Thursday, June 23, 2005

The Mistress

And when she woke, he was gone. Back home, back to his wife of twelve years and two lovely children, pictures of whom she had seen. Back to his job, executive of a marketing firm, making the big bucks or so he said.
And she turned over on the bed and sped the fold of money on the table. The same amount every time, two hundred dollars. Not for the sex, but for support. He needs her to look her most beautiful because to him, that's all she is. A body, a mouth, a curve and an empty night worth two hundred dollars.
Her phone rings and it's her friend. A salad lunch for two.

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