My Husband's Mistress

by Racquel Williams

  “Next level?” What was this nigga talking about? He was married, so there was no next level. I didn’t respond. Instead, I sat there looking at him. He reached over and took my hand.

  “Listen B, I’m about to divorce Destiny. I’m in the process of getting all my finances secure, so she can’t get shit in the divorce. I don’t even want to give her alimony. I know they goin’ get me for child support and that’s cool. I need about another three months and it’s a wrap. I’m telling you this, ’cause I need you to quit the firm and chill out while I handle everything.”

  “You want me to quit? It ain’t like they know it’s me.”

  “I understand, but things could get sticky and I don’t want you involved in it. “

  “So when I’m supposed to be quitting?”

  “In another week, so we can hire someone else.”

  “Aiight,” I said reluctantly.

  “Listen, I’m not bullshitting you. This week coming up, I want you to start looking for a four-bedroom house out in the White Plains area. Something you like.”

  “You fucking playing right?” I yelled.

  “Man, chill out. You want to move out of this piece of shit, right?”

  “I love you, Hassan. I love you.” I started to cry.

  Growing up in the hood, the only thing I’d ever wanted to do was move out to the suburbs. Now I could get my son into a better school. The tears continued flowing, but this time they were tears of joy.

  We ended the evening with a second glass of wine, which I’d made especially for him. Like I said earlier, he was not making it home to the Misses tonight.

  “Damn, it’s like all my energy drained out of my body,” he said as he got up and walked over to the couch.

  “Lie down babe. Get some rest.”

  “I’m going to take a quick nap. Wake me up in an hour, I gotta make it home.”

  Not tonight, I thought.

  “Sure, I got you,” I replied.

  He tried to say something, but he was gone before he could finish the sentence. I went to the bedroom to get him a blanket. I took off his shoes and covered him up.

  After I finished cleaning the kitchen and mopping the floor, I went to check on him; he was fast asleep. That sleeping pill did wonders on him, I thought. I checked his jacket pocket and pulled his phone out.

  After I got into my room, I locked my door and got into my bed. I cut the phone on and started searching. The first thing I saw was a couple texts from a chick named Tanya. I read the back and forth text messages and I realized that he was fucking her too. Really? Here I was, faithful to this nigga and not only did he get married on me, but he also had another bitch. According to the text, he was with her two days ago. I was too upset after I finished reading the messages, I wanted to go in there and confront him, but a voice in my head warned, bitch you trippin’, this nigga just offered to buy you a house and you tripping over some bitch, he’s only fucking. I also saw a few messages from his wife.

  Where are you? I’m trying to reach you.

  This is one lonely bitch, tonight, I thought and smiled.

  I dialed Tanya’s number from his phone. She didn’t pick up at first, but she called right back. “Hey babe.”

  “Hello. Surprise.”

  “Who is this and why’re you using Hassan’s phone?”

  “Listen to me bitch: I’m Imani and I’m his woman. So who are you?”

  “If you have his phone, then you know exactly who I am,” this little bitch said.

  I wanted to jump through the phone and rip her fucking head off.

  “You know what, I ain’t goin’ argue with you, but if I ever see you I’m going to beat yo’ ass, you little bitch. “

  “Ha ha! You’re too funny. Why are you on the phone arguing over another woman’s husband? See, you are one dumb bitch. At least the wife has more class,” she said, then hung the phone up.

  I tried calling back, but the bitch had her phone turned off. Whew, I was too mad. These bitches had no idea who they were playing with. I guessed I had to show them.

  Hassan Clarke

  I was ready to hang up my player’s robe and settle down with my woman. I wasn’t getting any younger and I felt like it was time for me to sit back and live life a little better. I had money in the bank and over the summer I bought a boat and I was ready to sail to different parts of the world. Who would’ve thought a dude like me would be living like this? I even paid down on a house for my mama. I was happy that I was able to help out my family. Being the only son and also the oldest child, I had to step up to the plate and make it happen.

