The much-awaited DNA report was due to arrive that afternoon. The father of the premature baby lying in the incubator was much in dispute. Two cousins had apparently been courting the babys mother and each came forward to claim the baby as his own. 'Had I known that Jim had made the claim, I would have kept my trap shut. But how would I have known that Celestine was playing both of us,' thought Steve. But it was now too late.
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Celestine was the daughter of the flamboyant Governor of the County. Rising from obscurity to political supremacy had taken her father almost a decade. Some said that he was involved in the drugs trade, but nobody could furnish any evidence to it. The fact remained that he was extremely rich; he owned several high-rise buildings in the capital; he had fleets of trucks doing business between Mombasa and the neighbouring countries. Celestine attracted friends to herself like flies. The people of the Fourth estate adored her. Girls wanted to be seen and photographed with her at parties, fashion shows and dinners. They were assured of having a good time without having to spend much money, as Celestine was reputed to be very generous to her friends. Over a Friday evening at the K2 Clubhouse she was known to have mounted a bill of a hundred thousand.
Men too were drawn to her, attracted by her beauty, class and fashion sense. Going out with her meant that they could hook up with glamorous girls who flocked around her, although many soon found out to their chagrin that the girls had no money of their own and only shone with reflected glamour from Celestine. She was not averse to treating a guy to drinks and food while in her company, so they did not necessarily need a fat wallet, although to shore up his image a guy would need to buy a round or two for gathered company.
Jim worked as an event photographer charging exorbitant rates so that he catered only to those who can pay my price as he put it. He had first met Celestine at a fashion event staged in the Villa Rossa Kempinski Hotel. Only invited guests were allowed, of whom he was one by virtue of being an event photographer.
Once the show was under way, Jim took a number of shots at the beautiful Celestine, intending to send her copies of some of them. Then a wild idea seized him. He bought a bottle of wine and asked the waiter to send it to her table with his compliments. Meanwhile he was working the other end of the room, wanting to avoid being thanked by a simple wave of the hand, no matter how delicately shaped it may be. He would collect them in his own time in his own way, but did catch the waiter pointing him out to her.
Later in the evening he arranged to be near her table, and clicked a few more shots of her. She gave him a radiant smile and called him over. Thank you for the wine. We girls enjoyed it very much!
Never mind, he replied politely. It was my pleasure.
When it is not so hectic, would you mind joining us for a last glass? She had given him a specific time to come to her table, not a moment earlier. So he did. A few days later he published photos of Celestine admiring some of the outfits, on a very famous rumour website. He was sure the information would get to her on the grapevine; he had made sure to include the photo credits so that she would know it was his work.
Hello! a seductive voice said when he answered an unknown number on his phone the evening of the same day that he had put the photos up. This is Celestine. I loved the photos so much that I visited your website to see your work. What do you do with the photos after they are taken? They look really special!
Jim was very pleased with the opening of that conversation. I do some light editing before delivering the results.
I do not remember seeing any photos as good as yours, including the Kempinski ones of me. By the simple device of a bottle of wine, a lens and editing software Jim had entered Celestines circles. They took to each other instantly so that they would have appeared in myriad publications, websites and news channels had it not been for Jims work taking him to other counties to capture events for posterity. He did once see his cousin Steve, the branch manager of one of the large banks in the City, in a picture of a recent wedding, in Celestines circle. He was mildly surprised that the man in the photo looked so much like him, a fact he had never before appreciated.
Celestine invited him to her residence on Riverside Drive for a party several times before he found himself her lover. Their attraction for each other boiled over in a very short time. My time is running out fast, and I have no child to call my own.
Your parents would never approve of me as your husband.
Whos talking husbands here?
Oh? Jim was speechless.
I want a baby with you, but I have no wish to enter the primitive arrangements that my parents generation worship. You will get to know your child, but that does not mean you have to provide for her needs.
They were on her queen-sized bed, wet with exertions of their last sexual romp. This was all too new to him, yet it excited something deep inside him.
His cock, beginning to slump, stood up again ready to deliver the sweet blow. He turned her over, kneeled behind her, held onto her buttocks for stability and speared her cunt from behind, like a randy dog. He slid in on his previous discharge right up to the hilt. She screamed her renewed pleasure at this. He had discovered that she liked it fast and furious, which unfortunately took him over the edge in scant minutes. It was the same this time. She came loudly and wetly, fortunately only a few seconds before him.
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The DNA investigation shows that the baby was fathered by both men, which is plainly impossible. The only logical conclusion is that the two are brothers, said Dr Ichangi to the gathered family members.
Impossible! erupted Steves father, Walter. Then he caught his sister-in-law Florences eye, and a strange expression crossed his face. Simon, Florences husband caught the look and turned his gaze to Pauline, Walters wife. The doctor saw the flash of looks from one to the other, and the resulting expression looking somewhat like guilt, or maybe puzzlement. He was unable to tell which it was, but was sure there was a fascinating tale behind it.
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