Unfaithfully Yours by Nigel Williams Read Free Book Online

motion. His buttocks were particularly beautifully shaped and in the wet swimming trunks he often seemed to be wearing, even at lunch, he was a powerful spectacle for a woman in her thirties.
    Quite by chance I ran into him again, quite recently, as he joined a drama club to which I belong and we both gained prominent roles in a forthcoming production of a Shakespeare play. I talked with him about the old days and, though we were friendly and even slightly flirtatious, I did not feel the passion that had once so disturbed me.
    Then some weeks ago I found myself by the cheese counter at Waitrose in Putney Shopping Centre. I was moving my trolley forward when I caught sight of a man’s behind raised in my direction as he stooped to pick up a tranche (is that the right word?) of Jarlsberg.
    The sight of his bottom must have triggered some deep feelings that I had been struggling to suppress for years. In rehearsal for our play there had been many slightly dangerous moments – especially when he laid his head in my lap in the scene in which Ophelia is taken to the theatre. But this was different. It was intense. Suddenly the memories of those villas we had shared in northern Corsica, southern Portugal and western France came back to me with the force and vigour of one of this man’s swallow dives hitting the surface of a shared holiday swimming pool all those years ago!
    Pretending an interest in Norwegian, Swiss and other hard, nutty cheeses, I leaned forward and found myself once more looking into his long, muscular face. He has a wide mouth and I have heard people say he reminds them of one of the larger and more menacing sharks. His hair, still abundant I noticed, continued to start up from his forehead in a bold, masculine manner and, in spite of the many years that had passed since we last met, he could easily have been mistaken for a man of forty-five.
    We talked, for the first time, with real intimacy. He told me about his family. I had always found his wife a somewhat snobbish woman who often paraded her learning at the breakfast table and corrected my attempts to speak any language apart from English (although even that sometimes came under her scrutiny). I gained the impression he was unhappy. He has a son who became dangerously addicted to cider at university and a daughter who works for an organization dedicated to preserving Rwandan gorillas.
    ‘Perhaps,’ he said, throwing his head back with a booming laugh, ‘they remind her of her old man!’
    He inflated his chest and beat upon it, violently, with his fists, uttering a throaty cry as he did so. The effect was overpoweringly erotic. After we had talked for several minutes he gave me his mobile number and suggested we meet one evening for a drink.
    ‘I won’t tell the wife if you won’t tell the old man!’ he said, with another of his deep, attractive laughs, and, with these words, strode off in the direction of the fish counter.
    As he left me, Doctor, a sudden and disturbing image came to me. I am almost embarrassed to write it down but I feel you need to know all the facts of the case. It was no more than a fleeting vision but it has stayed with me and I cannot get it out of my mind.
I was being penetrated by him in the open air
. It was – I am fairly sure – mountainous terrain and there was a crowd of peasants or tribesmen, or people of that sort, watching me and applauding as I allowed him access to my body.
    I find myself constantly thinking of this man and, although I have always been something of a feminist, I find my dreams of him often involve his taking me by force – very much as Ledaia (is that her correct name?) was taken by Zeus, who had disguised himself as an animal of some kind in order to take advantage of her. I do not know whether to ring his mobile. I feel that if I do it may lead to events I will be unable to control. But I am very tempted to call him. What should I do?
    Yours truly,
    Worried W, Putney

     
    From Dr