ORE
“I’m just saying, you didn’t have to smile like that,” Ramsey said.
Ore sighed quietly as she towelled her body dry. She wished she could stay a little longer in the
bathroom, at least until Ramsey was out of his mood but she had to be at work soon.
“Babe, babe, did you hear me?” her husband called from the bedroom.
“Yes, I did. I’m sorry I smiled like that,” she rolled her eyes as she said the words, grateful her back was
to him.
“It’s just, you know how men can be. They get mixed signals and get confused,” Ramsey’s voice was
closer and Ore could sense his presence behind her, lurking in the doorway of the bathroom. He was
already dressed for the office, his crisp, laundered lavender shirt open at the neck, revealing his curly
chest hair.
She didn’t turn from the wall mirror as she applied lotion on her body. The key to sounding sincere was
to not make eye contact and right now she needed him to believe that she was really sorry about
smiling too much when his new client from Japan had called her a ravishing beauty at last night’s dinner.
When she first married Ramsey, she knew that business dinners were part of the deal. He liked to take
her out and show her off to his friends, employees, investors and clients. He had made it clear that he
needed her looks and her conversational skills at events like that. It was her job to remain interesting
enough to keep his business interests. She hadn’t known she would enjoy playing the role so much, had
only recently discovered how much she liked being a beautiful woman and the boss’ wife. Before
Ramsey, she’d had an eventful dating life – men of different shapes, sizes, and financial circumstances.
In a way, she was similar to her brother Benjy, but where she had used relationships as a means to an
end, her brother seemed to enjoy sex for the sake of it.
She thought of her brother now, as she backed her husband; they hadn’t spoken in three days and she
missed talking to him. She would call him, she decided. Maybe when she was driving to work.
“You’re so beautiful. Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think other men know that?” Ramsey was
speaking again. He was close to her now, and when she looked up at the mirror, she saw his reflection
hovering behind her. He was handsome, that she knew. It was his good looks that had ensnared her, the
way his eyelashes fluttered when he was trying to communicate earnestness. God, he had such lovely
eyelashes, long and like a curtain. She wanted to touch it right now but she also didn’t want to
encourage whatever he had on his mind.
She turned and gave him a peck on his lips before slipping away from his loose grasp.
“You know I only have eyes for you baby,” she said, hurrying towards the bedroom, her white towel
folded loosely across her chest.
She had to move fast. Thanks to Aisha, their housekeeper, her work clothes were ironed and ready for
today, so all she needed to do was get dressed and leave the house. Breakfast wasn’t important to her –
Aisha had come in an hour earlier and had probably made some breakfast for them but Ore didn’t want
to spend more time around Ramsey especially when he was in a mood about something so
inconsequential.
Okay, so she’d had a little too much to drink at last night’s dinner and she had let down her guard a
little. She was usually conscious of her husband’s stare, or his arms on hers while they chatted with his
clients, but last night, by her third glass of wine, she was laughing a little too loudly at the man’s jokes.
What was his name again? T-something. Oh yes, Terry. Terry who insisted she call him by his first name,
Terry whose hands lingered a little too long on her back when she hugged him hello, Terry who smelled
so good in his cologne, Terry who was half-black with curly hair she wanted to touch, Terry who was not
as good-looking as her husband but was older and sophisticated in a way that made him attractive, Terry
with a slight British accent that caused a tingle in her toes. And so, she had laughed, intoxicated by the
wine and his compliments and she had forgotten to watch out for Ramsey’s stares and nudges.
But she wasn’t going to lie, she had enjoyed herself last night. She liked being looked at and admired,
and sometimes it was the only thing that made her feel like she was in control of her elusive life.
She pulled up the zipper of her dress up and slipped into her blazer.
“That dress is too short, don’t you think?” her husband’s voice came from behind her.
She pretended she hadn’t heard, grabbing her pumps from the shoe closet.
“Babe,” he said.
“I have to look smart,” she faced him.
“Not like a whore,” he said.
She stiffened, staring at him.
He stared back at her, unflinching.
She sighed. “I’ll put on pantyhose then,” she said.
His face broke out into a smile that would have been cute if it didn’t scare her. Honestly, she thought as
she rummaged in her drawer for a pair of pantyhose, he was like a four-year-old throwing a tantrum.
Pantyhose found, she sat on the bed and just as she slipped her left foot in, her husband knelt before
her.
“Let me help you with that,” he said and before she could protest, he very gently took her left foot in his
and slipped the hose over it. She found herself mesmerized by his actions, by this man who could curse
her one moment and kiss her the next. This man who she was sometimes convinced hated her, and yet
who could do the most tender and loving things. She didn’t know what to feel, what to think. Sometimes
the way he flipped on her made her dizzy – it was as though life with him was a big, continuous spin and
so she could barely catch her breath or even see clearly.
Now, he placed feathery kisses on her leg as he rolled the hose up slowly. Ore caught her breath,
refusing to let it affect her.
It was useless. He knew where to touch her, how to get her to surrender. After three years of marriage,
there wasn’t much she could hide from him when it came to her body.
“Ramsey…” she breathed, placing a hand on his shoulder to ward him off. She was going to be late if she
stayed, if she did this.
“Sshhh,” he said.
“Work,” the word sounded strangled as she struggled to not feel anything. “I have work.”
“Let me work on you,” he trailed his mouth up her now bare legs and his head found its place in the
space between her legs.
There was no point fighting it anymore. This, this was what the entire morning was about. This was her
penance for last night, this was his way of establishing control and well, she was a weak, weak woman.
She let herself fall back on the bed, and let her body feel twist and contract as he worked on her.
She didn’t notice the tear that slid out of the corner of her eyes as she moaned again and again.
