In that moment, she fell out of love with her husband. Or she realized that she hadn't been in love with him for a long time -- perhaps ever. Maggie, ...he flat-chested prude, the modest Sunday school teacher, wanted to be loved by men. Wanted to be a wicked woman. To be fucked. And fuck. And drink margaritas."Oh, my God," she said for the hundredth time as Jerry's fingers pulled apart the lips of her vagina and his mouth closed gently on her clitoris and his tongue flicked against her again and. Slowly, my other hand caressing her hand moves upwards caressing her arm, reaches her shoulder. The earlier hand is now playing with her hair and brushing the skin around her ears. She moans out “abhishek, no,” i move my face closer and kiss her. She is reluctant at first, but then she moves with the flow, her lips open to kiss me back, her arms move to my sides. My one hand is caressing her neck and the other is on her back as we linger our kiss. I break away from her lips and kiss her eyes. "Begum Suleiman, would you like some tea or..." Chachi said."Call me Abida," Abida said smiling, "A cup of tea would be perfect."Chachi brought tea and cookies. For ten minutes Abida sipped her tea and ate a couple of cookies without saying a word."I think it is time we come to the purpose of my visit," Abida said."Of course but why did you bother to come? One telephone call and we would have come to you," chachi said."No it is better so," Abida said and looking them straight in the eyes,. Kind of like how he refers to Jean, his assistant. Jean manages his office; I manage his home. She gets his coffee and schedules his lunch reservations; I cook his supper. She keeps his life organized; I birthed and raised his children." She felt the anger begin to swell inside her again, and she laughed derisively. "He's as happy with me for giving him three daughters as he is with Jean for establishing an efficient filing system. Oh, but giving him two sons? That's akin to Jean helping close.