My grievances are petty and ironic. NG was very popular and had tons of friends, including a handful of girls who were completely devoted to her. She was not particularly adept at whipping or even fucking hard, the traditional mistress attributes, but she was excellent at cultivating a following, an entourage. I suppose that in the beginning I thought I'd simply join the crowd, but a couple of things conspired against it. She insisted that I was something special, her number 1 girl, but there was no evidence of that in her profile, her blog, or among her friends. I didn't get along with her friends. I thought their wit was a bit stale and insipid, and they ignored mine. Maybe they thought it offensive. Maybe they didn't get it. I'm not sure. In any case, they often didn't seem to quite know who I was or what I was doing there. "Do you know NG well?" "Have you known her for long?" That hurt.
We eventually solved the problem in the most obvious way. When we saw each other, it was always just the two of us. At my instigation, of course. Not only could I not bear her friends, I saw no point in seeing her with mine around. I wanted her all to myself. I wanted to be the center of her attention, which suggests, doesn't it, that my petty grievances were one of the ways I had of playing my part. She was the superheroine, the rock star, the social animal. I was the cute little loner, the whore who paid the bills, who lived only for the times she could see her lover. I would constantly complain, feel abused, and stay faithful. And isn't that what I wanted? Isn't that why I looked for a mistress in the first place?
One day after an especially good time alone, in one of the cabins with a mountain view from the deck, as we were taking a leisurely swim and chatting, a girl I didn't know jumped in the pool, swam underwater between us and started eating NG's pussy. I could have killed her, and I'm not exaggerating. If it had been virtually possible, I'd have grabbed the bitch by the hair, yanked her out of the pool and beat the living shit out of her. It turned out that she was the girlfriend of one of NG's best friends. NG accommodated both of us. She agreed with me when I told her privately that I thought it rude. She went along with the girl's inane levity. I said nothing to the girl, gave her the cold shoulder, which I'm sure she didn't notice, but I think in retrospect I should have put how I felt right out on the table. Let everyone know. If I had, I might have let it go and forgotten about it. As it was, I think of it as a turning point. I had to wonder: did our time together mean so little to her that this grotesque interruption meant nothing? I had to ask myself: where was I?
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