It happens again. The same way it happens every time he walks past her, talks to her, bows to her. It happens every time she sees him. She looses control. Something in her seems to leap off a cliff. She is sure he is the best creature on earth. Maybe that is why he is excellent at every thing he does in her husband’s house, that is why he is the chief servant, that is why she craves for him.
Everyday she stands in front of the mirror. Every morning after enduring a long night wrapped in the folds of flesh of her husband, she wonders what it would feel like to have this man run his hands over her well formed body. She imagines the magnificence of his physique, and a shiver tears through her entire being.
She is his mistress. She owns him as much as her husband does. She wants him, her body can suffer this no longer. So tonight she would send all the servants away while her husband is out on a business trip and she would have him. She dresses her best. Her heart thumbs wildly against her breasts as she hears his footsteps through the house, calling out the names of the other servants, amazed at the stillness. She calls him up. He enters the large room slowly and she sees the shock that registers on his face when he sees her, the master’s wife sitting cross legged on a low couch, legs bare, cleavage glaring. He apologises and tries to rush out. She is quicker, grasps the hem of his shirt and drags him towards her.
“Don’t you want this?” She says breathlessly.
He whimpers and tries to make a run for it but her grip is tight.
“What is it?”she insists in a trembling voice.
“I love another!”He declares and tears away leaving her rooted to the floor, the remnants of his torn shirt dangling from her limp hands.
The next day, nursing her rejection, she stays out to clear her murky head. She returns late to a quiet house. She walks to her room, surprised at the house void of servants. Sounds and moans reach her faintly from the servants quarters. She traces it. Trepidation swells in her chest as she discovers where the sounds come from. She stands by the door as she makes out the voice of her husband and that of the chief servant’s drenched in sensual ecstasy.