* Dear reader, you are welcome to Part 1 of Sex Diary of a Lonely Housewife, a fictional story about a sexually neglected and frustrated housewife who is facing real-time temptation to do ‘it’ (just this once) with a man she feels terribly attracted to. All names in this short story are fictional but the story is real for there are many housewives caught in similar situations and facing similar challenges. Enjoy the read.
‘I need sex! Not tomorrow or the day after. I need it NOW! What kwraa is this? No-one told me this would happen, and I if I knew kwraa would I have listened? Mmtscceww!!’
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 nations’ 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. Its 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! Shw3! 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?