Power and Mike.

What is power?
For a long time it meant a meaningless combination of sounds: P-O-W-E-R. Something that males are addicted to playing Whose-Dick-Is-Bigger games throughout their lives. A drug the society hooks you on making you participate in never-ending rat racing.  I used to look at others with the mixed feeling of condescending sympathy and relief. I felt sorry for their constantly desperate attempts to win in societal competitions and was blessed that I do not have to emulate.
After my personal experience with power I changed my opinion. It happened when I ended up homeless and pregnant with Greg’s baby. I was shocked and frozen spending days at work, evenings in the library, and nights in a stinky shelter surrounded by trashy people who stole my food and blahed over the government cell phones preventing me from sleeping. It was freezingly cold there, and, devoid of iron, I kept trying to adjust the AC to at least 75F until a junkie complained to the shelter attendant. I got yelled at, and they locked the temperature at 65F making me constantly shiver under the blanket.
I spent my entire free time in the library trying to focus on my doctorate. Looking for a place to move in was another headache, since my budget was too tight to cover the first and the last payment and the security deposit.
It was the time I lost count of days. Work, school, library, realtor, shelter. And cold, Greg’s baby made me freeze all the time.  And one day I met Mike. It was Friday night. I went to an old car show to take a break from everything and look at nicely dressed people. He gave me a smile, and I laughed in return. He was very approachable, and I was numb, dizzy, and freezing.
3 months pregnant, 85 pounds, and no insurance and desire to see a doctor. At that time, the last thing I wanted was letting medical idiots invade my privacy through ultrasounds, blood-work, and ridiculous recommendations to poison my unborn baby with dead bodies of slaughtered animals and infused with antibiotics dairy.   
On one of our dates he asked me for a blowjob. I slowly shifted my eyes from the platter of carrot rolls to his face and said “No”. I craved badly for carrots with raw nori and was happy that Mike took me to a vegan place and paid for it.  
          You will get allowances babe.
          No Mike.
          Aren’t you interested in how much?
          How much?
          How much do you want?
          It does not matter since I am not doing it. Can you order another platter of carrot rolls, by the way? – Of course he did not know I was pregnant. I was skinny to a fault and very pale. Obviously, he had a crush on anorexic girls.
          Just say Yes, and I will buy you whatever you want.  – He was a nicely looking guy, good perfume, refined manners, ironed shirt. But the taste of his cum was not something I wanted at that time.
          I am not doing it Mike. Sorry.  – Stress and pregnancy blocked everything, I literary felt nothing. No anger or frustration, just the craving for carrots and nori.
          I will pay you 400
I almost choked on my roll. Mike had that innocently pacific look on his face as if he were offering a scoop of ice-cream
 –          Are you kidding?
          Well, you need money my dear, you are in trouble, just trying to help – His blue eyes were deep and very warm, a white shirt, refined manners. – Wanna receive it without condom and cum in your mouth and …
I put the chopsticks aside. My appetite was entirely spoiled, but my mood jumped from zero to hundred. For the first time in my life I felt I was powerful. Homeless, pregnant, penniless, and lonely I had the luxury of saying No to the offer that exceeded my annual salary. Looking into Mike’s eyes, I felt he was losing and I was winning. I did have a dick, and my dick was much bigger than his. I was in power to build my life beyond the required package for a young and decent soon-to-be-mom lady: a house, a lawn, and someone with an average-sized cock and irregular erection to pay for the golf and boat lifestyle. The feeling of freedom from the societal slavery was strong and amazing. My collar was off, my leash was torn.
He went on talking and talking about my horrible job, problems with housing, and his sincerely willingness to help. The more rational he sounded, the funnier our dialogue seemed to me.
Abuse in my marriage escalated when I got pregnant, I had to run away. Who knows; maybe my ex felt the baby is not his. He kicked me out of his insurance as soon as I left. Greg did not answer the phone. His secretary told me he was in Argentina until the end of the month. The whole situation was ridiculously unreal, and the grand finale of meeting that horny jerk seemed funny to me. I sensed Mike’s change of attitude, he could not bend me over, I had the dick, it was much bigger and firmer. 
He got respectful. I asked him for another portion of carrot rolls to go and for a couple of warm blankets.
          Do you need anything else, babe?
          Yes, Buddha.
          I will put him under the pillow, he will help me find serenity and fall asleep in this stinky place
          You’ll get it.
He silently followed me to my car with the box of the carrot rolls, put it on the passenger seat, and asked if I was still willing to see him again. I gave him my business card and drove away. Dating someone weaker than I am was not on my agenda.
It was the turning point. I knew things would get better. The next day I got approved for Medicaid and scheduled to check on Greg’s baby. Two days later Mike mailed me some cash, it was enough to take care of the required payments and move into my own place. A week after I received a phone call from Greg’s office. He was back and willing to help with food and doctor visits. He was excited that I finally had my own apartment where he could see me whenever he wanted.
My inner power was with me, I felt it, experienced it, and it was fun.


