The Mistress, Part Two Read online

  THE MISTRESS

  Part Two

  L E X I E R A Y

  Copyright © 2015

  Published by: Rascal Hearts

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  For questions and comments about this book, please contact us at [email protected]

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 1

  Mistress. That word once seemed like a fantastical form of utter bullshit when compared to the likes of someone like her. Mistress. It’s the word she uses freely now when describing herself. A repugnant mistress. A low down, dirty, disgusting mistress.

  “I’m the mistress.”

  The words were scorching, as if lava had rolled over her tongue, and she immediately felt Marissa tense under her grasp. It probably wasn’t the wisest decision to pull her into a hugging embrace just before uttering words that would change her life forever, but she had to let her know how much she did care for her. Because when you care for someone, you don’t continually lie to them. You don’t betray them, and though she already had, she thought the time had come to – try as she might, successful or not – make amends.

  Despite everything, Haley did actually love Marissa. She may have had a shitty fucking way of showing it; you know, sleeping with her husband and everything, but she did – she loved her. Damn herself, she did. She had felt consistently – and for years – like their bonds were stronger than a mere friendship; Haley honestly felt like a sister to Marissa. Because of that, she wanted to show her the love she actually possessed.

  After all that she had done not to show it recently, she felt like she owed it to Marissa – and herself – to actually do it right this time. She had to show her the love and care she held for the woman, and tell her the truth. And, she did. Fuck! She did.

  Haley realized soon after the words spewed from her mouth that the woman may not feel quite the intended loving emotion she had tried to exude in the confession. As well intended as it had been, it likely did nothing to ease Marissa’s heart and mind. The news outweighed the action; there was no way it wouldn’t – but she didn’t want to take it back. This was right. This was the right thing to do.

  “I’m sorry...” Haley whispered against Marissa’s shoulder.

  “Me too...” Marissa spoke softly and her body was still tense. “Let go of me, please, Haley.”

  Haley obeyed as tears fell freely across her cheeks. “You can see yourself out,” Marissa said, once again, in an incredibly soft tone, before walking past the woman – her face as white as snow. As Haley watched her trail off into the living room, and through the hallway, she heard another set of footsteps sound from above. The steps were hurried and light before a door slammed. She winced at the realization of who it was. Lucas – and he had probably just heard everything.

  She gathered her things and did as Marissa had requested. She saw herself out, out of that beautiful family home that she had grown to love these past twelve years. And she even wondered, as she slowly creaked the door closed, if she was also seeing herself out of the lives of the family she had grown to love these past twelve years.

  ~~~

  Marissa couldn’t believe it all. Part of her had believed that Preston was dabbling in an affair even before she had discussed things with Joseph, but she had since forgotten such suspicions and shrugged them off as mere paranoia. In fact, last night had alleviated all of that once and for all. The night was magical and full of love and tenderness, passion and lust. It was filled with everything. That night marked the end of her suspicions. The eyes she looked into that night weren’t the eyes of a deceitful man; they were the eyes of a man in love. At least, that was what she thought. Now, though, she wasn’t so sure.

  Hearing this new perceived truth made her even more confused on what really was the truth. Denial hit her like two hundred pounds of pressure on a brick; yes, she had become completely subjected to mere dust. And so had the truth for that matter; could anyone ever know what the truth was? It might as well be dust, blowing in the wind – for no one to find – for all of existence.

  Haley was a friend, a confidant; she was fucking family. Preston was her husband, the father of her beautiful children, her best friend. Who the hell could she trust? If a man she had known for nearly two decades could look her in the eye, lie to her, make love to her, and all the while be betraying her at the very same time – how could she ever trust anyone again?

  She was proud of herself for remaining so calm. She hadn’t meant to be, though. She wasn’t sure if it was because it was Haley, and part of her could understand how it could happen in the first place. Or perhaps, if it was just how caught off guard she was at all of it, or even if part of her was relieved.

  Relieved? She couldn’t believe she had even dared to think of that word as a reaction she might have. Relief? Could it be relief? Could she be relieved? What could she possibly be relieved about? Physically shrugging off her thoughts for the moment, Marissa decided to leave her mind on one conclusion: she was caught off guard. That was it. End of story.

  As she trampled over the creaking floorboard of the hallway, she cursed a loud “FUCK,” before stomping through the bedroom’s threshold and slamming the door. Her mind had reeled like a film in rewind, traveling over the moment Haley decided to express her regrets and unravel her own fucking secrets. Good for her, she could have a clear fucking conscience now – all because she had become the bigger woman and finally came clean that she had slept with her fucking husband. That was apparently what the truth was, after all. So she should be happy with herself – she told the fucking truth. Too bad that truth was the worst possible thing she could have ever heard.

  Whatever Marissa had thought be damned – because Haley had just spouted the truth during a moment of supposed clarity and her husband obviously didn’t give a flying fuck about her and everything she thought she saw in him the night before was a lie. Oh, and she was an idiot for not catching the bullshit and calling it out. His devilish eyes had deceived her, but so had Haley’s.

  She couldn’t believe she hadn’t hit her; hell, she hadn’t even screamed at her. Though she was proud of how calmly she reacted, she was also upset with herself for not defending her own honor, her marriage, and her family, for that matter. Was she really so spineless?

  No. She wasn’t spineless. She was an adult, a fucking adult. She wasn’t going to dwindle down to a subpar level just to adhere to some ridiculous societal norm of what her reaction should have been. She reacted perfectly rationally. That was how she was supposed to respond at the time; now it was time to react in a different manner. Now was time to discover more; now was the time to plan.

