This is story of Margi and Clyde – a good one, I think, different and not at all what I expected it to be.
After my encounters with Andrea, angel of mine, and the second thing with Elaine, I knew that I had not finished with experimenting. Derek and I are drifting apart – or, at least, it seems that way to me. Nothing significant happened it just that there a sameness about everything but it may be because of me. Who knows?
In the spirit of adventuring, I browsed the “swingers” ads on Adam and came across their ad. A multiracial couple, both married to other people, both living on the fringe of danger. I was attracted to the ad because I had an interest in swinging, threesomes, as well as a healthy curiosity about men of other races. I know that this is a taboo in many peoples eyes but, hey, stuff that, this is new me! Anyway, when I was 18 I met an Indian guy in the Rosebank mall. He was bold enough to introduce himself to me and we had a good chat, standing in the busy mall outside CNA. He was damned good-looking but a little too smooth so it went nowhere. Anyway, I was only recently sexually active so I was not all that confident around men, regardless of colour.
Margi and Clyde are different though, and my response was received by Clyde. I was cautious in it, not giving too much away, but he was polite and friendly in his reply. Their ad said they wanted a third to join them for no strings sex, the other woman could be bi or not. This sounded interesting because they said I could watch if that is all I was interested in. This meant I could keep my options open. As our e-mails went back and forth I ensured that the venue would be a hotel – a good one, not a cheap place. We eventually agreed on the Sunnyside Hotel and they would foot the bill. I tried to find out their ages and I was a little taken aback when Clyde told me he was 39 and Margi was forty-something (his words). I thought about this for a while as they both seemed older than I wanted, particularly her. This made me pause a while and I asked Clyde for his number. Surprisingly he sent it instantly, along with Margi’s. Again, I waited a few days, unsure if I should proceed. Clyde then sent me e-mail, telling me that if I wanted to bail out, no problem and that there was no pressure.
Again I wavered. Eventually my curiosity got the better of me and I called him. His secretary answered – a black guy! Our new South Africa is new indeed and he told me that Clyde was away on business in Cape Town and he offered me his cell number. I took it, not sure if the cell was too personal or not. I knew it would be safe to call him as he was away, so, that night, after Chad drifted off to sleep I called.
Clyde has deep voice, sexy, and he sounded white on the phone. Educated too, sure of himself. I told him who I was and he was genuinely pleased. He spoke exactly like his e-mails – polite, friendly and considerate. He said that was coloured but that he had some Asian ancestry. I left it at that, marvelling at how complex our society actually is. I was nervous as we spoke and I felt foolish. He was in his hotel room, drinking a beer and watching some soccer match. He told me that he was a manager for an Internet company and travelled regularly between Jhb and CT, at least once a month. Margi was an old girlfriend, from years ago, and they had recently re-established contact to renew their sex life, which was apparently great.
They were both adventurous, looking for the unusual, hence the Adam thing. I told him a little about me and was surprised to find that I was tempted to lie a little, about nonsense; my age, weight etc. I didn’t though but I did tell him that I wasn’t sure. He suggested we all meet for coffee (Nino’s jumped into my mind but that is my special place with Andrea) and I agreed to meet them in Sandton, in the Sandton Square. We agreed that we could all talk then and if I wanted I could walk away with no pressure.
I agreed to meet them the following Monday, when Clyde was back in Jhb.
After we chatted I still found that I had second thoughts but I decided to forge ahead anyway. After all, what could happen over lunch, in public? Little did I know!
That Monday I took care to dress nicely, wearing one of my better outfits from Queens Park. I made sure my hair looked great and I applied my make-up carefully. I mean, even if it went nowhere I wanted to look my best.
Being prudent, especially after the fiasco with Elaine, I got there early, a quarter to one. I told Clyde that I would wear a pair of white sunglasses in my hair, like an Alice band, so that he could recognise me. He said he would be wearing a blue lounge shirt with a red tie. So, being careful, I made sure that the sunglasses weren’t in my hair until I saw him, or them, so that I could suss them out and make some sort of assessment before exposing myself.
Sure enough, they got there a few minutes before one. He was indeed wearing the clothes as agreed (this gave me some comfort – no smart-arse tricks from their side). I was surprised – Margi didn’t look forty-something but fifty-something! He looked about 39 or 40. I studied them for few moments, sizing them up.
Clyde wasn’t bad looking. In fact he had an appealing smile, open and wide. He wore glasses and I could see what he meant by his Asian ancestry. He wasn’t too dark but not fair – in fact like Anant Naidoo, the newsreader – do you remember him? Clyde had straight black hair, fine and neatly cut in old-fashioned style, like a square cut almost. He wore a moustache. He wasn’t weighty but he seemed well built without being muscular. His clothes fitted him well and were expensive looking. He wore some jewellery; a gold bracelet, rings and a watch. His sleeves were rolled halfway up his forearms, his jacket slung over the back of the chair. He sat expansively in the chair, legs wide, arms making big gestures as he talked to Margi, smiling all the time. He looked about 5’10” or so, not tall. He seemed confident, sure of himself.
Margi seemed old and my heart sagged. She smiled a lot too, smoking, leaning forward to listen to Clyde. She was well dressed, wearing a nice lemon summer dress with white sandals. Her hair was tied up neatly. She, too, wore jewellery, lots of it, bangles, chains and rings. Obviously had some money. She had a nice open face, blue eyes and she was blond. I would guess her weight to be about 65 kgs or so and her height to 5’ 7”.
I watched them for about 5 minutes and they looked around, obviously looking for me. The moment had come to decide – I took a breath and was about to stand up when a waiter approached them. I waited. He ordered for both of them, without consulting her, clearly showing that they knew each other well. When the waiter left I rose and went to meet them, glasses now firmly in hair.
As I neared the table Clyde saw me and smiled broadly, openly. He rose and stuck his hand out. Margi looked at me appraisingly.
“Aimee – glad you decided to come!” I took his hand; it was dry, warm and firm. It felt strange meeting a man I knew who wanted to fuck me, shaking his hand so formally. “This is Margi, my good friend,” he said, gesturing towards her.
She smiled sweetly and simply said “Hello” and nodded. I felt flustered, smoothing my skirt as I sat. Clyde then sat down.
“We’ve just ordered drinks – what can I get for you?”
I cleared my throat, feeling trapped. Had they ordered alcohol or not? What the hell, I needed something to still my hammering heart. “I’ll have a Bacardi Breezer, the pineapple one, if they have it. Thanks…”
“No problem!” Clyde said, and started signalling for the waiter. “So!” he said, “Do you work far from here?”
“Actually no – I’m in Randburg so its no big thing. And you?” I started to settle now, neutral territory and all that.
“Auckland Park. A bit of a trek but, you know, its central for all of us.”
