I must have had sex with somebody in my sleep last night – and it was not my wife.
I know this because it was crazy. Unusual.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying sex with my wife is boring – but when you’ve been married to the same woman for six years, things become a little routine.
Note; however, that is not an excuse to cheat. I do not endorse unfaithfulness – though it has come to that point in my life that I stare at every…well; almost every young thing that comes into my office in a short skirt. And Abuja being what it is, and jobs being what they are, and the times being what they are too – well, you can imagine I have plenty young things to stare at.
Still, call me boring but I didn’t think an hour – or even a night of sex was worth hurting my wife over. Maybe that’s ‘old-school’ or ‘stupid’ because she may as well be cheating – but what she does is her business.
But wait – that’s a thought.
What if she is cheating?
I choose not to think about that. She is a wonderful wife.
But while I have tight reins on my body, the ones on my mind are not so tight…
And so I fantasize.
There’s this particular pretty young thing that finds an excuse to walk into my office abruptly – and then hurry out, swinging hips acting like they are independent of her. I mean, they were like well-oiled swivel doors, like the back and forth movement of a waltzing couple, like…
Okay. I have to stop there.
The P.Y.T’s name? Alice.
Honestly, who in this country names their daughter Alice?
Every time someone called her name, I expected someone to add a ‘In Wonderland’ rejoinder – you know; like they used to do on NTA back in the day when the program was being presented. And honestly, no offense to all the Alice’s out there, but I think it’s a pretty unimaginative name.
‘Unimaginative’ stops at her name. Everything else is…
I swallow thickly just thinking about it.
I have to ask my boss exactly who it is hired her, what her job is and exactly what I need to do to get her fired. He puts a fatherly hand on my shoulder and says; “Ike, she is the new administrative assistant. And if only you took a look at her CV, you’ll see how lucky we are to have her. Go ahead, look at the CV – that is; if you can look past her chest.”
I start guiltily and frown at him, but the damage is done. He pats my shoulder condescendingly, laughs in my face and says: “Problems with the wife?”
I cannot answer. He starts to walk away – and then pauses. “It’s been what, five years?” At my guilty silence he laughs again. “Be a grown up, Ike. Have a little fun. Who’s to complain?”
I walk back to my office with bent head and seared conscience.
I mean, everybody has their indiscretions – but I didn’t expect my boss to be so blatant about something like that. This is someone who was proud of rubbing our nose in the fact that he had a strong and growing family.
Well, I want a strong and growing family. What I have now however; is an overactive imagination and an itch that won’t go away.
So I jejely struggle with myself till it’s closing hours – and then hurry home. I don’t even want to have sex with my wife; I’m afraid I might get carried away and scream the wrong name. I’m still young and virile; the last thing I want is to be castrated.
So I take a couple of cold showers and I convince myself I’m fine. Spend some time in front of the TV with the kids, and then she comes home. My wife, I mean.
We have dinner together and it’s almost like old times. After we’re done, she clears the table while I send the kids to bed. And then I join her in the kitchen, help with the dishes and all – and then I realize I’m looking at a behind I barely recognize.
Uh oh. She’s wearing shorts.
Of course you know I want to indulge in some healthy health-nourishment but she’s understandably tired. So we set off to bed, cuddle and fall asleep.
But sometime during the night I have this highly erotic dream. I’m having amazing sex with a hugely attractive woman – and she is not my wife. It’s interesting that I know this woman is not my wife – because I don’t exactly catch a glimpse of her.
It’s interesting because I do not remember details of her body and such like – but I know for a fact that she is not my wife.
How do I know?
Well, I woke up sometime in the morning, feeling somehow excited. I don’t mean excited because I did something naughty, I mean excited because something good is going on. I take a moment to figure it out – and then I realize something is tickling my morning wood.
I look down – and directly into my wife’s face. She is smiling, a hand wrapped round – and she is gently stroking and tugging. All sorts of sensations invade my head at once, and I’m about to throw my head back and scream or moan in pleasure when I catch a glimpse of something shiny in my wife’s other hand.
She’s holding a knife.
My moan/scream dries in my throat – only milliseconds faster than my erection. I look at her and she looks back at me; the smile I thought was sexy moments ago looking as evil as all get out. I try to talk – but I can only croak.
“Baby…?” I sha manage to get out. Her smile gets wider and she fondles me quite lovingly. I shudder in spite of myself.
And then she asks me, acid dripping from her tongue;
“Who is Alice?”