Diary of a Married Woman: A Novel

By Etim Sam Ekong

After her ten-year marriage begins to crumble, Amber Smith finds satisfaction in the arms of a mysterious Nigerian named Blessing. But when Blessing experiences a renaissance of his own with another woman, Amber must follow a new path. Which direction will she take?

The idea that Mike was having an affair didn't bother me that much. It was ironical that his own indiscretion if it was true, would be so close to home as well. It wasn't really that I still loved him because, I didn't. It wasn't also that I was jealous because, I wasn't. It was just that I'd never thought of him as one who would have affair. Could this be true, I kept thinking?

My thought went back to Blessing, how I wished he was here to share the moment with me and watch the rain fall. I thought about the way he usually talks to me, look at me and the way he touches me. These thoughts are not strange to me at all because at night, whenever I'm lonely, I often think about him. Whenever I feel disenchanted, which is often these days, I think of him. And most importantly, whenever I needed to remind myself how good a man could make me feel, I think about him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 10, 2005
• ISBN: 9780595804429

Etim Sam Ekong

E. Sam Ekong is a former information technology manager with General Motors Corporation and a graduate of Georgia Tech and the University of Washington. He and his wife reside in Bloomfield, Michigan.

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Diary of a Married

Woman

A Novel

E. Sam Ekong

iUniverse, Inc.

New York Lincoln Shanghai

Diary of a Married Woman

A Novel

Copyright © 2005 by Etim Sam Ekong

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products

of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual

events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ISBN-13: 978-0-595-35991-2 (pbk)

ISBN-13: 978-0-595-67308-7 (cloth)

ISBN-13: 978-0-595-80442-9 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

In loving memory to Mrs. Gloria Eyeyen Ekong and Mrs. Carrie Mae Ruckes:

two strong women who stood by their husbands through thick and thin.

I have drawn a circle around me. When ever I reach across it I will be

given, not taken. My needs are few. So long as I have something to do,

someone to love, and something to hope for, I shall be happy. Now I know

that the only source of happiness is within me, and I will begin to share it.

Like a perfume, I know that I cannot pour it on others without getting a

few drops on myself.

—Og Mandino, The Choice

CHAPTER 1

PROLOGUE

The year was 2001.

And it was the beginning of the millennium, a new century and the start of a fresh new hundred years. I was hopeful that this century would turn out better than the last. As it was, I figured it was as good a time as any to make tangible decisions that would affect my future, get rid of the old relationships, reign in a new life, and hope that the chips fall however they may. In January 2001, my mind was talking to me, and I knew then what I was going to do, no matter how difficult. Now four years later, I’m beginning to wonder if my mind was right after all.

Frankly, the past two years have been like riding a roller coaster. It’s been like traveling up and down, round and around, and, when it stops, your whole life flashes in front of you disheveled, bewildered, and disoriented. Then you take one moment to catch your breath and reorient yourself. That’s how life has been with me. The occasional up and down, down and up, like a drug addict who’s been struggling to kick a mean high. One minute I find myself happy, ecstatic, and the next I’m down, confused, and desperate, as if the next fix holds all of the answers.

The difference between the coaster ride and my trip was that mine was not mechanically induced; it was self-imposed—a result of splitting my body and emotions between two men. One legitimated by the court, and the other ordained by my heart. Sleeping with both men has been very exhilarating, and sometimes downright confusing.

Can one truly love two men, or can one sleep with two men without running into trouble, becoming confused and disconnected? For me, the experience has diluted my feelings and has caused me to be prejudicial, especially since one sex partner was far more satisfying than the other. The truth is, one was fucking me for his own pleasure while the other was making love to me, taking my own satisfaction into consideration. In that sense, it wasn’t too difficult to tell where my head and my kitty cat were at.

They went where the good sex was.

Now I’m beginning to wonder how I got here in the first place. It is funny because you don’t realize how important your needs are until they have gone solely unmet.

