A Faded Portrait

How do you tell your husband you don’t love him anymore? That you probably never did. That somewhere along the line when you turned 22 and he asked you to marry him, you just went with it cause otherwise would have been unseemly. You fell naturally into the role of a loving and doting wife without thinking and that became your identity. Until she showed up at your office as the new human resources coordinator. Cecil was her name.  Nothing about her was pretentious. Not even the hair on her head which had never tasted relaxer. Cecil called it as she saw it and you admired her for it. Your husband, Frank, was only too glad that you finally had a friend and did not mind the girls night out every Friday night Cecil wanted to introduce into your lifestyle.
”Lisa, you need to go out and have fun,” Frank told you when you tried to protest against the idea. You agreed with him and was not so sure what to expect. The first night out, Cecil took you to a club. That would be your second time in a club. The first had not been so pleasant seeing as a stranger tried to grope you. You told Cecil this and she laughed out loudly. “Just you wait. Hang out with me enough and you will be doing the groping soon.” The way she spoke frightened and excited you at the same time. You were not sure you could be what Cecil wanted you to be but you wanted to try. Girls night out became routine; a new club every Friday night, trying out new drinks that made you see things, taking weed and discovering that you loved it more than chocolate. Cecil was proud of you. You were like her own little ball of clay she was shaping up while setting aside the layers of ‘uptight’ you had once clothed yourself with.
Cecil after months together,  felt you were ready to be introduced to other daring things. You could not wait. The place was called X lounge. It looked just like any other club you and Cecil had been to. Loud music, horny people grinding up on each other, the heavy stench of alcohol and the murky atmosphere created by marijuana and hookah pipes. Cecil led you to a back room. She handed the bouncer standing in front of a dark door a card. He opened the door. More music but softer. Cecil entered and you followed. You became intrigued. This club inside the club had a different vibe. Maybe because there were more women than men occupying the space. A woman approached Cecil. She was average height, had bulging hips accentuated by a fitting dress and a beautiful face. She flipped her curly weave in a sexy manner as she walked. “Cecil,” she said, as she stepped in front of your friend. You watched as Cecil leaned in to kiss her deeply. You were stunned but you watched. Cecil stopped kissing the woman and turned to you. ”Oh I’m bisexual.” Cecil had spoken those words as she would if she had forgotten to tell you about a brand of lipstick she liked; without so much as a hint of apology. You wanted to say so much but you did the opposite.
Cecil introduced you to the woman who ushered you to a secluded booth. Told you her name was Delilah. Obviously a fake name. Cecil went on to tell you about the club, “This place is for women like us to comfortably explore what we truly desire without any trouble.” She smirked as she talked, her eyes roaming, watching the half-naked women with their tits out. “So many famous people here. Many women of repute.”
“How did you know you were bisexual?” you asked wondering why you were not leaving.
“I just knew. I like to fuck women, and men. It’s that simple.” She paused and raised her beer glass at you. “But you, you want to find out. Never tried anything did you? Always the innocent girl.”
“No,” you said. “No, I don’t want to find out. Wouldn’t that be cheating on Frank?”
“Whatever.” Cecil rolled her eyes at you and gestured to Delilah who brought with her a glass of wine. “This one is on me,” Cecil said standing up.
“Cecil where are you going?” She ignored you and went on to mingle with other women.
“Relax,” Delilah edged closer and whispered in your ear.
“I’ve never done this before,” you told her, your palms becoming sweaty. A small nagging voice told you to run away. Another urged you on. You listened to the latter.
“I can tell. Just relax and let me take care of you.” You felt Delilah’s warm breath move from your ear to your cheek. Your heart skipped a beat when you felt her mouth closer to yours. When your lips met you definitely felt something, something growing inside you. Rising like an erupting volcano. You found yourself kissing her back with more passion than you cared to give away. You thought it was wrong when Delilah lifted your skirt, found your panties and pushed it aside to let her fingers inside you, but you welcomed it. You welcomed every thrust, every tease, the way she sucked on your tongue so that you barely had time to breathe. When it dawned on you just how much you wanted to be with Delilah was when you realized how much your life had been a lie.
Sex with Delilah was different, fulfilling, more exciting. You began to feel things you never did before with Frank. You came to grips with the fact that there was sex and there was sex. Passionate. Audacious. Orgasmic Sex. Frank noticed the change. Your late nights, your distance and how you hated being touched by him. You hated the way you felt around him. Like a phony. You felt suffocated. More and more you drifted away. Your mind and body now belonged with Delilah and Cecil. You asked yourself again and again; Who was I pretending to be? Who am I now?

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