The Mistress (2 page)

A spout of dizziness surrounded her as her stomach jumbled in knots. She felt her mouth begin to drool and knew what it meant. Salivating soon turned to heaving, and she fled through the immaculately decorated foyer to the first door on her left, just beneath the stairs. The bathroom.

Her illness swept over her as she vomited profusely, barely making it to the porcelain bowl across the room. She sunk to the tiled floor. Guilt. Definitely guilt. She didn’t even think about Preston this time. She thought about Marissa, the wife, her employer of twelve years, the woman who hired her as a nanny when no one else would. In fact, no one else had even given her resume a second glance. Marissa was the only one to take a chance on her – and this was her repayment.

“I fucked her husband,” she groaned, as she flushed the toilet. Wiping her mouth, she tried to stand. Struggling to get to her feet, she grabbed the sink to pull herself up and steady herself. Finally standing, she leaned against the sink, exhausted – and there it was. Her reflection. This was the first time she had seen herself since the incidence. “Cheater!” she heard a voice call out. It was almost as if she had heard her own voice, but it couldn’t be, could it? It was more malicious and defiant than her actual voice had ever been before. There was a sinister tone behind it, and before today she would have never believed she’d been capable of ever sounding like that – but now, after all that had happened, she wasn’t so sure. She wasn’t sure she knew herself at all anymore. After all, wasn’t she being sinister by sleeping with someone else’s husband?

"Cheater." That's all she heard – all she saw when she looked in the mirror. "I should be wearing a fucking scarlet letter," she growled at her reflection. Haley never swore. She couldn’t believe herself once again. She had been cursing far more than usual, but after everything else, that was the least of her worries. Full of guilt and disgust, her mind reeled once again to the man who caused it all – that disgusting, cheating man. That cocky smirk and those egotistical remarks made her scowl with annoyance and frustration.

But it was those glorious full-bodied muscles gleaming beneath the beads of sweat that both of their bodies produced during that oh-so-sensuous act which entrapped her thoughts. The feeling of his body pressed against hers, the ripple of his abs rubbing against her flesh – it all was enough to cause her body to tremble, even now, when she was on the brink of a full-blown meltdown.

Haley pulled her muddled brown hair into a ponytail, and tried to remain calm. After all, people cheat all the time, and she wasn’t even the one cheating, right?

Wrong.

She couldn’t turn or twist it in any direction to make it look better, make her feel better. No matter how you looked at it, she was not a victim. Therefore, she was a culprit; whether main offender or accomplice, she had done what she had done.

No matter how much of a lying and deceitful ass Preston may have been, she was still just as guilty – if not more so. She was guilty not only of sleeping with another woman’s husband, but the father of the children she had been the nanny of since the oldest one’s birth twelve years ago. She was guilty of betraying a woman she had known for twelve years, and was even quite fond of, truth be told. She was guilty of way more than he was. She was the mistress.

How did this all begin? That was the question she continued to ask herself as she stared at her unkempt reflection. This complex web’s origin began as a mere professional relationship twelve years ago. She remembered how grateful she was just to have a job, and that’s all it was – a job. The Lancers paid the bills and she obediently did what she was told.

She burped the baby, changed the baby, fed the baby, cleaned the house, cooked the meals, did the laundry, and ran their errands. She did it all. They were both busy people – he was CEO of a company, and Marissa owned her own bakery downtown. Over the years, though, her relationship with them both grew to become more personal. How could it not? She had been there for so long. It was only natural for people who were in such close proximity to each other to become close. Never in her wildest dreams, though, did she think that this would happen. She got too close. Way too close.

Her friendship with Preston and Marissa had always been a bit peculiar, but it was definitely well-grounded and healthy. She had their issues with them, usually in regards to the time spent with their children, but overall they were great parents and great company. She enjoyed spending time with them as a couple, as well as separately. Over the years she had even become a staple in all of their family outings and occasions. She truly was
welcomed
.

