It’s the end of the week and I am nothing but smiles. There have been no phone calls from the breather since that night. Chris returned that morning two hours after Gayla left to get some work in at the bakery. He took a shower and made breakfast before falling to sleep. Sunday we spent the day watching movies that end up watching us have sex. We did it in the kitchen on the counter and the floor. When the sun went down we did it on my patio with me riding him backwards under my sundress. But besides being sexed often by a good man I am happy for my friends joy also.
Gayla hasn’t spoken again of her dad and I have no desire to ask, she doesn’t seem have hidden emotions. Actually she seems happier than I may have seen her in a long time, especially when she talks of her mom. This weekend they are taking a drive up to Chicago to do some shopping and have some mother and daughter time. She is thrilled said she is really getting to know her mom. Sweet Cakes is building, apparently a lot of people are getting married and having birthdays.
She told me that morning she left my house hung over she had ten missed calls from Tyrone, six texts and an angry post it on her door. She didn’t return any of the texts or calls none of the voicemails were ever heard. Since he hasn’t called anymore Gayla has put Tyrone completely out of her mind. So as you can see there is absolutely nothing that could ruin my day or my upcoming weekend.
Returning from lunch with Chris Ms. Connie says, “You have a visitor.”
I pause at her desk, “Already in my office,” I ask confused.
“Yes she said you were expecting her.”
There are no appointments for me this afternoon but more importantly I can’t believe Ms. Connie just let someone sit in my office. True there isn’t a waiting area up here but one on each floor below us. We have few appointments up here. The partners see them in their offices or in one of the conference room. Heading to my office to get the impromptu client out so I can get my work done for with nothing to linger into my weekend Ms. Connie’s voice stops me.
“She said her name is Mrs. Jerome Bailey.”
Stunned and not to lie slightly shaken my mind goes in many directions. Why is she here? My palms start to sweat as my heart rate begins to build. This is a bold move telling the receptionist your name like we are friends. This isn’t something I need at work during my good week. How does she know where I work or even who the hell I am? Lots of questions and no time to stand out here with Ms. Connie sitting there staring at me. Smiling at her I enter my office cautiously and with sweating palms. Never had this scenario gone through my mind, so how to act is utterly lost on me. There was just never the thought of someone confronting me. Never the thought of being seen with them in public by someone who knew they weren’t my husband. Besides I just knew it was something they all had handle, particularly Jerome.
She wouldn’t come here to hurt me. Would she?
People have done crazier for less.
Nerves everywhere I open the door to see her sitting in one of the two chairs in front of my desk with one leg crossed over the other dressed in a cream Chanel suit. Gold pumps and little gold jewelry. Her hair is pulled off her face into a perfect bun.
“Hello Mya,” she says smoothly not turning.
“Mrs. Bailey?” Seeing her I'm sure she’s not here to make a scene; she seems too distinguished for that. Taking my seat I notice her facial features shocked at how similar they are to mine. Neither of us says anything for a while taking each other in full lips, slightly slanted eyes and high cheek bones. Her makeup was perfectly placed and like Jerome she looked younger than her fifty something years.
“Well I can see why my husband is so smitten with you. You look like me twenty years ago and from what I’ve learned about you you’re a good catch. Bit late for Jerome though.”
I don’t say anything not wanting to rattle or cause her to make any type of scene if that’s not what she’s here for.
“About a year and a half ago I started having the symptoms of menopause. As you may know one of those symptoms is no sex drive, vaginal dryness. It was hard to please him or to even want to. So when the evidence of cheating presented itself, late hours and more weekends away, I let him go. A man has his needs and I was woman enough to let him get them met.”
She waits for my response but all I want to say is what do your marital problems have to do with me. Shouldn’t you talk about this with your husband? Seriously I was just fucking your husband to pass the time. And he’s not that good. However I don’t say anything because I don’t know how many screws she has loose.
“I hired a private investigator to look into anyone he was with. Men are sloppy and women are as the kids say these days thirsty,” she comments with a smile. “I needed to protect us and myself if need be. So I found out things like where they were going so that if he did decide he was gone leave me for one he would leave with very little. But that problem never arose. None of them had what it took to keep a man like Jerome even if he was single. The first two went away after three months each. The first was too ghetto and loud, but what I saw from the pictures she sent daily to his phone was a very nice body. The second, a single mother of two worked at the airlines main office. She wanted Jerome to leave me and become a family with her and her boys. They needed a daddy.” She adds laughing. I don’t particularly find anything funny. You and them crazy he is the worst fuck ever. I mean yeah his head game good and so are his fingers but his pumps suck.
“You though have been around much longer than you should,” she continues, “and you don’t want anything from him. Your financially stable, not clingy and have no false expectations of where your relationship is going. You were raised well and know how to act in public.”
When my intercom interrupts her story I am relieved, but I don’t answer right away. Looking at her for a sign if she is going to go crazy when I answer but her calm look hasn’t wavered. Answering with shaky hands I tell my secretary Rachael to take a message. When I look up at Mrs. Bailey she is looking at me with complete disdain and contempt. Surely there is a little crazy there.
“What really pissed me off was that he bought such an extravagant gift on one of our shared cards for one of his whores.” She adds the last word bitterly looking at my Ivanka Trump bracelet on my arm. Flinching only a little at the word knowing many would have the same opinion I put my hand in my lap and out of her sight.