* * * *

It has been two years since my divorce from Mike. The divorce wasn’t like one of those tabloid events you read about in the National Enquirer or Peoples Weekly, but rather an amicable separation between two people who’ve reached the end of the road and know it. I guess it didn’t matter because we didn’t have much to fight over in the first place, so we kept it friendly. Interestingly, three years ago, when we saw the writing on the wall, Mike had suggested we go for counseling, which I reluctantly accepted. Can you make the appointment to see Doctor Atley? he’d suggested.

Avery Atley was the psychiatrist who had counseled us midway into our marriage. At that time our problem was sex, or the lack thereof. I wasn’t getting enough of it, and he wasn’t making any effort to give more either. I was dead certain that he was getting his groove somewhere else because he sure wasn’t taking care of me. In fact, I had complained vehemently to him about it. Don’t you find me attractive anymore? I’d asked him.

That’s not true. You are very attractive. It’s me. I just don’t see sex the way you see it, he had replied.

How do you see sex? Or how does anyone see sex? The fact is, I can walk around you butt-ass naked all day, and you wouldn’t even blink an eye. I don’t think that’s normal—do you? I’d replied.

Believe me, that’s the way I am, and it has nothing to do with being or not being normal.

What do you mean—that’s the way you are? Are you telling me that you don’t enjoy sex anymore? Are you gay?

No, that’s not what I mean either. All I’m saying is that I view things a little different.

You can’t be serious. I can remember a few years back, I couldn’t peel you off of me even if I’d tried. Your dick was always on standby. Now you say it’s you. Yes, it’s you all right. You do need some help.

Mike didn’t say a word. I didn’t know if he was hurt or just ignoring my little reality-oriented revelation.

Let’s seek professional help—I’ll go with you, he’d finally suggested, and a few weeks later we ended up with Doctor Atley. After two visits we stopped, because all Mike did was justify why he couldn’t keep pace with my sexual demands. After all, he worked long hours at two jobs and was always too tired when he returned home, on and on, until he’d exhausted all the excuses in the book. It worked. I felt ashamed and gave up. Even Doctor Atley was baffled. That was then. This time, Mike suggested we seek counseling for a different reason.

Obviously, it finally dawned on him that our marriage was slowly grinding to a halt. I was beginning to spend a lot more nights in the guest bedroom. Not that it mattered much to him then because he didn’t show it. He just went about his business as if nothing was happening. Even sex was now something we rarely engaged in. When we did, we did it merely to satisfy our marital obligations. No feelings. Nothing.

Most times, Mike was happy entertaining himself. He would sometimes pop one of his sleazy tapes into the VCR and jack off, sometimes in private and sometimes not. Me, on the other hand, I was happy fantasizing about the many good times I had shared with my friend, Blessing, and the many sexual exploits that often followed.

* * * *

My friend, an African from Nigeria, five years shy of thirty, was young enough to pass for my younger brother. I remember our first encounter, imprinted in my mind as if it happened just yesterday. I can only tell you this, it was the bomb. The encounter shook me right out of my mind.

As I recall, I was sitting on the only chaise lounge in his studio apartment, but I can’t quite recall what we were talking about. For all I know, we could have been talking about the war in Afghanistan, or was it politics, the earth, the moon, the sun? But whatever it was, it couldn’t have been that important because it didn’t stay in my mind. I can only recall what happened next.

He walked up behind me and wrapped his hands across my chest, crisscrossing them with each palm cupping my breasts in my blouse. It felt good, and I didn’t move. As I closed my eyes, I wondered if he had locked the door. I couldn’t remember if he had. What would happen if someone should walk in at that moment? I kept thinking. But those thoughts quickly dissipated as I felt the thickness and weight of his rising penis pinned on my back, and I imagined how it would feel like placed in between my lips and my lips in turn expanding to accommodate his ever-increasing size. I didn’t have to imagine long.

