Your daughter, the Mistress

Your daughter, the mistress

Hi mom, I never told you this but I’m a mistress. It all began with these words. “Baby, we need to talk.” Words a person in a relationship never want to hear. Steak and salad. Candlelight. Good conversations with friends. Cabernet red wine, free flowing. In my head I think next will be some good ass sex. My friends are sated and feeling good. We all are high on life and in love. The good evenings are said and me and my man are alone. I grab his hand and lead him to the bedroom where candles are alight and soft music is playing in the background. But we never make it to the bedroom. Mike slowly makes a U-turn to the couch. Baby, we need to talk.” He says as he sits me down on the leather couch. I’m not feeling good about this turn in advents. My heart begins to sink. The signs where there but I refused to see them. Whatever he was going through was something we could get over together.

“I’m not where you are in our relationship.” He told me. “I don’t want you to leave but I need to figure somethings out.” And then comes the kicker. “I love you but…”

Mom, the red signs flashed bright, but I was blind to them. As would any woman when they are getting mixed signals from someone who is dicking them down. One day he’s high on life and us, making future plans that included him and me. The next day he’s on some kind of damn emotional roller-coaster. Sonatas of love in the air, followed by flowery words of love and acceptance. So I call my sister and like a flood words and revelations came out. On the phone, to my sister I cried my heart out. I have given so much love, care and compassion only to be spurned and undesired. In that moment I decided to walk away from love. I decided in my ultimate wisdom, that if I couldn’t have the kind of love, I deserved than I would have the kind of love/relationship that required no attachments and no accountability. But on my terms the relationship would come about.

I loved my man to the point of mental, emotional and physical pain. And in doing so I ignored my need for love. But I became fed up. Fed up with the lies, the abuse, and the heartache so I moved on. In what direction? After too many years of going through it, I chose to close my heart off and play the field. I had given up on love, well in the traditional sense.

It happened unexpectedly.

I’ve fallen in love; this in itself is not very interesting. People fall in love all the time; some had even written books about it. So, it’s not the mere fact that I’m in love but who I’m in love with that had me put pen to paper. I’m in love with another woman’s husband.

Now I ask that you save your judgments for the end, before you brand me a Jezebel. You can judge me as such and may even have personal reasons as to why. In that matter I will not take your choice away from you. I only ask that you try to understand mine.

This love is; Elusive yet attainable. Frightening but liberating. Debilitating yet powerful.

But yes, I am the infamous other woman.

At 38, in over my head in love, I was everything I thought a wife should be: Attentive, loving, encouraging and compassionate. I had given him his first and only baby girl and then 8 months later he was gone, in the arms of another woman, apparently, he found something I didn’t give him. Nevertheless, I and my babies were tossed away like trash.

Gone for years, my husband left his home to make a home somewhere else, with another woman. You remember mom. For 4 months!

Before my divorce I never really understood the devastation, it brought with it. Equated to a sudden death, it comes as a surprise and left years of unresolved happiness.

I was committed to him and the wedding vows, believing that my marriage would last forever, I felt no threat. In my security, I was naïve. So, when my husband walked away from his family my world and soul came crashing down. In that moment a part of me died.

In a world of darkness, I and my children lived, and for years I strove to mend not only my heart but my children’s hearts as well. Yes, something had died; the humiliation of being tossed away and left to rot in an emotional cesspool would do that. Months after my divorce, feelings of abandonment and loss, emotions that I hadn’t experienced since a little girl and throughout my adulthood, resurfaced. There is history here, mom a history of being abandoned and neglected.

As you so told me from the time of my youth, I was abandoned by my father. And where was my father? Running the streets, hoping from bed to bed making more unwanted, abandoned, impoverished families. It’s a repetitive tale, urbanized and laced with truth. Perhaps that was why that need for the love of a good man was so strong in me. But what I got was troubled, weak, tortured BOYS. And you’re right, it was what I accepted. Why? It was all I knew. I accepted the strength within me but did not require it from the men I dated. It is a tale, understood and told by many a woman. After my failed marriage, I managed to pick the pieces back together. And after years of explaining why their father left, and why mommy cried herself to sleep most nights, I collected the shattered pieces of my children’s hearts and mine as well.