  I’d also been banking money in the Cayman Islands in various accounts. Destiny only knew about the one account that we shared and I wanted to keep it that way. I’d been planning my great escape; I was tired of being married to her. Truthfully, the love wasn’t there anymore. Fucking her was like screwing a dead log—no bit of excitement. Lately, when I was home, I would go into the bathroom, log onto one of those porn sites and beat my dick off. I wasn’t too pressed for that dry pussy. Furthermore, her ass had been actin’ stupid. Kept on asking me a million and one questions; I swore the other day she was on to me when I told her I was at the office. I’m trying to be wicked, I tried to love her, but her attitude was too much for me and my family couldn’t stand her. It was fucked up that I couldn’t invite my mama to the crib because of how Destiny treated her.

  Imani on the other hand, was the total opposite. She was my mother’s favorite. Lately, my love for her has grown stronger. She hardly fussed anymore and her sex was always on point. I never thought I would ever say this, but I was wide open over shorty and my relationship with my son has gotten better too. I didn’t care if Destiny found out about him; I was done neglecting my seed. She had to know the truth one day, but right now I was buying time.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Destiny Clarke

  Things definitely took a turn for the worse over the last few months. The disappearing acts became too extreme. Last week, he stayed out three nights straight. When I confronted him, he lied. Claimed he was at his partner’s house playing cards and fell asleep. And the nights he was home, his phone constantly rang. He would look at the caller ID, and then cut the phone off. One night, after I saw what he did, I asked who was calling so late. He told me it was his sister. I didn’t say a word. I rolled over and closed my eyes.

  * * *

  I was up early. I had an appointment with a prominent private investigator. Word on the street was he was one of the best; he could find out anything or anyone who was hiding. I couldn’t believe I let my mother talk me into doing this, but the truth was I needed to know.

  I was dressed in black pants with a pair of Steve Madden stilettos. I had my hair wrapped up in a bun. It’d been months since the last time I got dressed up. I was in a great mood this morning. I had K. Michelle’s song “Can’t Raise a Man,” blasting through my speakers. The words of that song seemed as if she were sending a message directly to me. I felt tears well up in my eyes, but I used force and pushed them back. I wasn’t going to cry. Besides, I didn’t want to smear my make-up.

  I pulled up at the office on White Plains Road and parked. I strutted to the door, rang the bell, and I was immediately buzzed in. I walked in and stood in a trance. I was expecting a fat, burly-looking man; at least that’s how PI’s looked on the television. Not in this case. Mr. Spencer was a tall, dark-skinned brother with muscles that made me want to say, “Can I touch?”

  “Hello, you must be Mrs. Clarke.” He extended his hand.

  “Yes, that’s me. You must be Mr. Spencer.”

  “Yes, you got that right. Please take a seat.” He pointed to the chair.

  “Thank you,” I said and then sat across from him.

  “So tell me, what brings you to my side of the hood?”

  “Well, Mr. Spencer, I’ve been married for over ten years and I think my husband is stepping out on me. I want to file for divorce, but my husband has money and a f
irm that I helped build. All I want is proof that he’s an adulterer so I can take this into the courts.”

  “I understand. I always tell my clients that I might find something that could hurt them. Sometimes it’s best just to leave, instead of digging for dirt.”

  “Mr. Spencer, I mean no disrespect, but I’m a grown ass woman and I can handle whatever you may find. I’m not here to waste your time. I want proof,” I said in a fierce tone

  “Okay ma’am, you’re the boss and I hear you loud and clear.”

  I gave him details of things that seemed suspicious. I also gave him the address of the woman’s house that I’d followed Hassan to. I gave him every piece of information that I thought was relevant, and a recent picture of Hassan.

  “Okay Mrs. Clarke. I’ll be in touch soon.”

  “Alright, thank you for everything Mr. Spencer.” I got up, put on my sunglasses and walked out of the office. I held my head high and smiled. I was so over this bullshit and I was ready to take control.

