That night, my boyfriend calls.

“Open the door,” he says.

“Why?” I ask him.

“Because, I’m at the other end,” he laughs.

I roll my eyes dramatically. “I’m not home,” I lie to him.

“I’m looking right at you,” he says.

Sometimes I hate that sliding door. I walk over and open the door; he pulls me into a kiss.

“I thought you were busy,” he says.

I push him, “I was.”

He shrugs, taking off his leather jacket and throwing it on my couch. “I missed you.” He grabs my hand and kisses me again.

“Jeez! Did you miss me, or you want it?” I ask, pushing him again.

“A little bit of both.” He grabs me again.

“Argh Thabiso!” I shout, pulling out of his grip.

“What? I know you want me.” He holds my hand.

“I don’t want it. I just want us to talk,” I say.

“After,” he kisses me.

“Just leave!” I shout, getting away and opening the door.

He stands and looks at me for a moment. “Really?” he asks.

I nod, holding the door for him. He takes his leather jacket and puts it on, walking to his car. I watch as he drives off, in total speed.

The next morning, I wake up, missing her. I bath and find myself looking for flat number 49.

I find myself at her doorstep, the brown door and gold handle. I press the doorbell. She appears, looking like a total mess.

“Nonhle,” she says, smiling.

She’s still in her morning gown.

“Hey, I could always come back later,” I say, turning back.

She stops me, “Nonsense. Come in.” She grabs my hand and in I go.

Her flat is so girly, it’s pink. For the first time in my life I see a pink refrigerator and I almost laugh.

“So pink,” I say, looking around.

She laughs, “I know. I’m in my girly girl phase,” she says, making us cups of coffee.

She hands me one cup. I drink it.

“So, what brings you here so early?” she asks.

“I just found myself here,” I laugh.

“I see. You’re not going to work today?” she asks.

I shake my head.

“I’m not going either,” she tells me.

I nod.

I help her clean around and I wait as she baths. She comes out of the shower, a bath towel wrapped around her body. I watch as she sits down in front of her pink mirror. She lotions herself slowly. Her movements are seductive. Her eyes are inviting. She catches me staring. She stops.

“Are you OK?” she asks.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

I nod. She smiles and ties her braids into a neat ponytail. She slips into a matching bra and panties. I watch on as she does so. She grabs an oversized T-shirt, and wears it.

We go by my flat and we tidy up as well. She’s still in her oversized shirt. We’re eating fruit salad and drinking wine when my boyfriend comes in. His eyes sparkle as they land on Lesego. I don’t get mad – she is hot.


Tell us: Would you be upset if your partner was looking affectionately at someone else?