MISTRESS MEMOIRS by Lorraine Elzia
ISBN: 978-0-9790222-5-8
GENRES: Fiction, Contemporary, Romance
BLURB
What kind of woman becomes a mistress? Someone who has no regard for the unspoken
cardinal rule among women of “Thou shalt not covet another woman’s
husband?” Certainly not Kahla Thompson; or so she thought.
Kahla is beautiful, single, and independently successful, possessing
all the material goods a woman could desire. Her life is surreptitiously turned
upside down when she meets Kevin Eckhart, a married man with a million-dollar
smile and a seductive charm she falls prey to. The two have a magnetic, compelling
attraction for each another and begin a relationship under the guise of friendship.
Kahla struggles to suppress her hunger for Kevin, but soon finds herself in
a paradox; fighting her natural propensity to avoid an affair versus her lascivious
desires for a married man and all he represents.
Mistress Memoirs is an engaging, unorthodox lurk into the mind
of a mistress. Through the illuminating introspective words of Kahla; Lorraine
Elzia engrossingly entertains, while skillfully removing the cocoon of preconceived
notions as to why a woman becomes a mistress. By delving into the self-analyzing
inner thoughts that catapult Kahla into the role of the woman on the side, Mistress
Memoirs gives a vision of who the other woman really is as viewed from the standpoint
of the mistress herself.
EXCERPT
Why are all the good ones taken?” I asked myself in rhetorical fashion.
“Who did I piss off? Or whose shit list did I get on that had caused me
not to warrant just a little glimpse of romantic happiness?” I fervently
rubbed my temples and moved my head side to side hearing the echoing cracking
sound of released tension and bottled frustration.
I deserved someone good. I deserved to feel an orgasm brought
about by the covetable hands of someone other than my own. “Why did he,
and all the other good ones, have to be married?” That question hit me
over the head like a ton of bricks. My eyes began to tighten, and I felt the
salty taste of tears meet my angered, pouted lips.
The pity party had begun, and I had forgotten to bring a gift.
“Pull yourself together girl.” My mind screamed
in a megaphone of disgust at the cry for mercy I was begging for. “Oh
well, this is just a slight set back,” I tried to convince myself. “I’ll
get over it. I always do. I just have to keep looking. My Prince Charming was
out there on his white horse, waiting to ride off into the glorious sunset;
I just had to be patient and keep looking. When it was my time, God would send
him to me. It just wasn’t my time yet.” I uttered those words defiantly,
out loud to myself for encouragement. I knew I was too blessed by God to be
stressing over a man, or lack thereof.
I did that sort of self-motivating talk often. Who needed Dr.
Phil? I sure didn’t, I had ME.
I learned early in adulthood that I had to uplift myself since
there wasn’t anyone else to do it for me. I tried to be supportive; I
tried to be optimistic as I told myself half-heartedly, “I’d be
okay. I could wait. I had waited that long, so I could wait longer.” After
all I wanted Mr. Right, not just Mr. Right Now.
And then I heard it again. The intensity of the sound was more
obtrusive than before; almost as thunderous as a subway car barreling through
an underground station. I could hear it get louder and louder… more nerve
wrecking and piercing to my ears and thoughts than before...someone had turned
up the volume on my biological clock until it was deafening to my ears... tick,
tock, tick, tock, tick tock….
