The Other Woman

Short composition written in the point of view of "the other woman"

You’re not the problem. There is nothing wrong with you, I promise.

Maybe it’s the way my dress brushes against the middle of my full thighs. Or how my simplistic necklace falls perfectly in between the crevice of my prominent collarbone. I think it’s the spring in my step as my heels click against your tile floor. Or perhaps it’s the way my skin burns his hands, sparking thoughts that scream, “this is wrong, but it feels so right.” 

He knew I was bad from the start. My scent intoxicates anyone within fifty feet, and my easy smile blinds the common man. He knows not to come close, but it’s something about the way my eyes pierce into his skin that makes his heart skip. He loves the gleam in my mischievous eyes when I give him the look you fail to provide. And my lips? Oh my full, smooth lips. The soft, velvet red shade that stains my pretty pout just begs him to ruin it. 

When I slowly sulk around the table, watching him read his book, trying to avoid looking into my hypnotic eyes, I’ll bite. Inject him with my venom; the deadly, addictive poison that will force him into my magnetic field. He’s mine now. The tantalizing predator has captured it’s prey. “I love that book,” I’ll whisper, batting my eyelashes at him. Hopefully it will comfort you to know that it was evident he hadn’t spoken to a beautiful creature in a while. He answered my seemingly innocent questions with no ease at all, struggling, tongue-tied, spitting out each word in haste. I know he’s taken, but that makes the game more interesting. He’ll try to end the conversation one too many times, but after the tenth attempt, he’ll stop. Your man will melt into the conversation, and lose himself in the fluidity of it. I know just what to say, just what he wants to hear. I’m nothing like you, instead, I understand him, and there will never be a dull moment in our dialogue. Slowly but surely, he will fall in love with everything I do. I’ll know. His heart will race and his speech will slur when my hand grazes his thigh. He’ll love the shock that throbs through his body when I talk cars or football with him, because he loves a pretty woman who can think just like him. Something you don’t do. 

I can see the sweat build on his forehead when I get in his car. The ride is tense. Not the tense you both feel when driving after fighting, like you do daily. It’s a risqué tense, and the feeling only gets stronger as we approach your house. You’re not home. I knew you wouldn’t be. You’re at work, crying and whining to your girlfriends squealing, “it’s been a month.” They’ll tell you it’s normal, and that all couples go through periods of inactivity, but they all know it’s bad. You’ve lost connection, and every night, you do your best to rekindle the flame, but never succeed. 

It’s evident he hasn’t done this in a while. His breathing sharpens when I let my fingers trail into his shirt, and his muscles tense with every caress my tongue delivers. “It’s okay,” I sigh as I peel each article of clothing off of both our bodies. The fire in his eyes grows stronger and more wild as I put on my show, and it’s obvious that I’ve had lots of practice. He likes that. He likes how everything just flows with me, like clockwork. The room - your bedroom - will begin to heat up with our heavy breaths dampening the already humid air. Ten minutes will pass and he’ll finish what he started. His low stamina and endurance painfully reminded me that he hadn’t engaged in these activities in a very long time. 

The pillow talk is awkward and rigid. As I lay in bed with a random man, I can’t help but think what relationship I’m ruining this time. He looks for words to say, but I’m such a stranger to him. He doesn’t really know my likes or dislikes, so what is he supposed to say? I love you? No, not yet at least. But he will. He will look for any excuse to leave you, and stay longer with me. I’m the fierce lover you could never and will never be. 

I am the other woman. The girl you envy. The girl you’re warned about. That’s me, and contrary to you beliefs, I’m not all bad. I don’t intend to destroy you, or demolish your self-worth. No. I’m  here for the same purpose you are: to win him over. 

Author's Note

Too risqué?

Reviews

[WhereItResides]

Overall the story was good. I loved the perspective you chose to take for it was something different, but rule number one never leave characters nameless. Why should I care about them? They are not even good enough for a name. You are not the first, nor will you be that last, that I tell this to. It isn't interesting it doesn't add mystery, it is simply annoying. Aside from that, I found the description lacking. You told us plenty about what was happening, but showed very little and there is a giant difference between showing and telling. I do think you nailed the emotion though. The progression was well of character and emotion was well done. This is more of a personal thing but I suggest slightly increasing the font size, it is slightly hard to read, not much of a bother though and is more personal than anything to do with the story. Overall though, the story was a good read.

[Henry S]

I enjoyed your story and that it was written from the perspective of "the other woman" which is not something you see or read about often. It was interesting and entertaining.

[E.Potter]

I adore your word choice. So slinky and seductive. Interesting perspective, one I wish was explored more often. Good is so boring after a while. This is utterly delightful, and terrible I'm the best way possible.

[gabiaimee]

I really like this idea from a different perspective. It makes the reader wonder who is she talking to in the beginning and it all unfolds and put the pieces together. I feel that more detail and story to it could make it more...narrative.