Product Description

Chapter 1

Life as I know it Angelina

It’s Good Friday. The start of Easter weekend. When I was growing up, I usually spent Easter looking for all the colored eggs or the giant Easter basket. If it were a really good year, I would be thrilled to find both. These days, in my (supposedly) more mature early thirties, my Easter "basket" is a Starbucks coffee and a half-full pack of cigarettes.

It really wasn’t that many years ago that I was a little girl, was it?

I sometimes think it was someone else’s life I’ve lived because I certainly don’t know how I got to live this life. Is spending almost all of my days crying, wishing I were someone else, really what anyone could call a life?

I’ve been spending all day getting ready for him to arrive. He should be here at seven, so I need to check myself out for the millionth time. I carry on a conversation with myself—I’m my own best audience. The words rush out: "I would be so happy if he just left her. Get a grip! No time for that now. I’m in my early thirties, five-six in stocking feet, but closer to five-ten in heels. Not very tall by model standards, but the heels make me look that way. I can stand out in a crowd when I want to. I’m slender. The implants aren’t overly done; they gave my body a more proportionate look, and my ‘C’ chest could be flattered with a tight shirt to push out a cleavage men will go crazy for. When I take off the push-up bra, though, my chest goes back to normal size. With a T-shirt and sweats, I seem like your average girl next door. My hair is long and blonde. Funny how it’s starting to look so thin…it used to be so much fuller. My dark brown eyes make me look almost exotic when I enhance them properly, but without makeup, they always look so tired. My face is a bit too long, my nose a smidge too small, but with makeup (makeup can solve anything!), no one really notices. When you put it all together, not too bad. With a bit more work, I could be a real stunner!"

I smoke my last cigarette. The smoke covers my fingers as I try to snuff the cigarette out. "Damn! I burned my nail." I spray on my favorite perfume. He loves this perfume. (I start thinking, Is it my favorite because I like it, or because he does?) I put on my sexy white Victoria’s Secret silk nightie with my cute bunny ears, and settle myself on the couch, checking my makeup every three minutes, until the doorbell finally rings.

I fling open the door, caroling out a jaunty "Happy Easter!" before I notice that he seems to be on another planet, staring dazedly at my chest, no real recognition in his eyes. God, he looks tired.

Chad.

Chad Wilson.

I can see his age today more than usual, and it strikes me again that he really isn’t anything special to look at. Six feet tall, green eyes, but with a tendency to carry more weight than necessary, especially when under stress. The dark crescents under his eyes are from years of hard work. He has lived for work and worked to live, always trying harder then the next guy to keep that big house on the hill. While he’s willing to spend money on his home, his family, his business (and on me), he is incredibly cheap when it comes to his own appearance. His total business wardrobe consists of three suits, all of which look like they are at least ten years old, but it doesn’t seem to bother him in the least.

I grab his arm and call out, "Chad!" Thank God, he snaps out of his trance.

His words come out in one long breath, as if they’re the last words he will ever say. "I can’t stay the night, my wife thinks I’m at a business meeting, I’ll have to leave by ten."

I spend hours getting ready and all he can do is talk about his wife! I manage to suppress my outward anger (while inside everything in me is shrieking, "Asshole!"), while he takes off his jacket and we go into the same routine that we’ve followed for six long years.

First, his drink. Vodka and orange juice, lots of ice. I don my sexy silk robe, only to immediately start taking it off in what he calls my "wild animal prance," setting the stage for that moment where nothing matters to either of us but the satisfaction of complete sweaty sex. He pulls me down hard as I push him away with my palms; he loves the fight. Only wanting me more, he grabs my hair with both hands, as I roughly pull off my underwear. He pushes me so I am on top of him, and he grasps my hips tightly as he pushes me back and forth on his hard penis. I am groaning and moaning, "Don’t come till I yell." He loves to hold back—it always makes his orgasm more intense. He flips me over as our sweaty bodies rub together and he screws me from behind. His groans are louder and louder until he can’t hold out any longer and gasps, "I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum…"

What, is he asking permission or something?

I yell, "Not yet… fuck me! Fuck me!" until he just can’t hold out any longer. The explosion happens as his body surges, as if he’s a fish flipping out of the water. I know I’ve satisfied his every wish. I get up to get a washcloth, so that we can both clean up.

I lie next to him, lighting my cigarette as he talks. Often he just needs to vent, about work problems or anything else that runs through his mind. He complains about how hard he works, about his obligations to so many people. He says someday he’s going to be broke if he doesn’t stop spending so much money.

I know exactly what (actually, "who" is more accurate) he’s talking about, even though he never has the guts to say it. I should be just so grateful I don’t have to work and get an allowance of five thousand a month. (He always makes sure to add, "Tax free," just to ratchet up my guilt level a few more notches.) Right now, though, I just don’t care. While he thinks I’m raptly listening, I’m thinking that maybe it would be easier just to get a damn job, than put up with this shit every week.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #747170 in Books
• Published on: 2005-12-19
• Released on: 2005-12-19
• Original language: English
• Binding: Paperback
• 84 pages

Customer Reviews

Short and Semi-Sweet
This is a short novelette by Michelle Mitchell. I misunderstood by thinking it was a non fiction account, but it is actually fiction based on factual experiences by multiple women. Not one of the best stories I have read on the subject but a quick and interesting read. Leaves you a little less than satisfied however.