A South African journalist, hungry to taste life and the world beyond the
confines of his homeland, grabs his chance in the exotic island nation of Madagascar.
Chantal laughed slyly. "I think I like you."
"I rather like you," Graeme heard himself saying.
The words surprised him.
"You have a funny accent."
"In my country only the best-educated people speak this
way," he replied exaggeratedly, conscious of trying to charm her. He was not doing
anything behind Nella's back, he told himself. He was merely performing a patriotic duty:
proving that white South Africans were human beings. He noticed the light glowing in
Chantal's Bantu eyes and the milk-chocolate fineness of her skin. "I'm one of those
people," he said. "I went to our best university."
"Harvard?"
"Witswatersrand."
"Oh, bloody shit!" she said. "I assumed you
were American."
"Do I say thanks?"
She cocked her eyebrow, a glint of irony flashing in her
eyes. "Is South Africa different these days? Or is it the more things change the more
they're the same?"
"A little of both," he said. "Does it bother
you that I'm South African?"
She studied him, started to say something, then changed her
mind.
"You can say it," Graeme told her. "I'm a
consenting adult."
She laughed. Graeme glowed at the success of his banter. He
wondered what pregnant Nella would think of his flirting - and was annoyed with himself
for wondering.
"Does it bother you that my mother’s French and my
father from West Africa?"
"You're beautiful," Graeme said. "They
obviously do good work together." She smiled. He felt pleased with his compliment. At
the same time he wondered at the words, at the way they tumbled out. What made me say
that, he asked himself—and to a Bantu! He never talked that way to women at home.
Chantal gazed at him, glowing with his compliment.
"Would you like to make love to me?" she asked. Graeme was dumbfounded. She
smiled, enjoying his confusion. "There's a bedroom upstairs."
Graeme swallowed. Had he heard her correctly? She gazed at
him—with a look of readiness. Graeme blushed.
"What a lovely color," she teased. "Let's go
upstairs. We can lock the door."
Graeme felt flummoxed. He reached for his drink and took a
long swallow.
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