Much can be inferred about a man from his mistress: in her one beholds his weaknesses and his dreams.”
….. George C. Lichtenberg
His Secret Mistress
This is a tale of an immoral male
With a love that he keeps on the side.
Who at every chance will exploit that romance
That he hasn’t a choice but to hide.
His wife of twelve years always fills him with fears
For there’s no way that she understands it.
So he tells her his lies and then goes to his prize
Every time that his lover demands it.
He knows she’ll be there quietly waiting just where
He had kissed her goodbye the last time.
The thought of that place brings a smile to his face
As he savours his secretive past time
When he goes to great pains with his shackles and chains
And his ropes and his bindings and lashings.
Though he knows it’s all wrong, the excitement is strong
When releasing those deep hidden passions.
While he loves well his wife, he’s this other half life
That he craves every day that he’s waking.
And he knows it’s not right when the money is tight
To be splitting the wages he’s making.
But his lover’s not cheap if he needs her to keep
Looking good like he wants when he sees her.
So he scrimps and he saves for the one that he craves,
And he hopes that his purchases please her.
But when they’re alone, just the two on their own,
He knows that her worth can’t be measured.
He hasn’t a care what it cost to be there
When he’s being so royally pleasured.
She’s curvy and fast, built for fun that can last,
And she gives him the joys that he yearns for.
And she treats him so well that he always can tell
That he’ll get what he always returns for.
Yet he knows in his heart that when they are apart
One fine day he will have to stop lying.
And his wife will find out just what he’s been about
With the life on the side he’s been trying.
And what’ll he do when he finally comes true
That those evenings weren’t spent down the pub?
But were all spent afloat on that thirty foot boat
That he keeps at the local yacht club.
Born in England, raised on the banks of a river in the Sussex countryside, Jim Scott from a young age developed strong spiritual connections with the natural realm. He wasn’t to understand this until much later in life when this realization explained the somewhat unique atavistic philosophies that evolved from his extensive travels and often ran against the grain of mainstream thinking.
A single father of three, Jim now lives in Canada and spends as much time as he can in the British Virgin Islands where two of his children were born and where, out of all the places to which he has wandered and in which he has sojourned, he feels most at home.
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