I felt him lower his frame down a little and slide his right hand into my skirt and down the crease of my buttocks as I stiffened and tensed up. And I heard him say in that melodious African accent, Relax, you are too tense.

I didn’t know if it was a command or a request. I tried to say something but I couldn’t find my voice. My whole body was already on fire. It quivered as his hands slid around and stroked my swollen nipples. His touch was gentle and precise, and the stroke was slow and even.

He kissed the back of my neck, slowly drifted his way up to my earlobe, and sucked the outer crevice sensuously until my feet trembled. He nibbled and sucked the circumference of my nipples, leaving the tips for last. I groaned loudly with pleasure.

He walked around the chaise lounge and stood in front of me. He unzipped his pants, and his erect penis sprang out. I grabbed it and, without thinking, wrapped my invited lips around it. I stroked it slowly and stroked it some more. I kissed it and felt the pulsating sensation coming from it in my mouth, and it sent shudders down my whole body. He moaned and groaned like a starving lion enjoying a much-awaited kill.

Then he said, How do you want it? It sounded like a present. I didn’t answer because I didn’t know what to say.

Then he reached over with those strong hands of his, pulled me up from the chaise lounge, and slowly swung me around like a ballerina. He moved his right hand to the center of my back while holding my shoulder with the other and firmly bent me over the lounge. He gently pushed my knees forward and helped me into a kneeling position. My knees yielded to his push as if being commanded to do so.

My buttocks pulsated and my wet cherry was positioned strategically like a dangling vine waiting to be plucked. He raised up my skirt and pulled down my pussy girder. I closed my eyes and imagined that I was getting ready to visit the stars. I thought about Mike briefly and instantly, and then the thought faded. This is not the time to feel guilty, I thought to myself. Guilt can come later. This was a moment to catch the stars and ride one like the Titanic.

Blessing slid his hand over my buttocks and in between my thighs and systematically caressed my wet mound, teasing and taunting my swollen clit with his forefinger while his baby finger methodically searched for the opening through the back door. My heart beat fast, and my temperature boiled over. I tried to back into his erection, but he had plans of his own.

I closed my eyes and waited with anticipation. Are you enjoying yourself? I heard him ask from behind me.

Hmm! I groaned. I’d lost all sense of speech. My mouth could only ooze sounds of pleasure.

He gently caressed my buttocks again and slowly guided his index finger down to my parted mound. He parted me even further as if looking for a lost diamond, knelt down suddenly and slowly kissed my navel, pubic hair, clit, thighs, while I continued to groan in ecstasy. Then he stood up, slid his hard penis into my swollen cherry, and rhythmically stroked it, slowly at first and then fast and passionately. I groaned with ecstasy.

Baby, please fuck me, fuck me…fuck me goooood, I whispered. I didn’t even recognize my own voice.

I felt the fire all over me, and my whole body gyrated like a tree dancing to the August wind. I could feel the hardness of his penis inside of me with every stroke. And each stroke sent a shudder through me.

And then the explosion, and I climaxed. Minutes later, he exploded inside of me. It felt wonderful. I felt my pussy contract, my swelling subsided, my breathing quiet, and a sense of calm enveloped me. I had forgotten how good it felt to be loved in that raw naturalistic way. It had been a while, and I’d lost all sense of caution.

Mine became an orgasm waiting to happen.

I left Blessing that evening knowing that this was the beginning of something I couldn’t stop. Nor would I want to stop it.

I went home to become Mrs. Michael Smith once again.

* * * *

Yes, Blessing and I did have some really good times. Times that I will never forget.

I will always love him for those times, in so many ways. Over the years, I have not been able to erase from my mind the physical bliss that we shared together. God knows, I have tried several times and failed. It continues to amaze me that after all of these years since we’ve been together intimately, the thought of him still fills me with a burning desire. My heart still yearns for him. Blessing was the best lover that I ever had. Not to say that I’ve had that many, either. But he holds the high-water mark for every lover that I’ve ever had. Better than Mike and my first husband and, most of all, better than the assorted number of casual lovers that came before and after him. He was tops. Whenever my sexual needs overtake me these days and I feel like masturbating, I fantasize about him and all the things he did to my body until he becomes the object of my satisfaction.

