by Lena Manta
“For all day, every day? No. Apostolos, I won’t manage to become a lady.”
“You’re a lady in any case . . . except, I have to say, in bed. There I don’t want a lady! I want you as you are now—insatiable and demanding.”
The slightest mention of the bed made both their eyes shine. And the flame became a conflagration.
Apostolos was right about Athens, and Melissanthi was crazy about it. She never tired of looking at all the cars, the people hurrying by, the shop windows with their shining lights, and the dozens of things for sale.
When they returned home from their honeymoon, their staff was waiting for them by the front door. Melissanthi was careful to hide from them the excitement she felt at living in such a large house. She didn’t want to appear like the ignorant girl who’d been dazzled by the luxury of the hotel on that first night in Thessaloniki. She knew she’d have all the time in the world to admire all the beautiful marble, expensive furniture, silver, and crystal when no one was watching.
“So, how does your new house seem to you?” Apostolos asked when the staff had gone away.
Melissanthi looked around her before she answered. This place was nothing like her village home with its wooden floors and old furniture, its smoky hearth and faded ottoman. “It’s magnificent, Apostolos,” she answered with a laugh. “I feel as if I’m in a dream!”
“And so do I when I hold you in my arms.”
“Don’t you dare!” she said with a smile as she recognized the expression on his face. “We’re not alone here.”
“They won’t come back anytime soon; they have work to do. Besides, I want you now, and I can’t see why I should be deprived.”
The next moment he locked the door and soon afterward they were rolling passionately on the thick carpet of the living room.
The staff quickly learned not to disturb the master and madam when they were alone together, even if the house were falling down. The girls sighed whenever they heard the couple’s noisy lovemaking, which was often. The newlyweds seemed unable to keep their hands off each other.
The hours that the couple spent apart while Apostolos worked seemed endless to both of them. When he’d return, his body would once again become the epicenter of Melissanthi’s life. His hands, in particular, drove her crazy with their caresses. Often, in the morning, she didn’t want him to leave her without giving him something to remember her by, something he’d have to hurry back for in the evening. And Apostolos was always ready to satisfy and to be satisfied.
While he was busy showering attention on his new wife, Apostolos was notably absent from all his former hangouts. Friends and acquaintances wondered where he was. His honeymoon had ended—why hadn’t he turned up? Fed up with this neglect, Christos went to Apostolos’s office one day, angry and ready to scold him.
“Welcome!” Apostolos greeted his friend warmly.
But Christos looked at him severely. “I’m impressed that you recognize me; it’s been such a long time since you’ve seen me,” he shot back. “It looks like you’re not even ashamed.”
“Why should I be ashamed? What did I do?” Apostolos wondered.
“Do you have to ask? You were gone for a month in Thessaloniki. That’s fine—we knew you were on your honeymoon, but it’s been months since you came back, you son of a bitch, and you haven’t even given us a sign of life.”
“But I’m still on my honeymoon, my friend,” Apostolos answered smiling. “Or at least I’m stuck in honey up to my neck!”
“Ah, it’s as good as that?” Christos said mockingly.
“You don’t have any idea what a creature I married, my friend! Melissanthi is the answer to every man’s dream, believe me. She’s the perfect woman!”
“And when you say ‘perfect woman,’ I’m guessing you don’t mean at running a household.”
“Melissanthi was born to offer pleasure above all things. That’s all I’ll tell you. I count the hours until I can go home and be with her. Now do you understand why I haven’t been around?”
“All right, I understand, but you’ve become an issue in our circle.”
“Why?”
“Because everyone wants to meet the young girl who tied you up at the drop of a hat. They want to find out what you saw in a village girl from Mount Olympus. For three months, you’ve been in Athens, and they haven’t seen you anywhere, not at a restaurant, a club, at the theater. The rumors are running wild. Thekla Papaioannou says you’re hiding your new wife, that she’s probably not fit to be seen.”
“Really? Is the lady jealous? Doesn’t she see what a mess she is?”
“You didn’t think she was a mess when you shared her bed last year.”
“There it is! That’s exactly why I don’t want to introduce Melissanthi to the jackals in our circle. I don’t want her to learn anything about . . . the past.”
“But you can’t hide her forever. Besides, your wife must realize that a forty-year-old is bound to have past lovers.”
“Yes, but I have no desire for her to hear about my adventures, and those hyenas wouldn’t hesitate to tell her chapter and verse.”
“Especially the ones you dumped.”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t think any of them would dare to say anything,” Christos said. “They all know your temper. And I don’t have to remind you that each one of those ‘hyenas’ is married, so it’s not in their interest to tell anyone about their performances in bed with you.”
“You’re probably right about that,” Apostolos agreed. “So what do you suggest?”
“Next Saturday, Karabatis is giving a reception.”
“I know. He sent me an invitation.”
“So make an appearance with your new bride,” Christos went on. “And put an end to the gossip. Some of the gentlemen, I have to tell you, are glad that you got married.”
“How nice of them.”
“Not nice at all. They’re just glad now that you’ll leave their wives in peace.”
