A Forbidden Affair - Part 2
It was four days after what had happened that I received a message from her. We did see each other as a shopkeeper and customer. We shared a glance or two at each other while she shopped. She still smiled and was still as attractive as she had been since my eyes fell on her. The only thing that changed was that she now had her eyes on me. Eyes filled with lust and desire. I opened the text message. It read, “Come to my place tonight at 1 a.m. We need to talk.” I was expecting more than just a few words, but I did understand her position. It was better to ask her about it, so I reverted. “What do you want to talk about?” The message was received. I got a reply as quickly as if she had already seen the question coming her way. “We will talk about it when you get here.” It was still an hour before the shop closed and almost 5 hours until 1 a.m. It was easier to assume the extremes. In the best-case scenario, we get hot and sweaty, making love. In the worst-case scenario, we never indulge in anything as such. I steeled myself not to stray away into the land of what-ifs and stay in the present. I left home at midnight under the pretext of meeting up with a friend. I went to a medical store and got some condoms and some dark chocolate. Better be prepared if it goes towards the best possible scenario. It was 1 a.m. I was at the entrance of the building. I climbed the stairs as stealthily as I could. The stairs were dimly lit. Old yellow bulbs marked the top and bottom of each staircase, while the middle stayed dark. The wooden stairs were sturdy enough not to creak, even though they had been worn down in the middle and sculpted into an arc over time. I reached her door. The bright white LED light lit the door well, as well as half of the hallway. I pushed the bell button, and the electric bell chimed like a bird whistling. Had there been someone else on the floor, the bell would have raised questions. It echoed on the floor in the dead of the night. The door on the inside opened. I got a glimpse of her head through the bars on the first door. Her hair was put up in a bun. Her eyes were a bit squinted. She had an ear-to-ear smile on her face. It made her cheeks bulge upwards and outwards. She had almost a childlike innocence to her smile and pointed towards the sofa as she invited me in. I removed my shoes from the shoe rack to the side of the door. I made my way to the sofa while she closed the doors and followed me to it. I sat on one end of the sofa, and she sat at arm’s length away, facing me. I did not get a good glimpse at her when I entered. But now I have observed that her attire was just a long, stretched t-shirt with cotton booty shorts under it. I could make out she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath. Her boobs lay in a relaxed way, and her nipples poked a bit from her t-shirt. My eyes got into a staring contest with her nipples, and it was broken as she cleared her throat. I looked up at her face and could see that she had noticed my eyes were scanning her. The smirk on her face affirmed that she knew and didn’t mind. “Sorry!” I exclaimed and questioned her. “So, what did you want to talk about?” Her face dropped, and she answered with a sigh, “I had some time to think. I feel like what happened between us was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened. We shouldn’t have indulged in it. I know it was mutual between us.” She paused, unable to continue her sentence. Either she lacked the words to continue, or she was having second thoughts at the moment. We stared at each other for a bit. Her unable to find words, while I wanted to let her complete and hear what she had to say. She took a deep breath and exhaled, “I think we should move away.” “I understand your reasons for your thoughts; you’re married and have a child. Is that the reason, or is there more to it?” “And if I were found out, I would be removed from my community.” Her words ran a chill down my spine. It just got quite serious. Had it been only the first two reasons, she wouldn’t have indulged me at that moment. The third reason was quite a swing. As much as I wanted her, her reasons were sound. “I understand. That’s a tough situation to be in. I want to ask you something.” Her eyes flared up in shock and anticipation at my request. She nodded yes to my request. “So hypothetically speaking, if the possibility of being found out was zero, would we continue?” The thought was a cheap one, considering her condition, but I was curious. If the answer was what I wanted to be, there’s always a solution to work forward to. Her eyebrows frowned at my question and rose as if she were giving it some thought. I let her have a moment as she thought of the answer to it. She replied with a question of her own, “Do you know why I kissed you after I slapped you?” “No.” “It’s not easy to find someone who looks at me with affection and as intimately as you do after I gain some weight. Not even my husband.” She had more to say, but her eyes started to water up. She took a deep breath and blinked a few times to disperse the tears forming. She continued, “I like the feeling of being someone who is needed, appreciated, and attractive. I always noticed you looking towards me every time I passed the shop. Every day, you stand at the same spot facing the direction you know I come from, and I do notice it.” I already knew I wasn’t being discreet. But I was glad she thought about it with a positive approach. I extended my hand towards her, asking for her hand. She grabbed my hand, kneeled on the sofa, and shuffled towards me on her knees. I expected her to sit beside me, but she had other plans. She extended one of her legs across my lap and sat down on my lap, facing me. Her hands travelled to the back of my head. She interlocked her fingers behind my head as she straightened her elbows. Our eyes met, and we stared into each other’s eyes.