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Chapter 39 ... I was a gay woman's mistress.


"My life has been one great big joke, a dance that's walked a song that's spoke, I laugh so hard I almost choke when I think about myself. "    Maya Angelou


I dragged the huge black bag of trash from cleaning a house that was occupied by an inexperienced bachelor. As the garage door opened, I was immediately greeted by two pairs of legs, soon to reveal Debra and Anna.

That's one thing I can say about a gay women.  They refuse to lose a team member. These people are a bit like Old Time Christians always so cheerful and well intentioned, after a while you itch to go out and do some raping and pillaging or kick a cat.

Anna grabbed one arm, Debra the other.

"You aren't staying here" Ann whispered in my ear "You were to fake it, not reconcile"

And this was her brother. It is no wonder most people thought I left Bill for his sister. She was a true sister. uhh... to me. Here I was trying to control an outbreak and Anna was driving the monkey to the airport.

They came equipped with boxes and started tossing things into the cartons without focus. Soon the kids joined in "the fun". They ravaged the house like Dingoes in a nursery. I was curious where they were going to take me since living at their house had its problems. This is not quite the way I planned it to be.

As Anna was filling boxes from upstairs Debra grabbed my arm and pulled me into the bedroom taking my hands pressing them with her palms against the wall, kissing me evocatively.

“You aren’t staying here” she breathed into my ear “I cannot take this, all I do is lay in bed looking at the ceiling wondering what he is doing to you”

"I promise, if you just wait, things will be the way we planned them to be" and again she had her hooks in, like dew claws on a panther.

I broke her grasp and loaded my precious belongings into the containers and rushing furiously to finish.

Bill came home and started crying. He threw his pot down the drain, and promised to join the church and renew his faith. But it was too late. Even if I tried, too much had happened. And my need to be with Debra was as strong as a plant needing sunlight, a child needing milk.

We all crowded into Debra’s truck, leaving Bill in the dust. But not before Anna informed him he was to bring some furniture over to “my new place”.  Anna and Debra had rented an apartment on Challenger drive. Yes, not even 6 months after the unfortunate crash, they already had streets named for the spacecraft and its crew.  The apartment was a half mile from Anna and Debra’s. I just could never figure out who the manipulator in the soirée, me, Debra or Anna.

Seriously, if your lover bedded your sister-in-law, wouldn’t you have found a loophole in the law to have deported to Siberia?   I would have.

The apartment was nice. Small, but nice. There were beds in the bedrooms, a waterbed in mine. Hmmm. Who thought of that. There was food in the fridge, a phone installed, a television and cable.

Quite generous for a home wrecker.

“I don’t think I need to tell you what I expect” Anna handed me the keys. And yes, I think she DID need to tell me what to expect because this was all too surreal.

Over the days and weeks Debra would creep into my bed in the dark making love to me and disappearing before daylight as if she were the undead. Maybe she was.  Sometimes she would come during the day on the weekends, but she would leave intermittently to make a phone call using the phones by the pool. She would lie, but I knew the truth.

I was a kept woman. A mistress. A man could never have convinced me to live this lifestyle. That was Debra. She had an expertise. Understatement.

It hurt in a raw way. You know that deep churning, unbearable pain that keeps you alert, awake and tortured.

The days turned into weeks, the weeks into months.

I was working for the Performing Arts Sampler Series P.A.S.S. and Curtain Call Magazine. The gimmick was to sell a ticket for $30.00 that allowed the bearer to go to one performance of each of the Performing Arts.  It covered everything except the Ballet. You could go to The Opera, Stages repertory Theatre, The Ensemble, Theatre Under the Stars TUTS, The Children's Museum, The Actor’s Studio  The Alley Theatre and the phenomenal, never seen before in any other state, The Episcopalian Choir.. And you got a subscription to Curtain Call Magazine for free.  Now, you knew if you were going to sell one, you would definitely sell two. I mean who wants to go to these things alone. A nd the Arts benefited since some of these people may never have made an effort  to enjoy these presentations. And, it made a great Christmas Gift.

I made a good fortune, unlikely since the portion I would make was a paltry 7%.  But I made sometimes up to $700 a week. And I was smug, coming in when I wanted leaving when I wanted. Bad example to give to the rest of the boiler room and Leo Schwartz, our boss, was forced to call a meeting.  All he really should have done is met with me personally since it was my fault.  But I guess he was afraid of singling me out.

So On December 19, 1986 he called a meeting. “Nothing short of sickness or death will keep you from coming to work ON TIME.

Everyone was chastised sufficiently and at four we were ALL still at work, it being the end of our day. We could all leave and were expected to return at 7pm.

I started to get a sore throat and by the time Debra arrived to taxi me to dinner, I was feeling feverish.

Debra had offered to take a co-worker home. When we arrived at her house, I asked to use her phone. I wanted to call Bill to take care of the children because I was only getting worse.

“Dianne! Oh my God, your family has been trying to find you” Bill was obviously distraught and concerned…THE NEWS - SHATTERING.




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 Yes, this is absolutely positively true. If you lived this wouldn't you write about it? Some of the names of characters in this blog are fictitious. This is an account of actual events. Some of the events have been compiled together for the flow of the story. Even when I read my own work, I wonder how it could be so. But if you study your own life and compartmentalize it into less than 200 pages, you would be surprised how interesting it really is!  


TRUTH HAS WITNESSES (Dianne Lindsey) This material is the copyright Dianne Schuch Lindsey and cannot be duplicated in any fashion without the express permission of the Author. All rights reserved ©


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