Mistress Camille
Camille turned off the engine of her Maserati sports car and took a moment to breath in the cool evening air. The day, well, the day had been amazing. She could barely believe what she had achieved. Mark, Jenny’s once upon a time husband had been dumped at a hotel ten miles away and he was bound for a flat fifty miles away in London if that was what she chose. His defeat had seemed absolute. The man had capitulated to her. Not only had he not made a fuss about the fact that she and Jenny were now lovers, but he had meekly capitulated to the requirement that he leave the home immediately. He had kissed her ring, then the palm of her hand, and at last, wickedly, cruelly she had humiliated him by …