7 Tales of Sex and Betrayal by Zita Weber

 
    Between the
sheets
    He was snoring as he always did after
drinking too much. Joanne listened from the verandah and thanked
her lucky stars. She could enjoy the warm balmy night without his
demands. The overwhelming fragrance of exotic orchids and
bougainvillea soothed her and she began to hum a favourite tune. It
was an old tune now, of course. She smiled as she recalled being
told by her mother that identifying with particular music dates
you. Well, she didn’t mind being dated, she was in her prime.
    She had never had an issue with her age. The
local women wore their age with pride. With age, they told her,
came wisdom and respect. Had she been living in a western context,
she would be getting a very different message. The times she’d
visited her family back in Australia she’d felt distressed and
disoriented and couldn’t wait to get away. On her return to what
she now considered home, she felt exhilarated to be back in a
culture that valued the basic things in life. Yes, she’d decided,
the modern world was not for her. That culture had lost its way and
she no longer felt comfortable there.
    She felt good here. She loved the country,
its climate and its people. Before they’d arrived, she’d been
warned about the creepy-crawlies. At first, she’d been
apprehensive, but now she felt at home and she loved every little
thing about the place. Everything had been exciting when they
arrived. Dave had been warm and generous and they had explored the
new culture together. They clung together for support, each
reminding the other of home and security.
    Joanne smiled as she remembered how they had
made love on the dark wood bed. Its intricately carved fruit and
flowers headboard was the dark contrast against the snowy white of
the pillows and sheets. It had been such a novelty. Back in
Australia they had thought that their futon was as exotic as they
were going to get.
    In their new surroundings their lovemaking
had matured to the point where Dave would observe the preamble and
even pleasure her beyond her own expectations. When they had met,
his lovemaking was abrupt and unsatisfactory, but she’d encouraged
him to become more adventurous and to be a considerate lover. He
owed his technique to her tutelage.
    With time, they both began to feel
comfortable in their new home and Dave’s interest in her had
diminished. As the plantation manager, he was an important man.
With increasing annoyance, she watched his ego grow and his habits
change. He was no longer the man she had married. He began to
swagger, just a little at first, but within a few short years, he
had reinvented himself as master of all he surveyed. At first, this
transformation was amusing, but lately, she’d caught herself being
irritated by his manner. Although still a physically attractive
man, she found him an unattractive human being.
    Rumours of his affairs reached her.
Dismissing these as malice or at best, sensational stories about
the boss, she believed they had a charmed life. But the rumours
became louder and she couldn’t close her ears to the possibility
that he was unfaithful to her. Stories were circulating about his
dalliances with servant girls and even some of the women from their
social set. His denials were vehement and she had too much pride to
pry any further. Their everyday life was smooth enough to not
bother too much about the small detail.
    It wasn’t until she caught him with one of
her friends that everything changed. Coming home unexpectedly, she
found Dave in bed with Frances. She found them in the marital bed,
he was stroking a curious, proprietorial finger around the centre
of her left breast and she was making soft, cooing sounds. For a
moment, Joanne had stood stock-still and taken in the scene. Then
she laughed. It was too much of a cliché to be taken seriously. For
years, she’d recall that image, the two of them huddled together,
not knowing what to make of her laughing her head off. It still had
the power to bring