{Emotiinal}

It was the story of my past life, fun, dander and genuine glitz...glamor and no gold. Parting the nights away, sleeping during the days. Times flies when you are having fun, so it would seem. I was lost. I was blinded by the superficial worldly lust. Yet, I accepted it, with open arms. I thought it was my ticket, straight to the top. teasing, and on occasions pleasing a few key players whom would help me advance.  Garter belted up, nylons pulled tight, corset adjusted and make up patted in just right; ready for a good night on the town. Stepping down cold marble stairs I felt him watching me. Tonight's theme  is "The Great Gaspy"! On of my favorite themes rotated at the brothel. I hope "he" pics me...

All of the other girls walk around the room flaunting themselves on the young aristocrats . I just walk gracefully, and silently.  Walking around the room, with my head held high. Not making eye contact with any of the patrons in the room. I sat down in the corner, observing the festivities. Then from behind I heard a booming deep voice that excited me when he said "hello Miss". The hair on the back of my neck stood up instantly. I slowly turned around and with my southern bell voice I replied " Do you mean me Sir"? Yes indeed  I was shyly flirting. I made sure to bat my extended eye lashes too. I hoped he could see my warm chestnut brown eyes beneath them . I noticed his smile, face and stature. He for sure seems to be a strong riding specimen. We talked about random things and exchanged information. Although I didn't take him up to my room, (because I would have to charge him) I promised to see him later. When exactly that was, I was unsure, but I wanted to see all of him.

Weeks passed, phone calls and letters later, he came to the brothel just to "see" me. At any case, I was happy he came. At least I would enjoy the exchange for money, at least I can sincerely climax with out having to act one out. (And then having to make myself later on). With each toss and turn of my body, I let him explore. He had me, memorized, turn me inside and out. He made me cry, mountains of pleasure and pain of an absent piece I was longing for. A true lover, to make love to. Not some man to fuck. I needed the passion behind the thrust. I needed to lust for a man while he was away. I wanted to feel him in my sleep, and smell him on my upper lip hours later. I yearned for a masculine power, not a rabbit burlesque fuck.


Once he finished, he washed me off, and continued to cleans himself. I watched him. I was admiring him. We laid in the bed, sleep until the morning sun burned our eyes. In the morning I awoke to an empty bed, cold, with a letter addressed to me on his pillow. He apologized for leaving so early, but didn't want to wake me. He thanked me for the time allowed him to share with me. He promised to visit again, but for now he had to return home to his wife.


Empty! I lay in the bed, looking at myself in the mirror on the wall. As I cry inside by show no tears, I become filled with anger. How could I have let myself get so attached, after all I am the MISTRESS....