Free The Other Woman by Eve Rabi

hand, a thoughtful look on his face. “Well, I don’t really have an addictive personality,” he muttered.
    My response was to push him into a chair, draw a blurred line along the upper part of his thigh, and snort it. Then I drew a line across my breasts and handed him a rolled up bank note.
    One snort and he was hooked. On cocaine, pleasure receptors are incredibly responsive, and whatever few inhibitions Bradley had remaining vanished just like that. We fucked like animals.
    “I thought sex like this only existed in the movies,” Bradley said as we both lay drenched in post-coital sweat.
    I smiled. Told you so.
    Men are not very good liars. Until they are having an affair. Then overnight, they become champion liars.
    Bradley spent every moment he could with me and became an expert liar. He manufactured tales about court cases needing extra attention and fabricated stories about meeting a client after-hours in the city.
    When he ran out of lies, I helped him along.
    “Tell her that you have to Skype with clients during U.S. and U.K. peak hours.”
    “Tell her your phone is problematic – signal problems.”
    “Ask her to text you if it’s important, as you cannot take calls.”
    “Tell her your car has been somehow locked away in a parkade that has shut down for the night, and that you have to wait for them to open it in the morning. Then you will come home.”
    He followed instructions, and his dumb idiot of a wife believed it all, to my delight.
    We fucked in his office (sometimes during working hours with his secretary in the front office), in the back seat of his Merc, in my apartment, in my BMW, in the back row at the movies, in restaurant bathrooms, at night on the beach, and in his and Rival’s bed. I had insisted on that. How dare his marital bed remain undefiled? That was the only bedroom we ever fucked in, and I was sure that he would get my scent when he went to bed.
    When the opportunity arose, he whisked me away to Bali for a few days. Sure we were accompanied by his friend Ritchie McMillan, a morose guy with a judgmental look on his face. But we were too happy to give a shit what he thought.
    Bradley loved my daringness, he loved my willingness to be discreet for Rival and the kids’ sake. He loved my spontaneity, he loved my take-charge attitude in the bedroom (even though we never did it in the bedroom), and he loved that I could be a lady in the street and a freak in the bed. He loved everything about me.
    No, no, no! No applause just yet, please.
     
    ****
     
    Random Seduction Tip: Complacency
    Men can become really complacent really quickly. Because you were the pursuer and the seducer, they can take you for granted almost immediately. That can make you resentful, and when that happens, sexual tension between the two of you can slacken.
    Therefore, it may be necessary to take a step back, turn the seduction tables around, and become the pursued. Suddenly becoming unavailable without explanation can shake up the complacent seduced.
    “Hunter Valley,” Rival said over her shoulder as she paged through the racks at Victoria’s Secret.
    “Really now?” I asked, my hackles rising.
    “Yeah, Bradley booked us the honeymoon suite. I got a babysitter, and I’m ready for a dirty weekend.” She turned and winked at me.
    “Mm.” Bastard. After all I had done to keep him in thrall, after catering to his every sexual need, he was taking his wife away for a dirty weekend? For what?
    “Black or white?” Rival asked, holding up two short silk nightdresses.
    I eyed them both, then said, “White. Black is a bit whorish for you.”
    Of course I wanted her to be the virginal and lackluster wife in white, muted shades, while I strutted my stuff in hot pink, black, red – colors that oozed passion, lust, and desire. I wasn’t about to make Rival my competition by encouraging her to wear black.
    “When do you leave?” I asked.
    “Friday next week. Back Sunday arvo.”
    “Great,” I murmured. I