  ~~~

  Though her contemplations had prepared her for this likely possibility, Haley felt a sudden void. She knew things would never be the same. As she walked the topographical hell that was the sidewalk and followed it to her car, which was parked along the cul-de-sac’s curb – as always, she felt as if it was the walk of shame. She was shameful, after all – and she was ashamed, utterly. So it truly was fitting.

  Complexities of a world though
t to be simple; where had the times shifted? No marriage, or life, for that matter, ever seemed to be as simplistic as it was forecast to be. It was never long before the thunderous storms crept in like a creature in the night and darkened the sanctity of all that was pure. Everyone faces such trespasses, so why do we continue to do it all?

  Why do we continue to expose ourselves to disappointment when we know in our hearts – all too well – what is soon to follow? Why are we even disappointed when it all turns to shit – if we know it is inevitable to be so? We should know that the grey skies roll with thunderous aptitude. We know complexities cloud, and we know that they will cloud – all of us and all that we see – every time we let our guards down and become content with all that we have and are. So why do we subject ourselves to it all? For love?

  Love. What the fuck is love after all?

  She flung open the driver’s side door and slammed her body roughly into the car’s seat. She wasn’t sure why she had violently lunged herself into the car; maybe it was a poor subconscious effort to hurt herself, or maybe she was just sulking. She really didn’t know. She just knew that she had never felt worse than she did after telling Marissa the truth.

  But it wasn’t the fact that she had told her. That part actually made her feel liberated from the bullshit that had been weighing on her – Marissa deserved to know, and if she was any kind of woman at all, she had to tell her. That’s why she did it. That didn’t mean, though, that feeling Marissa tense beneath her grasp – and seeing her face as she walked away – hurt any less. That was what made Haley feel worse than she ever had before, and that was saying an astronomical amount. Because she had felt lousy and terrible about sleeping with Preston all along – all two months’ worth. She laughed darkly at the thought. She felt lousy – and she was sure if anyone else had heard her thoughts, they’d call her crazy. They’d say something sarcastic – something bordering the lines of: “Poor, poor little slut. Poor mistress. Sorry you feel lousy for fucking someone else’s husband!”

  The truth was, she had felt lousy, downright terrible, even. But he also had a way of making her feel good all at the same time – but she digressed – that was an internal battle for another time.

  She pulled down her visor to fix the horrendous – and painfully obvious – mess of her eye makeup before she even dared start the car. She groaned into the small mirror when she met her reflection. The darkness beneath her red, puffy eyes aboard her horrifyingly ghost-white face was enough to scare the boogeyman himself. She looked positively dreadful.

  She continued to look onward into the visor’s mirror for a few more moments as she gave herself a once over. And it was in those moments that she realized how truly lifeless she was beginning to look. Preston had drained everything from her. She looked absolutely dead. Literally. She looked like a ghost of the woman she once was, an actual ghost giving the pigment of her skin. But even disregarding aesthetics, she could tell her soul had changed.

  The woman she used to be had been fighting with her every day since the affair began, but this lifeless zombie of a woman had been battling back. The zombie had won. And now the wreckage was real; the aftermath was upon her.

  The old “her” had, once upon a time, tried to free herself from the zombie’s snare and had continued to do so for months now. She had even cried every day that she was unsuccessful, but now the zombie had won. It had eaten her alive, and she was no longer herself at all. She was a mistress. That’s what she had been subordinated to. A title. A terrible, adulterating, disgusting, whore of a title at that. She hated the image in front of her; the woman staring back at her was revoltingly foul. She had betrayed every sense that she so proudly possessed, and by result, betrayed the few people she had actually came to love in the world.

  She threw her head back and spit on the reflecting glass in front of her before she slung the visor shut, ignoring the cracking that sounded from the plastic hinge. She started the ignition and threw her car into drive. She had to get the fuck out of there.

  As she sped to the place she reluctantly called home, she felt a rush. She never sped. She never disobeyed the law. In fact, she thought it was ridiculously selfish to speed. It was endangering the lives of others, and her parents had died in a car accident; she didn’t herself want to – or have anyone else for that matter – meet such a fate due to her actions.

