OVER THE RED LINE TWO;THE MEETING:PART 1
I longed to put a face to the voice that bore only beautiful words, but my thought and my conscience rang warning bells – another man’s wife – scaring me to the core. Knowing what could happen if we got complacent with our audacious passion, I had to decline her tempting request to visit since her husband had taken up a consulting job that would require that he shuttled between where they reside and his place of work.
However, when the heart is set on achieving something, it becomes a moving locomotive with a failed brake system, there is no stopping it.
I embarked on the journey.
I was going to surprise her, so I did not inform her. I wanted my arrival to feel like a storm landing on a community without warning signs.
All through the journey, I imagined our meeting and hoped it would end up becoming the reality of the mental picture and flash video I had been having.
I had opted to stay at my friend’s personal house to mitigate the risk of someone seeing her entering a hotel. The house, a secluded four-bedroom duplex, is a considerable distance from where she lives. My friend had travelled to Canada to spend summer with his family and had instructed his house security to grant me access.
Settled in, I dialled her number severally but couldn’t get through; poor reception, I guess. I waited for a while, then sent a text.
She did not respond.
That got me worried. Worried, tired from the trip, and bored, I slept off. When I awoke, I had received a message from her.
“Hi, you claim to be unable to do without me,” she had written, “yet you refused to see me even after I told you my husband travelled and pleaded like my life was dependent on it. I am not happy with you and not in the mood
Sensing she was drowning in frustration, I replied the message to save her. “I understand the sentiment, but please try to see through my words and feel with your heart when in doubt, for casting what is transparently pure, beautifully felt and sacred as our love, is like denying the existence of morning, afternoon and night. I would be with you right now if I could.”
Saved by my message, the healing remedy that took her to a better place, she apologised for the aggression and asked how I was doing.
“I am fine, but I would feel better when we meet,” I replied.
She wrote, “well, unfortunately, you have decided to not feel better since you’ve refused to honour my invitation.”
“Guess what?” I responded.
“I don’t have the strength to play the guessing game as I am burdened by your refusal to see me,” she wrote.
I sent her a shocker. I told her that I had come to take her burden away, to make her feel alive again and that her days of living hopeful, holding on to imaginations were over.
“I will lock you in a world you never knew existed. I am in town.”
Surprised, she replied, “are you joking? When did you arrive? Where are you?”
“Today, and I am at my friend’s house – 5A Jefferson drive.”
I told her my friend had travelled and that I was all alone. She put a call through to me, informing me that she would arrive at 8 pm. She mentioned that she would need to confirm that her husband had no intention of giving her a surprise gift by way of an unexpected visit. The call was brief and her reason for coming late well understood.
I had informed the security that I was expecting a visitor, so a few minutes past 8 pm, she was ushered in. She came with heat, not of fire or light, but from the contact of our body as we embraced. Her smile as she entered through the door, illuminated the moment; without doubt, she filled my existence. She was more beautiful in person, and there was no dull moment. We discussed everything except her marriage while I took her hands, pulling her gently as she collapsed into my arms. I stared into her electrifying eyes, kissed her neck, my hands roaming all over seeking where would make her gasp for breath until a point of almost losing consciousness from pleasure. At this point, nothing mattered, religion and cultural beliefs were not strong enough obstacles to sway us.
The world froze.
We were all alone, our hearts dictated where we found the deepest parts of each other, weaving magic that touched the soul; our love was unfettered, and only our hearts could aspire to fill the desires of our souls. This coupling was compelling, intense and passionate without regrets. We were over the red line with our treacherous act – not just against her husband, but also against culture and religion; yet, we continued to indulge in this priceless moment of our lives. The guilt we envisaged evaporated, giving way to contentment, I guess because our passionate expression generated so much heat.
She told me she preferred me, and at that moment, she was in a confused state of mind, for I had made her realise how ignorant she was about real and passionate love.
Unhappy to be leaving, when she desired to spend more time with me, she reluctantly drove home. She was laying in her bed when her husband called, their conversation lacked lustre. When he asked what was wrong, she attributed it to tiredness – he was unaware that his wife laid with various overwhelming emotions ruling her essence. She did not dwell on her actions or thought of the red line she had crossed, but for a fact, she knew her marriage would never be the same again. This love, a ray of magic emitted from the core of her soul, making her perceive life as renewed and a beautiful dream she would not want to wake from. Although her husband loves her and she wouldn’t want him to get hurt, she could see the inevitable end, with much collateral damage. Yet, she so strongly wished to wake up in the morning with a new reality of expressing her passion freely with her Adonis, as she calls me, Uche, without shielding it in secrecy.
The next morning, from her office, she sent me a WhatsApp message.
“Hi Uche, my feeling for you is not in doubt,” she wrote, “but for the sake of my marriage, I wished our meeting had ended in disappointment, with no excitement. But with you my Adonis you lived up to your name and awaken one of the most exciting moments of my life.”
“Before we met, we were like two chemical substances far apart, and our meeting paved the way for us to mix, creating a reaction that has transformed my life. You are a passionate force that is pulling me like a magnetic field that I cannot resist. Even now, I desire you.”
