The Thought

He entertained the thought; he felt that was his only offence.

Blows of cold air from the air conditioner hit him over and over again on his bare sweaty chest, sending chills through his body as the sweat trickled down to his round belly. He’s been fed to stupor by his wife, as evidently shown by his cylinder shaped belly. He clutched his head in his trembling hands with groans and moans from deep inside, wishing it was just a dream, wishing he’d never been there, wishing he had the balls to have never been there.

A bit of a workaholic, a bit of a snub, David relished the challenges that came with being a young successful consultant in one of the Big 4 financial institutions. He gets his dopamine released by overtime working and his unwavering ambition to rise to the position of a managing partner was his driving force. He wasn’t the type that relished the company of women, he married out of compulsion. And despite having a beautiful wife, still finds the allure of work to be more pleasing than the bosom of his wife; his sole importance was attached to his career ascension. At a point, the visage of his office excites him than the curves of his wife, and she was spoilt for curves; she was a trophy wife, a beauty he won with money like a memento on the wall. He didn’t mind, didn’t care, his mother wanted him married and he did just that so she’ll stop nagging him.

With a smile it started, with sweetened cups of tea it continued, and ultimately convoluted with the skirts getting visibly shorter and disturbingly tighter. He waved it off as an unnecessary distraction; he kept waving it off but his mind was being fed; one spoonful of detail at a time. The new receptionist would sashay her way across the hall, and from his desk he could see through the glass as her bulbous behind rolled in symphonous turns and he felt a literal thirst drying up his throat. “When did this one come? Who is this new girl and why is she walking that way” he thought to himself, as she was always only serving him his tea. Then he entertained a thought, he pictured her holding his glass desk with her slim long hands while he washed the window panes like he had never done before. He shook it off, “I don’t have time for distractions”. But she never failed to greet him with a smile; never.

On a Wednesday evening, he checked his time, saw it was 5:07PM and decided to work a little bit more when he heard a tap on is door.

“Are you going towards Maryland sir” Stella asked in a brisk wasp like voice, peeping with the door half open: Her cleavage peeping with her.

“No, I still have some documents to work on with the new project” was what he should have said.

“Oh yeah, you’re going towards there? I’m ready now” was what he said

He grabbed his car keys and walked a bit fast to his car, opened the central lock; then the devil stepped in: Stella too.

Every single move was sultry and seductive, from her pulling up her skirt to reveal the cleanest thick thighs he’d ever seen, to pulling the seat belt as the anchor slid slowly down her fair skin chest, splitting them into two as they struggle-lessly peeked out of her red camisole. His head was blocked, his mind was blanked, his blood pumped faster than it should; it flowed downstream.

David didn’t check the traffic condition of the road before hitting the road towards Maryland, a place he had no business in. There was a heavy traffic lockdown on his way and he was weary of it already, but Stella looked unconcerned like she was right at home; all of her extremities benefiting from his well-functioning AC. Next, a thought popped up in his head and he blurted it out “Why don’t we go get a drink at Newcastle and move on when the traffic goes down”

A dozen missed calls later, half from his boss, half from his mum, none from his wife, David woke up on a large white bed, evidently a hotel room and was trying to fill his mind with what could have happened.  Then he got an email, he opened it and saw pictures of the sex he had with Stella. He had no idea someone was taking pictures, his turning and theatrics and herculean showmanship all laid bare. With his mouth unclosable, he looked in shock and terror and saw in the email “Be silent in the face of whatever happens this coming week, and nobody would see these: Kenneth”. Ken was also a consultant, also ambitious, but dangerously unethical. David had suspected him of planning a huge fund fraud that could verge on the company going paraplegic; he planned to blow the whistle. Suddenly, everything made sense, from the sudden appointment of Stella to the timing of the fraud.

He clutched his head in his now sweaty palms as the cold air from the AC hit him on his sweaty chest, filling him with regret, penitence and anguish. He entertained the thought, that wasn’t his only offence; but it led to his undoing.


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