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But tonight, she let herself feel the sting of being second place—and wrote it down anyway.
“You don’t know the half of it,” she’d replied. -Vixen- Gina Valentina - Confessions Of A Side ...
Tonight, she was supposed to be his escape. Hotel room downtown. King-sized bed. A bottle of something sparkling waiting in an ice bucket. But 9 p.m. came and went. Then 10. Then 11. But tonight, she let herself feel the sting
Can’t make it. Family thing. I’m sorry, Vixen. Hotel room downtown
Her apartment was small but hers—a studio in a part of town where neighbors minded their business and the landlord never asked questions. On the nightstand: a half-empty glass of red wine, a crumpled pack of American Spirits, and a Moleskine notebook she’d titled Confessions of a Side Piece three months ago. She’d laughed when she wrote it. Now it felt less like a joke and more like a survival guide.
His name was Marcus. Married. Two kids. A house with a porch swing and a dog named Otis. Gina had met him at a gallery opening—he’d complimented her boots, she’d made fun of his tie, and by midnight they were sharing a cigarette in the alley behind the venue.
Here’s a short story inspired by the title and mood you suggested—blending confession, desire, and the tension of a hidden life. Confessions of a Side Piece