A Letter from a Mistress

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A pure fictional story of a CEO and his mistress. A social comment about prostitution.

Submitted: May 14, 2019

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Submitted: May 14, 2019

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As a CEO of the biggest yacht company in the State. I do whatever I am supposed to do and I also do whatever I like or want to do. 'A pompous guy' many people said I am. But today I did not feel that way at all. 

When I walked into my office today, my secretary gave me a letter with a beautiful handwriting of my name and address on top of the envelope. It was clear that this letter was not about business as it normally came in with printed form; it was a personal letter from someone who did not use electronic device much to be able to have such neat handwriting. My secretary eyed me with her well-practiced teasing smile, 'A mistress?' and walked away. Leaving me stood transfixed. 

I had no recollection who this might be! As visiting pubs, night clubs or red-light district had become part of my weekly routine and was how it made me looked swanky or pompous. A mistress? I never treated anyone as one, even I seemed to have countless of them. With mystery and curiosity, I opened the envelope, inside it had another small white sachet, and I read the letter: 

"To Rick, the Surgeon from Royal Hospital; Philip, the professor of Northfield University; Charlie, the CEO of New Town State yacht company; Martin, the taxi driver; and Tomas, the young freshman of the Congress, 

If I had not made a mistake in recalling, you were one of the customers who frequently visited me at Bluebird Night Club during last Sept. And each one of you all promised me love and a home when I asked you of what reason you had to see me for company but your own wife. With that, here I send you a portion of bone ashes from the God. 

The baby was only seven months old inside my body and four hours old after his birth before he decided to kick his bucket and leave. He was so tiny, so weak and did not know how to cry until the nurse garbed him on the legs and swung him upside down for nearly twenty minutes. Few hours later, the Dr. told me he died after he gave two yawns. I thought he must be tired of breathing, or feeling too bored to keep fighting. I tried to see how his face looked like and whom he resembled. But I did not know, and I supposed he did not want to know either. I only knew he did not look like anyone of you nor did he look like me, he was like a perfect china doll with a rounded chin and somehow pinkish cheeks, a color of a little piglet. Nurse said he was a cute little thing with so white a skin. And then the shut closed mouth and eyes when he ceased to breathe. That was all I remembered of him. 

If he did survive through, for a baby, maybe I should say for a fetus, with a weak body like him, he would not live happily, so it would be better for him to die before he started to drink milk and started to resemble anyone but a perfect china doll. 

But even I thought of above, to a fetus who looked like no one I still felt pity for him. Finally, I cried. Maybe he thought of he should not look like anyone at all and was born with such a worry. Maybe he also thought he should die before he started to show some resemblance to anyone of you and got declined of your fatherhood if I determined to find out. 

Knowing me as a woman with hundreds, maybe thousands of lovers, you, all of you I should say, treated me like a pebble on the sidewalk–something you had to walk on but felt stung in your foot if I dare to step closer for your further attention. 

I know whatever reason you told me why you needed to have a mistress was a lie. I have long since given up the idea that there was such thing called love existed between our or any causal relationship, people visited me only "for unlawful carnal knowledge." Period. It happens to be the actual meaning of FUCK. 

But despite all of that, a baby came as a result was not his fault. He did not know whom he should be like, or perhaps he refused to be like anyone of you. He decided to kick his bucket. But for the mercy of God, He saved him from disgrace by saying to a worried fetus who was still in my body, ' My cute little child, you are like me. Please be born in my feature. Because you are a child of human being. And you are innocent.' 

Whatever I told you here, I could not really say to anyone. As it would ruin my career and would ruin your fun. I could only share each one of you one fifth of the boy's bone ashes, as I believed it was one of you who gave him life at the time. But I also want to ask you: please do not tell me any more lie when you come to visit me. Just say you are here "for unlawful carnal knowledge" and I will simply do more protection. So, I will not have to send you another baby's bone ashes again." 


That small white sachet sat at my table and eyed me like my secretary and said in an eerier tone, 'Are you my Daddy?' For whole day long, I have been wondering how many more letters I would receive from different places...

 


© Copyright 2020 Derina Penn. All rights reserved.

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