Pinky swore to herself never to look at a man again. For the 100th time she chided herself, what had she done? How could she be so careless that some people got to know? And she figured that people were talking about her when she went out. The other day she was running on the treadmill and two girls started giggling, looking at her. She was eating dinner with her children and a man left a note, saying, “This is my number.”
“Why did I have to have an affair?” she kicked herself mentally.
She had met this guy at an exercise class. She was in her 40s and he must have been in his 30s. She had a hectic life. She used to look after her mother’s office. She used to spend most of her time there, and after that, look after her home. Her husband was a successful entrepreneur, good looking, loving, caring, etc. She ran out of adjectives thinking of him.
“Then why?” she sighed. The guy she had met at her exercise class would follow her like a puppy. She enjoyed the attention but she wasn’t looking for a fling.
It just happened. Earlier she wasn’t so keen to meet him. Now she wanted to meet him all the time. She was smitten. It was so difficult to be alone with him and have sex, but she found out places to have sex. Sometimes a hotel on the highway, sometimes the back seat of the car, however uncomfortable it was.
He was married and they both swore to each other they were not having sex with their partners.
Pinky used to wonder at her raging hormones, which were like those of a man. Sex was good, she felt, but not outstanding like it was with her husband because she was not shy to express what she wanted. With her boyfriend, she was trying to please him, pretend, fake it, which sometimes tired her.
But she would tell herself proudly how kind she was that she never made him feel inadequate. She was much richer than him; he was very middle class compared to her, so mostly she paid for the hotel rooms, their coffees, the expensive wine bottles she got for him to savour with sex. Alcohol and sex are a lethal combination. And she just loved it.
She could spend hours with him in bed checking him out, counting his moles and discussing her favourite subject, Pinky. And he would talk about her for hours.
Life was so good.
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Then the nightmare started. His wife discovered their messages and she called up Pinky and threatened to make it public.
She had already started talking to some common friends. Pinky broke contact with her boyfriend. His wife came to meet her and said she would tell Pinky’s husband everything.
Pinky first pleaded and cajoled and then with insouciance said, “Do what you want.” It also helped that her cousin was the Police Commissioner. The matter died, but some damage had been done.
But Pinky, being kind and rich, called up her now ex boyfriend and generously handed him a packet of money to buy his wife something and placate her. It didn’t reach her husband’s ears, for which she donated Rs 1001 to the Hanuman Mandir.
Pinky became very loving towards her husband and cooked meals for him, and he thought how lucky he was to have such a good-looking, fit and caring wife.
Pinky and her husband were on a fancy cruise, madly in love. It was their umpteenth honeymoon. They made friends with a couple on board. His handshake would linger longer than necessary with Pinky. Once, sitting next to her, his hand rested on her thigh. Pinky giggled but did not remove the hand.
She baby lisped and said, “You are very naughty” and giggled. Life was exciting! She was extra nice to his wife.
They exchanged numbers and he had promised he would visit her.
“Baby, I just dream of you all the time,” he had said.
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She had giggled.
She remembered her promise to God that she would not do it again.
But then she thought, “Life is too short. Promises are meant to be broken, and this would be absolutely the last time. And God is God, he will be on my side again.”