A•dul•ter•y (əˈdʌl tə ri) noun
Consensual sexual intercourse between a married person and a person other than the spouse
I finally open the bathroom door to come out of hiding and I’m immediately hit by the aromas coming from the kitchen. He’s actually cooking, no matter what my argument is and I have to admit, it was nice standing there, watching him being totally comfortable in the kitchen. As I make my way in that direction, he comes out bearing a tray of food.
“Lunch is served.” He announces. We sit on the rug in the living room, using the coffee table to hold food and drink. He finds a movie for us to watch while we eat and we’re back in familiar territory, laughing, making silly comments and having a really good time – and a really good lunch I must say; the stir-fry is bursting with flavour and goes very well with the basmati that Gladys had made earlier. She had also made a fruit salad which we have for dessert along with some yogurt. Lunch done, we both clear the coffee table and do the washing up together then Danladi opens the bottle of wine and pours two glasses. And we recline on each side of the couch, both happily sated.
“You make a mean chicken stir-fry. I really enjoyed it. Thank you.”
“I told you I’d cook.” a smug smile on his face.
“Yes, you did and you don’t need to brag about it.”
“I can brag if I want. You’re the one who doubted that I’d cook.”
“What was I supposed to think when I saw a woman in the house?”
“That startled you eh? I’m sorry. I should have warned you. But, frankly, I thought she’d be gone before you arrived. Didn’t count on the fact that you’d be here early.”
“Oh no. I was too early. I knew it.” My face heats up in embarrassment. He probably thinks I’m too eager.
“No, no, no. Don’t be embarrassed. There’s nothing wrong with showing up early. It means that you respect people’s time. Come here.”
He pulls me into the crook of his arm and I rest my head on his shoulder. He rubs his hand up and down my arm in a comforting gesture.
“I like the way you’re dressed. The scarf looks really nice on you.”
I lift my head and look at him in false indignation. “You mean you noticed and you chose not to say anything until now? Not fair Danladi. I was starting to feel really stupid for trying”
“Don’t feel stupid. I love that you tried. And I love the way you look. Even though you like to think that you can hide that body underneath your purposely non-provocative clothes.”
I search his eyes, confusion obviously etched on my face “How do you know that?” I can barely hear my own voice.
“I’m from the north. Our women dress to be modest, so we have to learn to find ways to ‘fill the gaps’ that their clothes sometimes create.”
I’m lost for words and I’m still looking at him. He’s looking at me too, but he’s looking at my lips again. I think this time he’s going to kiss me. I want him to kiss me. And then he does. Slow, gentle, probing, like he’s asking for permission. I part my lips and feel his tongue touch mine. Oh lord. This feels good. I raise a palm and gently touch the side of his face. He shifts in the couch, lifting me slightly so that I’m now between his thighs. His hand is resting on my hip and then moving downwards and cupping my butt. He groans and pulls me even closer. I can feel his arousal pressed against my belly. The voice in my head wakes up. And just what do you think you’re doing?
I break the kiss, partly to come up for air and partly to try to reorient myself. I pull back a little to look at him. His eyes are glazed and his forehead is furrowed like he’s confused or in pain.
“How old are you?” I ask. Odd time for you to remember that question isn’t it? the voice in my head pipes up.
He chuckles nervously, his grip on my butt now loose. “Why do I feel like I’m the one that should be asking you that question?”
“I’m 23. And I’ve been meaning to ask you how old you are. But I keep forgetting. I guess you keep distracting me.”
“Well, I guess I’m not doing a good enough job of that right now.”
“Seriously though, how old are you? I’d really like to know.”
“34. I’m 34 today.”
“It’s your birthday? Why didn’t you tell me? I would have liked to get you a gift, and maybe even plan a day out or something”
“But you’re here now, and we’re spending the day together, except it’s in, not out. And to be honest, there’s no place I’d rather be than here with you right now.”
“Happy birthday.” I say quietly, awed at his admission, surprised at the fact that it’s his birthday and still reeling from the kiss we just shared. Now it makes sense to me why he said ‘just bring yourself, that’s enough for me really’ when I had asked what I could bring to lunch with me. He was planning his birthday party, except I was the only guest.
“Thank you. And thank you for coming to spend the day with me. I would have been crushed if you hadn’t agreed to come.”
“But I wouldn’t have known it was your birthday. Anyway, I’m still going to get you a gift even if it’s belated.”
“You don’t have to. Right now, I want nothing more than to kiss you again. But I’ll do so only if you want me to. If you don’t want me to, now would be a good time for you to get up and go. Stay any longer and I won’t be held responsible for the consequences.”
I look long and hard into his eyes. To leave or not to leave? Or maybe the question should be ‘to live or not to live’? I want to live. I want to feel passion. I want to be swept away in this tide of feelings. This man has awoken things in me that I didn’t know existed. And I want to explore them, under his tutelage. And so I kiss him. Tentatively at first, because I’m shy, but then as he responds, I grow bolder and wrap my arms around his neck. He runs a hand down my back and presses my pelvis to his. His other hand moves up my side and he strokes the side of my breast with his thumb. Frissons of electricity run up and down my spine. I moan in response.
He pulls away long enough to whisper “Are you sure about this? I can still stop now.”
“I’m sure.” I whisper back and nod my head several times to affirm my decision.
Then he picks me up and carries me off to his bedroom, where he deposits me gently in the middle of a king size bed covered in light blue sheets. He looks at me then for a long time. I can see several thoughts crossing his mind as the expressions on his face flit from desire to deep thought and then back to desire. It’s almost as if he’s warring within himself. I shift uncomfortably and he puts a tender hand on my cheek. His gaze travels down and then his hand follows and slips over my thigh. He starts to push up my caftan and I have to lift my hips to let the fabric come free. He smiles slightly, and his palm slips under the fabric making contact with my skin, framing my rib cage. I writhe a little, silently urging him on, my breasts waiting, eager for touch. First a light brush with his thumb across the top of my bra and then he cups it in his hand. I catch my breath and then release it in a heavy sigh.
“Lift your hands over your head.” He says to me.
I do so, and he pulls the annoying caftan over my head and pushes it to one side of the bed. I’m now painfully aware of the fact that he has full view of my breasts in the black, lacy number I chose to wear today. He runs a finger along the waist band of my trousers and I feel my pulse jump when he grabs hold of it in both hands and tugs.
“Up.” He whispers and I raise my hips obeying like a well behaved child. Now, stripped down to my underwear, I suddenly feel shy and start to cover myself with my hands.
“No, don’t. Let me see you.” He pins my hands to my sides and literally devours me with his eyes.
“You are exquisite. I don’t know why on earth you feel the need to hide.” I swallow uncomfortably. I’m not used to being scrutinized so closely. My boyfriend and I often felt each other up but mostly in the dark. So I’ve never really been looked at like this, and especially not in the middle of the day. I’ve also never actually had sex before, and I don’t know if I should tell Danladi that now, though I suspect it might ruin everything. He runs a finger down the middle of my belly and over my panties. And then he presses his palm against my sex. I moan in response, every nerve in my body on high alert.
I wish he’d move faster. I don’t think I can take the suspense anymore. I start to squirm, stifling the urge to ask him to do more.
“Patience my love.” He says sensing my urgency. “We’ve got the whole day and I’m not in a hurry.” And he proceeds to teach me a thing or two about my own body and shows me what other things he’s skillful with…