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    The Other Woman: More Than Just His Mistress
    The Other Woman: More Than Just His Mistress
    The Other Woman: More Than Just His Mistress
    Ebook152 pages1 hour

    The Other Woman: More Than Just His Mistress

    By Tamara Wilson

    ()

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    About this ebook

    I’m not encouraging any woman to pursue a married man or be with a married man. But if you’re in this current situation as you are reading this, I suggest you know your place and don’t over step your boundaries. If he gets caught and the wife tries to get answers from you ignore her, it’s for the best. Let her get an

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherA2Z Books, LLC
    Release dateNov 29, 2019
    ISBN9781943284153
    The Other Woman: More Than Just His Mistress

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      Book preview

      The Other Woman - Tamara Wilson

      CHAPTER 1

      THE LONER

      I never really had too many friends growing up. All of my school years were only dotted here and there by a few friends. Kids who were not easily bored by the shy introspective girl that I was back then. I was the quiet kind who never really went out much. My room was my refuge. The walls covered by the models I loved were the canvas upon which I first drew my dreams. Mills and boons were the foundations of the countless castles I built in the air in the endless moments I spent alone.

      My silence worried my mom, so she tried to get me to go out more. However, nothing she did worked. Ensuring that no cable was ever put in my room didn’t work and arranging play dates with the few school friends I had, and the kids in the neighborhood didn’t work either. Somehow it was her fault. I started out my life with lots of no’s from her. She was a No mom, and that affected me badly. You can’t just turn a latchkey child into an outgoing one with the flicking of a few buttons. By age ten, I had become a kid who never asked for things because she was sure her request would be declined. 

      Being around people was something I hated. That was probably because at home I was always in a shell, my room. I was never around a lot of people. I am the middle child. I have two brothers, but we are not close. That connection that people say is supposed to exist between siblings is alien to us. Today I can’t even remember the last time we bonded. I think it is a result of the lack of closeness between us all that I got used to not talking and being alone. I guess this is why I ended up being a quiet kid. Today I still blame my parents for that. I think if they had not kept me so tied up, I wouldn’t have turned out to be that way.

      I guess watching my parents’ marriage fall apart didn’t help matters either. My mom stepped out of their marriage a couple of times according to my dad. He had a big heart, so he forgave her each time she came back begging. But the last time she stepped out, she got pregnant. That was the last straw for my dad. He took off the cloak of the forgiving dad, and her repeated role of the prodigal daughter ended.

      My mom remarried after being pregnant with my little brother that wasn’t by my father.

      My mom, God bless her soul, seemed like she was the type that just had to have a man and a big house. I say this because she remarried after my dad decided not to take her back. She remarried even though she wasn’t happy with my stepdad like she was with my real dad. I could kind of tell when I was younger. I’m observant enough to know what real happiness looks like, and my mom and stepdad wasn’t it. The laughter that was always on her lips and in her eyes when she was with dad, faded with time. Her smiles came less frequently, and the no’s came more frequently.

      In my teenage years, I was into modeling for a while. My dad never liked to support me in modeling gigs. He would always complain, but then he would take me. He never invested any money into the modeling either, and I even had to pay for my photoshoots. But eventually I got bored with modeling and moved on.

      I was never really taught anything. My dad only taught me how to drive, and that’s about it. My mother never made out time to discuss sex, men, and money with me. Dad didn’t talk to me about independency or anything like that. Luckily, I didn’t turn out too bad. I’m not damaged or a sociopath. I have made poor choices in men, but I never gave up the cookie to easily. I wasn’t that fast. Prudence is my middle name though. To this day, I barely spend money. I’m an excellent saver. I suppose this is because I am my own person. I’m not the kind to depend on anybody, not even my own dad. I’ve always wanted to own everything I had. Nobody taught me that. I was self-taught in that department. I was never pressured into going to college because college doesn’t guarantee you a good job. Both my parents went to college, and they both had regular jobs, they had good jobs and bad jobs.

      To this day, I’m still the same way; I was as a kid. Nevertheless, I am not shy like I used to be. I grew out of that. Although I’m still a bit quiet I now talk to more people than I used to. This is mostly people that I’m comfortable around. I even have a few friends now. Chief among them is Victoria, my cousin from my father’s side. I know it’s kind of strange to call my friend my cousin, but then, as of now, she is the only one in my life that enjoys and provides all the privileges that are meant for friends. We share secrets and try to meet up for drinks every Sunday. So, I think that’s enough justification for referring to her as a friend. 

      CHAPTER 2

      THE FIRST ENCOUNTER

      This is one of those days when it’s impossible to keep a smile away from my face, remove the bounce from my steps, and stop the exaggerated swinging of my hips. I woke up on the best side of the bed, whatever that side is, so I feel good about myself. It is going to be a good day. I’m completely sure of it.

      My eyes are on the mirror on the wall to my right as I walk. How can I not admire the pretty lady I was staring at? Of course, I’m checking out my ass when I run into him. It felt like running into a brick wall. The impact makes me reel backward with my arms flapping as I struggle to keep myself from falling backwards on my ass. It doesn’t help me because I found myself sitting on the floor, suddenly out of breathe.

      Uh-oh, the man I collided with is bending over me with a look of concern on his face. The expression on his face is that kind drivers wear when they realize they have just knocked down a pedestrian. I’m sorry he says putting out his hand.

      After a brief moment of hesitation, I take the hand so he can pull me up. He does it effortlessly as if I am weightless.

      I’m so sorry, he says again. Are you okay?

      I want to answer his question, but all I do is stare at him. From his looks, he is way past his youth, but still absolutely fine. His skin is that perfect blend of chocolate that can make a lady drool. His mouth is full, something to suck on for as long as forever, and his nose is perfect.

      Suddenly I find myself wishing I can see his eyes. I bet it’s black; there is no way it’s brown. But the thing is that the shades he is wearing won’t let me see.

      Are you okay?

      A kiss will make me okay. I thought to myself

      Yeah, I guess, my voice sounds like I’ve been running, and I’m sure there is a smile on my face as I reply.

      His own face breaks into a smile, and I get a glimpse of the most perfect set of teeth I’ve ever seen. Wow.

      For a moment, we both stare at each other in silence. It is that moment that reality sets in. Behind him, from down the hallway, someone is approaching, a devil-sent, come to ruin this special moment. But I’ll be damned if I just watch and do nothing.

      You are so strong, I gushed.

      I am? he looks surprised. I’m sorry about that.

      No, I laugh. It’s a good thing.

      But I just knocked you down.

      No, kidding.

      Sorry, I wasn’t looking.

      I wasn’t looking either.

      Miss. Intruder from down the hall has reached us. It is Rosa from my department. She has a big smile on her face, which is puzzling because she never smiles.

      Hi Trish, she sings with a voice I never knew could sound so human. Rosa only knows how to screech, like some wild bird from the Amazon forest. But as it is with all women, she has suddenly developed the capacity to make nice produce a pleasant sound.

      Hi, I tell her and quickly dismiss her from my mind. But before I turn back, I notice her giving my Mr. Handsome a flirty side eye. This woman!

      Okay, this is

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