It was one night though, which she could pinpoint, that caused the entire balance to shift. Where she had once enjoyed their company equally, this one instance created a bias towards choosing him. He became her confidant in only one night. It was a Sunday, around four years ago. That night, she recalled, was the one night that she needed someone, anyone. She just needed to know that someone out there was listening, not just hearing, but actually
listening
. He had appeared like an answered prayer, and it was then that she knew that she could trust him.

Just as her memory was flashing to that evening, she heard a knock on the bathroom door. “Yes?” she answered in a soft and barely audible gasp. She knew it was him, but all the while still hoped it wasn’t. “Let me in,” he demanded in a calm but direct tone.

Fuck that.

She wasn’t opening the door. Instead, she sank to the tile again and pulled her knees to her chest. “Go away, Preston,” she cried. She didn’t want to face it. Not yet. She heard a faint sigh from behind the door and footsteps sounded, decreasing in volume with every step. He was leaving. With a sigh of relief, she lifted herself off the floor, just in time for a click to sound at the door. The knob turned and the door swung open, and there he was, like a ghost in the night. She felt haunted.

“Please...” he pleaded, reaching his arm out and extending his hand so that he could grasp hers. She couldn’t let him, though. She knocked it away reactively, as if to beg not to be touched. She shook her head in warning. In her mind, she did not need to be touched. No matter how much she wanted to feel him, she did not
need it
.

A tear fell from the brim of her eye, as if it were a dew droplet falling from an immaculate rose petal. She wished more than anything that her eye could have acted like a vacuum and sucked it back up before he noticed it, but of course, that wasn’t so. It fell with a glistening presence to the tile below – and he definitely did notice. It may as well have weighed five hundred pounds and cracked the entire house’s foundation with a loud boisterous bang; it was that obvious.

The sadness had begun to overtake her. It wasn’t just guilt. It was something much more devastating than that. It was loss. Before their night together, they were friends, and that was now lost forever. Her confidant was no more – and instead she had obtained an unwanted adulterated romance. “Look at me,” he whispered softly, reaching for her again, but this time not actually touching her. It was as if he were requesting permission this time.

Finally regaining some composure, she did as he requested – she looked at him. His blonde hair was muddled just as hers had been all morning, but his wasn’t from not being able to ready himself. His was from working out. She wondered if he had felt guilty at all for what had transpired, and if he had even thought about the repercussions of their actions.

He was clad in spandex, and sweat was glimmering from every sexy pore that he possessed. Her mind began to stray as she examined his muscular physique, and her eyes finally landed on the rise and fall of his largely defined chest, which jutted out beautifully from his frame. She was now so transfixed on his impeccable form that she couldn’t remember the trail of questions she had prepared mentally, nor the accusations she wanted to throw into his ever-listening ears.

He exuded a god-like presence as far as she was concerned. Her eyes meandered over his sweaty body and down his entire length. He was broad-shouldered, demanding, and powerful – but his words were those of a begging man.

“Please...” he repeated, “just talk to me.” Her lips curled into a self-assured sneer as he begged to touch her with his hands still outstretched. All inhibitions lost into an abyss of pure ego, she found her eyes scanning between his legs. Noticing his bulge, which was enhanced by the tight spandex shorts, she blushed and bit her lips in anticipation.

God, how she wanted him to fuck her. Hard. Rough. Soft. Gentle. She didn’t care. She just wanted to be fucked by the sex outlined in those glorious garments. She tried to remember the kids and Marissa, but unfortunately failed – her rationale was lost and seemingly gone for good. She only remembered the moment and knew he was the only thing before her.

Truthfully, it wasn’t merely desire of a sexual nature that irrevocably caused her mind and body to move back to him. Though admittedly, it was fact that she felt sexual desire intensely and without measure. There was also something else pulling her, like gravity, to him, something more meaningful that had lain dormant for far too long. Genuinely she believed that both of them had felt something deeper than either had ever experienced before, something truly significant.

