I am the woman that other women fear, envy and hate. I am the epitome of stolen pleasure, the circumstance of forbidden fantasy, and the discoverer of lost desire. I am the vessel of delightful sensuality, the mentor of carnal knowledge, and the traveler of erogenous zones. I am the other woman, a thief of his heart, a sorceress of magical love potions that steal his affection, and an enchantress of his sexuality. I share ancient sinful secrets of longing and cravings with him. His poorly chosen mate fails where I succeed in satisfied triumph. She holds his commitments and vows prisoner, while I free his desires and love. I have chosen this wicked route of eroticism. Many may damn me, but I am a willing voyager of this ill reputed life style. He comes to me tonight.
Two hours before he is due to arrive, I sit at my vanity, mystifying and beautifying for his intimate pleasure. I savor this sensual preliminary foreplay. I apply tonight's chosen scent of jasmine to my soft creamy skin strategically in places, such as, my temples, wrists, inner elbow, the nape of my neck, underneath my bountiful breast, the crook of my knee and my soft inner thighs. I brush my hair until its red-brown curls glisten with fiery highlights. My full lips are the color of rubies, red and tempting. Powdering my nose, I mentally review my erotic wardrobe of the finest of silks, satins, velvets and lace with the spectrum of colors from the palest of soft mute pastels to the deep rich colors of gems. I chose a flowing hunter green silk peignoir set with black sheer thigh high stockings and black heels with ankle wrap ties. The French cut panties that I wear are emerald green Thai silk. My secret-keeping eyes change in hue from sublime blue-gray to pale cat-eye green, reflecting lightly the color of jealousy and envy that I wear.
Bemused with my thoughts, I arch one sculptured eyebrow at my reflection. What shall tonight's entertainment consist of? How shall I entice his desire and saturate his yearnings? My lover stated no preference, only his urgent need of me. I go into the bedroom to stage the set of our erotic drama. I remove the peach scented candles from last week's play and replace them with unscented ones. I didn't want distraction from his concentration of my scent. The sheets are of ivory satin, with plush pillows. On the bedside table, I have an array of massage oils and lotions to soothe the mind and excite the body, a feather to tickle the senses, and four silk scarves to bind him, if I choose. I leave the room, to prepare the outer sanctum.
In the receiving parlor, I have wine, chilling, along with some fruit and cheese. He will not hunger, because his wishes are mine to grant. Sweet Billie Holiday's voice soothes the four walls in her most seductive musical voice. The lighting is low and inviting. I fluff the pillows on the sofa. All is set, the web is spun and I am waiting for my fly to appear. The ringing of the door chimes tells me it is time for the show to begin. My heart is pounding in response, as my love for this man is true and adoring.
My darling lover greets me with a wet deep passionate kiss, as his hands caress my soft curls. He breathes into my ear, "I have missed you." I kiss him with a light tenderness, pulling him within the security of my welcoming arms. "Come inside, love," the spider tells the fly. He steps into the foyer, his arm around my waist. I herd him into the parlor, pour him some wine, feed him some grapes, loosen his tie and remove his shoes, to give his feet the relaxation that he craves, by massaging his tiredness away. I listen to him pour out his frustrations regarding life and his unhappiness, in sympathy with an occasional kiss to his brow. I know that soon he will tire of conversation. I wait with patience and barely concealed excitement.