This article is part of our website’s story series – Sex Diary of a Desperate Housewife, and is part of our stories on exploring sex, sexuality and feminine freedom.
‘I need sex! Not tomorrow or the day after. I need it NOW! What Kira is this? No-one told me this would happen, and I if I knew Kira would I have listened?’
6 months, 10 bridesmaids, 2 Bentley’s, 1000 cupcakes, 600 gold cutlery, 500 wedding guests, 100’s of wedding gifts, later since Ama Serwaa had been the talk of town.
A wedding like no other! If you weren’t invited to that wedding then you were a nobody. The event graced the cover of international wedding magazines for months! Even the Facebook page created specially for the wedding had more Likes than Oprah’s.
Ama had married one of the countries’ wealthiest shipping magnate and bachelor Michael Nana Kwasi McIntyre II.
Although initially upset with her mother for arranging the relationship, she quickly got over it when she realised the gold pot she had unearthed! How could she say no? They were married within six months (No she didn’t get pregnant) to the glee of all concerned.
Their honeymoon trip to Maldives was just a dream come true for Ama and would be a trip she would never forget anytime soon!
Honeymoon night, dressed in her sexiest French lingerie which had peepholes in very enticing areas, she waited on a bed covered in red roses for her new husband to come and reap his reward.
She waited..and waited..and waited! ‘Ah! Where is Nana?’ she asked herself. She found him sitting behind his MacBookPro typing furiously. WTH? He looked up guiltily and said he had to respond to a very urgent mail concerning a new business contract. He will be there in a sec. A sec became an hour.
He came to find her fast asleep. He managed to wake her up and apologised to her sleepy befuddled face and without even acknowledging her Frenchy sexy getup, jumped up and down for 5 minutes and fell asleep, snoring.
The rest of the honeymoon passed with Ama having to explore the island alone as Nana had to video conference with his partners. He made it up to her with very short unsatisfactory lovemaking sessions. Ama knew he was busy and that things would change once this ‘business contract’ was signed and completed. How wrong she was.
So 6 months later…
Ama had quit her administrative job in the bank upon Nana’s insistence. I am earning enough for both of us darling, just relax at home and I will take care of your every need and want, he said convincingly.
So now a housewife in a mansion built for American Senators, surrounded by cooks, house-helps and drivers, Ama found herself waking up to days of managing house chores which were actually being done by the house-helps; going to spa’s; going for manicures and pedicures whether she needed one or not; going for lunches with her girlfriends and just being bored.
Nana was hardly ever home, today it was Brazil next time it was Dubai and another time it was Japan or Thailand.
The most she had had him around was one weekend when he was home the whole Saturday which was even spent at social events. At night, he was too exhausted to ‘do’ anything.
‘I need sex!’ Ama knew she couldn’t control the craving anymore. No amount of sex toys could satisfy her like her busybody husband could. It was not that Nana wasn’t making love to her, he was. But then if you can count 3 minute show-downs as good sex then you have a problem.
He was always tired after his trips, too tired to have a conversation and too tired to satisfy her sexually.
He bought her everything she ever needed or dreamed of. Jewellery, the latest gadgets, 50inch plasma TV, the latest Range Rover, shopping in Paris, a walk-in closet, best tickets to the latest concerts in town, best seats at restaurants, name it and she got it!
But these were things which were not satisfying her internal and soul-searching cravings such as touch, good conversation, cuddling, making love and a simple hand-holding gesture.
She walked out of the bedroom to the balcony overlooking the house gardens and squeezed her eyes trying to fight back the tears that were trying to force their way into the open.
She was too wound up and the need for the feel of a man’s hands on her skin was just becoming excruciatingly unbearable! She hadn’t told anyone of the predicament she was facing currently as she wanted people to believe that her marriage was perfect!
The last thing she needed was to be at the butt end of gossips in town. Not even her mother or her girlfriends.
Her soft chiffon nightgown blew softly in the morning air outlining her perfectly toned body, her arms outstretched on the railings as she turned her face to the warm rising sun.
Her hands went through her hair and found them gently stroking her lips, her neck, down to cup her breasts and to her lower pelvic regions.
Guiltily she forced her hands away. Which man can resist this body? She wondered.
A man totally dedicated more to his work than to his wife her truthful subconsciousness replied. He is just busy, she defended. Yeah, right.
The Marimba ringtone of her iPhone went off, pulling her away from her musings and self-exploration. The butler had called to inform her of the air-condition service company waiting in the lobby.
She changed and went down to find a man standing with his back to her as he surveyed the room he was standing in. She coughed. He turned. She stared.