However, even though she wished she could, she couldn’t disregard his emotions for his wife. She knew how much he loved her. He had told her time and time again during their many conversations as friends. In fact, they had rehashed their entire story over the course of the years. Sharing intimate details of his marriage brought Haley to the realization that she had become his confidant as well.

Although he did love his wife, and she knew that, Haley and Preston introduced a different kind of emotion for each other. They were drawn to one another, each of them craving the other’s company and support. As she looked into his eyes, she realized that the innocence hidden away last night was no longer hiding. His masculinity was softened. He needed her to talk to him, and in all honesty, Haley believed that was why her internal organs pounded relentlessly at that moment. She was aching. She needed
him
too – needed his support – needed his touch. She needed to hear what he had to say.

Though their relationship had only transformed the previous night into something a bit more than friendship, it truly did feel that it was a long time coming. She would never say it; hell, she hated even thinking it, but it was the truth. The fateful Sunday four years ago marked the beginning of their friendship. That’s all it started out being, but as they talked and confided in one another, they grew closer. Every day, the fondness grew. Every day, their relationship became more intense – yet neither dared say why. Had they even known why?

As far as Haley knew, neither of them could have foreseen it happening, nor could either pinpoint the exact time that it all changed; no one knew when that fateful shift in their dynamic took place. Perhaps it happened all at once, or maybe it was so slow, like the earth spinning on its axis, continually unnoticed by all, but still occurring. No one knew.

All that was certain was last night. The fog had finally disappeared, and true clarity was experienced. What once had started out as innocent friendship had in an instant become an inappropriate rendezvous of the night. It was poor judgment and ultimately the most deceptive act two people could put into action. But oh, how she loved how he plowed her body into the wall and pressed his stone hard body firmly against her.

Hopeful thinking was that it would be a one-time occurrence, something they could bury deep within the cores of their minds – never to be talked about again. But that’s all it was – hopeful thinking. She stepped into him, and receiving the awaited invitation, he pulled her closely. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing her forehead lightly. A chill of contentment washed over her, and she buried her head into the crook of his neck.

He held her, and she held him back. Haley breathed in his masculine aroma and melted against him, content. Extending her curvy form away from his own, he looked at her. She couldn’t imagine what she must have looked like at that moment.

Her brown hair had been slept on, wept on, and pulled cruelly into a ponytail. She felt a few strands, loose from the hair tie, fall into her – probably – red, puffy eyes. As if on cue, he wiped them away and tucked them behind her ears.

She felt him leaning in, and it happened. All over again. His mouth found hers, and the same electric current that conquered her before was conquering her now. What started out as a sweet kiss turned into one fully enveloped in passion as their tongues danced as if in synchronous melody with one another.

She moaned into him, addicted to his lusciously ravenous form and his inherent physical desire. She felt wanted, excited, but moreover– she felt something even worse: a love stronger than any love she had ever experienced before.

W
ith fervent growls and hurried movement, Haley and Preston tussled together in a feverish attempt to shed one another’s every stitch of clothing. The house was like that of a railway, transporting them to one destination: the bedroom. Stripped to only their underwear, the two adulterers fell onto the feather pillow-top bed.

Surrounded by a sea of soothing blissfulness, Haley couldn’t believe the level of comfort this bed possessed. The feather mattress in conjunction with the silkiness of the comforter and the suppleness of the Egyptian cotton sheets created one immaculate experience.

She had never been in this bed.
Their
bed. Normally she would feel utter repugnance at being in another woman’s bed, not to mention with said woman’s husband. Not this time, though. This time she just needed him and his comfort.

Comfort for what, though? Feeling guilty about their indiscretions? Shouldn’t this sort of comfort be unwelcome due to its very nature? Logically, it made no sense – this very action was the reason she needed comfort in the first place. Irony is a funny thing though, isn’t it? The one thing she needed comfort for was where that comfort would inevitably lead.