My wife's mistress. Nikolay Lakutin

what?

      – Well, the kids noticed and asked what mom today is so beautiful, I still have makeup on. What a feast was asked, I said I was just in a good mood. In fact, Maxim and I had a significant date. Eight years since we started Dating. In marriage seven years, and so on fact eight.

      – Great, congratulations.

      – Nothing much. He didn't notice anything, of course he didn't remember.

      Didn't you?

      That's right. Came home from work, hastily threw himself something, then randomly flipped through the channels on TV and went to bed.

      – Maybe I was tired strongly, can troubles at work?

      – Yeah, when we're tired or in trouble, then we're all in trouble in the family, we've been through this. Bad mood we share generously, but something good to share – it does not come to his mind.

      – Well, did you catch up with him in bed?

      Better not catch up.

      What's wrong?

      'Not really, in General live, but you always want more.

      – You're right friend.

      Irina left the answer. She didn't like coming in the evening to the bedroom, tried caresses to Wake her husband who just grunted through the snoring in response. How she still managed to Wake him up and three minutes of something remotely resembling intercourse two packages of dumplings was crowned the same result. My husband again began to snore, and his wife even did not manage to warm up. But not even this upset her most, though, and feel that you use unilaterally, not too nice. In the morning she got up early, made the dough and made pancakes. I managed to run to the alarm clock in the store for condensed milk, because she knew that her husband loves pancakes with condensed milk. And brought all this beauty along with fragrant brewed coffee right to the bed on a tray. But when, kissing her husband on the bristly cheek, he tried to create a pleasant awakening, I heard an unexpected reaction:

      – Get off me, let me sleep a little more.

      And even this was not the last straw, but the fact that, still standing under the alarm clock, the head of the family, not paying any attention to the fact that he served his favorite delicacy that his wife is trying to please him, several times in the morning passed by her shining hope smile. And leaving the pigsty on the nightstand, a couple of greasy spots on the duvet cover and a few drops of condensed milk on the sheets-disappeared without saying a simple thank you, without showing any signs of gratitude, having only to say, closing the door:

      – I ran until the evening.

      ***

      It's been a few months, no different novelty. All so same Maxim felt themselves an exemplary man, head of family and its Foundation, genuinely believing, that he makes all correctly and in some cases even exemplary. Irina lived more and more as children, closing in herself the woman, being realized only as mother and the worker. But over the months, she managed to make friends with Natasha. It turned out, to lead a friendship with a representative of non-traditional orientation is not so bad. In some ways even better than with an ordinary friend. The fact that thinking Natasha was very different from the usual Ira eye. First, Natasha had her own interesting vision on most issues that were not limited to work. Second, she wasn't possessive. This manifested itself in everything, in particular in communication. It was like she was giving herself to the world. Always positive, always charming, fresh. And even if Mr. workers on duty, it did not do it as an angry dog, and very cautiously and courteously. Thus, she was able to win the team very quickly. There were, of course, and the envious something to hide, in male attention Natasha bathed in the rays of the sun, but her little secret at work, no one still not know but a random witness of that conversation.

      – How do you manage that? – Ira couldn't stand the growth of curiosity and asked Natasha when they left work together in the evening.

      – Are you talking about?

      – About your inner light. You're glowing. I can see that you have plenty of energy, you're all that… even I am envious, though I have never ascribed myself to the ranks of envious women.

      Natalia smiled.

      – Which way are you going? she asked.

      – To me there, to the subway about ten minutes walk, – Irina answered.

      – Come on, spend, at the same time tell something about it suggested a charming Natasha.

      The girls lagged behind the bulk of passers-by, and Natasha quietly began the story:

      – I'm grateful that you kept your word. Let no one knows, so less questions and thoughts. But I'll tell you about it. The thing is, I've been living with the same girl for almost eight years.

      – Wow. Not all traditional couples live together so much – – Irina was surprised.

      – That's the thing. Rima is my girlfriend, she's a little younger than me, she was twenty-six. For five years the difference, but the main thing is that we live by other principles, not as traditional couples live. We have love, tenderness and care – these are the basic principles that no one controls, they seem to be in themselves, a priori, you know?

      What's different?

      – And the difference is that we have it all mutual. We try to do everything for each other. I'm for her, she's for me. While the traditional pairs, usually the woman sacrifices herself, and her husband enjoys it, so as soon as able and willing. Isn't it?

      – Well, not all the same – tried to avoid answering Irina, not to give his position.

      – IR, – looking intently in the eye, said Natasha, – I see. Yes, not all and not always, but happy flaming inner light of women from traditional families can be counted on the fingers, and you, forgive me, but you do not belong to them. No offense, please, but it is.

      – Yes, it is.

      – I know that so, see. I see those drooping eyes everywhere. And dread to think about that when you could have to make another decision. I used to have a husband too.

      You?

      – Yeah, you're surprised. I have a child of my own.

      You?

      Yeah, what's wrong?

      – No, it's just weird.

      – Come on, it's not weird. I married at eighteen, pregnant. In the twenty-dispersed. I know all these problems. At first everything looks fine – great, then worse-worse. As child is born, so at all a scribe. He's from a rich family, I was never recognized and never put. For two years I endured the endless complaints and reproaches, and then said – enough.

      – Oho. But as with a child, usually with the mother remains.

      – Usually. Look at me, girl, what could I possibly have?

      Girls laughed.

      – Wait, your friend Rimma, does she know? Irina asked.

      – Yes, that's right, Rimma. Sure he does. We have no misunderstandings, it's fair. But it will not, that's another story.

      – Well, I'm sorry.

      – No, I didn't really think it would work that way. Naturally I was sure that the child will remain with me, but as you already know, my husband was from a rich family. They hired a lawyer, such an expensive lawyer, and the court took the child.

      – Oh…

      – Yes, but the benefit, though, to see allowed. I go to him several times a year. My hometown is only eight hundred kilometers away.

      Irina listened to avidly.

      – Well and here is, I has dispersed, has remained without child. On this basis, I have played a strong depression and hatred of men. And to all polls.

      – Yes, of course, played out there.

      – Yeah, all men are assholes and stuff. And then by the will of fate I met a lesbian. I'm twenty, I'm like a schmuck. For a, of course,