Chapter 4

To your surprise, Annette had not changed while Omar was in the shower. But your negativity had softened; you had begun to see the situation from another angle. It even became pleasant to think that another man, especially Omar, could see what Ann meant to you. The old man carried the seed of evil in him, a senseless urge toward destruction, a desire to unbalance and ruin life until it resembled him ... and he had done a great deal, BUT! Ann still belonged to you, not to him, to that devil!

You remembered your mad drive through the city after the market, when you might have crashed at any second. Ann would never have endured that for Omar. For you she had. And the immigrant would have to remember his place, whether he wanted to or not! He would have to remember for whom Ann was ready to do anything, and with whom she had simply crossed a line at one point, then slammed the door forever, as on some mangy dog!

One thing troubled you ... she had invited Omar on purpose, knowing what she would be wearing! Had she wanted to show herself? You look into your wife’s eyes and see in them...

... Omar comes out, breaking the course of your thoughts. He has only a towel wrapped around his hips! And he has an obvious hard-on!

“Sorry,” he says with a smile that fills you with disgust, “I just thought it wasn’t right to put dirty clothes on clean skin -- maybe you could lend me something of Yuri-boy’s?”

You clench your teeth. “Yuri-boy”!

“Yes, of course, Omar,” says Ann, blushing. You see where her gaze is directed. Not where it ought to be for a decent wife! And what is that gleam in her eyes?

She rises.

“Sorry,” Omar says again, “for appearing in such an indecent state.”

He gestures with his hands toward his rock-hard cock, which is clearly visible even through the towel -- an absolutely HUGE one. And while he does it, he is looking at you! As if he is laughing at you!

“It’s the pills doing it to me, the ones I take for my heart. Ann knows.”

So, Ann knows all about your hard-on, does she?! Is that what you mean? you think, looking into the old man’s unkind, openly malicious eyes. You know he hates you both for what you are -- for your class and your kind -- you, the successful, wealthy local man with a beautiful wife and an apartment practically downtown. You had met that look often enough in life. Failures always think you got everything either through relatives or through crookedness and theft. In their minds, in a place like this, there is no other way.

Pointing to his erection, Omar does not even try to hide it. On the contrary, he draws attention to it.

“It’s all right, Omar, we can’t always control how our bodies react,” says Ann, rummaging through the closet for your clothes, which will soon become Omar’s clothes. No one is going to make you wear pants after this bum!

Do you not see the illogic here? After all, you had put that same woman on your own cock after him!

“I thought we were all among our own people here -- why be shy around an old man?” Omar says in the tone of a kindly grandfather, which he absolutely is not. While he is speaking, Ann catches his gaze in the mirror the way Perseus watched Medusa in the reflection of his shield. Your wife nods to him.