The two friends laughed together. Christos stayed awhile longer, but he couldn’t help noticing how often Apostolos looked at his watch. Clearly, he was willing time to pass so he could return to his wife. If Christos wanted to be honest with himself, perhaps he was a little jealous of his friend.
“A reception?” Melissanthi shouted. “What do you mean when you say reception?”
Apostolos had announced his desire for them to go to Karabatis’s party, and now his wife was looking at him in a panic.
“Why are you like this, my darling?” he said, trying to calm her down. “Don’t you know what a reception is? A hundred or so social gadabouts will be walking around with glasses in their hands, and we’ll exchange social pleasantries until the time passes and we can go home. If we’re lucky they might have a good band and we can dance. That’s all it is.”
“For you, maybe. But I’ve never been to something like that. What will I wear?”
“One of the dozens of new outfits that are hanging in your closet. To be honest, we’ve hidden ourselves inside all this time and nobody in our circle has met you. And everyone wants to see the beautiful woman I’ve married.”
“That’s what I’m nervous about. They’ll all look at me like some curiosity. And what if they don’t like me?”
“That’s the last thing I’m worried about, and it shouldn’t worry you either. I’m happy with you and nothing else matters. What concerns me is that they might give you the evil eye out of jealousy!”
That night, if Apostolos’s friends were jealous, no one could blame them: Melissanthi had never looked more beautiful. She encountered a number of smiles, some artificial, some friendly. She shook a lot of hands and accepted dozens of blown kisses, which were something totally new to her. Apostolos introduced her to so many people, it was impossible for her to remember all their names. She smiled when she recognized one familiar friend, Christos, among the others waiting their turn to greet her. When his turn came, he embraced her warmly and kisse
d her on the cheek.
“Finally!” he cried. “You and Apostolos stayed away for too long!” he scolded them both. But now that he saw her again, he understood why his friend had kept her to himself. The little village girl didn’t exist anymore; a young lady had banished her, a woman of astonishing beauty and grace.
With Christos now there to keep his wife company, Apostolos went to get drinks.
“I’m glad to see you again, Christos,” Melissanthi began shyly.
“Don’t worry, honey,” Christos soothed her. “You’re doing fine.”
“Really? I feel as if they’re all talking about me.”
“And you’re probably right, but don’t blame them. Apostolos’s marriage was a surprise to everyone. And then you two hid away for three months. Everyone was curious, and rumors started circulating. Now that they’ve finally seen you, they can’t help but to talk.”
“You say that as if it was the most natural thing in the world.”
“It is. If your husband doesn’t keep you locked up in the house all day, you’ll get used to the . . . comments.”
“Gossip, they call it in my village,” Melissanthi pronounced with a grin.
“In our circle, it’s called ‘social criticism,’ and you’ll soon indulge in it yourself. It’s inherent in men and women.”
At that moment Apostolos returned with their drinks and found them laughing conspiratorially.
The first year of their marriage passed before they knew it. On their first Easter, Apostolos asked his wife if she wanted to go back to her village, but the horror on her face was enough to assure him that she definitely did not, not even for a few days. Inwardly he was relieved; he realized that he too had no desire to be squeezed into his mother-in-law’s house. He knew he wouldn’t be able to rein in his passion for his wife, which was bound to shock Theodora and the girls. So they sent a card and extravagant gifts instead, salving their conscience and giving them a sense of having done their duty.
They spent the holiday at home, together with Christos and his wife, and soon after, Apostolos gave Melissanthi his gift. She almost fainted from happiness when she opened the package and saw the two airplane tickets for Paris. Another dream was beginning.
In Paris it was as if love was floating in the air. There, nobody was surprised when a couple stopped in the middle of the road to exchange passionate kisses; on the contrary, everyone smiled understandingly. Influenced by this heated erotic atmosphere, Apostolos and Melissanthi’s lust exceeded that of their honeymoon. For the first time, the girl’s sexual ardor and inexhaustibility made Apostolos anxious, as he realized that he was no longer twenty years old.
Every morning, Melissanthi woke at dawn, determined not to miss a minute of the trip. She delighted in waking her husband up too, using her body as an alarm clock. They walked all over Paris, as she wanted to discover every corner she could. Sometimes she dragged him to some deserted spot and they made love in the bushes, in danger of being seen by some passerby. In the evenings they loved to dance at various clubs, and when they returned to their hotel the next morning, she was ready to start their erotic games all over again.
When they returned to Greece, Melissanthi looked more beautiful than ever. Apostolos, on the other hand, looked exhausted. Christos noticed his friend’s fatigue when he visited him in his office a few days later.
“What’s up, old friend?” he asked in surprise. “You look tired. Are you sick?”
“No, but I might be soon!”
“Why? Was the trip so tiring?”
“Absolutely exhausting.”
“Well you didn’t have to explore the whole of Paris. You could have left some for next time.”
“It wasn’t the tourist activities that exhausted me,” Apostolos clarified, and the embarrassment in his voice let Christos know what he meant.
“Don’t tell me,” his friend blurted out. “That girl is like dynamite!”
“And she spent me!”
“You don’t say! I never expected to hear you say that, my friend. You, who had them two at a time, and sometimes three. I don’t believe it.”
