My sexiest lingerie did nothing to convince him to stay

I am Potiphar’s wife and not ceaser’s wife. For that simple reason, I am not beyond reproach.

My spacious, well-manicured and modern house sits on a one acre land North of Maliwazo town. It’s four o’clock in the evening. I am sitting in the balcony overlooking the servants quarter.

I look at my watch and its some few minutes to five in the evening. I am waiting for Masanduku my able bodied employee. He had gone to bank the money that our women group “mama Domo”, had collected the previous day.

Just when I am thinking that he can’t show up, I hear the engine of the car pull up in the garage. The tyre holds firmly on the tarmac and I can feel the last grasp. I stretch my neck and look in the garage direction.

To my horror, I see his wife and three children get out of the passenger seat. I study his family keenly as though my life depends on what I see. 

Masanduku’s wife is petite, she has a round face, a curios hairstyle that sits awkwardly on her head. She lazily carries her fat baby as she holds the hand of her little girl in a white dress. She leaves a bag, whose content is only known to them, on the ground.

Masanduku comes towards the main house as his wife goes to his house. I quickly go inside the house and into the bedroom so that he cannot find me at the balcony.

From the bedroom, I hear him open the front door and walk up to the rack where the car keys are kept. I hear retreating steps in the direction of the door. Now changed in my red and sexiest lingerie, I quickly go to catch up with him.

“Where do you think you are going?” I ask standing right in front of him.

“Not today. Not when she is around,” he says trying to push me out of his way. “I will make it up to you”

“No! This is unfair. You had taken mzee on a trip for a week and I couldn’t see you,” I nag holding unto his jacket.

“I need to go,” he says tearing himself from my grip. As he forcefully unwraps himself from my tight embrace, he leaves me with his jacket.

I can’t believe he can ignore me this way. I should admit with a bowed head that it was not easy with Masanduku. To begin with, he is fifteen years my junior. He is every old maids dream. My close friends and members of Mama Domo group namely: Mama Shirandula, Mama Pima and Mrs. Posh have always asked questions about him.

When we meet weekly for tea, business meetings and a little chit chat, none of them ignores Masanduku. I even caught the gossipy but kind Mama Shirandula fixated at Masandukus biceps. As usual, I pretended not to see. Or confirm that indeed Masanduku is handy in many exciting ways.

When I came to terms with Masandukus rejection, I placed his coat on the chair then called Potiphar. He answered his phone immediately, which should be listed as the eighth wonder of the world. The annoying messages did not pop up.

He said he was extending his business trip for another month since he was still waiting for his clients. With the children in college, I was really bored. When I told him I was very bored, he advised me to keep myself busy with my friends and even befriend my three suspicious and evil looking female servants.