Chehrezade

Chehrazade didn't really know what was happening.

While she sat on a white sofa stained with tea, orgasmic mist and ash, she devoured the white sofa with further ash. She puffed on hard red cigarettes. She got up, went till the kitchen with bare feet. Her feet had black charcoal type layers beneath them. Amazing how she would tell me about the cost of this white upholstery only to lie on it with dirty feet - dirtier after each round to the kitchen.

It was 10:00 am by now. While I was leaving for the courts, I sat before her to admire her. Her hazel eyes, light brown mane, tanned olive complexion, sleek nose, mole over her not so pouty lips made the charcoal layers under her feet irrelevant. Even after three years of marriage, I couldn't resist her and slowly sneaked my way to the white sofa trying not to meet her eyes. I kissed her lips soft enough that she again didn't know what was happening. Slowly, ebbing on the deceit that began with a kiss I roamed the periphery, the expanse of her chest. If her face was beautiful, then her boobs were better than all those silicon infested hollywood babes. My Chehrezade was like a vintage coupe. Button start but she showed the road its way. While I started with a kiss and my cavity infested teeth nibbled on her nipples, she showed me the way. Showed me the way to further orgasmic mist. It got so intense- (beep) - intense enough that the two cups of half drank tea on the table by the side spilled on her precious ispahani carpet beneath with little terminological splashes on the white sofa. Maybe it was never meant to be white.

I wore my shirt, tie, pants, socks, coat and left and she blew me a kiss while she surfed through netflix . I’m sure she must have watched horror after I left. While I was driving or arguing in court or working on my draft, my mind was fixated on her. How could this woman clip sunflowers, paint, read, fight to the extent of turning a city into a graveyard, how could this woman be beset by so much that it didn't just add up. How could this woman born into wealth in which nothing was impossible marry and leave everything for a struggling lawyer like me. Who was she? Whether someone who clipped sunflowers or someone with dusty feet or someone who clapped to exorcisms or someone who was a charade yet my charade. She was mine. This woman had packed her bags and left everything for me. She had left a life of luxury in northern europe for this fuckonza. But this is her summarised. This is not her lived. I often think about the disparity between us. About the disparity of us lived.

I just got back home. She is still fitted in that white sofa. Yet I don’t see any stains anymore. The carpet is apparently sponged. I can't see the sofa because she's clearly on the very expanse of it. She just opened her eyes and looked towards me,“How was your day Dave, how did the defamation case go”, I told her about that stupid prolonged case and the conversation just went about.Something was not right though. There was a certain stiffness to her this night. Usually when we make out our moods remain good but tonight she was cold, reserved and even less talkative than usual. She went to the kitchen barefeet, made me a sandwich and put the same before me like putting milk before a cat. I tried talking my way in -whatever that means- but it was resisted by an orchestrated silence. I kept badgering on - a few odd sentences here and there- usually it worked- tonight it didn't. A couple of hours later I heard her laughing to this youtuber nikki glaser. This was new. A woman who had placed bible on the top of the main door of this house was listening, laughing and smirking to a talk dedicated to the power of dildos. Maybe men were replaced by dildos or maybe this girl was just a bloody good comedian but be that as it may she was doing a better job at interacting with Cher than I was.

Night was transcending into its later layers- dawn still afar. She kept on laughing to Nikki. I kept on peeping out from our room to see her … at times she had shut her eyes. At times she was wide awake. She was to herself this night. I went to sleep thinking that she was also mine but she was also hers. Why was I emphasizing so much on who she was this night? Why wasn't I letting her be her? Rather than picking on a fight or punctuating her laughs with my opinion I decided to sleep. By the time I woke up she was asleep, I showered and went to the courts with all my individualism intact which I was so trying to deprive her of.

I couldn't focus at work. I couldn't focus while I gave dictation to the steno. I couldn't focus while I appeared before the judge. My mind was in absentia. I kept on thinking whether she would still be on the infamous white sofa or had she moved to our bedroom. If she was awake then whether she had eaten something. I was trying not to think of her but she was all I could think of. Maybe I had no one else. Maybe she had sheltered me to the extent that I had even lost the audacity to think about anyone or anything but her. This algerian-american girl in my office makes great tea. She just stepped in my chamber and held my hands to say, “ Sir, you are really quiet today, can i be of any help” - I don't really know what she meant by help here. It was almost a pass. Thank God Cher and I made out yesterday or else I would have taken this ones help here. This algerian american one- called tania- has been looking at me with a tenacity of want. I have to resist. I can even see through her white shirt, I guess she purposely wears tight clothes. Thank God she's on the clerical side of things. She has interesting racoon type green eyes. A black fringe almost straight out of porno. She distracts me- she just took me a leap away from Cher. But something, something termite like is also slowly eating Cher. I just entered home to find the white sofa empty.