When I close my eyes, I can remember each and every time we made love, every stroke, and every grind. There were so many times and places, I can’t even begin to count. I can close my eyes and still feel the thrust of his massive cock inside my wet and juicy cherry. I can feel the electricity flow through my body and him getting ready to pummel me with his thick, sticky cum.

Other times, I can feel his face buried in the mound between my spread legs as I lay on my back. I can feel his sensuous lips playing the flute with my clitoris, his darting tongue slowly and rhythmically teasing the lips of my vagina, sucking my vulva and nibbling my clit. And his fingers—yes, those fleshy wonders probing my vagina like a skillful doctor searching for a moving uterus, until I climax. My body burning with ecstasy afterwards. That’s my Blessing, the one I loved and will always love.

* * * *

When Mike had suggested a visit to Atley, I asked, What good will it do this time?

You never know until you’ve tried, was his reply, as if he truly meant it. After another two visits with Atley, which we spent arguing about everything except our marital discords, we never made it back. It was clear to us that the end was inevitable, and that it was just a matter of time. The only question was when.

When our case was finally called before Judge J. C. Adams at the divorce court in Brooklyn, we both hurriedly took our positions before him. It was as if we had been summoned to receive a gift. Yes, it was a gift called freedom, as it would turn out later. I can’t speak for Mike, but I was delighted. Ten years of a lifetime investment with only a single payback called divorce to show for it.

I remember the judge murmured a few words, and we both responded, Yes, your honor, in unison. And after that the divorce was final. That was two years ago, but it seems like an eternity. God! How time flies.

* * * *

For me life has been good, except for the occasional bout with loneliness. I finally started a center for disadvantaged children in Elmont, New York, like I’d always wanted to do. I have a staff of six dedicated people and over sixty children filtering through the center each day. It has been very trying work but also very rewarding. I guess I’ve always believed that God placed me on this earth to help people. So I believe that I’ve finally found my niche in life, something that I can do well and be happy with.

CHAPTER 2

THE BEGINNING

Tuesday, 6– Dear Blessing:

I have decided that it would be better to openly and honestly tell you how I feel from my heart and from my mind. I guess part of the problem is actually admitting and dealing with my feelings for you because, as you eloquently put it, I am married. I can’t help that, and sometimes I wish I could.

The truth of the matter is, I never expected to meet anyone like you and sure as hell didn’t plan on forming a close bond with you, let alone sleep with you. I know in my heart that I like you much more than I should under the circumstances, but believe me, it wasn’t preplanned that way. My feelings for you were there from the get-go, but I was hoping that maybe I would never have to deal with them. That maybe my commitment to my husband, and my conscience would not allow it. So I thought, but I was wrong.

However, it is now very difficult for me to contain those feelings. As a matter of fact, they are growing stronger and stronger, day by day. And I’m beginning to wonder if the feelings are mutual, though I suspect they probably are not. That being said, I hope the future will dictate where this relationship is headed.

I find it extremely difficult to tell you how I feel about you in person or on the phone, so I choose to write letters instead. I don’t know why this is so, but I have a very hard time expressing my feelings with spoken words. It is one flaw that I’ve had to live with these many years. I prefer expressing my thoughts and feelings on paper, partly because it is very helpful for me to be able to review my thoughts and partly because I find that it always provides me with the opportunity to be more expressive and open about my feelings.

I hope after you’ve read this letter you will not blame yourself for getting involved with me. I can assure you that nothing happened that would not have happened eventually. I was not the least bit disappointed that it happened. As a matter of fact, it was somewhat of a relief to me. After ten years of marriage, at least now I know what it is like to feel tenderness and passion again and to have my needs met. Although I hate to admit it, I have thought of hardly anything else since that first moment, and I will cherish it for the rest of my life.

