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Prelude: Divorce h*t me like a tidal wave. The family that I had married into was no longer mine. My ex-husband asked me to sign a prenup, and I complied happily, was so naïve, I thought we would be married forever. I had come to accept that compliance was a big part of being married to this man, and I forgave all of his behavior while clinging onto the dream of the man who seduced me, the kind, powerful, and loving man who proposed. "I want a divorce," he told me when I caught him having an affair with a woman y*unger than me. I was out of the house that very same night, with a $100 bill he tossed at me while I packed my suitcase. I found a cheap motel and stayed there while applying for jobs. The only thing worse than the hunger p*ins in my stomach, and the heart ache of what could have been was the loss of my stepsons. My ex-husband forbade me to talk to my step-sons, who I had grown to love as my own.

Things started looking up for me when a woman found me sitting at the far end of a coffee shop, filling out an application. "You're so pretty," she said to me casually, "being a barista doesn't seem to suit you." She sat down and divulged her story, she told me about her beach on the home, and she told me about how she loves the glamorous lifestyle when she stays at the taboo and infamous red hotel.

Scene 1:

It has been almost a year since my husband asked me to leave, and 8 months since the divorce papers were finalized. The happy news is that I am a new woman. I have grown confident and c*mpletely independent. I have befriended some women from my work and we all take care of each other, we root for each other, and I consider them my new family.

I confess to you that I met my step-son Van. Van is aggressive, much like his step-father, but he has a sincere side to him. Van and I love each other and I am thrilled to have him back in my life. I must tell you that our relationship, back when I was living with his step-dad, was a wrought with s*xual tension. He was 19 years old and he wanted me, he even pressed himself against me in the laundry room and kissed me, and I slapped his face, but not before I kissed him back. Now Van is seeing me, and I know it's wrong, but I can't help but love it. There is something intensely erotic about this cat and mouse game we play. I run, he chases me. He won't let me go, and when he thrusts his c*ck inside of me and I stare into his eyes, I know that it's a mix of maternal love and s*xual pleasure that will keep me bound to this very bad boy forever.

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