It’s a classic age-old tale of love, lust and laughter, replayed over and over through the ages since time immemorial.
The man, the wife and the mistress, flung together via a confluence of forces variously known as Fate, Luck or Consequence.
It usually begins with the man apart from his wife, alone, and seeking out the comfort of another woman. All is fine at first; the mistress knows her situation and plays the blushing Ingenue to the cheating husband’s Cad.
She provides for him, she cares for him, she fucks his brains out, even plays marriage counsellor as required. For a while they are blissful in their sin, and the sun shines brighter than ever before.
She eventually decides to improve her standing in the relationship, and invariably confesses her undying love to the man of her dreams. He says he “cares for her”, and they carry on, but the tension rises as the mistress becomes increasingly demanding.
She demands he leave his wife, and promises they would be happy together forever. The clingier she becomes the more he withdraws, and eventually he pushes her away.
Stung by his callous indifference, she confronts him and asks the tough questions, and he plays it coy. They walk away from each other, seperate in their grief, both indignant and relieved, gutted and unflinching.
He returns to his wife, the love of his life, and settles back into the warm comforting routine of familiarity, forever yearning for the excitement of the mistress, bored in his happiness whilst being the perfect man.
She moves on, life’s lessons happily filed, searching for laughter, for someone who will say I Love You back, someone to fill the void left by what she thought was the answer to all her dreams.
This is the story of the small house. The characters may vary between male and female, bitch and bastard, wife and husband. But the result is always the same.