My Mistress & I
I remember when we first kissed. It was in May 1999. I knew that we would one day kiss again but I never thought our relationship would turn into the loving partnership that it has become. I thought then that I was just stealing kisses. Flirting with her. She later courted me and conquered my heart.
For the past six years she and I have grown together. She has influenced my walk, talk, thought, style and made me a better man. In fact she has ushered me into my manhood. I have loved her. She has loved me. We have made love. In the middle of the night, in the earliest of mornings, in the middle of the day I have whispered to her and she has answered loudly. Telling me that this is where I belong. That she was and always will be my first love.
Six years is a long time. Our relationship, like any other has seen its highs and lows over the course of six years. We have had our share of disagreements. We don’t always see eye to eye. We bicker about priorities and where things should go next. But over all, I love her. We have stayed together this long because she offers something to me and while she is older and perhaps, wiser, I have contributed to her growth and development as well. When we sit at the table neither of us leave hungry after eating what the other has brought. She and I push back from the table stuffed and full.
Our relationship works. But like any other living man there have been occasions when my eyes have wandered. So has my mind. So has my body. So has my heart. Never too far for too long, but it has.
There is a woman from many years ago, long before 1999. I’d fantasized about her while growing up. I was this little boy in Cleveland, staring at the stars at night, falling asleep, dreaming about this saucy woman I’d never met. She was thousands of miles away. I had only seen her in pictures. Then in high school I met her. She was everything I thought she would be and more. I vowed that I would come of age and marry her. We would be together forever. Yet, that marriage hasn’t come to pass. Instead, for six years now I have been married to another woman and seeing her on the side.
She is my mistress. She is my mistress and she ain’t like my old lady. There is something different about her. I suppose that is why after all these years she is still so exciting to me. She is the word.
My old lady moves slowly with solid, commanding ease and uprightness. My mistress moves swiftly with sophistication and attitude, every now and then jerking her body in a manner that appears to be abrupt with no reason. Then she laughs, turns and pivots to let you know that her movement wasn’t unintentional, to the contrary she did it purposefully to remind us all again that she is always in control.
When I am inside of her, my mistress I feel like a new man, another man. I feel like me, but greater than myself, bigger than I normally am. I am cooler. I am more adventurous. I am faster. I am lighter. I am on the inside and yet I find myself open.
I get my old lady excited. My mistress excites me.
Without fail, when I spend time with my mistress I begin to question why she and I aren’t together. I ask what is it that makes me stay with my old lady when this seductive woman up the road beckons me. I continue not to answer her calls. I ponder how much longer I will be able to resist her. I examine the question, will I abandon the known and steady relationship that I have built with so much invested in it to try to begin anew.
I was with my mistress again last night. Our time together was well spent and delicious. I’m on the train headed home now. I’m going back to my wife and I will kiss her when I get there. Tonight when I lay my head on the pillow I will think about last night though, and hope she doesn’t have any suspicions about what I’m laying there with her thinking about, the other woman. Praying that she is thinking about me.
DC is my wife. New York City is my mistress.
For the past six years she and I have grown together. She has influenced my walk, talk, thought, style and made me a better man. In fact she has ushered me into my manhood. I have loved her. She has loved me. We have made love. In the middle of the night, in the earliest of mornings, in the middle of the day I have whispered to her and she has answered loudly. Telling me that this is where I belong. That she was and always will be my first love.
Six years is a long time. Our relationship, like any other has seen its highs and lows over the course of six years. We have had our share of disagreements. We don’t always see eye to eye. We bicker about priorities and where things should go next. But over all, I love her. We have stayed together this long because she offers something to me and while she is older and perhaps, wiser, I have contributed to her growth and development as well. When we sit at the table neither of us leave hungry after eating what the other has brought. She and I push back from the table stuffed and full.
Our relationship works. But like any other living man there have been occasions when my eyes have wandered. So has my mind. So has my body. So has my heart. Never too far for too long, but it has.
There is a woman from many years ago, long before 1999. I’d fantasized about her while growing up. I was this little boy in Cleveland, staring at the stars at night, falling asleep, dreaming about this saucy woman I’d never met. She was thousands of miles away. I had only seen her in pictures. Then in high school I met her. She was everything I thought she would be and more. I vowed that I would come of age and marry her. We would be together forever. Yet, that marriage hasn’t come to pass. Instead, for six years now I have been married to another woman and seeing her on the side.
She is my mistress. She is my mistress and she ain’t like my old lady. There is something different about her. I suppose that is why after all these years she is still so exciting to me. She is the word.
My old lady moves slowly with solid, commanding ease and uprightness. My mistress moves swiftly with sophistication and attitude, every now and then jerking her body in a manner that appears to be abrupt with no reason. Then she laughs, turns and pivots to let you know that her movement wasn’t unintentional, to the contrary she did it purposefully to remind us all again that she is always in control.
When I am inside of her, my mistress I feel like a new man, another man. I feel like me, but greater than myself, bigger than I normally am. I am cooler. I am more adventurous. I am faster. I am lighter. I am on the inside and yet I find myself open.
I get my old lady excited. My mistress excites me.
Without fail, when I spend time with my mistress I begin to question why she and I aren’t together. I ask what is it that makes me stay with my old lady when this seductive woman up the road beckons me. I continue not to answer her calls. I ponder how much longer I will be able to resist her. I examine the question, will I abandon the known and steady relationship that I have built with so much invested in it to try to begin anew.
I was with my mistress again last night. Our time together was well spent and delicious. I’m on the train headed home now. I’m going back to my wife and I will kiss her when I get there. Tonight when I lay my head on the pillow I will think about last night though, and hope she doesn’t have any suspicions about what I’m laying there with her thinking about, the other woman. Praying that she is thinking about me.
DC is my wife. New York City is my mistress.
posted by ClayStarr at 5:28 PM
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