The Big E

‘You are selfish, just bloody selfish,’ his wife mumbled, between wiping snot and tears.

‘That’s not true,’ he said softly.

Later, calmer, she would agree with him.

When they were newly-wed, she asked him, ‘What gives you the most pleasure?’ He replied, ‘Your orgasm.’ She had taken that as a well-rehearsed glib answer.  But then, the interest he displayed in bringing her to climax, however disconcerting it was at times, and the pleasure he derived from her big O became all too obvious.

On a hot summer afternoon, it happened for the first time. She was near climax and a brilliant idea struck him like the clichéd bolt of lightning. He had to interrupt the act and work on it. He read it to her once he was finished. ‘Brilliant,’ she muttered. Others agreed. He got recognition and lots of money. Next time, she was less cryptic and more acerbic, ‘Regular Archimedes you are, aren’t you? You and your bloody Eureka...’

He dedicated every work to her, ‘Without her, I am nothing.’ His rivals wondered if she played a bigger role than that of a faithful partner. She had her bad days when she felt like leaving him.