by Margy

Sunday 4th October 2003:

A sweltering hot, humid day in what is supposed to be a mild Cape Town spring. Not the best day to hike up Table Mountain, but I did promise Keith that we would do this, so here we are... Keith - a colleague in the Cape Town office, newly transferred down from KwaZulu-Natal. Enjoys his hiking, does our Keith - he has hiked most of the Drakensberg and is now ticking off the Cape hiking trails, starting with Table Mountain. He has heard that I am also interested in hiking and has invited me along for the day. Keith - an interesting man gifted with intelligence and humour. And not a bad looker either...

The plan is to make our way up one of the side paths to the top and then take the cable car down. I am carrying lots of water - I don't want to do anything foolish like dehydrating (on what hopefully will be the first of many hikes with him). Keith is superbly organised; backpack fully equipped with everything: gas burner, tea, food, first aid kit... the lot... all neatly packed, partitioned, ordered.

At first the going is quite hard. The heat is sapping and I find I am quite unfit - as a result, we stop often to "enjoy the view". But as we climb higher it becomes cooler and easier. After an hour and a half we reach the back table - we still have another hour's hike to the top and the cableway station. A brisk breeze has sprung up on the top of the mountain - one of Cape Town's infamous Southeasters. I put on my pullover to keep warm. But as we climb higher the wind becomes colder and cuts viciously through the thin material. Keith is wearing a warm tracksuit - Oh, if only I had packed my rainmac top to keep out the wind! I start to shiver. After another fifteen minutes my teeth are chattering and I am almost blue with the cold.

One of the basic rules for walking on the mountain is to always take warm clothing, no matter how hot it is or unnecessary it seems at the time. The newspapers in Cape Town are full of stories of people in trouble after forgetting this. I should know this; I've lived here in all of my life!

Keith notices my distress. "You're looking a bit cold there. Haven't you anything else to keep you warm?"

"No", I reply, embarrassed by my oversight, "I didn't think it would be this cold and windy up here today".

Keith smiles. "Don't worry. I have a spare coat in my pack - just in case of situations like this."

He stops, delves into the bottom of his backpack and pulls out an old green nylon windcheater - neatly packed, kept tightly rolled up by two elastic bands. He pulls the bands off, puts them in his pocket (no littering on the mountain, thank you!), hands it to me.

"It's a bit old and past its prime, but it'll do the job and at least keep you warm. I hope you don't mind its rubbery smell."

Rubbery smell? - the phrase stops me short. I am suddenly all ears and very alert! Of all the things that Keith might have said here and now, this is the most unexpected... Am I about to have a rubber rainmac encounter here on Table Mountain? Surely not? But as I feel the weight and texture of the rolled up coat in my hand, I already know the answer - YES!

Keith cannot possibly have any idea about the private, intimate affair I have had with rubberised clothing since I was thirteen... How could he? - but just to make sure, I search his face for any sign of suggestion, intimation, any hint of dark knowledge that he might have of my little secret... Is he testing me? Teasing me? But he looks away disinterestedly at the view while he waits for me to put the coat on. The more I stare at him, the more I am certain that HE DOES NOT KNOW! But still, this has been a total surprise... My heart is beating just that little bit faster.

I thank him. "No it's fine, I'm sure I won't mind the rubber smell at all. It'll be OK... as long as it just keeps the wind out", I add by way of an innocent explanation.

Well, well. My "little secret" certainly has a way of gate-crashing itself into everyday situations...

I unroll the coat and shake it out, still a bit unsure if this is really happening to me. The stiff, rubbery, rustling sound it makes is all the confirmation I need...

I unzip the front of the coat - inside is the delicious promise of its green rubberised lining... I touch it; feel the sensuous smoothness...

I inhale its magic perfume as I slip it on...

I draw the zip right up to the top, press the clipstuds on the front closed; lift the hood up around my head, pull the drawstrings cosy-snug tight; feel the rubberised fabric take me and envelop me, surround me, protect me...

I am immediately grateful for its warmth, its shelter from the wind; extremely grateful for the unexpected pleasure it is already providing...

....Keith stands watching, unsuspecting, as I experience a total turn-on. Keeping me warm? If Keith only knew what his rainmac top was really doing to me now...

Margy

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