Nine Times Wasn’t Enough

Julian Blackwood’s mistress set him a monthly KPI: at least 10 sexual encounters. This month, he was too busy and only managed 9. His mistress responded by going on a one-day hunger strike. To appease her, Julian actually begged me to comfort Tiffany: “Aria, please go explain to Tiffany. Tell her I haven’t touched you all year. Don’t let her be jealous or upset.” My eyes widened. Julian and I hadn’t been intimate in three years, but his request was beyond ridiculous. I agreed to help him, but scoffed, “You should really see a doctor. If you can’t even manage 10 times a month, what kind of mistress would want you?!”

I called Tiffany’s phone, my voice calm: “Julian has belonged to you for a long time, and he’ll only belong to you from now on.” After I hung up, Julian tried to soothe me: “You’re always in my heart too, Aria.” But I didn’t care anymore. We’d been separated for almost two years and would soon finalize our divorce. However, Tiffany wasn’t pleased by my explanation. She didn’t believe Julian hadn’t been with me! So, Julian came back to me, looking dejected, asking for help again. I asked him directly: “Julian, what exactly do you want me to do?” “How about you go to the hospital for a vaginal exam? The doctor can prove you haven’t been intimate in a long time. Don’t worry, I’ll arrange for a female doctor.” He paused, then continued, “Tiffany’s got a one-track mind; she won’t believe it unless you do this. Just bear with her.” A wave of nausea churned in my stomach, and I recoiled instinctively, putting as much distance between us as possible. Even though I’d long since given up on him, hearing him make such a request for his mistress still sent a chill through me. He completely disregarded my feelings, pressing on: “Just think of it as a regular check-up.” The disgust in my chest intensified. I clutched my chest and sneered at him, “Julian, let’s just get divorced already!” I exploded at him. Knowing he was in the wrong, he didn’t push it further, his tone softening as he tried to placate me: “Don’t be angry! You’re always the most important person to me. Just calm down for a bit.” He always said that. He’d say I was the most important, then climb into his mistress’s bed again and again. He just presumed his money and power meant I’d put up with anything! After all, I’d fought my way through a lineup of his admirers to become Mrs. Blackwood. What Cinderella, once she’s in the castle, would ever want to leave? He didn’t know that this Cinderella had already saved enough to be financially independent. Julian’s phone rang again. He answered it. I heard Tiffany crying hysterically: “Julian! I became your mistress at 18. You promised me you’d be with me 10 times a month and never touch your wife! You’re a liar! I’m breaking up with you!” Tiffany Reed was the most spoiled and demanding of all the mistresses he’d ever kept. But Julian doted on her the most. Even a year ago, when his mother passed away unexpectedly, Julian left the funeral early on the very day to be with Tiffany. He left me to manage the funeral alone. In the middle of the night, during the funeral, Tiffany sent me taunting photos. They were all of her and Julian in various explicit poses in bed. From that day on, I knew Julian wasn’t just having a physical affair; he was truly in love! He loved her so much that he was willing to trample all over my dignity.