This morning I woke up and my husband was not in our bed.
He went away without waking me up. He made his breakfast on his own and he got out. And I have heard nothing.
Dear me; I'm really a hard sleeper...
I knew he had to leave very early, for his job. A very urgent task. Out of home until tomorrow. It's not the first time. I had told him to wake me up, more precisely, I had told that I would have woken myself up, on my own. Nothing to do...
I go to the kitchen. There is something in the microwave. He made something for me too...
Out of the microwave, the small thermos-cup. Inside of it, my chocolate. I know it is. He knows I like it. Especially in the morning. On the black cup, the sign written with the white enamel once used to cancel the mistyping.
"I love you".
Four weeks ago, Walter and I have made love. More exactly, Walter had possessed me.
He has been so imposing, so hard... Yes, I was agreeable, but he did as if he did not care if I was or not... He was insulting me, he was boning me... He was saying that it was nice to fuck me... and he was calling me... yes, that way...
And I have let him do it all...
-
I went shopping, and now I have lunch, watching TV. Newsreel. I comment the news, even insulting this or that person on the screen. Just to hear a voice. Although I know: it's mine.
I am the kind of person who thinks out loud. Muse, so to say. My husband does not care. He says this helps the brains to work better. Who knows...
Eight weeks ago... It has been right here, in the kitchen. That is: EVEN here...
It was in the morning, The kitchen is the closest room to our flat door, I was worrying about the neighbors, but he did not care for that.
He hugged me strongly and kissed me, bend me over the kitchen table... His hand between my shoulder blades, so warm and strong... The other hand pulled my skirt and my pants away... my breasts on the table, on THIS table... And I did not oppose a bit, just moaned.... He played with his dick between my thighs, my buttocks... And then he stuck it into me... hard, strong enough to take my breath away, with any will to resist, to oppose... If I ever had it... I was ready for him. It's always so. He could have taken me from the other side too, in the other hole, if only he wanted to do it... But he did not. He kept pounding me in my belly, and I enjoyed it, even if he was rougher than ever. The only thing he said was. "hey, but there's a lake here inside!"... yes, a lake... A warm, deep lake...
And when we finished, he pulled me to the bedroom, undressed me, pushed me on the bed, threw himself over me, covered me with kisses, and when his dick was ready he took me again... Always from behind...
-
The sun has set. I have cooked something for dinner, and now I am eating, watching a film I love, at the TV. I hope nobody will call me, and let alone e-mail me or look for me on Skype. I just want to see that movie, hear again that story. Yes, I know how it ends up. I even know the quotes by heart, one by one. So what?
Advertising. Five minutes at least. I turn out the volume and watch out through the window. Lights in the houses across the square. Every light is a person, a couple, a family, a story.
My husband is out there. A light through the window of a hotel room, on another square, in another town. Alone. Yes, alone. I don't "think" it. I don't "feel" it. I know it.
No, he is not a saint. And not even an ugly, lousy old low-down man who never could attract the attention or the desire of a woman. And even less, a sociopathic personality, too shy, or the like. No, none of the above
He is just a bit lazy. And he admits it. He has a woman, he loves her, she likes him. Why ask for more? Why get life more complicated, take care of the conflicting demands of two women, instead of one? Sniff another body? Taste another sex? Hear different wailings and moanings? Big deal!