“You’d better believe it. Melissanthi is completely into sex now that she’s discovered it. She wants it as often as she wants to eat! Until now, that hasn’t been a problem, but it will be soon. I’m not twenty years old anymore.”
“But she’s still very young.”
“Exactly! I went to a doctor and he gave me vitamins.”
At this point, Christos began to laugh loudly, which made Apostolos mad.
“A great friend you are!” he shouted irritably at him.
“I’m sorry, but if you really think about it, it’s funny.”
“Not to me, it isn’t.”
“Come on, things aren’t so tragic. Melissanthi is a young girl and it’s natural for her to dive right into . . . sport with the passion of the newly enlightened. She won’t be like that forever. Wait until she has children. Then you’ll miss the time when she always wanted you!”
“You think so? It’s already been nearly two years since we got married, and with such . . . performances, without any protection, and she hasn’t got pregnant. In my first marriage, I knew that my wife was sterile, but now—do you think I have a problem that I don’t know about?”
“Nonsense! It just hasn’t happened.”
“I hope you’re right. Melissanthi is young. She’ll certainly want a child.”
“Have you talked about it?”
“She hasn’t said anything to me about it. But every girl who gets married wants a child, right?”
“Just as she’s . . . unusual in everything else, maybe she is in this too. Anyway, don’t think about it. If it’s to come, it’ll come! As for the other issue, take your vitamins and stay away from the house a little. I bet the atmosphere of Paris influenced her. Even if you’re not in love, you fall in love there. And how much more so when you’re newlyweds. Chin up, my friend, and know that you have my undivided sympathy in your misfortune.”
Christos laughed again while his friend just glared at him. Then, in spite of himself, Apostolos starting laughing too.
Some time passed before Melissanthi finally realized she was bored to death. She’d been married for three years, and life had ceased to offer her any new excitement. Apostolos was gone all day, every day. When he came home late each evening, he didn’t even kiss her good night—their love life had been drastically reduced. Suddenly she realized that she didn’t have a single friend. It was true that she’d never had close friends in the village, but now she lived in almost complete isolation, shut up at home much of the time with nothing to do. She still went out regularly with Apostolos, usually to the theater, but when they got home, he simply fell asleep. She longed for the days when they used to come back and make love until morning. Now, she tried everything to arouse him. Sometimes her efforts worked, and she felt as if the magic of those first days had come back—Apostolos would once again be full of desire. But her successes were few and far between.
One night they went out to a club and drank so much that Melissanthi had to drag Apostolos to the car. There, she gave herself to him, and he responded with such intensity that she thought their troubles had passed. When they got home, Melissanthi got undressed and approached her husband again. With quick movements, she freed him of his clothes and climbed on top of him, a position she knew he liked. Apostolos was once again aroused, although he came with difficulty, something she was experienced enough to understand.
Later, when Apostolos had fallen asleep, Melissanthi carefully observed him. Her husband looked tired. There were dark circles and wrinkles under his eyes. In fact, there were a lot of wrinkles that she hadn’t seen before. The skin of his neck looked soft, and his body seemed a little flabby. Suddenly, she felt as if she was committing some sacrilege, so she turned out the light and lay down. This was all in her mind, she thought. Apostolos was still very young, otherwise he wouldn’t have responded to her seductions like he had,
especially in the car. He’d practically ruined her clothes as he’d torn them from her body. Fortunately, she’d been able to hide her disastrous state with her coat when they’d come home. Any thought that her husband was losing his youth and vigor, she decided, was ridiculous.
Card playing came into Melissanthi’s life completely by chance. A lot of the parties they attended those days had a card room filled with eager players. She asked her husband to teach her to play, mostly out of curiosity rather than any real interest in playing. She preferred dancing at parties, as it gave her the chance to be held by Apostolos. Lately, Melissanthi felt like her husband satisfied her sexually in measured doses, like prescriptions from a pharmacy.
When Apostolos taught his wife to play cards, he wasn’t surprised to learn that she had a mathematical mind. After all, he was accustomed to discovering Melissanthi’s many capabilities. He was relieved when she took to playing, devoting herself to games late into the night, as this seemed to distract her from her sexual appetite. His doctor had stressed that his heart was tired and he mustn’t overdo it. He of course didn’t dare to mention this to his wife, since it would underline the fact that he wasn’t so young anymore.
On Christmas Eve, they attended a party where, for the first time, Melissanthi played cards in a group without her husband. Initially the women welcomed her into their foursome, but they soon realized that Fatouras’s beautiful wife was a difficult opponent. She had an amazing memory, and nothing drew her attention away from the game, the result being that when it was over, they had to pay her a lot of money. They could have all stopped there, but the determination to beat her drove them to invite her to another game two days later, and Melissanthi happily accepted. Why not? she thought. Apostolos would be late again, and the house suffocated her. Perhaps if she had a child . . .
This thought had been tormenting her more and more lately. Each time her mother wrote, she asked her if she was pregnant or why they were putting it off. Melissanthi never answered, because she honestly didn’t know what to say. She’d never taken precautions with Apostolos, so shouldn’t she expect to have at least one child or two by now?
