~Mirrors are more than a fixture on a wall made of breakable glass and pretty frames. They are a portal to someone's soul, reflecting all of their deeply hidden fears, dreams, and desires🪞~
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FANTASIA
I could see Taraji's body stiffen and visibly fill with tension as she stared at me from the corner of her siren eyes in the reflection of the mirror. I locked the door with a click, making sure that Kennedy wouldn't be able to interrupt whatever was about to happen between us. I honestly don't even know why I followed Taraji. I don't know what to say to her. I've already whooped her ass. Even with blood gushing from her nose and her left eye puffed up with a cut, she still looks so beautiful. I hate her, but I want her at the same time. She has already played her part in wrecking my marriage, so whatever happens from this point won't really matter. Her eyes followed my every move as I stepped away from the bathroom door and slowly approached her, standing behind her. She whirled around, keeping her hands behind her and gripped on the sink as if she was trying to stop herself from doing something to me. I wanted whatever she was going to give me. She has to answer for what she has done. She stared me down and I did the same, my eyes finding what looked like to be stab wounds on her inner thighs. She must have sustained those in prison. That's such an odd place to cut someone with a knife. An inmate must have been trying to assault her. I don't have any sympathy for home-wrecking hoes like her, but I wouldn't wish sexual assault on my worst enemy. Is Taraji really even the enemy? I'm so confused right now. I'm fighting a war within myself and I'm losing. Kennedy would have cheated either way, whether it was with Taraji or someone else. I really wish it would have been someone else. Taraji is just collateral damage in all of this, so why am I so fixated on her? I don't have an answer for that.
Fantasia: Why didn't you fight me back? I know you didn't let bitches punk you in prison like that, so why didn't you hit me?
Taraji: Because I know what I can do, and I didn't want to hurt you anymore after I had already fucked your wife.
Her voice was flat and void of any emotion, like she didn't care about how I felt or about what I wanted to do to her. Her nonchalant attitude was pissing me off and I wanted to drag her ass all over again. Next time, I won't touch her face. It's too pretty to damage. I think I'm more upset that Kennedy got to her before I could, but that's not something that I will ever admit. This whole thing is just so messy and fucked up, and I have no idea how to navigate it. All I know is that the pain is far from over. Someone's going to get hurt again and again and again, and I don't know if or when the growing pains will ever go away. I'm not going to be the only woman scorned.
Fantasia: So what, you think you're doing me a favor? Fucking my wife is cool, but fighting is where you draw the line? All those years in prison really scrambled your brain up, didn't they?
Taraji: I'm not going to fight you, and I'm damn sure not going to argue with you. Stand here and say whatever you need to say or do whatever you need to do to me to make yourself feel better. You can call me every tramp and whore under the sun. I know that I'm not a good person and I don't try to pretend like I am.
We held eye contact through the reflection of the mirror, my chest steadily rising and falling as my heart pounded with passion.
Taraji: And I understand if you're going to try and keep Sarai away from me now, but just know that I will fight for her. That's the only fighting I'm going to do with you.
Fantasia: I don't want to keep her away from you. That would only be hurting her. I will allow you to meet her, because that's the kind of woman I am. That's the kind of woman that you hurt.
Taraji: I already acknowledged that I hurt you, but you're not getting an apology if that's what you're looking for, because I'm not sorry. Why are you standing here talking to me when your wife was the one who made a commitment to you? Both of you bitches are screwed up in the head and I don't want shit else to deal with you unless it involves my daughter.
I walked closer to her and placed my hands on the counter, trapping her body between mine and the sink. She let out a soft gasp as my intentions for our confrontation finally dawned on her. She remained standing with her back against my chest, nervously fiddling with her fingers. She's not so tough now. I put my lips up to her ear, whispering in it as my hands slowly migrated from the counter to her waist, and then down to her ass. I caressed her booty through her jeans, my lips grazing her ear.
Fantasia: How many times did she make you cum?
Taraji: W-What?
Fantasia: I know you heard me. I didn't stutter. How many times?
Taraji: Twice.
Fantasia: I can easily beat her record.
I moved my hands up again, squeezing her stomach. Her eyes were filled with a mixture of panic and lust. She didn't know what to do, but her body was responding accordingly. I could tell by the wetness I felt when I snaked my hand between her legs and ran my fingers across her crotch. She was dripping through jeans, she was so turned on.
Taraji: What the hell is wrong with you bitches?! Is this some kind of twisted, sick kink for you?! I'm not some two dollar hoe that you can run a train on! Back the fuck up off of me right now!
Fantasia: You could move me if you wanted to. Play pussy and you get fucked.
Taraji: So you're just not going to take no for an answer? Listen, I'm not an inmate anymore. Nobody can control me or victimize me, not you or your deranged ass wife!
She turned around and pushed past me, heading for the door. I grabbed her wrist, closing the door and slamming her back against it. Her eyes darkened and she slapped me across my face. I tasted blood in my mouth.
Taraji: I told you what would fucking happen if you put your hands on me again, crazy bitch!
We started fighting again, but this time she didn't let me off. It was thrilling and honestly a little bit sexy, both of us fighting for dominance. I wasn't really trying to hurt her anymore. I just wanted to feel her body in my hands. She ended up on top of me, pinning my wrists down to the floor as she straddled me.
Taraji: Stop!
Her arousal was soaking through her jeans and getting my shirt wet. She stared down at me through her long lashes, her chest heaving a she was visibly exhausted. I took advantage of her fatigue and I easily flipped us so that I was on top and she was underneath me where she belonged.
Fantasia: You're so beautiful.
Taraji: So are you. I don't know what's happening.
Fantasia: Neither do I. I won't hurt you if you don't hurt me.
Taraji: I won't hurt you.
I kissed her slowly, allowing myself to savor the taste of her mouth. Her hands slid up and down my back as my tongue explored every crevice of her warm, wet mouth. She moaned, sucking on my tongue as if she was trying to pull it right out of my mouth. At first I just wanted to fuck her, but this passion and unexplainable care has seemed to come out of nowhere between us, and now I don't just want to fuck her. I want to make love to her body and take her soul. But not on this bathroom floor. In me and Kennedy's bed. On Kennedy's side.
