Driven by curiosity, I couldn't wait to see what kind of woman had earned a place so close to Michael's heart.
"Sure," I agreed without hesitation.
A minute later, she sent me a picture of a black lace maid outfit.
It was one of Michael's favorite "desserts" in bed who was always chasing excitement and new thrills.
In these role-playing games, he cast me as the maid. While it was all just pretend for him, I was the only one who truly immersed myself in the role.
In front of Michael's fiancée, I, the mistress, felt as if I had been stripped bare and thrown onto the street, exposed and shamed to my core.
"Ms. Ashley, you have a great figure, much fuller than other girls. But Michael's taste has changed quite a bit. He used to prefer pure and innocent styles. It doesn't matter. They’re all just playthings to vent his needs, props to spice things up—there's no difference. If he offers too little money, make him pay more. After all, a girl's youth is incredibly valuable."
Every word she said felt like a silent slap across my face, hitting me hard. My dignity and self-respect were shattered, leaving me barely able to hold my phone steady.