  * * *

  The anticipation of waiting on Mr. Spencer was killing me. I pretended nothing was wrong when I was around Hassan. I had no idea what he was up to, but I was getting a bad vibe from him, so I kept my distance. I stayed busy working and caring for Amaiya.

  It was my day off, so I decided to do some laundry before I picked up Amaiya. I picked up a pair of Hassan’s pants to put into the washer. I emptied his pockets out and there was a piece of paper inside of one of the pockets; I took it out and placed it on top of the dryer. After I finished loading the machine, I glanced at the paper on my way out, so I turned and grabbed it up. When I opened it up, I saw it was a receipt from a Lexus car dealership for a vehicle that was purchased two months ago. Two months ago? I asked myself.

  I didn’t get a Lexus and he didn’t get one, so who got a Lexus? There was only one way to find out. I slipped into an Aeropostale sweat suit, grabbed my bag and ran out the door. It was one thing to be cheating, but it was a whole different ball game when you’re tricking on these hoes. A fucking Lexus? That bitch’s pussy better be made of platinum. I did 80 mph all the way into the city. I didn’t have time to worry about getting pulled over. I was going to confront this man. I had enough. I didn’t care if it was his place of business. Shit, my name may not be on the paper, but my money damn sure built it.

  I saw the secretary at the desk and she shot me a dirty look when I walked in.

  “Is my husband in?”

  “He’s in a meeting, you can’t just barge in there,” she said, before I pushed the door and entered his office.

  There were a woman and a man sitting in the chair across from him.

  “Honey, I’m in the middle of a meeting.”

  “Meeting is over. Please excuse yourselves.” I looked at both of them.

  “Destiny, what are you doing? I’m in the middle of going over a case with them.”

  “Like I said before, this meeting is over!” I yelled.

  The couple got up without saying another word and stormed out, closing the door behind them. “What in God’s name are you doing, coming up in here like you fucking crazy,” he said with rage in his voice.

  “I don’t give a damn about you or this fucking business. What I want to know is when did you buy a Lexus and who did you buy it for, huh?”

  “Lower your voice. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Really? You had this in your pocket.” I threw the paper in his face.

  He grabbed it, read it and smiled.

  “Oh, this is what you’re tripping about? My homeboy Corey asked me to co-sign this vehicle for him. I forgot I had the receipt in my pocket, I was supposed to give it to him.”

  “You know what Hassan, you’re a fucking liar. Unless you fucking Corey, there’s no way you bought him a fucking, brand new Lexus. I want you to know, I’m on to you. I swear you going to pay for all the shit you put me through.”

  “Destiny, baby, calm down! I swear on my mama, that’s Corey’s car and I’m not doing anything to hurt you. You’re my wife and I love you.” He tried to touch me.

  “Don’t you fucking touch me, you hear me?” I stormed out of the office.

  I walked up to the secretary. “Listen to me: don’t you ever tell me when I can go into my husband’s office. You’re nothing but the help, so please act accordingly before I get your ass out of here.”

  “Lady, something is wrong with you.”

  “You heard what I said.”

  I didn’t wait to hear what that heffer had to say, so I walked off on her ass.

  Imani Gibson

  After all the chaos that happened at the job earlier, I was in no mood to talk to Hassan, so I left early. I stopped by the bodega on the corner of East 228th Street and White Plains Road to pick up some milk and snacks for Josiah. On the way out, I ran into Corey. I hadn’t seen this dude in years, since our last rendezvous.

  “Damn shorty, what’s good?” He walked up on me.

  “Hey Corey. How you doing?” I tried to play it off.

  “Damn, I tried calling you a few times, but you ain’t answer.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been busy; plus me and Hassan trying to work on our relationship.”

  “Fuck that nigga; he used to be one of us, but since he a lawyer now, he act like he ’ont fuck with the crew no more.”

  “I don’t think it’s like that; he just really busy, you know?”