I have no idea why Greg is jealous. How do I explain my Jewish guy that the last thing a girl wants in this life is someone’s cock in her tiny depilated pussy. How can I make him grasp that beauty salons, luxury massage, fitness, quality scrubs and creams, and soft silk linen are much more preferable for us than a sweaty and hairy someone who reeks of a medium-rare steak and social drinking. Yikes.    
The scope of girl’s interests lies beyond guys’ porno fantasies. But Greg does not believe me and continues throwing accusations that I sleep around.
Greg can’t stand people. He smells their shit and cancer at work and brings to me the stress of dealing with stupidity. I do not blame him. I would not be able to cut people’s bodies and clean their filth. Greg hates it too, he literary can tell how stinky his patients’ thoughts are by their smell. He keeps telling me that the body is the reflection of the soul, and he is stuck saving the body damaged by the ugly mind.
And Greg seriously thinks that I am cheating on him with one of those who are unwilling to relinquish anger and resentment, constipate, and stink hiding their foul smells behind perfume, money, and life experience. LOL
Being pathologically greedy, Greg does not understand that some guys are capable of giving since they like to see me smiling. I love presents, I receive them with sincere happiness, and they love making me happy.
Mike’s BMW was the financial relief, I sold it and finally had the leaking roof fixed and changed old tiling in the bathroom. The fact that I know how to provide for myself without wasting my health at work does not necessarily mean I cheat.
But Greg does not understand. He left the bruises on my throat that night, crushed my furniture, and disappeared. Like a spoiled little kid, he gets furious when his toys are taken away. He is very possessive. And this is something I love, his power to say yes to my no, his excessive control over my life, and his strength. He is much stronger, and I can’t resist. Awesome feeling.
My morning has started with his come-back rudeness “I want to pin your down and pump you full of my cum. Can we meet today?”   
I texted my usual “No” and smiled.
How can I possibly cheat on such a rare animal!   

Greg’s Wife. Breakfast meeting

The second time I ran into Greg’s wife was during the breakfast conference aimed at the trauma-informed care. She represented her company, I showed up since I was hungry and wanted to see my good friend who was supposed to educate on domestic violence after fruit and coffee.
Emy immediately recognized me and approached our table.

         I know you, you have a funny name. What was it a bunny or a squirrel?
          Neither.  I had no desire to respond to her sarcasm, it was too early, and I was not fully awake yet anyways
My one-word feedback and the serene eye-contact without smiling made her nervous.
          I was just trying to be funny, did not mean to offend you, what was your name again?    
 –          Vixen
          Now I remember. You play the piano and have a kid
Another long and meaningful eye-contact. Yes, my sweet overweight lady. I have a child, Greg’s, your sons’ brother, but you do not need to know, really, it will save you a visit to your psychoanalyst.
          Yes, Emy.
          And you remember my name, how nice of you. I do not see any piano here though
          There is one in the lobby but I am not playing today
          Why are you here than, are you a psychiatrist?
Well I act like one every time your hubby comes into my life throwing tantrums at 1 am. I help him cope with his work, family stress, and absence of sex life so he can come to you relieved and ready for a daily portion of drama. Actually, I am a family counselor who has been saving your marriage for a while.
           No, I am not
          What do you do for living? 

She was still standing at our table, and my friend was put off by the way she presented herself.

          Would you like to have a seat? You are standing, we are sitting – not good, – There was a slight surprise on her face, she obviously did not expect me to be nice to her.
          Thank you, Vixen. I really wanted to know more about you, people talk about you, they talk a lot, I was just curious …
She used good perfume and had a perfect manicure. Her wedding ring did not trigger any emotions, I literary felt nothing when I saw it: neither jealousy, nor sadness. She wears a ring, I am required to wear his presents, necklaces that he regularly brings me from business trips: same collar, same leash, 
 same slavery. He owns me, he is in my heart and between my legs. 
          Really? And what do people say? – I was curious. I do not interact, I am not a people-person, prefer horses. Animals make much more sense than most humans. 
          People say you always get invitations to the events that none of us have access to
          Really? Which ones?
          The recent VIP party in Cheretto… My company was unable to get membership there, we have been on the wait list for years. And people saw you there. I saw you on our front cover not that long ago and recognized the face. Just interested who you are, Vixen. Everyone, actually is. 

I laughed loudly and felt quiet and surprised glances towards our table. My friend gave me a disapproving look – after all, it was a trauma-related event for therapists, psychologists, and social workers.  It was the time to go, being around serious people who claim they help others but are  unable to stop eating junk food and take care of their skin and bodies is not something that I can tolerate for a long time.

