She stepped out of the hot shower, smelling like a combination of bamboo and oranges.
Who would choose to smell like this on a night like this when there was someone waiting for her in bed like this! Like me! I have been ready for a while now and sat sipping wine and watching television. I needed distraction but I didn’t want it to be obvious either. But the steamy fragrances were doing to my senses what any man could ask for in bed. She did that by simply standing a few feet away.
She walked casually towards me with a white towel wrapped dutifully around her. She took the glass of wine I offered her and sat next to me. The dim lights, the warmth extending from her skin, the bamboo and oranges, the flavor of wine, the sound of an occasional beep on the phone – it was a celebration of all my senses. She caught me smiling and asked, “What is it that’s amusing?”
I was startled! I said, “mmm… nothing.”
“Would you rather I walked to you without the towel?” she asked as a matter of fact.
“I’d rather not. You’re perfect”, I said as honestly as I could.
“Perfect? Naaah! We don’t have time for such sweet nothings! Tell me when you’re ready”, she snubbed me.
“I want to talk to you”, I said.
“About what?” she asked.
“About why we are here in this hotel room.
“You think too much! I’m here because I want to make love to you.
How is it different from what I do with my husband, you wonder? Those are less-guilty pleasures. Sex is available everywhere. There are way too many hungry people that one doesn’t run out of choices or chances.
Marriage on the other hand does nothing but to make you feel no guilt when you’re sleeping with the same man every single night. It’s like doing the same thing over and over again. I love my husband; have no doubts about that”, she said and lit a cigarette, “but that is no reason why I should kill myself over him. Isn’t it?”
“You are right. But this is beyond feeling less guilty. I’m not sure I’d appreciate that if you were my wife. It hurts a man’s ego, I’m sure.
Lucky I’m not a man”, I said.
She put off her cigarette, gulped down the wine, and tucked herself under the silk linen next to me. And thus, our moments began.
*Image: Watercolor rendition of photograph by Adriano Sadre