Years after my divorce I met David. During my time of rediscovery, I got back into singing and had been singing with my current band for some time. One night after our last set, I exited the stage and waiting for me was David. Handsome and engaging, we talked for most of the night. On so many levels we connected, and in his eyes, I found understanding and acceptance. For weeks we texted back and forth and as the months went on, we grew closer. I am not ashamed to say months into the relationship I started having strong feelings for him and vice versa. I had no idea the emotional rollercoaster this man would put me through. There was a self-deprivation about him that was impenetrable. In my growing love for him I wanted to help him become the man I saw him to be. He was not a whole person and his attitude towards life and our relationship, reflected it.

David was and still is a good man, troubled and tortured, but good. When we met sparks flew. Through his kindness, tender and loving spirit, I began to understand what it meant to really love a man again. We liked the same things, and had so many things in common, from past hurts to trying relationships. But as our relationship went on, I soon found out that he was an emotional bottomless pit. In short, he was emotionally and mentally draining. But what pissed me off about him, was that there was no passion, no fire! As smart and talented that he was he had no get up and go about him. He was a push over and willing to except whatever negative thing others attributed to him. If you said to his face, he was a loser, sorry, a failure, and hopeless he would agree with you, that was a part of his self-deprivation.

On the flip side of alpha is the omega. This person is fun-loving but non-aspirational, reluctant to grow up human being. This was David, and when you ask him how he was doing always his response was, “Oh, I’m making it.” And so, our relationship went, draining me, but I stayed. Why? Because, like any other woman in love we want to nurture and help our man change for the better. In my love for him I became his confidant, friend, psychiatrist and lover. But he tossed me away like trash, after eating a steak dinner I made for him.

Mom, this man was on his knees in front of me he asking me to wait for him. He wanted me to wait around until he was ready for me. My husband wanted to get a separation but not a divorce…he too wanted me to wait until he was ready for me. And so, I did. I waited around for David. I lived in my emotional love filled thoughts in hopes that one day he’d accept me in his life again. Emotionally, mentally and physically I made myself available to him only to keep being pushed away. However, because I did make myself available to him physically, my heart remained open and he was more than willing to take advantage of my weakness. I had my emotional walls up but, in every instance, I allowed him to break them down. I needed to regain my power back. I wanted and needed to erect defense mechanism and become the person I was before him. I wanted to shut down and shut others out. But in the same breath I still wanted him, even though so many of his words cut me deep. At this time my Alpha-Self was yelling at me to be strong.

There are moments in all our lives where a sort of metamorphism happens, a splitting of self. One half is weak, the other half, strong. Now at this moment we have a choice to make, embrace the weaker side or embrace the stronger. Whatever side we deny, will stand in the wings until needed. However, from denial it will die. In my time with David-on this emotional roller coaster-I felt the stronger side of me standing in the background waiting to rise.

As time went on, I felt David drifting away; stupid enough to think my love could make him stay I hung on. Must remember, if a man has made up their mind to leave there is nothing you could do to stop him. However, in my weakness the side of me whose roots go back as far as Robert Taylor projects began to come alive again. And it was a, I want you but..., conversation from David that did it.

I was fed up, with this man’s tainted love. I was a fucking force of nature and I was acting like a light breeze. I survived the harsh realities of the inner-city. I survived humiliation, abuse, abandonment and resentment. I was strength personified and, in that realization, I became empowered. At some point in a person’s life-in wake of multiple heart breaks-the choices are to; give up on love, continue in hopes of attaining true love or just stand still and wait. I did neither. I became the OTHER WOMAN.

I’ve often heard that when a person sees something attractive the brain becomes active and pump dopamine (an organic chemical manufactured in our brain that is responsible for reward and pleasure). This sets off a low arousal and positive affect that can result in calm tranquility.

The first time I saw Terry my brain went into overdrive, tall, dark and handsome, dopamine, off the chain. My breath caught in my chest and my pulse quickened. There was an air about him that screamed alpha. Laced with confidence he walked; eyes leveled he’s ready to interact with whatever comes his way. Shoulders back, arms to his side, he’s not afraid to take on the world. There is power and purpose in his movements. In all this he exudes seduction. Needless to say, I noticed him right away, and he noticed me. With eyes locked as if laser focused, he drew me in. Under his gaze a pleasing tightness formed in my belly. All this was accomplished with only a stare. Briefly glancing behind he lifts his hand, acknowledging someone at the bar. Before walking towards the bar, we lock eyes again. I smile and he smiles back, instant panty-drop. He strolls to the bar behind me.

