass on my crotch and pulls my arms around her and places them on her boobs. This happens all too fast. One minute I’m sipping on whiskey, the next one I’m grinding on her as she moves my hands all over her body, which she seems to enjoy. She turns her head to face me, biting her lower lip, lascivious intentions written all over her face.
I smile back although I’m even more confused and afraid. See, her door is unlocked, she is in her late twenties when I’m barely 18 plus things were moving way too fast for me. I reciprocate by grind on her in sync to the music while raking my brain on how to untangle myself from the mess.
As if on cue my phone rings. I pull away from her, fish it out of my pocket. Josh is calling, one of the guys I left at the bar. I excuse myself and step out of her place to receive the call. I literally take off.
So I rush back the bar and narrate the story to my friends who can’t stop laughing. The next morning my old man sends me out of town on some errands. On getting back four days later my buddies call me aside.
“Maish, what did you do to the lady cop?”
“Nothing, I told you how everything went down.”
During my absence, Ms. Officer visited each one of them at their workplace and interrogated them about me. She was keen to know what kind of business I did and particularly if I peddled drugs. Apparently, she also swore to teach me a lesson. Naturally, I dismissed these as an attempt by my boys to pull one over me.
A few days later, I’m hanging out with the boys in the parking lot of our favorite joint taking pictures when two visibly infuriated gents walked up to us.
“Why are you taking pictures of us?”
Before any of us could respond the burly one grabs the phone from Erico and slaps him. The other one grabs me by the collar, lifts me off my feet. We try to reason with them that they were actually on the opposite side of the camera but that didn’t seem to work. We resort to apologizing profusely while addressing them in glorious titles just appease their egos. Judging from their language I could tell they are cops.
“Pole afande…hatutarudia mkubwa…tumesikia officer.”
They finally leave us with a promise, we will soon meet again. Soon after they left Josh revealed what he recently learned about the lady cop. She is into young boys especially those straight from high school. Once she has her sights on you, Ms Officer would do everything to have you including coercion if gifts don’t work. Once she has had enough of a guy she dumps him and moves to the next one. It’s rumored that the last guy to resist her advances was arrested over trumped-up drug peddling charges. At my friends request I skipped town.
It turns out she was not only a perv but also a petty thief. A few weeks later she was transferred to another town after getting caught stealing some cash from a wife to one of her seniors. I went back home after she left.
Written Mark Maish