The champagne is still cold and the night has hours left in it, but I needed a minute alone with this mirror. Darling, don't knock — I'm nowhere near finished.
Gestern
The champagne is still cold and the night has hours left in it, but I needed a minute alone with this mirror. Darling, don't knock — I'm nowhere near finished.
Coming home at dawn with someone else still warm on my skin, and my husband already making coffee like a good boy. This is just the wreckage, darling — you should have seen the crash.
Past midnight and I finally let him earn what my husband pays for. Darling, you're only getting this angle — the full view would break you.
By Wednesday, the ones who swore they'd resist are already making excuses to see me again. Darling, I don't chase. I just leave the door cracked and watch them push their way through.
They say nothing good happens after midnight. Darling, everything I do after midnight is deliberate — this is when the city sleeps and I decide who wakes up ruined.
Saturday nights are for taking what I want. Sunday mornings are for remembering exactly how it felt to take it.
The secret isn't making them want you — that's easy. The secret is making them wonder if they'll ever truly have you. That's what keeps them on their knees.
My husband's still asleep, dreaming I'm faithful, while I'm deciding which of his colleagues gets to prove him wrong tonight.
1 AM and the only thing I owe anyone is this cigarette. Tomorrow I'll collect apologies and debts alike, but right now? This silence is mine.
Mondays are for resetting the board, darling. By Friday, three men will wish they'd never given me their number — and one will be thanking his lucky stars he did.