As the band began to play my mind, briefly goes back to my time on stage. Music has always been a passion of mine; it has gotten me through some hard times. And being a singer/entertainer, it’s easy to get caught up in the excitement and thrill of this world. As the music flowed through the air, party goers swayed drunkenly to its rhythm. Lost in my own world, I thought of David. I remember the times we shared, beautiful, meaningful moments that vanished in just a few words. “I felt obligated to do those things.” Those wonderful times came out of obligation not from his heart. I flip through my phone to pictures of he and I, feelings I don’t want to face resurfaced.

Now you know mom how I love Sci-Fi and have seen a lot of movies in which the main character has had memories erased-pleasant memories and not so pleasant. In those few seconds, in those few words my mind began to erase those moments. Hell! Even to this day my mind won’t allow me to access those memories, not even out of fondness. At that table tears pooled in my eyes, one fall down my cheek, he took so much from me. I quickly wiped it away.

Still very much aware of the handsome stranger at the bar my thoughts drift to him. Was he here with someone? Male laughter comes from the behind. I don’t turn around instead under the table I take off my shoes. Having been on them all night my feet began to complain. Red satin high heels that match my dress, they are new and hurt like hell! Bringing one leg over the other I massage my achy foot. Breaking from the first set the band disperses, various conversations continue around me. Seeing the band make their way through the crowd I smile as drunken men and women hoover around each member as they pay compliments to the musicians. Someone taps me on the shoulder. My handsome stranger? No. Another stranger. Older. A ‘Steve Harvey’ suit draped over his tall frame. A huge purple hat slightly tilted to the left sits on is head. He’s clean! Leaning towards me he asks for my number. I tell him that I’m with someone.

“Then beautiful, why isn’t he here with you?”

Good ass question.

I make up some lie that I can’t for the life of me remember. He tilts his hat. I smile. He smiles and walks away. I slightly turn my head and I see my tall handsome stranger staring at me. And just like that I am devoured, moisture gathers between my legs. My head swoons. Too much Strawberry wine. Yeah, I blame it on the alcohol.

Slightly turning my head, Mr. Perfect eyes bore into mine. The man beside him speaks to him intently, but his eyes stay focused on me. Giving me a Hollywood Leading man smile, he raised his glass my way; his friends look my way with their own heated stares they too smile. I turn away flushed and in need of another drink. The band starts for the stage. The rest of the night continues as the band plays one jam after another. Feeling light and uninhibited I enter the dance floor, joining three other women I swayed my hips and swung my hair to the music, laughing and dancing the night away. Feeling my toes go numb I exited the dance floor, once again under the table I kicked off my shoes.

Taking another sip of my drink I see Mr. Perfect talking to a short beautiful dark-skinned woman, his girl fiend? I try not to give it a second thought. But I do. I watch as the couple walk arm in arm toward the exit. Leaning down he whispers something in her ear. Look away girl. Look. Away! Unable to do that simple task I am mortified as two sets of eyes lock with mine. She gives me a knowing. The music is pounding in my head, my feet hurt, and on top of it all I am about to get into a fight with a woman over a man I don’t even know! I say to myself. “If you don’t like competition keep your ass home.” Mom, I blame it on the alcohol.

Later on I find out that the lady was just a friend and they were talking about me. I find this out because said beautiful woman walks up to me and hands me a flyer. Its red colored, glossy with an intricately designed logo on it that read Club Take. On the back in bold red letters were the words VIP. “You should come.” She says with a warm smile. At this moment I’m confused and I must look it because the woman’s smile gets even brighter. “Don’t think too much into it. He noticed you and wants to let you know it.”

“He?” I ask. I know but don’t want to assume.

“I’ll see you at the club.” She replied, and with that she was gone. The handsome stranger, did he give this to her to give to me? I look back down at the invitation. Reading the name on the flyer, Club Take, never heard of it. Looking up I glance around, half expecting to see eyes on me as if to say you were chosen you lucky bitch! But no one does, I’m alone at the bar, with my thoughts. I look at my phone, shit! Its 2 am way past my bedtime. No you know mom, I am a responsible mother, howbeit, your grandchildren aren’t babies anymore but nevertheless, I felt guilty for being out so late. Invitation in purse, Coat on, I head for the exit.

