a look into the wishing well part 1

I got out of bed.

Looked at the wide bed, where my husband was deep in sleep. Just in his boxer shorts.

I woke up feeling disoriented. I just had my silk short pyjama bottoms and nothing else. 

Last night I had made love to my husband, the first time in a long time. It had surprised me that he had wanted to do it in the first place. We had not been on talking terms neither did he touch me much or show me much affection. 

Last night we had dinner and we spoke about different things, the wealth of his family which was becoming to large to contain, thus causing friction. The growing need to bribe government officials to get more contracts. Now he spoke of his desire to go into politics.

 We had a few glasses of wine, but not that we were drunk. We continued our talk and we spoke an issue that had given rise to a particular problem with us.

He spoke about still wanting to have a child with me. We had been together for almost 6 years now. I was 32 now and I had seen the doctors and they told me that everything on my side was OK. 

I had told him to see the doctor maybe the problem was with him and something could be done to help. This is when the problems had started between us. 

He refused to see the doctors and told me that I was insulting his manhood by suggesting such a thing. He even pointed out the size of his family.

"Look" he said, " my father had four wives and each of those wives gave him more than two children each and you say me with one wife I cannot give you one child? What nonsense is that. "

His family when they chose me to be his wife, the biggest quality they sort was beauty. They wanted a beautiful wife for their son. A beautiful and dutiful who would give him equally beautiful children. I had won a few beauty pageants in my teenage years. But I knew I was more than my looks but I had a brain too. I was stubborn as a mule too.

His family had suggested that he divorce me and find another girl much younger who could give him a child. They didn't want to believe the doctor who had said everything was OK with me. They were a traditional family.

Blessed with much land and much wealth. But times were changing and the old ways were giving way to the new practices. They sold some of their lands and bought properties, which they in turn rented out. 

My husband used his share of the family wealth to tender for government contracts and started building roads locally. As a civil engineer, young and ambitious, he had dreamt of transforming our mid size town into a thriving town and he believed in the power of roads and trade. 

As the town grew, so too the wealth and power of this once small time merchants. They became the principal family in town. 

Soon the whole country knew of their name. Though many urged them to move to the big city and become part of the elite, they clung on to the town that had made them fabulously wealthy. 

My husband at 42, had the energy of a 20 year old. I barely saw him anymore. For the past five years I could count the number of times we sat and had dinner together. Our house was a vast mansion with more than 20 rooms. If he came sometimes I never saw him as he stayed in any one of the 20 rooms but just not our room. 

As I did not work, he gave me an allowance and for the expenses of the house. He was a generous man and the more money he had the greater my allowance.

I never wanted for anything but I was incredibly lonely. Living in this beautiful but golden cage of a house. 

I indulged in my passion for learning.

I had always wanted to learn French and I hired a native french speaker who was in our country for the year. 

He came every two afternoons per week. 

After the hour lessons, the maid would make some food for him and we would talk. 

He would tell me about France, Paris and the Azores. I would be dream land.

Then I would ask him​ to tell me about his girlfriends.

For me it was like a movie, I had only ever been with one man _ my husband. 

Now he would tell me all the stories about his different girlfriends and all the things he got up to. 

Why he broke up with this one and why he thought this other one was crazy. 

I would say Pierre you are such a naughty boy..and he would laugh and say he did nothing..

The more I saw of him and the the longer we talked... I felt more drawn to him. 

Slightly olive in complexion and jet black hair always immaculately slicked back with gel. He had a short stubble of a beard. 

He smelt of the sea.. always. It was a beautiful smell. 

So once I asked him once what is it that makes you smell so nice?

"As a French man, I must say Acqua Di Parma Ginepro de Sardinia is a beautiful fragrance and that is what I use. Although it is Italian I respect it very much."

"You see" he said, " it has even got your attention.."

I smiled and looked long into his greyish blueish eyes. He stopped eating and looked back at me. 

I felt embarrassed. I blushed but at that moment I knew he felt what I felt at that moment. 

The next time he came around, he brought me a bunch of flowers. 

He ate less and talked more. 

How come I never see your husband and you never talk about him? 

I see more of him in the newspaper and TV than I see him in your home?

Are you happy? I told him yes and I told him my husband is always at home and I love him...

I knew this was not what I felt but I could see where this was leading too.

He had discovered my weak point and he would not let go. 

One day as he was about to leave and without warning he kissed me on the lips...it was a sweet, wet but short kiss. I was too shocked to respond or to stop it. 

I walked away without looking back. 

Later that night he called me an apologised. 

I told him that he must remember I have a husband. 

He said ok maybe I should not come back...

I told him if that is what he thought it was best, then I would not stop him...

Secretly I hoped he did not mean it. I realised how close we had become and how used to him I was. 

One time I dreamt I was in bed with my husband. My husband made love to me in the dream. He did things to me that my husband had never done...I screamed out in pleasure. I scratched his bad, bit him and was incredibly passionate with him. One bite of his lip drew blood.. I looked at his face but it was not the face of my husband. This man inside of me was Pierre. I woke up from the dream when I did not want to as an open window had slammed shut and awoke. 

Luckily it was a dream and I thought long about it. 

Pierre was true to his word and did not come back the following week. He didn't even come to pick up his payment for the last two weeks teaching he did. 

I still thought he would come back the following week. 

He did not...

I felt my heart sink. I didn't want to eat anything. Or drink anything.. 

Was I in love with him? No! How? I closed my eyes I saw Pierre...no no my husband should be on my mind. 

I decided I must find Pierre...

To be continued..