When peace stopped at my doorstep

It was a beautiful Sunday morning; I had just returned from the office after a long night’s work.
Suddenly, I heard repeated knocks on my door.

The initial feeling was not to answer since I was not expecting anybody to visit me at that particular time; more so, my family members had gone to church. But the insistence and curiosity made me.

“Who is that? I asked.

“It is me,” the person at the other end answered.

Instantly, I knew the August visitor.

My mind raced; why would this man be visiting us at this time of the week? I knew the last time we met, my husband and I did all we needed to do, and there was no reason for him to visit us.

As I moved towards the door, many things were going on in my mind. I became agitated and jittery. I couldn’t figure out why I was feeling that way.

Some metres from the door, the knob of the door moved; the person at the other end was trying to force open the door.
It was then that I realised that I was naked. I ran back to the bedroom and covered myself with my wrapper.

“Open the door now, open it! Don’t you want me to enter?” the man at the other end said.

I really can’t remember how long it took me, but what I can remember is that I opened the key and my August visitor entered my sitting room.

“Good morning, Landlord,” I said smartingly.

Rather than answer me, the man just kept mute and transfixed. He started mumbling, with his gaze on my chest.
Suddenly, I realised that I was wearing a transparent wrapper, with my two breasts showing.

“Sorry, madam. I saw your husband drive out, and I decided to check on you,” the landlord said.

I knew he was lying. He kept looking at my breasts. I was confused, thinking of what to do; I was torn between running back to the bed room and dress properly, or tell him to get out. I couldn’t gather my thoughts.

I knew I had to make a decision fast because the man would not take his face off my breasts.
Suddenly, I turned towards my bedroom.

“Are you going to walk out on me?” he said with a tone of disdain.

I was enraged and turned back, faced him, but instead of talking, I lost my voice.

He moved towards me. I tried to keep my distance. Yet he kept coming towards me, ogling.

Sweat was coming out of his bald head; he started secreting a type of scent that I can’t really describe.

The last time I perceived that kind of scent was in my university days when we went for a party outside the campus. It was a day I hate to remember.

Suddenly, there was a flashback. The thought of what happened to me in the past made me summon enough courage to try to run back to the room.

As I made for the room, he pulled my wrapper from behind; I tried to hold it, for a reason I still find very difficult to remember; it fell.

*To be continued.