No longer having that as a distraction she brings her eyes and harsh look back to me, with a sneer she says, “Don’t get it confused Mya you are a whore, maybe a classy one but a whore none the less. He beckons for you, gives you limited time and attention then buys you things in place of that time.”
“No Ms. Bailey,” I interrupt surprising me, but I’m tired. I tried to let her say her piece because I felt she may need to get it out. But she could go tell this to her man. “He doesn’t give me anything for the time he isn’t with me I could really care less. As you have learned from your stalking of me I also don’t need him to buy me a damn thing or take me anywhere. Maybe you should look at the gifts as his way of telling me he appreciates me staying around when he is married to someone else, because that is who your husband is, a man who believes he should have two women.”
More surprise comes to her eyes and she tries to speak up, “Now hold on…”
“No you hold on I have listened to you and you don’t seem to be getting to the point. All these things you are telling me did you tell your husband because I really don’t care. We both know what was going on with Jerome and I. I have work to do so if you could just get to it. Why are you here?”
With my heart rate going faster than any sex act could take me, palms sweating profusely I wait for her response hoping that I read her right. Praying she wont stand and start breaking shit or worse pull a gun out her designer bag. The seconds tick by slowly as I wait for what feels like an eternity.
Looking at me with that harsh look, “I want you to stop seeing your husband.”
“Mrs. Bailey I stopped seeing your husband more than a month ago,” No need to tell her he was starting to gross me out in the sex zone. “But I do really feel this is a conversation for you and your husband. I’m not the only one and from what you say he will find another one.”
The look on her face is nothing like when the conversation started. It has before my eyes distorted into a mask of ugly, everything scrunched up. Then she stands, “I hope what you say is true Mya, if not I’ll be back and down the hall talking to daddy.”
That pauses my tone. I don’t know what to say and I don’t want to come up with anything. I don’t need her pulling my family into this. I don’t need her exposing me to my co-workers or anyone else.
She turns to the door but doesn’t open it right away. Hand resting on knob she turns dressed like an angel looking like the devil, looks at my bracelet and adds, “I will also be taking what is rightfully mine if there has to be a next trip.” Then Mrs. Jerome Bailey is gone.
Sitting stunned looking at my closed office door, fingering my bracelet I think how much worse that scene could have been. This bitch was mad if she thought she was getting my Ivanka off me. Yes I could buy it but of course there not made every day.
The traffic outside my office window is blaring and fast like my pulse. Never have I been confronted by anyone about their husband. I figured these ladies had no idea what was going on behind their backs. Thought I was well hidden from everyone and believed they took certain precautions to keep it hidden. I mostly saw Jerome out of town and Terrance we went away a lot. Dwayne comes by at odd hours and if we do anything outside it’s during odd times. Chris has been the only guy that I went places with during date time hours. In whatever distance, there wasn’t mileage on where we could go.
As hidden as I thought we were someone found out. Just why contact me? I really don’t understand. He is the one you need to talk to. With or without me he is going to cheat and seems like he is. He is with someone new and the P.I. isn’t on it.
Has she had to do that a lot? Confront mistresses, turn a blind eye, seems to be a natural at it. My mind cant ponder over it too long I have work to finish I won’t let my guest ruin my mood. She now knows that Jerome and I are no more. Maybe I should have told her I have no desire to be with him or his lame dick. Now maybe someday in the future I could use a good pussy licking I don’t know. Chris seems to be handling it in all categories so maybe not.
When I arrive home Mrs. Peterson is out. “Hey Mya,” she waves.
“Hello Mrs. Peterson, how are you today?” She sure seemed to be out a lot these days.
“Oh just wonderful. Someone came by looking for you earlier today.”
“Really?” I ask in confusion. Who could that be? Anyone with sense would know I was at work.
“I had never seen her around before and she was dressed differently than you and your company.”
“Differently, Mrs. Peterson?”
“Yes she didn’t have on a pretty dress or pants suit. No heeled shoes. Just tennis shoes and jogging suit that wasn’t matching pieces. But I didn’t get a good see at her face I saw her through the front room window.”
I don’t know who that could have been. Could have been Mrs. Bailey stopping by after working out then trying my office.
“Oh well thanks.” I shrug heading in with my mail that I am not reading because I am bothered by the fact that as I am hiding my finances from men someone is uncovering all other types of things. Not just my finances but where I live, where I work and who my parents are.
Heading up to my room I think what else does she knows about me. Does she know her husband wasn’t the only man I was sleeping with? Does she know about Chris?
Walking past my bed to my bathroom I notice my comforter is somewhat rumpled. Yes I notice because I make my bed every morning. I brush it off thinking maybe I was rushing after sexing Chris and almost being late for work. Also he could have lain across it after I made it but it has definitely been disturbed. Things’ being moved around in my home or am I losing my mind is this how it was left. As I said I have never been as close to a man as I am Christopher. Never had someone in my space so much so it could all very well be my imagination, it is very possible that he lay across that comforter. Isn’t it? We left together. But he wasn’t here for the magazine. Though it is possible I moved it. Talking on the phone maybe it was in my hand.
I shake the feeling, more than likely I am overreacting. Then I focus on getting dressed for Chris to pick me up. We’re going to see a West Side Story play at the Muny, an outdoor musical theatre in Forest Park.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish