Chapter 4

The day passes quietly. But you’re rather distracted, aren’t you? Yesterday’s sex lesson from the vagrant has thrown you off balance. You forget to give your staff instructions; you’re absentminded and lost. You’re not even surprised to realize you’ve left some important documents at home. Fortunately, you live nearby.

“I won’t be long,” you tell the security guard at the entrance, without explaining where you’re going. As you step outside, you can feel questioning looks sticking to your back.

The fresh winter air clears your head a little. You feel the contrast between the druglike lust that’s destroying you and the clarity of nature. You need to change your life. Why were you pestering your wife this morning? Is she not even allowed to undress anymore? Your jealousy has turned into sexual desire, something you constantly stimulate in yourself. You’re not even jealous ... you’re excited. Isn’t it time to stop living for sex alone? The world has so much in it ... think back: when you were a child, did you dream of becoming a sex addict?

You reach home, go upstairs, insert your key and turn it. The door doesn’t open. Strange; Anna usually locks it with only one turn. Oh, of course, she’s naked ... see, your wife is protecting her nudity from strangers’ eyes, and there you were worrying.

You turn the key once more and go in. Immediately you see your wife standing by the wardrobe, looking tense, almost frightened. But the main thing is that where her nipples were covered in paint, there are now two unmistakable handprints!!!

All your newfound serenity vanishes in an instant.

“WHERE IS HE?!!!” you shout, charging into the apartment without taking off your shoes.

“Who?” Anna asks nervously. You see bewilderment in her eyes. Caught red-handed!

“You know who! Where’s Omar? You said you wouldn’t let anybody in, didn’t you? Oh, sure. You can say anything you like when your husband’s at work and will never know, can’t you?!!”

You start marching through the apartment, slamming doors and pounding the floor with your shoes.

“Yuri, you’ll regret speaking to me like that,” your wife replies coldly from behind you.

“Oh, will I?! And what about the handprints on your breasts?!”

“Those are my own handprints ... Your jealousy is wrecking our relationship. You’re being rude to me!”

Your fury subsides a little, especially as you keep searching the apartment. Nobody. Emptiness, silence. Your wife is alone.

“I wasn’t rude,” you finally say grimly, stopping in front of her.

“You were! And I demand an apology! No one was here except you! Instead of praising me for the work I’ve done, you didn’t even look at it. All you can think about is jealousy!”

Well, you looked. You praised her. And you apologized. You collected your documents and returned to work in a state of turmoil. No, this jealousy has to stop; it’s destroying you. You must put an end to your sexual fantasies about infidelity. It sometimes seems you’re merely letting off steam by giving your demons free rein, but that’s not how it works. In fact, you only bind yourself to them more tightly. You’re not the one who lets your demons go for a while; they’re the ones who let you go for a while to live a normal life. The tightest leash is the one that’s occasionally slackened...