I had always wondered about the European men who have mistresses. My curiosity had more to do with the protocol and the logistics than the actual act itself. Well, I got my answers when I met Camille.
Camille was the perfect mistress, well not technically speaking since I was not married or anything like that when we were together. It is just that we met regularly every Sunday evening at her place and I financially supported her.
I met Camille by chance at a coffee place. She was just ahead of me in the line. There was nothing “head-turning” about her but if you took the time and looked her over, she was very attractive with short black hair, gentle face, well-proportioned body, stylish glasses and a nice smile. She was the typical single women that you meet in big cities who work at high rise buildings, take public transportation to work, always well-dressed, get together with their women and gay friends after work for drinks and gossip and always complain about the lack of eligible single men!
I got my latte and sat at the table near her. I borrowed the Sports section and chit-chatted with her a little bit and finally asked her out on the Sunday night. I don’t know why I chose Sunday instead of Saturday. Maybe because it seemed safer, or maybe I didn’t want her to think that I didn’t have any other plans on the weekend!
She lived in a rent-control apartment building in the nice and busy part of town; the type of neighborhood that you have to drive for a while to find a parking spot. We hooked up at a local hang out and sat at the oyster bar. She was quite intelligent and was a great conversationalist. She would listen carefully to what I had to say and from her questions you would know that she understood exactly what I said.
After dinner we ended up at her place. It was a cozy one-bedroom place that was nicely decorated and had a nice view. She said that she had lived there for many years and if it was not for the rent control, the rent would have been more than twice by now and she would not have been able to afford it. The place also had old style bathroom sink with separate hot and cold faucets. I had seen those at fancy Bed and Breakfast places and always wondered what if you wanted warm water! Do you run your hands quickly back and forth between the hot and cold faucets?
She had a little white poodle that barked a lot for the first few minutes, but then came and sat on my lap. We ended up in her bedroom after a while. It was the perfect date all around! As I was getting dressed to leave and before I could ask her out again, she invited me to come there the following Sunday for dinner. I actually liked that. I had other plans the following weekend but Sunday nights were always open.
The following Sunday I arrived at 5 PM with a nice bottle of wine and some desert. The little poodle barked for a while, we talked, laughed had some wine, had dinner at around six and on to the bedroom after that. This became our routine from then on. Every week I coordinated with her about what she wanted me to bring for Sunday dinner. Then I would get there early enough to find a parking spot. Her barking poodle would greet me at the door and we would then go about the usual things. I guess growing up in a Catholic family, Sunday dinner at home was very important to her!
She never asked me what I did on Friday or Saturday nights. Only one time she asked me with a smile if I had a Persian girlfriend or wife because she had heard at the office about Iranians who import wives from Iran. I just laughed and said no.
She was very good in bed and also curious about my Iranian background so one time she asked me to teach her something sexy in Farsi while we made love. I taught her how to say, “Mano Bokon, Beeshtar, Beeshtar…(make love to me more and more!) It always makes me laugh when people talk during sex. But I have learned to bite my lip and laugh inside since most women don’t appreciate the humor!
The topic of money came up after a month or so when I asked her about her car. She had a Honda Civic that she never drove and was parked in the building garage. She said that she needed to get the car fixed but couldn’t afford to do so. I offered to take her car to my mechanic and see what he could do.
We left the car at my mechanic on the next Sunday night. I called him in the morning and told him to fix the car but keep the invoice for me. The next Sunday when we met, she was very appreciative and not only cooked some nice rack of lamb, but also was all over me in the bedroom! Finally, a light bulb went off in my head! She was extremely nice to me, never asked me very personal questions, was never jealous and was always happy and upbeat. So the least that I could do was to help her out financially here and there so that she could buy fancy clothes or whatever else that she wished to do. And it was not too much of a burden for me either.
However, I wasn’t sure how to approach the topic with her. The next time that we met, while she was in the kitchen, I slipped some money in one of the drawers in her dining room. I figured that it would be easier for me to explain it over the phone later than face-to-face. Later on that week, I called her and told her that I had left a little present for her and I hoped that she didn’t mind. She went quiet for a second and then told me that I really didn’t need to do that and then she thanked me.
From then on it became a part of our routine. Once or twice a month, while she was in the kitchen or the bathroom, I would slip some money into the same drawer and during the week when we confirm our schedule for the coming Sunday, she would thank me for the “gift.”
The relationship lasted almost a year and I always looked forward to my Sunday nights at Camille’s place. But finally when I met somebody that I really liked I decided that the right thing to do was to end the relationship. I came up with some excuses for a while to cancel the Sunday dinners and then stopped calling her. I just wasn’t sure how to end something like this. A month later she left me a message and said hi. I thought very long and hard about staying friends with her. But I knew that one way or another we would end up in her bedroom again!
Months later, on a Sunday afternoon when I was sitting home in front of TV and completely bored, I thought about her and all the fun times that we had together. I almost picked up the phone and called her, but then I remembered the barking poodle, the street parking and the hot and cold faucets in her bathroom and changed my mind. Oh well!