The Eternal Mistress
Lucy had a peculiar obsession—she stole married men from their families. Her fascination with husbands began in her youth. What started as harmless flings soon turned into an obsession, a twisted game she called her “sport.”
Long ago, when she was young, she had fallen madly in love with a man. Their romance burned bright—he even proposed and met her parents. He was in her town for work, and before filing for marriage, he left to tell his family.
He never returned.
A week later, she discovered she was pregnant by Paul—the man she adored.
With his full name and hometown, Lucy tracked him down—only to learn he’d been happily married for three years. The shock cost her the child, plunging her into despair. But in time, she hardened, vowing to move forward.
From that day, she despised married men—and swore revenge.
She was striking, the kind of woman who turned heads effortlessly. At forty-four, Lucy still had a slender figure, thick hair, and flawless skin. She had no children, but a well-paying job kept her comfortable—though she changed workplaces often, thanks to her affairs.
Every man she seduced left his wife—only for Lucy to discard him. Women hated her, but men adored her. She wasn’t classy beauty, but there was something magnetic about her.
Countless marriages crumbled because of her.
She had no interest in weak men who chased every skirt. Her true prey were successful men, those with long-standing marriages and ironclad loyalty.
For the past year, she’d been seeing just such a man.
His name was Geoffrey, a commercial director at her firm. Forty-eight, three children, and nearly twenty years of marriage. A tough nut to crack.
Geoffrey occasionally dabbled with younger women—just for amusement—but he loved his wife, guarded her peace, and always came home on time. His mobile was never off, his devotion never in question.
His wife, Margaret, was plain—no plastic surgery, no enhancements to keep a man’s interest.
Lucy didn’t win him quickly. She played it carefully—lingering in his path, dropping files in the office corridor, every feminine trick in the book.
Eventually, she caught his lingering glances. After the office Christmas party, they slipped away to a hotel. And so it began.
Geoffrey couldn’t last a day without her. He called constantly, summoned her to his office under flimsy pretenses. Evenings were spent in a cosy flat he’d rented in the city centre—their secret hideaway.
Yet despite his passion, he never spoke of leaving Margaret. He’d stay an hour or two, then rush home. Weekends were strictly for family.
Once, Lucy bumped into Geoffrey and Margaret at the supermarket. She approached them.
*”Geoffrey! Lovely to see you!”*
*”Ah, Lucy! Shopping as well?”*
*”Margaret, meet Lucy from accounting,”* he said stiffly, paling before flushing crimson. His wife smiled warmly.
*How does he stand her?* Lucy thought. *Plain, plump, unpolished. And still he won’t leave. We’ve been together so long, yet he’s never stayed the night.*
This wasn’t her usual game—her past conquests caved much faster.
A knock came at her door. There stood Geoffrey, flowers in hand.
*”Lucy, I’ve missed you terribly!”* He swept her into an embrace.
*Surely he’s leaving her now,* she thought.
But no.
Margaret was growing suspicious, he said. They’d have to meet less often.
*”Of course, darling,”* Lucy purred. *”I’ll wait forever. But my birthday’s soon—there’s a quiet little restaurant just outside town. We won’t be seen.”*
She watched him relent. *One last chance.*
Inside, she seethed. Hiding from some frumpy housewife? Waiting like a guilty secret?
No more.
She picked up her phone.
*”If you’d like to know what your husband does in his free time, come to The Red Lion at seven tomorrow. Prepare for a shock.”*
Attached were photos. She’d bought the SIM card weeks ago, memorised Margaret’s number from Geoffrey’s phone.
The evening arrived. The restaurant was quiet, soft music playing. Geoffrey kissed her hands over wine.
Then—
*”Geoffrey, is this true?”*
Margaret stood behind him, trembling.
*”Margaret! It’s not what you think—this is Lucy from accounting! We’re celebrating a deal!”*
*”And this?”* She shoved her phone in his face—a photo of them tangled in bed.
She fled.
Geoffrey sat frozen, then turned to Lucy in fury.
*”Why?”*
*”Why? A year of my life wasted on you! I thought you’d leave her! Instead, I’m your dirty secret!”*
*”Leave her? Are you mad? I love my wife. You were entertainment—nothing more. Skilled, yes. Passionate, certainly. But I’d never live with a woman like you.”*
Geoffrey and Margaret divorced. His children cut ties. A month later, he suffered a stroke—doctors fought, but failed. A once-happy family lay in ruins.
Margaret never remarried.
Lucy quit her job, started anew. But for the first time, she longed for something real—a husband, a child. Yet no man saw her as more than a mistress. None ever proposed.