  “Enough about that dude. Let’s talk ’bout us. So tell me: when are you going to let this nigga know he ain’t the daddy? I mean, I’ve been patiently playing the back seat for a minute now, but the other day I see my li’l man and he the spitting image of me. Shit, he need to know who his daddy really is.”

  “Corey, come on. We talked about this and you agreed you’re in no position to take care of a child.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about what we talked about. That was when he was born. I got my shit together now. I got my own crib and a good job at the body shop in Mount Vernon. I just want to be a part of my son’s life.”

  I saw the desperation in his eyes. I knew I had to do something fast. I couldn’t risk him fucking up things for me.

  “Do you want to chill at the house for a little while? Maybe we can talk a little more about this.”

  “Bet, I’m parked over there. I’ll follow you.” He pointed to an old, beat up Toyota Camry.

  My head started spinning. I wished like hell I hadn’t run into this fool. I mean, I know I fucked up when I gave him the pussy. I was only trying to get back at Hassan for some shit he did to me and what better way to do that than to fuck his right-hand man. The first time we slept together, we were both fucked up off Xanax and weed. After that, this fool kept blackmailing me to sleep with him and if I didn’t, he threatened to go to Hassan. This was something I couldn’t risk.

  A month after we had sex, I found out that I was pregnant. I panicked. I didn’t know what to do because I had forgiven Hassan and we were back together again. I had to act fast. I had sex with Hassan and waited a few weeks, then I told him I was pregnant. At first, Hassan doubted that I was pregnant by him, but after a little convincing, he happily accepted Josiah.

  I had to beg Corey to stay quiet about the baby and he agreed. It only made sense because at the time he was in no position financially to support a baby. For years, I prayed that he would leave it alone and luckily, he did for a while. I was too happy when Hassan left the streets alone and stopped hanging around Corey and his crew.

  * * *

  Shit always fucked you up when you were on the right path. Why did I have to run into this fool? I parked in my spot and he parked beside me.

  “Damn B, you driving in style. Who bought you that Lexus?”

  “Hassan bought it for me,” I said in an annoyed tone.

  “Shit, that nigga making money now. No wonder he ’ont fuck with a nigga no more. I thought he got married.”

  “Yes, he’s married, but he’s about to get a divorce.”

&n
bsp; “Damn, that pussy got that nigga like that. I always told you, you got that ole sugar pussy.” He grinned.

  “Do you want something to drink?”

  “Yeah, something strong.”

  I poured him a little of Hassan’s vodka. I handed him the cup, then sat beside him. I started rubbing his leg.

  “Damn Ma, you missing a nigga, huh?”

  I didn’t say a word. I just smiled and kept rubbing toward his crotch. God knew I didn’t want to go there with his fool, but I had no choice. I needed him to keep his mouth shut until I got the house and Hassan got his divorce. I planned on being married to him by then.

  I got up, took my skirt and jacket off. I glanced at the clock, and realized that I didn’t have that much time. Josiah would be coming home soon and Hassan usually stopped by after work. I took my drawers off and got on my knees. I pulled out his dick and started sucking, using all my head skills.

  “Aargh,” he groaned.

  I had him where I needed him. I got up and sat on his hard dick from the back. I knew I was running out of time, so I sped up the process. I felt him getting aggressive and his dick enlarging; I knew he was about to cum. I tried to jump off his dick, but he held me down with a tight grip while his cum spilled into my pussy. He finally let me go and I jumped off him while sperm rolled down my legs.

  I looked at him. “Why you did that?”

  “Babe, the pussy so good, I couldn’t pull out. You on the pill, aren’t you?”

  “Hell no, I ain’t on no damn pill. Damn you, Corey.”

  “Come on baby girl, you know I smoke a lot of weed, so my sperm count is really low.”

  “Boy, whatever.”

  “Imani, you know how I feel about you. You need to leave that nigga. All he doing is dogging you out, plus he married. Stop playing the side ho. Come fuck wit’ a real nigga and I promise, I’ll take care of you and my son.”