Vibrating IPhone. A text from Greg: “Do u want to get fucked? I want you to be my little slut”.What an idiot. How can Emy live with a guy like this?

          It was a pleasure to see you both, but I gotta go. – I smiled to Emy and thanked my friend for the invitation. Anyways, breakfast pineapples were yummy.   
          We need to get together, Vixen. Would you like to meet for lunch?  – Emy hurriedly opened her handbag searching for her business card
          Sure, you gave me your number in Ritz, remember? I will give you a call, and we’ll meet in Cheretto if you like. They will let you in if you are with me, and you will buy me lunch, deal?
          You are so sweet, my dear, you are…  Mentioning Cheretto got Emy from zero to hundred, she was happy, she seemed to change her attitudes about me in seconds. And I was leaving, I was in a hurry, I wanted to see Greg, I was happy that he is still the part of my life.

Last night

On my long and boring drive home, I had enough time to think about: what is it exactly that I long for in my relations with Greg? Big cock? Money? Cravings for adrenaline?  It was warmth. The banal warmth that I felt with every cell of my body when he was around. Since he disappeared, and I was positive he would never show up again, I felt I should find a good substitute so I could live my life without having him on my mind all the time.
The way out was simple: a very warm shower and a plush blanket.  – First I jumped under the warm water and stayed in the shower for 15 minutes, and then I continued the warm therapy under the green plush with the Vogue magazine and fresh strawberries.
When I heard the sound of a text message that night, I knew, I felt, it was him again.
“You’ve been with someone in Turandot, who is he?”
 Mike, the BDSM dude I had lunch with there. Apart from cajoling me into his sadist-masochist fantasies, Mike is a nice guy, always arranges our meetings in best fine dining places, talks sugar, brings fantastic presents, and is respectful. 
I texted back smirking: “Someone I am happy with, none of your business, bye”  – I knew Greg would respond, he is possessive to a fault.  The IPhone started ringing, which was very predictable. I put the Vogue aside, shoved the phone under the pillow, turned the light off, and felt the plush all over my skin – very soft and warm, much better than Greg’s touch – he was always rough with me anyway.
Two hours later the door bell rang. He is really a night guy, and does not care much if I need some rest at 2 am. I opened the front door, he was big, warm, and worried.
Just checking if you are ok” – his hoarse whisper made me shudder
Go back home, your Emy is waiting 
“My wife saw you with a guy in Turandot, how long have you been cheating on me?
“He is here, you need to leave now, forget this address, it is over” – I tried to show confidence, but my body was shaking
He violently pushed me and went into the bedroom, jealous and furious. I heard him moving the furniture and checking my closet. The first time I felt his vulnerability and helplessness. I turned on the TV and tried to focus on the news.
“No one is here. You are a damn liar, Vixen”  he came back and threw the TV remote into the wall. He looked disparate.
“Greg, go away, please”.  I was too tired for the drama, wanted my warm shower and my blanket. He came very close, I raised my head and calmly looked into his Jewish eyes. “This is over, go”, –  He had that flat pit-bull look, horrifying and magnetic.  The next moment he grabbed me by my neck, lifted, and threw me away. I heard the slam of the front door and the screech of his Audi. He left.
I will never see him again, this is so painful, I can’t stand it, I want him back.  I could not even cry, I was frozen.

Things that I love

I love nursery, breathing in the smell of roses and lilies  
I love work outs and watch my little defined body in the mirror every morning
I love staying in bed with my laptop doing nothing, just chilling
I love attractive people, the whole world belongs to them, and I am glad it is so not visa versa
I love going through my undies choosing the one to wear
I love the touch of silk on my skin, wearing a silk dress is the best way to relax
I love silence, what can be better than listening to it. This is exactly the reason why I get tired of Greg. He is impulsive, egotistic, and loud. Once day I will be with the man I will feel comfortable to be quiet with. A silent guy, he would stop by, bring me presents, have sex, and leave – no show, no drama – what can be nicer?
I love when Emy brings me coconuts. For an unknown reason, she considers me her girlfriend and always pleases me with something yummy. First I felt awkward, she is the wife of my man, not that I care much, but the whole situation is funny – the spouse and the mistress have coconut milk together, go boating, and share concerns about weather forecasts. But then my uneasiness was gone. She will never know about me and Greg, why not give her the kind of attention she begs for. Obviously, Greg does not give her much otherwise she would not complain to me about being lonely, misunderstood, and useless all the time.
I love sleeping with my window open and the AC off.
I love incense sticks on the bedside table
I love raw oysters with lemon and the ocean
I love sailing through sunsets, Greg makes fun of my boating skills, but I do not care really
I love cats, very independent, and self-loving
I love fish, they eat, poop, mate, and are quiet all the time, people should learn from them how to live
I love myself, my little body, my pedicure, my inability to get things done, my fears, my desires, my frustrations, my tears, my laughter…