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The traffic back and forth was frenetic in the lead-up to the start. I remembered that the first act was a slim short haired brunette in a blue leotard who performed suspended above the small stage in a clear sphere. She was an absolute contortionist who could bend her body in all sorts of directions.I'd wondered when watching her perform last week if she could actually lick her own pussy. Her face got so close during her performance. That would be truly freaky.It was then that I realised that I wasn't alone. Looking to my right it was her standing just a couple of feet from me as she waited for her cue to go on stage."Do you get nervous?" I blubbered out nervously myself."Huh..." she said then added " ... all the time"."I loved your performance ... I saw the show last week" I added as she moved closer to make talking easier with all the loud music coming from the performance arena."Thank you" she said with a beautiful smile.Then she got her cue, and was running off into the arena. I. His lover's shoe was a poisoned dart. The venom where it hit first inflicted shoulder pain but then shifted to my heart and mind. Her, "Bitch, you, you fucking whore," curse echoed within. It all raised the question.Does anyone love me? Hubby was attracted to me because I was the innocent, young, exotic Oriental girl next door; inscrutable as he often said. Once married he wanted to trade me, a sex chip to bargain for other women by swinging. Now he’s in love with his business. Gary? How many girls did he take to Alviso’s train tracks? He was too clever and adept. He brought enough girls to know the time the train came. I wasn’t his different, mysterious, beautiful girl, just his next seduction which went amiss. Edward changed me, changed me into his Asian fetish sex doll. He only loved his doll creation which he decorated for his sexual whims to play games with. Finding another, he ignored my email birthday greeting. I was his discarded Christmas tree. His true love was his.
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