Forbidden Desires: A Housewife's Temptation

Ever since my husband brought James to our house, I have always felt a strong attraction towards him.

When our eyes met, my heart fluttered and I experienced a shiver down my spine, though I concealed it. I adopted a bossy demeanor to assert my authority and maintain a certain standard.

I question why my husband had to choose such an incredibly attractive individual as our houseboy, out of all the people in the world.

Right from the beginning, I knew I would be unfaithful to my husband after he introduced James as our houseboy.

Please understand that my husband is frequently absent due to being a workaholic. He often stays away from home for days due to work commitments.

Ordinarily, I had no issue with his absence, but James' presence has complicated matters.

Furthermore, my husband does not want me to work. He insisted that I be a housewife and went as far as hiding my qualifications.

Consequently, I spend most of my time at home, my desires frequently unsatisfied. Being alone at home with someone as attractive as James is quite challenging.

And James, oh my! He is incredibly attractive!

Could it be his well-toned, chiseled, and captivating physique? His impressive six-pack abs and broad, muscular chest? Or perhaps his charming dimples that surface when he smiles? Maybe it is his striking facial features that exude a sense of luxury? Or his captivating, piercing eyes?

Goodness!

James' mother made an error in naming him James; she should have named him "Perfection"!

He possesses a timid and inexperienced nature, which I find appealing. He is diligent, well-mannered, polite, and honest. He perpetually maintains a positive disposition and effortlessly flashes a seductive smile.

Moreover, he is an exceptional cook! The first time I tasted his food, I couldn't believe that he had prepared it himself.

The flavors were out of this world!

At times, I wonder if he hails from heaven, as he is as attractive as an angel and cooks exceptionally well. He remains blissfully unaware of his own rare and captivating charm, which draws others to him like a magnet!

That is what makes him truly special!

Every morning when I wake up, he has already cleaned the entire house, meticulously eliminating every speck of dirt and dust. He is always busy cooking by the time I awaken.

I had assumed that he would develop an interest in me or show some form of desire, given my suggestive behavior.

On the first occasion, I wore only a bra and shorts. James was taken aback! He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw me dressed this way, knowing fully well that he was in the house.

I glanced at him, hoping to see desire in his eyes, but to my disappointment, all I saw was shock.

Following that day, I wore increasingly provocative attire, yet James started to keep his distance.

He seemed uncomfortable in my presence and always sought an excuse to escape whenever I approached.

Since wearing seductive clothing yielded no results, I resorted to giving him my underwear and bras to wash, instructing him not to use the washing machine.

However, all my efforts thus far have been in vain, which is incredibly frustrating!

Is he playing hard to get or is there something else at play?

Someone, although I cannot recall who exactly, once told me that if I desire something deeply, I must go after it. Waiting for it to come to me would be a waste of time.

That thought struck me, and I devised a plan. I took my husband's golden watch and hid it in James' room while my husband was engaged with the old gateman.

Upon discovering the watch missing, my husband warned us all that we needed to produce it

before he returned from work; otherwise, he would be displeased with all of us.

I suggested to James that we search his room. He insisted he had not taken it and that I would not find it there.

I casually remarked that I was not insinuating he had stolen the watch, but searching his room was a necessary step.

Reluctantly, he allowed me to proceed.

He stood at the door, arms crossed over his chest, visibly tense.

Rather than going straight to where I had hidden the watch, I skillfully began searching his wardrobe. Next, I explored his chest of drawers, followed by his bedside table, until finally reaching the hiding spot... beneath his pillow.

The look of shock and confusion on his face was priceless! His jaw dropped, and his eyes widened in disbelief.

I confronted him angrily, demanding an explanation for why the watch was there. He claimed to have no idea how or when it ended up on his pillow.

"So, it sprouted wings and flew to your pillow, then?" I exclaimed.

"No, Ma'am. Madam, I swear to God," he began tearfully, "I don't know how the watch got there. It's not my doing, it's the devil's work. I swear to God."

"Then who placed it there?"

"I don't know," he wailed.

"When my husband returns, I will inform him that you are responsible."

"Please, Ma'am, I beg you."

He dropped to his knees, fervently rubbing his palms together in a pleading gesture. It pained my heart to witness this handsome man crying so passionately, appearing vulnerable, miserable, and pitiful.

But I had to do this!

"Please, Ma'am, I beg you. I am my parents' only son. Please help me save my job. Please, Ma'am."

I began to leave the room, but he blocked my path and clutched the hem of my dress.

"I will do anything you want..."

Finally!

This was what I had been waiting for him to say!

"Anything?"

"Yes, anything."

"Are you certain?"

He nodded, sniffling. "Yes."

"Alright, stop crying."

After a while, his tears subsided, and I instructed him to stand up, which he did.

We sat at the edge of his bed, and I revealed my request to him.

His shock surpassed all previous instances!

"Ma'am, please, anything else but that one."

"Are you not serious?" I hissed as I rose from the bed.

He grasped my hand, pleading with his knees on the floor.

He continued to cry and beg as I walked out of his room.

I anticipated that he would come to my room, continue to plead, and eventually give in to me, but he did not. He did not even cook in the afternoon, and I refused to seek him out. It had to be him who would come to me, not the other way around.

I was in the living room, watching TV, when he emerged with his Ghana must go bag. His eyes were swollen from crying, and he appeared pale and worn out.

I initially believed he was joking when he informed me that he was leaving. He explained that he could not face my husband's anger and that he could not meet my needs either. Departing was the best option for him.

I wanted to confess that I had planted the watch, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I would lose my value if I did.

As he bid me farewell and walked out the door, I wanted to call him back, offer him money, and confess my love for him, but I simply could not.

My husband returned home and inquired about James. I informed him that James

had left because he felt unable to face the consequences after the watch was found in his room.

My husband was disappointed in him and also felt sorry for himself for losing such a hardworking individual as James.

Since that day, I have not felt like myself.

I am overwhelmed with guilt and regret for everything I have done.

James did not even receive his first salary, all because of me!

And I don't think I can live with that burden!

I subtly inquired about where my husband found James. He explained that James had contacted him after seeing the vacancy for a houseboy, and they arranged to meet. Consequently, my husband had no knowledge of James' background.

While my husband was occupied with something else, I unlocked his phone in search of James' contact, but to my dismay, I did not find his name on my husband's contact list.

This guilt is consuming me!

All because a man refused to compromise his principles for his convenience!

What kind of man is he?

Is he the holiest person on Earth?

Am I the first woman who desired an affair with her employee?

Huh?

What I offered him is the desperate dream of most men!

Yet, he rejected it as if it were nothing, and now I am plagued by guilt!

He should have made love to me and been my lover or even my gigolo!

It's not a big deal!

Now, how rid myself of this guilt? How?