Blessing, to tell you the truth, the minute I stepped into your apartment, I wanted to make love to you until you cried out for me to stop. That’s something I haven’t done in such a long time, not even in my marriage. You stimulated a lot of things inside of me and brought feelings out that I’d forgotten I had, and you set my body and mind on fire. I guess I now realize there really wasn’t anything wrong with me sexually, as I’ve been made to believe these many years. I can actually enjoy sex just as much as anyone else. It is obvious to me now that it has a lot to do with my partner. So I thank you for letting me come to that realization.

I know that at some point I’d told you that I didn’t trust men anymore because of my past experiences, but, believe me, I trust you implicitly. There is no one other than God that I trust more. Not even my pastor, who I respect very much. And I really need you as a friend. I need to be able to talk to you. You’re now the one person that makes my life more tolerable. I want you to help me to maintain my sanity in this world that has gone berserk. I truly believe we met for a reason. Even if it turns out that we can only end up as friends, I’d rather be your friend than nothing else. And believe me, Blessing, if I was unmarried, I’d be chasing after you, and then you probably wouldn’t even want to be bothered with me. Life is a bitch, isn’t it?

You know that I am feeling a little vulnerable right now. Yes, I do have some guilt feelings about what happened between us. And it could be because I enjoyed it more with you than I have with Mike, and maybe also because I know it’s wrong. And in my heart, I know there are things we haven’t discussed, and I believe we should. Obviously, for lots of reasons, complacency being one of them, we haven’t even considered what could happen if Mike found out about my affair with you. Or what the repercussions would be if I became pregnant with your baby. Making love to you without protection was never a consideration, but in the heat of the moment, it happened. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. It’s something to think about, considering that I’m still Mike’s wife.

I would have loved for my life to be a little less complicated. But right now it isn’t, so I have to deal with it as it comes. In my mind, I know and I feel you deserve the best. And I also know that one day there is going to be someone in your life that you will love, and settle down and live with. I would hope then that you would always remember me as someone special, not as a sexy, horny older woman you had an affair with. That you would cherish the memories of the times we had together. I would always want your love and respect.

I do believe in God, and I know it is wrong to commit adultery. Because it is wrong, I’ve been praying to God for guidance and forgiveness. Before yesterday happened in your apartment, I kept asking Him to not let me yield to temptation. But then yesterday happened, and I couldn’t help it. Maybe because I’ve been wanting to make love to you ever since our paths crossed in the office.

I believe that God is the only one who knows how our lives are going to end up. Even if it turns out that I become single again, you and I would probably still end up living our separate lives. Our age difference would probably be a setback to any meaningful relationship. And I know that, as a free-spirited person, I’ve never been good at one-on-one relationships. But I get along fine with you, and it’s probably because you’re so much like me. Through you I see the good in me. And because I love me, I love you. I’m not in love with you; I merely love you because you’re you.

I’m not going to place any pressure or make demands on you, nor would I deliberately complicate your life. So don’t be afraid. I need to tell you this because I don’t want you to misjudge my intentions, and I don’t want you to feel that you are being taken for granted. As you know, life is not promised to us from one day to the other, so we need to make the best of it. We need to let those around us or the people we are involved with know how we truly feel about them. I recall you telling me on more than one occasion that a person can be in love with another person and yet not be expressive to that person or let that person ever know that they are loved. That may be true in a lot of cases, but right now I want you to know that I love you.

I never intend to get married again after Mike. I do, however, intend to totally absorb myself in a cause. In my heart, I relish the idea of volunteerism. I see myself as a giver and not a taker. In the future, I would want to buy a house, and adopt and raise a dozen children. Now what kind of man would want to go along with a plan like that? That person would probably think that I’m a nut case.

