My husband steps out naked from the en-suite bathroom.
The lights are off but I can see him thanks to the light filtering in from outside. His body glistens wet from his shower and shave. He has always preferred to shave at night.
“That way I don’t waste too much time in the morning.”
I watch him, admiring his lean and fit body; the rush of hair rising from his pubis, tapering over his tummy and fanning out all over his chest.
And watching him, I feel myself moisten, ready for him. He catches me looking at him and his manhood rises as if on cue. He smiles as he gets into bed.
We kiss as he slips his hand under the duvet and cups one breast.
I throw off the duvet and I am lying there naked, wet and ready for him but he wants to touch me first, to “body me” as he likes to say and I let him.
He kisses me on the lips and ear lobes, my neck and my breast all the way down past my tummy and my two caesarean scars to the wetness between my thighs.
I moan as his tongue flicks over my mound and then his lips follow suit.
I cry out now and dig my fingers into his wet hair.
“Greg, come in. Take me,” I say pulling him up towards me and then he asks that question that leaves me cold.
“Did he eat you? Did he put his tongue here?”
Greg’s face is above mine now and I can smell myself, faintly, on his lips as he leans close.
“Don’t do this Greg. Please. Don’t do this.”
“I want to know. I want to know what he did, how he did it,” he snaps and turns on the light.
I look from his face to between his legs. His dick is flaccid. Gone!
A sob wells up from deep within me but I clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle it. I could see the pain in his eyes, the frustration and I am sure they mirror mine too.
I reach out to touch him but he pushes my hands away then turns his back to me.
I reach for him.
“Let this go Greg, please let it go. Forgive me. It was long ago,” but he pushes my hand away again and leaves the room.
I lay there in the dark, the tears coursing down my face while I curse Aham and his big mouth. Why can’t men keep their mouths shut?
It all started nine months earlier at the staff canteen.
Greg and I work in the same building, different offices but the same building and that afternoon as he went in to eat he had overheard Aham talking to two other colleagues about me.
“I used to fuck her in school, ah, Jane. Me and that girl almost killed ourselves. She liked to be eaten and once you start na soundtrack you go hear. But she is a good girl sha. Once she met Greg she just enter house.”
Greg said when he walked in, Aham and the two other guys had exchanged glances, said hello then scrammed leaving their food half eaten.
He came back home and told me what he had heard and demanded to know the truth.
Greg knew Aham and I had been friends at the University of Nsukka but I had never told him we were ex-lovers. I didn’t see the need. We worked in the same office building and I didn’t think I wanted that out.
So, we were polite when we met and my husband always referred to him as “your fellow Lion” but that night he was furious.
“Did you ever fuck him?” he asked as he slammed the door, alcohol heavy on his breath.
“Greg, you will wake the children,” I said stepping away from him but he had followed me into the bathroom.
“I asked you a question. Did you fuck him?”
“Greg that was years ago. I was 20,” I said.
“Oh, Jesus. Oh Jesus. Why did you lie to me, Jane? Why?”
“I didn’t lie to you Greg. You didn’t ask and I didn’t tell. I didn’t see the need,” I said taking his hand but he pushed me away.
“Did he eat your pussy?”
“Why are you asking all these questions Greg. Why?”
“Jane, I want to know. Did he go down on you?”
That was when I burst into tears.
“Greg it’s been over 16 years. What does it matter, eh? What does it matter? I love you. You are the only man I want,” I cried but as I made to hold him, he pushed me off so violently I fell into the bathtub.
It’s been nine months now. Greg quit his job for another so he wouldn’t see Aham. Two months ago he insisted I quit because he didn’t want me working near Aham and I did to make him happy, but he still won’t make love to me without asking whether I did this or that with Aham.
I am at my wits end. I have no job and my husband won’t even make love to me. I need to do something before I lose my mind. Help!!!
-Based on a true story. However, names and places have been changed to protect the privacy of the persons in the story.