  But as her foot pressed the pedal down even further, she realized that she had seemed to throw that part of herself out the window as well. She didn’t listen to her rationale. Not anymore. Her right foot became even more weighted, it seemed, and she could tell – without even looking at the speedometer – that she was going much faster.

  The trees blew past her with blurry intent. She was heading to her apartment with ferocity. She needed a haven. She needed a hideaway. She needed to get away from all of this, all of the emotions, all of the guilt, all of the fucking torment. By God – she was heading the fuck home, no matter how much she dreaded calling it that.

  It was as if the world around her was spinning as the blurriness continued, and she felt as if she was on a carousel on overdrive. What used to be a carnival ride for kids was now for only the most ill-hearted and repugnant of people: the adult misfits, the ones that fuck everything up. This ride was the destination to hell, a carousel on crack. She was spinning so fast that her breath quickened, and she could hear her heart pounding soundly in her ears. It was a bit strange, but, dare she even think it, it was pleasurable. A wave of adrenaline seemed to shoot through her body and caused her clit to swell. She laughed.

  She was sure that anyone she passed would think she was crazy. Not that they would be far off, she thought humorously – but there was also an underlying shit-ton of seriousness in the thought as well. Insanity actually had seemed to be stalking at her recently, aching to entrap her mind.

  It was a snarling creature creeping with outstretched claws across the floor of her mind. She could hear its nails crackle against the wood as it crawled to invade her persona. She could even feel its hot breath tickle her feet as she felt its coarse hands grasp at her ankles. She was truly losing it, and it was gaining possession of her body as she felt it move upwards – inch by inch.

  She continued to laugh as she sat further up, closer to the steering wheel. She felt like a race car driver. And that sense of free bird adrenaline remained within her core, up until the moment she walked through her apartment’s door.

  Then, as if walking face first into a mountain – it hit her. And then she knew; she knew how completely reckless that had been. As blatantly obvious as it was, she didn’t really seem to fathom the severity until she closed her door.

  She wondered, too, how she hadn’t gotten caught, and made mental note to write a strongly worded note to the authorities about their horrific law enforcement of driver’s safety. Reckless driving was amuck – violators could be running absolutely rampant – and there were no police officers there to enforce the law! What the hell! It was as if no one else could do their jobs in the world, especially not her – at least not without fucking the father of the kids she nannied for. She did her job really well. Oh, for fucking sure.

  Sarcasm. Oh, sarcasm. She loved that cute and adorable little mechanism. It was as if she was releasing a big “fuck you” unto everyone in the entire world when she used it. She loved it. That amazing little verbal tool, the perfect literary device for asshole writers and verbal enthusiasts. She loved it.

  Obviously, not a writer herself, Haley always considered herself a lover of the English language in general: a verbal enthusiast was what she liked to refer to herself as. She liked to seem as though she knew what clever and witty literature was – through the elegant word of mouth – but God knew she couldn’t actually write a sentence without sounding like a twit. So thus the label “verbal enthusiast” was born – and it suited her quite well, she felt.

  She really didn’t know where her mind was wandering and why it was. She was breaking apart her thoughts as
if they were clever – and as if she even knew what they meant. She hadn’t a clue. She was bullshitting herself, as she had been for the past two months. She actually had thought she and Preston could have floated away into a Neverland Atlantis fairytale world. It was all just bullshit, and she had fallen for it.

  She honestly felt the personification of insanity really begin to claw at her as it worked to gather hold of her body. The mere idea of it frightened her to the point of an almost survivalist mentality. With its red eyes, it peered into her soul. Its razor sharp teeth bore out through a wide and sinister smile, and she shuddered. She was truly taunted by the fear it caused her.

  She cackled again at her sudden fear, making fun of herself. Only she could make up some sort of bullshit psychological mumbo jumbo where insanity was personified as some sort of monstrous creature. She really felt like she was crazy after that sort of recollection of thoughts.

  Why the hell was she even thinking about all of it? Why was she stressing so much about going insane rather than dealing with the task before her? She had to come up with a way to cope.

  She had to learn how to cope with the fact that she potentially screwed up a family’s relationships forever. She had to learn how to cope with the fact that she betrayed three people she loved more than anything in the world, and worst of all – she had to cope with the fact that she still felt something for the arrogant, cheating prick known as Preston Lancer. Preston fucking Lancer. Beautiful fucking Preston Lancer. The smooth-talking, smooth-walking, sexy – mother-fucking – Preston Lancer.

  How the hell was she going to get through all of this? Without her job who – in the screaming fuck – was she? She had identified herself by her job title and the Lancer family for twelve years. Without all of that, did she even know who she was? Especially now that all of herself had seemingly been stripped away after her affair with Preston had begun.

  She slept with a married man. That same married man was also her friend and her confidant ever since her divorce four years ago, and that same married man was also the husband of the only real friend she had ever had. She had done the unthinkable. She had done the unforgiveable. She had betrayed Marissa and the kids, but she had also betrayed herself.