“We shouldn’t have,” Golda whispered. “Not again.”
Anan sighed. “That’s what you keep saying, Love. But you keep coming back.”
He turned her to face him in bed and gave her a long, slow kiss. They had met at a guest house at Ashongman, which was convenient for Golda because her husband knew she was decorating a client’s estate there. Anan needed no permission or approval from his wife; he went where he pleased.
Golda broke the contact and sat, her upper body bare and shameless. Anan was unlike her husband, who had never seen her naked in the five years they had been married. He insisted on the lights being off during intercourse, which happened only at night, once in a blue moon. There was no spontaneity in their marriage. She recalled the kitchen incident of a few weeks ago and scoffed.
“How do you feel?”
She turned to him. He was rubbing her spine up and down, and his eyes were smoky with desire. If only her husband looked at her half the way Anan was doing right now…
“You can tell me,” Anan added softly.
“Truth or politics?”
“Both, if that makes you feel better. I’m here for you.” Anan moved his hand lower and squeezed her upper backside. Golda allowed a small smile. She wished her husband made her feel this way.
“I love my husband!”
Anan smiled, a small, sad smile. “I know.”
“Then why do you allow this?!”
“Why do you?”
Golda sighed and turned away from him. Elias was a good man who didn’t deserve this deception. His poor bedroom performance could be overlooked if she focused on everything else he did for her – for the entire family. Her orgasm was the sacrifice on the altar of fidelity.
“I’m here for you, Golda,” Anan said softly and kissed her back. “You need me, and I need you.”
“But what about your wife?”
“What about her?”
“You still love her!”
“Is that an accusation?”
“How do you feel about your wife?” She asked more calmly. She needed to calm down.
“You don’t want to know.” He stood up and stretched, still undressed. “Why is it important?” He disappeared into the bathroom and returned shortly, his jaws set, eyes darker. “Golda, if I had known I’d meet you after getting engaged to my wife, I would have waited, I swear. That woman and I have nothing in common, and I mean no disrespect to her.”
Golda asked, thoughtfully, “If you have nothing in common, why did you marry her? And if you don’t love her, why are you still married?”
Anan chuckled. “I could ask you the same, love.” He returned to the bed and leaned over her, his lips barely brushing her ear, and whispered, “Will you marry me if I am a free man?” The corner of his lips turned up.
Golda shivered, more from his nearness than the question. She hadn’t gained immunity even after all their escapades. Her eyes fluttered close; she desired him. Again. But it would never be enough.
“I don’t want to marry anymore, A.” She took in a deep breath and let it out on a heavy sigh. Anan sat on the bed opposite her, silent.
“Elias was safe,” she explained. “He was… different. Spiritual. He didn’t make demands on my body, and it felt good to talk to somebody freely.”
“Ouch. Are you saying all I wanted was your body?”
She rolled her eyes and continued, “I was saving the rest of me for him. I believed him when he said the Holy Spirit would teach us all things…” She looked straight into his eyes, her soft, brown eyes meeting his understanding ones, “Then we met.”
Anan smiled again. “And…” He began to draw circles on her thigh.
“You were my favourite sin. In summary.”
“Did he know?”
“He didn’t know then; he doesn’t know now.”
“Do you feel guilty because you’re married, or because you love him?”
“Anan!” Golda threw her hands up in the air.
He pulled her to sit astride him, their favourite position. Holding the small of her back with one hand, he took one of her nipples in his mouth and rubbed the other nipple with the pad of his thumb. Reason fled her. She began to move according to the rhythm of his stimulation almost automatically.
“She never responds to me like this, baby,” he said before giving her a hard kiss. Golda’s back arched. “You make me a man, Golda.” The words came out in a whisper, worshipful.
They both froze as the shrill tone of Golda’s phone rang briefly and ended. Once. She didn’t have to move to know who the caller was, like a signature.
Elias.
To be continued.
