The words zings off in an oral reflex.
Awestruck, his mouth is mummified in a big “O” like the hole in a doughnut. His dark brown optometrical balls pops in a bulge, like they are about to be plucked off their sockets.
The room seems unfamiliar to him even though everything is still as they were before he left for work in the morning. The walls are still cream, with matching curtains over the window area. Their wedding portrait still hanging above their king sized mahogany bed. Nothing’s changed except her!
From the door where he stands, frozen, their eyes intersect. Hers are plain, bereft of any glint of abashment or surpise, as if to say: why that look?
Why are you staring at us like that? She says, mildly irritated.
For goodness sake, is that all you have to say?
What would you have me say? It’s like you have just seen a ghost.
You should bow your head in shame, to think you can do this.
He just can’t take his gaze off her and the complicit alibi. He’s furious, very.
Please, stop staring at us like that.
How do you expect me to react seeing my wife naked in bed with that… that thing!
Oh, come off it. She sits upright, we both know you are…
That I’m what?
There was a brief silence in the room.
Let’s face reality, you don’t satisfy me in bed.
She knows what she just said is going to injure his ego, but it has to be said. He doesn’t satisfy her in bed, that’s the truth. If not for the love she has for him, she would have left him for good without looking back after their first night together.
One shouldn’t throw away the baby with the bath water, her mother would say. Those exact words would ring in her head years later while she contemplated abdicating her marriage.
About two years ago while they were dating, she had insisted on no sex before marriage, to which he consented without ado; unlike the other guys she had gone out with, who told her straight up that they couldn’t acquiesce to such an arrangement. This stood him out to be different from the rest, as a man of morals and virtue. Qualities that made her to cherish him, and to walk down the aisle with him months later.
On their wedding night, they met for the first time. The night was supposed to be memorable. She’d imagined making love to the man of her dreams on the night of her wedding, to be an experience which would relive all her erotic fantasies. Together they would climb the mountain of ecstasy till they both get to the top. Tired and satisfied.
Three minutes was all it took for him to get there, leaving her behind at the base of the mountain. Stranded. Unsatisfied.
Every other night was no different. After routine rounds of quickies, he would shudder in pleasure as he came, and collapse like a bag of Elephant Cement on the bed beside her. Satiated and satisfied.
She wanted to feel that way too. To have that glow on her face after sex, to feel the painful pleasure that would make her scream her lungs out until she can scream no more. That which would spur her to the mountain top with him after a sweaty bout of thrusting and climbing.
Unfortunately, her husband had not the means and might to grant her wish.
Leaving him because of this seemed unfair, after all he had been very supportive and understanding. Her only option was to get another who’d supplement her hubby’s inadequacies in the bedroom. And that was exactly what she did.
You don’t last long during sex, her eyes are sympathetic, you come too quick. I should have told you how I felt before now, I’m sorry you have to find out this way.
Those peering brown eyes of his pores over the curvy physique of the ebony beaut to whom he once said, I do. If anything, she’s turned more beautiful over the years. How could he have known she wasn’t sexually happy, the thought melts him.
As much as his anger has dissolved, he is still finding it hard to come to terms with the imposter in bed with his better half. The one who satisfies his wife, in ways he can only dream of, whenever he’s away.
But would you blame her? She deserves to be sexually happy as well. It could have been worse, but still he feels a kind of envy for the well endowed seven inch black silicon penal instrument in her hands.
Except he comes up with a better option to salvage the situation at hand, there is nothing else he can do.
In a calm and collected voice all he manages to say is, you should have told me how you felt… you should have told me.