I hate it when my husband isn’t home; too many ideas come to mind on possible activities that would make me happy. Don’t get me wrong, I do love George and we’re quite happy; we’ve been together for 10 years now, if I’m to count the three years of courtship and the two years we were separated but still had moments we agreed to see, influenced by our pleasurable desires; honourable cravings.

George has been a plastic surgeon for close to six years now (though I haven’t had any interest in having a surgery) and quite the best in his field, especially since we don’t have many plastic surgeons in the country. So it wasn’t surprising when George said the hospital was willing to send him abroad for a 2 weeks course.

It’s been four days since he left, and during this time, I’ve kept myself from doing the crazies that wouldn’t be seen as honourable of a married woman. As such, it has been unbearable, very tasking keeping my marriage together, especially after the last incident.


Two years back, (that was two years after we got married) there was a robbery in our neighbourhood and it didn’t really end well. For me mostly. As it happened, the police did catch the robbers – at least one of them – and the most complicated part was, he was caught ‘on me’. Yeh, the robber lost track of time and was caught having sex with me. My husband wasn’t surprised or confused, he claimed it was rape and I would have won an Oscars for my act that day and the few months after it. But there were moments it felt like George really knew the truth, knew more than he was letting on.


As I drove round the neighbourhood, letting my thoughts guide me, I felt my body tense as I heard angry screams which snapped me back to reality. I slammed on the breaks and turned. It was only Dipo after all, though horribly soaked and muttering angrily to himself.

I reversed to where he was standing, accidentally splashing water on him. Then it hit me — that was why he appeared so angry, which explains the wetness too.

“‘Haba!’ Mrs Fola, you didn’t have to make it your life’s goal today to bathe me. Now I’d have to go back home, just when I thought avoiding home would be the best at this moment.”

I came rushing towards Dipo

“I’m so sorry Dipo, I wasn’t paying attention, I really am sorry.”

For some reason my eyes remained fixed on his wet shots, which did well to outline his member. Feeling myself losing cincentration again, I dragged my attention to his face, taking my time assessing his wet frame.

“But why are you avoiding home? Isn’t the pastor around?”

Dipo ignored my questions and apologies, concentrating instead on getting himself dry. He kept shaking his body which only made his swinging member more noticeable.

“My house isn’t so far off, you could get cleaned up there, besides my husband isn’t around –”

Dipo stopped short, staring at me quizzically, and I knew I’d said the wrong words. But he only shrugged and got into the car.

The drive home was quiet.

I opened the door ushering Dipo in; part of me still wanted to know the state of things at the pastor’s home, – no one was perfect and free from trouble after all – but instead I concentrated on helping Dipo get dry.

“The guest bathroom is over there, third door by your left. Let me see if I can get you something warm to wear while your clothes dry off.”

“My dad still beats my mum you know.”

I wasn’t sure I’d heard clearly so I asked, “did you say something?” His voice was audible enough to be heard and quite steady with emotions.

“I thought I could get used to it, but it’s been hard. I get so angry when people see him as righteous and perfect”.

I swallowed, not knowing what to say to him. Just then, he smiled, “it’s okay, you don’t have to say anything, I get it.” It made me wonder if he could hear my thoughts, so I started creating a wall, just in case.

I smiled like he’d just said something nice “let’s see if I can get you something to wear.” I turned slowly and walked into George’s room. I was searching in George’s closet for something warm for Dipo to wear when I heard the door close softly. Dipo walked slowly towards me and wrapped his arms around me. It was obvious what we both wanted. It wasn’t an honourable craving, but it was a pleasurable desire.


It is great having George back home again, he is so full of life and laughter and I never get tired of listening to his stories and exciting experiences. I never really felt awful for what I’d done, but deep down, I knew he didn’t deserve any of it.

Church isn’t one of my favourite places to be anymore, so when George asked the pastor’s family to dinner, I nearly choked on my own breathe.

The dinner seems to be going well for everyone but Dipo and I. We keep throwing nervous glances at George, but he seems so oblivious of everything and is having such a good time, so I decide to let it go.

Later that night George confronts me, letting out his fears and suspicions, but as usual, I make sure I’m a great actress. “How can you accuse me of such George, he’s barely twenty five for heavens sake,” George says nothing, he just stares at me and smiles. I hoped he believes.

I wake up in a strange room today. There is a movie playing on the tv screen. I think someone was watching porn. No! That was me on the screen and Dipo too.

I guess George didn’t believe after all, there was evidence to that.

I feel hot tears flow down my face and I brush them off. Something didn’t feel right. I rush to the window but can’t see my reflection, so I reach for my bag on the bed in search of a mirror. The face staring back at me was like a beast from a child’s dream.

I scream, feeling more tears flow down but too terrified to touch the face they were on.

So I scream even louder.

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