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Chocolate Seduction

Posted on March 25, 2007
Filed Under The Stories |

Shaila didn’t understand Carlos. She didn’t understand why he did the things he did and she didn’t understand why it seemed to be okay for him to get away with it all. Several days had passed since she had last been out of their single bedroom apartment. In moments of hallucinatory paranoia she imagined that the whole city had changed. That buildings would no longer look like they used to, that street signs would have changed yet again and that she would be hard-pressed to find her way from anywhere to anywhere else.

“Where have you been all day?” she asked him even before he’d properly come in through the door.

He didn’t immediately respond, choosing to focus instead on taking of his shoes, “Out. Why?”

“I’ve been stuck here all day.”

“Who told you not to go out?”

“What if somebody came?”

“Are you expecting someone?”

“No. But what if the courier came or something…?”

“Are you expecting something?”

“No.”

He didn’t say anything, seeming suddenly more interested in her appearance.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, not nothing. You’re looking at me. What happened?”

“Did you shower today?”

“Are you saying I look dirty?”

“No I’m saying you don’t look like you’ve changed since I left in the morning.”

“Why would I change?”

“Don’t people change their clothes after a bath?”

“What’s the point? I don’t go anywhere.”

“You could have gone out.”

“Where did you want me to go?”

“Nowhere. I don’t know.”

“Where did you go?”

“To work Shaila. It’s what I do every single day.”

“Are you saying I’m a burden?”

“I don’t want to do this right now.”

He locked himself in the bathroom and waited for the banging on the door. It didn’t come. He wondered how his life had got to this place. He tried to think back to a time without the hints and allegations. He tried to imagine what it would be like to live without the dread that descended upon him like a cloud in the monsoon, as soon as the rickshaw he was riding in turned onto the street he lived on.

He had been seduced by the colour of her skin. Not a particularly fair-skinned man, he was completely enamoured by its chocolate smoothness. From the first moment he set eyes on the curly-haired woman in that shack in Goa Carlos knew he wanted to get to know her better.

The attraction was purely sexual, there was electricity in the air and the possibility of sex with an Indian girl was ripe with promise. She was immediately receptive to his attentions and he found out what the local flavour tasted like mere hours after setting eyes on Shaila. He hadn’t planned for the events that followed.

Pursuing her through Goa, following her to Mumbai and eventually moving in with her, were not part of his agenda. Without quite realizing it he had become addicted and needed to stay close to his fix. That was three years ago. Three trips back home to Argentina for the renewal of his visa, three weeks of missing her, several return trips to Goa and Rishikesh and all the sex he could handle were the highlights of their relationship.

He noticed that she had been letting her self go quite in a bit. The skin was no longer as smooth or supple. She didn’t seem to care that she was putting on weight. She didn’t seem to be aware of what she was wearing anymore. She didn’t seem to realise that she was becoming a mess.

He understood that every relationship needed to weather a few storms. He understood that men and women could be on different emotional planes at the exact same moment. He was prepared for all of that.

He hadn’t prepared for the paranoia. He hadn’t expected to encounter it on a daily basis. He didn’t see why he needed to be tied down to the city anymore; or the woman who was clearly unraveling through known fault of his.

Carlos splashed some water on his face and unlocked the bathroom door. He heard her puttering about the kitchen. He rescued his solitary suitcase from the bedroom, hurriedly stuffed it with whatever belongings he could find and walked out on Shaila.

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