My Husband, his Mistress and I part 4

My Husband his Mistress and I pic

‘My videos’, he used to be so supportive, I’m a YouTuber, I show people the best way to reupholster their furniture, I’m kind of a big deal, I make almost as much money as my husband and that’s saying something because he’s the youngest partner at the firm.

I shut the door and I’m alone in the house, the lovely huge house in the nice neighborhood; West Hampstead we’re rich blah blah, don’t get me wrong I’m grateful to be living the dream, we weren’t always rich so it’s not like I’ve lived with a silver spoon. But somehow I’m living this life, I organise luncheons with some of the wives of the husbands’ at the firm, as though that’s all I’m good for, organising charity events events so these people can feel good about buying diamond encrusted shower heads.

I set to work, I have a room for editing and shooting my videos, it takes all day and by the time I realise it’s ten at night. I go into the kitchen and prepare a light late dinner. A chicken salad with 75ml of water, because yeah, that’s what he likes when he’s working late or just coming back from a function. Its ten thirty and I set the table, I go and wash my hands, I don’t bother with make-up anymore except when I shoot my videos or leave the house, my husband wouldn’t notice or even care. Its ten forty five and I look up confused, I didn’t hear his car. I feel myself panicking and I switch on the TV to check the news, it’s ten forty five, nothing bad has happened in this part of world anyway. When it hits ten forty six I’m in full panic mode and I‘m annoyed at myself for feeling this way, but he’s just that good with time, when he’s seconds late he calls, for seconds! It’s ten fifty and I’m pacing our driveway.

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