Blessing, I really wish I had met you ten years ago when I was single and a tad younger than I am now. But since I didn’t, I’m not going to sweat it. It probably wouldn’t have worked out then, anyway. Right now, I need you as a friend. You are much more than an outlet to me. There is a bond developing between us, and let’s just continue to share it without reservation. I will not concern myself with your other relationships because that’s your life. Let’s face it, what choice do I have? I just hope we can always talk openly about your other relationships and whatever you would want to talk about. I think the world of you.

As I said earlier, my feelings for you are growing stronger, and I suspect you feel the same about me, but I may be wrong. Please, don’t see this as the whim of an older lady who is starving for love, but I would like to know how you feel about me. If expressing yourself verbally is equally difficult for you, then write me. Maybe if we acknowledge our true feelings for each other, we can place this affair in a better perspective. Besides, I want to know how you honestly feel about me. It is important that I know. Please respond.

Love always,

Amber

CHAPTER 3

NEED A BALANCE

It was a cool, bleak day: Wednesday, to be precise.

My thoughts were running wild this particular day, as usual. Me, Amber Smith, a married woman, in the arms of another man, and one half my age for that matter. Who would have thought that it would ever come to this? Come to think of it, I still didn’t believe it myself either. There I was, allowing myself to get emotionally involved with another man at a time when I should be fixing whatever was wrong with my marriage.

For those who know me, it would seem totally out of character for me. And it would stand to reason that since I’m still married, my judgment and state of mind would be free from question. Now I was beginning to question my frame of mind and wondering if I’d given this whole affair a good thought. To make matters worse, my marriage hadn’t been doing so well lately. Now, with two marriages under my belt, I would think it’s about time to stop taking men seriously, let alone getting involved. I mean, with any man.

And what exactly did I do but get involved again? Quite frankly, I had no business getting involved with someone from my office now, did I? Especially since I’ve always believed that office romance was nothing but big trouble. If your performance doesn’t dip or if your blood pressure doesn’t take a nosedive, the office gossip will get you. And for a married woman like me, it was just a disaster waiting to happen. It wasn’t a question of what my husband would hear but when he would hear it.

What made it so bad was that the person I was involved with not only worked with me, but lived in the same apartment building with my husband and me. You can call that double jeopardy because that’s exactly what it was. It was like taking your own noose with you to a hanging. If there was ever a prize for screw-ups, I was sure I would be in front of the pack for my share. The question now was, where do I go from here? This was weighing heavily on my mind.

I kept wondering what I’d gotten myself into. I sure as hell didn’t mean for this to happen. If you asked me, I couldn’t even tell why it had; it just happened. Maybe that’s a comfortable way to look at it. But it hadn’t provided me any comfort because, since I’d come home that evening, I’d been trying to shake the feeling in my heart and I couldn’t.

So when I got home the first thing I did was go to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of wine. I sat at the kitchen table and sipped it gently, thinking. But then my thoughts didn’t get too far. I guess maybe because I didn’t know where to begin.

Then I got up, went into the bathroom, and looked at myself in the mirror. My face was slightly swollen, and my eyes were glassy. I knew it wasn’t from the glass of wine. It couldn’t be. I must be tired, I thought.

Standing there, I unbuttoned my blouse to expose my chest. I examined my breasts; they looked round and firm. However, I could feel a little throbbing sensation in them. Why do I feel this way? I asked myself. Why am I captivated by this surge of emotions? Could it be that I’m falling in love with this person? How else could I explain what’s going on in my mind?

I sat down on the toilet and gazed into space, my mind racing and confused. My heart was hurting, and even though I didn’t want to, and was trying not to, I started crying. What is one supposed to do when one feels this way? I asked myself. What can I do in a situation like this, when the pain is caused by my feelings for someone other than my spouse? Can I pretend that it didn’t matter? What can I do to my heart to make it stop hurting? Or can I truly do anything?

Finally, I got up and wiped my face. I went