If she had been a little bit fairer than her milky brown complexion, her face would have been the shade of a beetroot. Her heart increased in tempo slightly. Oh God, why me? What temptation is this?
= = =
In moments and seconds of silence where an unexpected event occurs time has a strange and not so funny attitude of slowing down and freezing a look on one’s face which could be interpreted as comical, blank, hungry, shocked or a state of mental confusion.
The one on Ama’s face just before mentally whispering to God was the*#£!*!?* one. An indescribable wave of looks passed across her face. Then composure.
He said the central a/c’s had to be serviced every 3 months and if she wouldn’t mind his presence. Mind? As nonchalantly as possible she shook her head. She turned to the butler and asked him to let her know when he was through. She turned to leave.
‘On second thought, take my number Mr..’
‘ Smith. Ebo Smith’
It’s been 20 years since I wrote. I know. I just felt I was getting too old to be pouring out my heart to you as I had friends to talk to and all that.
I miss those days where my tears would stain your pages as i recounted my bitter experiences with one boyfriend or the other. Forgive me? Silent as ever, lol!
But here I am 20 years married and no one to talk to! Ironic.
Married and horny!! How? Well thanks to my busy world traveling husband I am left alone in a mansion to be intimate with my jewellery and gadgets.
It’s the worst feeling in the world. Anyway today, temptation came to my house. Attractive is not enough to describe him.
Temptation is occupying the body of a man as dark as Idris Elba (remember that actor?) and a body that is between well muscled and soft. You know…the one which looks all soft and cuddly but firms up during some heavy lifting. His smile.…OMG!! I practically melted.
Maybe it’s just my raging hormones and insatiable hunger for some good … Yes I said I was married.
But what kind of husband neglects his wife’s sexual and intimate needs because of work? I don’t remember the last time we cuddled and talked about what’s going on in each others life. Every time it’s one meeting or the other.
The little time he gets too are spent at social events. Any sex in this marriage are usually the tired quickies and its over. Or maybe he’s having an affair?
The thought has crossed my mind but Nana wouldn’t have time even for that mistress. This Ebo Smith has set my hormones raging and planning a takeover.
The raw and naked thoughts I am having about this Ebo guy are so wrong! It’s a sin isn’t it? I know ooo!! The fact I am thinking about this guy is even a sin. Ok, I will wipe him out of mind. How? No worries. I have a plan.
Ama closed the dog-eared diary, locked the miniature padlock, stepped on the step ladder and she gently inserted the book behind two shoeboxes in the walk-in shoe closet which no one entered unless they had a death wish.
I love Nana and there is no way I will cheat on him. He loves me too. So why isn’t he there for you? asked Inner Ama. He has work. But you matter too.
Her phone rang. Strange number.
It was him.
Could she please come down so he explains something to her. She saved the number without thinking.
Why was her heart betraying her? She descended down the marble stairs with her traitorous heart broadcasting to the world her hidden emotions.
She found him in the kitchen with his shirt off.
His shirt is off. WHY IS HIS SHIRT OFF???
Even with a singlet on, to Ama his shirt was off. His arms! Oh God, look at his arms!!
I should ran away. Hide!
‘Are you ok?’
‘Sorry but you looked a bit strange for a second’, he replied.
Be still my beating heart. I am fine she reassured him.
He informed her of a problem in the system and it looked like this was going to take awhile. He most probably would work on it again tomorrow. The mobile air condition units could substitute for now.
She asked if he would like to call his supervisor and inform him of the situation.
He smiled. ‘This is my company which I started not too long ago’.
Oh! I see.
‘ I used to be a banker but I quit after 5 years due to the stress levels. I had to make time for other things’.
A girl? She idly wondered. What concern is that of yours, Inner Ama asked.
My plan failed. We started chatting about the effect of work on our lives when there is no balance. He said he almost had no life…work to home …work to home like a robot. Sometimes closing as late as 9pm and too tired to do any thing. Hmmm…Just like Ebo.
His girlfriend couldn’t handle it and left. Then it was secondary schools next. Very unprofessional! i know!!! I tried so hard to resist. Believe me. The sight of his singlet clad body almost got me salivating and I felt a strong urge to rip off the darn vest.
He is still downstairs. Packing up. Tomorrow he is here again. I am secretly thrilled but I shouldn’t be. Shame on me. I saved his number.
Ama looked up from her writing as a Whatsapp message pinged on her phone. Trudy was saying hello. As she responded she idly went through her Whatsapp contacts and came across Ebo Smith.