A voice calls from a nearby table. “We hope to see you soon.” She waves at me.

We, who is we? I smile and wave back. “I’ll try.” I reply.

For the next few months I continued to receive calls from David, in his constant attempt to dangle the ‘relationship’ carrot in front of me, he spoke of; how he was sorry that he couldn’t give me what I deserved, missing me, and how he would like to see me again, strictly on a friendship level. I saw through it and felt and became fed up with the whole fucking production.

Glancing at the flyer on my refrigerator door, I realize for so long I’ve been stuck in a rut. Too busy thinking about what could have been and not what could be. Making up my mind to go to the club I felt excited and thrilled at the idea of new beginnings. But what I didn’t account for was the new status my heart would take. I could truly say I was more curious than eager to except the invitation.

At the club, I was blown away by how huge the building was. Lofty multi-colored lights shot out from the concrete giving one the illusion that the building rested on them. Looking up once again I was taken back by how tall and wide the building was.

Getting out of my car I approached the building my first thought was to get in the long ass line that snaked around the block. The hell with that! Reaching in my purse I pulled out the VIP pass. This should be good for something. Approaching a very tall, very muscular black man, I handed him the pass. Nodding his head, he unhooks the velvet rope from the gold post.

In the club, music reverberated off the walls and into my person. Alicia Key’s ‘A Woman’s Worth’ is blaring from club’s huge speakers. The song makes me smile as I feel pride and empowerment fill my being. That song has a way of doing that to me. Glancing down at my plunging neckline and the space between my firm breasts-I feel hormones erupting from somewhere deep inside. The silk dress rubs against my nipples causing them to become erect. My long black hair gently caresses the skin exposed by my dresses low back. The heat of the bodies behind me penetrates my skin. My hormones rage on. Yeah, I’m in rare form and I don’t give a shit.

Entering the VIP room, I was once again taken back. With the door closed I could hear the muffled sounds of the club below. Looking down from my elevated place I had a fantastic view of the club. Bodies on top of bodies filled the space below.

“God…” I said to myself, “you’d think there was a limit as to how many people are allowed in one space.”

“Yes, there is.” Said a deep tenor voice from behind. The sound pulsated through my body, prickling my skin.

I turn, coming face to face with the man that haunted my dreams. Up close he takes my breath away. Tall and handsome. Dark silken skin. Brown slightly slanted eyes. Aquiline nose reminisces of the Pharaohs of ancient Kemet. He was sex personified and smelled good ass hell! Like spice, with a faint hint of cinnamon. I quietly inhaled him in. Mom, I remember seeing a picture of my father as a young man. It has always been said that girl children fall in love with men that resemble their fathers, well here I was in that category. On a side note mom, you must admit he and my father closely resemble each other, but I digress. Providing me with his full name, Terry takes my hand in his and plants a kiss on top of it.

I stood there mesmerized, remembering myself I gave him my name. Our hands remained in each other’s for an extended period. Gently I pulled my hand away, he refused to let go. I laughed, “I’m gonna need that.”

He releases it. He grabs his drink and I grab mine. Over his glass he stares at me, instantly all my girl parts responded, panties instantly wet. Lust rocked my body. And all I could do was just stand there while this gorgeous man eye-fucked me. I’ve seen it in the movies and heard about it but never had I thought I’d experience it, a man making love to me with his eyes. Pulse racing, hands sweaty, breathing heavy. In my mind with back against the dark glass we made passionate love. Devoured whole, he took me into himself and I took him into me. Moisture collected between my legs. Music reverberated against my back, his burning stare took me, and I fucking loved it! The thought of being wanted by this man sent delicious shivers down my spine. That feeling made its way to the pit of my belly.

Later that evening, Terry whispers in my ear. “I’m glad you came Jacqueline.”

A shiver of pleasure travels down my spine. “Well I couldn’t turn down an invite…thanks by the way.” I reply.

I subconsciously bit my full lower lip. Terry eyes traveled to my mouth. It excites me. I squeezed my legs together. I just met this man and already I’m envisioning him in between them. I knew I had to get my shit together.

Then he proceeds to say. “You looked like you could use a good time…with or without shoes.”

