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As far as I knew she didn't know about me but he didn't seem to mind her finding out.It was as if they lived together but had separate lives. The other day he texted me, saying "We're like the stars in , incapable of removing ourselves from a dangerous relationship." Our emotional, intellectual, spiritual and sexual connection is undeniable.I was relieved when he arrived at the restaurant; the tension from the conference was gone. We continued the kissing that got us kicked out of the fancy lounge and when he unzipped my pants and slid his hands underneath me I couldn't believe I was so weak.He doesn't know this but I cried all night, kneeling in my bathroom after he dropped me off.Photos from their wedding on the walls suddenly drove home what had just happened. I forced my attention to the details knowing if I didn't, I would fall for him.I got dressed and left in disgust — with him, with myself, with what this was.Plus, I've seen what happens to the mistresses in the movies.
I was in his office, rug burn forming on my knees as he slid me back and forth on top of him.
After three months, it was clear that the details wouldn't stop me. "Hello" and "goodbye" phone calls turned into hour-long conversations.
Wink text messages became "I miss you." "I want you" became "I love you." I worried about how we got here and where it was going.
But deep down I knew this could get me into trouble.
Dating a married man would make my previous scandalous date nights look like child's play. The cab home from our date was intense: the lights outside were blurred, the ride felt faster than usual.