L’histoire d’un fantôme.

I watched as she applied a purply-red coloured lipstick, puckering her lips in a provocative style, that dissolved any feelings of indifference, or resistance in me. She was reaching out for some kind of acceptance of my endless longing and blind love – but now I was being tortured daily by the unresponsiveness. It had weakened my resolve, any residual feelings of resistance and sulking, any lingering feelings of angst, feelings of self-denial; all disappeared, evaporated as I looked at the puckered lips, and wanted those soft petal lips on mine.

I am watching through the crack in the door, hiding in the darkness of the living room. She was going to meet someone, she looked so elegant and tantalizing in her business suit, the tunic top tapered at the waist to show her slender hip curves, the black boots up to the bottom of the knee, and the mini skirt, a perfect height to show off her sculptured womanly knees and thighs. The white shirt top, men’s style but with large bubbly spots randomly decorating the light flimsy cotton blouse, fitted tightly around her breasts. The pressure of her cleavage made an inviting hole where the buttons clasped the blouse together. Her blond hair had been coiffured earlier and spread, bounced over the shoulders of the black tunic top - she looked stunning. She looked like a celebratory, dressed for the red carpet, spellbindingly attractive. She smiled at her own appearance in the mirror, a sense of easy fun-loving confidence shone, as she smiled back at her appearance in the tall mirror, strategically placed for final last-minute appearance checks and adjustments. My heart was thumping at the vision of my love standing in touching distance. She hadn’t noticed me hiding behind the door. I had to find out who she was meeting in secret. We never spoke these days, I couldn’t remember the last time, we had one of those long dreamy romantic nights, cozying up to each other on the sofa, endlessly kissing. When did it stop? I couldn’t remember, but I missed her love. Why did it stop? I don’t know, the knowledge and memories continued to evade me.

When did the hiding in corners, and stalking her start? When did the mistrust overtake and invade the mutual respect and love we shared before?

It wasn’t my fault. It didn’t start with me. She doesn’t talk to me anymore, she ignores me, as though I wasn’t there. My business partner, Joey, for these years, knows what she is up to! He agrees with me. She is cheating on me. I must prove it, and we will have it out, once and for all. She must come to her senses, I know she will, and then we can go back to the way things were before. I know it, for certain. It’s my fault, I neglected her. I know I spent too many hours in the office, away on business trips with Joey, my partner, I know I left her alone for days sometimes. I didn’t give her priority in my life; I will admit it. But this - not talking, the tense silences when we are in the same room, it must stop, I know when we eventually talk, I will apologize, and she will forgive me. I know it.

But going on a date, or meeting someone else, this has gone too far. Joey says his wife has the same problem, he, and I both neglected the women in our lives, we both made a mistake putting work in front of women. I know now, nonetheless going out with another man is taking my neglect too far. Much too far! I must find out and catch her in the act. I want to challenge her. I need her back.

The door slammed. It woke me up from my fevered thoughts of betrayal. I ran to the front door and opened it onto the apartment block passageway to the communal exit and entrance door. The main entrance door was already slowly closing, and I could hear the staccato clip-clopping of her high heels on the cement pathway.

On the street my desiree headed for the Metro station. I followed at a distance. When I was in the Metro station, with more people and infrastructure to hide amongst, more urban camouflage, I could blend into the environment, but always covering up my face, in case she sensed someone was following her or continually staring at her. I don’t think she sensed anything, as she seated herself in the carriage. I entered the train carriage by another door, just as the doors were about to close. She was going uptown. She looked stunning compared to the drab looking fellow passengers, those black suede boots, and the shock of visible flesh of her stocking thigh, seated waiting for her stop.

We both disembarked at Resarandos, the night club, bar, and restaurant district of the city.

She hurried up the stairs of the station, she must have an appointed time, and she was late, I thought.

I followed her past the many bars and restaurants, where was she going? - I pondered.

She came to stop outside The Bush, and then leapt up the steep steps. The Bush, I thought, why would she go there! It was a famous lesbian bar.

I followed her, opening the door, the crowded bar, belched out the noisy clamour of voices, and a toxic smell of muddled perfumes. The absence of any one man was obvious. I felt conspicuous, but no one noticed me, as I pushed through the ignoring faces deep in conversation, or more attentive on fondling and kissing their partners. The absence of any music made the chaotic sound of voices competing for a listening ear louder, it made the ambience more strained and tense. I searched for my desiree.

I spotted her at one of the tall stube tables, and then I recognized Wren!

Then I saw Joey in the background, at another stube table, trying not to be noticeable. He was staring at my desiree, and Wren. It was obvious from the strained expression on his face that he was trying to eavesdrop on the conversation from the next table, as I approached the two girls, now in hushed but intimate conversation.

“I’ve missed you so much, Juni” Wren emphasized and prolonged the second syllable like “neeyah”

“We couldn’t be seen together, we agreed. I’m not sure this is wise.” Juni's mouth was inches away from Wren’s hair covered ear, her hand rested against Wren’s thigh, as her fingers and thumb tantalized and explored and squeezed into her skirt, as she leaned across the stube table. You could see from her face the touch of Wren’s soft inner thigh lit up Juni’s face, as she suppressed mounting feelings of lust, of the longing inside. The absence of Wren, and now her smell beneath the fragrance of her perfume and her closeness, Wren’s warmth was overpowering. Wren smiled, her naughty smile of mischief, that Juni knew so well, was coming from her wicked thoughts of their carnal relations, and their hidden desires, and now shared secrets if ever exposed would lead to sentencing the pair to life imprisonment.

I looked on with astonishment, so many feelings entered my mind and soul, shock, anger, betrayal, sadness, but anger was winning the race, as I banged my arm on the stube tabletop, and sent glasses, and the women’s clutch bags flying in all directions.

“You cheating bitches! How long has this been going on? Does Joey know?” I screamed.

There was no reaction, which only incensed my rage. “How dare you ignore me, I’m your loving husband, Juni!”

Both the girls were startled by the commotion, as they started to retrieve their small bags, some of the contents had dropped out of my desiree’s bag onto the table, there was a newspaper cutting, and I started to read the headline in bold print. I stared at the headline incredulously, my eyes like magnets to the bold highlighted letters and words. I had to read the print over again and over again, my mind stuttered to comprehend the reality of the words.

“Tragedy on road to airport - Young businessmen killed in accident.”