A Mistress’s Letter For Her Lover’s Lover

I want to tell you everything.

 About what he and I are getting, about the us we are experiencing. I want to tell you how many gasps he took our first night together, every sound of his short breaths and how good his hands can be. I want to apprise you about the stares and smirks he gives me every time we bump into each other; about how he enjoyed talking to me after our fourth night. Yes, I know that this seems absurd but here’s what you’re going to do: you’re going to read this letter until the very end. Read it not as his wife but as a woman. Read it with passion and fervor. Read this as wholeheartedly as you can.

Here’s the thing: he always looks at me every time we see each other. There was this one night that he looked at me: tears are starting to blur the emotions in his eyes but I swear, I know him too well to know what’s going to happen that night. He kissed my neck. His lips wander around my body roughly and softly all at once. I can feel the intensity of his feelings as he interlaces his fingers through mine. I was too distracted until I felt the cold wall on my back. He then started to unravel our clothes and we so loved doing it. He was impatient and the next thing I knew, we are both naked.

Panting. Staring. Knowing.

He carried me and put me on the bed. His eyes roar the passion I have never encountered before. After a few moments of burning, relenting ardor, we both reached our own kind of heaven. We became one. He looked at me once again and picked up his clothes. He started wearing his clothes until his cell phone rang and I knew what am I supposed to do. I picked my clothes too and walked to the bathroom as I close my eyes for not being sorry for committing a sin for a thousandth time. I showered. I heard the front door slapping and that’s my cue to cry myself out.

You want the truth? He never kissed me on my lips. At first, I never thought it would be a thing. But then every single night we share, he never dared to kiss me. I wondered many times for I crave his flavor too, but then I sooner got my answer.

That night, I cried myself to sleep. It’s not much of a difference for I cry every night he leaves. But that night, something twitched inside of me. I thought, “Again, I let him use me. I let him use my body for getting solace.” But then I realized, if this is how my love will get the consolation he needs, who am I to neglect being the source? I badly want to slap you but I don’t have the courage to because I know my position. If only you knew how excruciating it is to hear his sobs, to feel his tears rolling down the blade of my shoulders.

You’re hurting him. I badly want to be his savior. I can see him pleading help whenever he looks directly to me. Have you ever wondered how much I have wanted to be the one occupying your space in his life? No, you have no idea.

Why am I telling you this? Simple. I want you to know that he loves you. You are the world for him. I know that he wants it to be you every time he looks at me. I know how much he wanted it to be you every time we stay the night together. I know. I know because it’s you we always talk about. It’s you he always talks about.

There wasn’t a time that he forgot to compare your hair to me, how you love eating sandwiches in triangles, how you pick a dress to wear for the evening, how you apply your cologne, how you fix his hair and arrange his tie. He can simply connect you to everything. So think the world of him, take good care of him, keep and nurture him, love him. Because you can in so many ways I cannot. Love him—entirely for he is utterly in love with you whatever lifetime you put him in.