I read her message severally with mix feelings, no thought of being caught in mind, as my heart would not let go; yet, for our love, I will risk it all. She had become my oxygen, the air that I breathe. My insomnia comes from the worries of how I would survive if I am unable to make her mine. As I pondered this, I heard a knock and behold it was my Aphrodite; as she walked towards me, I could not help but notice, even with teary eyes, her beautiful glow was not lost.
We hugged. Tears flowed down her cheeks.
“What is wrong,” I asked.
“Just hold me tight and kiss me.”
We went mute, and as silence prevailed the urge and passion took charge of us. Every touch broke her free, she began to relax, the rhythm of her breath changed from weeping to ecstasy as I infuse myself deeper into her soul. Our intercourse was not only passionate but electrifying. Keeping her eyes closed permanently, she moaned, moving in rhythm, jerking like with a convulsion – the deep sense of pleasure.
Now stable and able to talk, she expressed her concerns about her husband, noting from the way he had sounded in their telephone conversation, it seemed that he suspected something was wrong. She feared that if he could notice from afar, what then could happen whenever he returned on his regular visit.
She told me that she was gradually losing interest in her marriage and getting emotionally detached from her husband.
This scared her.
This creepy feeling was, in fact, anticipated. It feels easy thinking about dealing with it, but difficult to handle the experience. What do I do? To discourage her from playing into the hands of her fears by terminating what we have.
I told her we never planned to put ourselves in this unpleasant situation, and that I did not have the perfect words to alleviate her fears, but I assured her we are in the boat together, till the end; however turbulent the current becomes, whether it capsizes or remains afloat.
“I am only sure of one thing,” I said, “in all of this, I will get married to you, and spend the rest of my life waking up with your face as the first thing I see.”
“You are delusional! How on earth do I think that is possible?”
I told her that what she called, delusion, had been thoroughly thought through, and I was determined to make it come true, but I needed her support because life without her was unthinkable.
“Life without you will be excruciatingly painful too. Uche, I wish it were that simple,” she said.
But, she promised to think about it.
With two weeks left till I resume work, desperate for feedback, yet I trod with caution not to pressure her. We communicated mostly via WhatsApp and phone calls when the need arose. Already, three days had passed since the last time we met because of her hectic work schedule, and we had concluded to make time to meet on Friday morning. My hope of confirming if I had her consent in respect of my plans was dashed when she messaged to inform me on Friday morning that her husband had returned late on Thursday night and indicated she could only visit Saturday while taking advantage of the church activities scheduled for the same day.
I felt relieved when she eventually walked in. She was calm but expressed unease with her husband’s response, especially after he attempted to get intimate with her, and she declined under the guise of fatigue from work.
“I succeeded in debunking his thoughts, but it is just a matter of time before what we have erupts and becomes revealed by the brutal truth of time. Nothing stays hidden forever, not with our passion that is all over the place untamed,” she said.
Then, she wondered how she was to cope when I was gone.
“Uche, I agree,” she said. “Please tell me what we need to do to be together for the rest of our lives.”
Excited that the long-awaited question had finally come, I explained my master plan in detail to her. I would facilitate new employment for her where I resided, that could pay between three to four times what she earned presently. Her role was to convince her husband that she needed a more challenging job, that she was bored because of his new job, which had made being with her not stable. She was to convince him that the new position would reduce his frequency of travels to her and that the money made from the new job could boost her savings rapidly towards funding her existing business with the intent to resign and return to focus on growing her business. All these, while stating her hopes her husband would have concluded his consulting job at this time and be able to return to be with her.
If the plan went through, we would have the opportunity and the time to make the final arrangement to get married, as that was my primary goal.
Each passing day, it became evident how passion and the determination of our hearts to be together were taking us deeper into our quest to achieve what society would perceive as abominable if the lid was removed from what we concealed.
Her husband’s consent came seamlessly without a moment of hesitation. There was nothing strange about it because he had always been supportive of her course, but still, it was easier than she had anticipated. When she messaged me, I could feel her excitement.
“He would be leaving for his work station in two days, and I am eager to see you,” she wrote.
She came looking ravishing, slim, but well-endowed where it mattered, her curves revealing and her sensuality enhanced. Such as I saw before me, is better experienced, for words would not do justice to this goddess. If she had come to seduce me, then she was doing a great job. She drove me to insanity, and at that moment, I recalled in one of our early conversations when she said that she could drive my sexual urge to the heavens if she wanted. Could this be it?
We started kissing, I was not in haste this time, I used every skill at my disposal to steer and accelerate her as I wanted. She seduced me, but I was in control. Her breathing changed with each touch, enveloped in the dark I reached for her succulent melons, tickling her nipples she jerked and held tightly to me, while my tongue was all over her, she went wild as that brought the beast-like passion she always referred to. I migrated to between her thighs and intensified the pleasure.
“You are killing me with ecstasy,” she muttered. I increased my thrust, and she began to moan, her nails scratching my back, as she squirted with an intense orgasm until we finally flopped back in exhaustion. We spent the night at mine because it was too late for her to return home. We had sex severally before dawn; during intercourse, she is a different person, and I couldn’t help but appreciate the power of passion unleashed to exert such intensity that her personality changes, such energy can only be compared to someone on drugs, obsessed or deranged.