“You saw that?” I laugh which relaxed me a bit. “They were new, and they hurt like hell.”

Terry slowly looks me up and down. His eyes linger on the dresses plunging neckline. “Looks like you solved that problem…you look exquisite.”

“So, do you.” I mumble as I take another sip of my wine.

We spend the night talking about music, life, relationships and everything in between.

“So, tell me,” I ask, “What makes me so special as to be holding a VIP pass to this beautiful establishment?”

His eyebrows drew together as he studied my face. “Isn’t it obvious?”

I lick my lips and reply. “So, it’s all about you?”

“Of course.” Terry replies, a smile rises to his eyes. “No…I wanted to see you again.”

“I had my eyes on you as well…you’re very sexy. But tell me, why didn’t you give it to me yourself?”

He takes a sip of his Crown Royal. “I couldn’t.”

“Girlfriend?” I ask

“No. wife.”

You would’ve thought hearing that would’ve deterred me from continuing with the conversation. Believe me it would have before. But that night it didn’t.

“Does that bother you? I’ll understand if that makes you uncomfortable?” A forlorn look quickly crossed his handsome face and just as quickly it was gone.

I didn’t miss a beat. “No, it doesn’t.”

The words, what the hell are you thinking, never come to mind. Unapologetic I walked into my new role eyes wide open. Before the heartbreaks and being treated like trash, the attention of a married man would send me running to the hills but at that moment, in that time, I stood still. A year later, the thought of walking away from this man has never entered my mind. Call me what you will but from the moment I met Terry he sat my soul on fire. He empowers me and propels me to be the woman I was meant to be. How many women could give voice to that truth?

I was always the one giving, empowering, encouraging. And that was the void that needed to be filled and he has filled it. You must understand, this all came about not from isolated acts of heartache but sustained ones. However, in my pain and hurt-when I turned away from that hurt ‘little girl’ and looked inside-I found a strong woman that to this day is anchored in love and life.

Yes, I hear your objections. But when the right combination of bullshit, heartache and tears gets mixed into a heated pot everyone’s shit comes out the oven looking exactly like mine.

So, please mom don’t judge me.

And so, the night went on. Getting a feel for each other, we talked and laughed all night. And I must say it was refreshing to have a conversation in which you don’t feel drained afterwards.

The first time we made love was in a car and sexy ass hell. I met him on his lunch break, sitting in his car we listened to music as lustful need swirled around us. Without going into too much detail and this being a confession letter to my mom and not an erotica, I will spare you the naked details. But I will tell you, that day in that car I had the most powerful orgasm I ever had. Pleasure extreme and strong made my body vibrate as he filled me. I screamed his name as my release sent me beyond the confines of the car. Exhausted and satisfied we held each other.

So went our sex life; bed, car with blow jobs in the same setting. Never have me and my man had a dull sexual encounter. When I say the sex is on fire, I mean it’s on fire! Tenderly and passionate he takes me where no man has taken me gone before (Star Trek reference). Yeah, it’s that serious. But I knew our relationship took a turn where neither one of us expected it to. Months later, relationship still going strong, sex still amazing as well as the conversation. We talk for hours about life, our dreams and desires. There are times he walks away, phone in hand and in hushed tones he talks to the other on the other end. It is his wife and I give him that time and space. He returns to me, we continue where we left off. Moments like this need no explanation, in my silence I show understanding and patience. I never talk about his wife, nor do I ask questions. Should he feel the need to tell me something I’m there to listen. Not question. I NEVER get it in my head that he will ever leave his wife and home for me. I take stock in what I have now. We found the time to be with each other. A little weekend rendezvous away from the city and prying eyes. The times we spend together are ours and ours alone. I may share this man but when he is with me, he’s all mines. However, the reality that he is another woman’s husband is something that I could never forget. I cherish the times we have together and keep them locked safe in my heart. Mom, I lay in the arms of a chocolate dream; powerful, strong, loving. His energy surrounds and fills me. BUT more and more I am finding that I am his freedom and he is my prison.

3 years later I am here. In love with a man that is not mine. Can I say I am happy? Recently more so I cannot. What woman can when she is invisible to the man she loves world? But another sees me and he is single and free.

Mom, I don’t want to be the other anymore.

Love, a woman torn