A Dog and his Wife (Christine)

The nasty looks I get when I stop by the bank from those bi***es, especially the black ones, are all the attention I need.

They're just looking away as I walk my sweet ass into the lobby, to the elevator, and right into the office of one fine Mr. Roman Bishop.

I may not be what many of them expected. Truth be told, he may not have even told any of them that he was spoken for. No, not spoken for...

I AM MRS. CHRISTINE BISHOP.

Please do not let my small frame fool you. My blond hair does not mean I just lay on my back and let my husband just ejaculate inside me. I do not refer to him as my "king" or bow to him. Don't get me wrong, I love my husband to no end, in spite of his philandering ways.

That's right--I'm not stupid and he isn't fooling anyone.

As much as we used to have sex in college, only for it to drastically cut to few times a month, you think I wouldn't know that he's getting it elsewhere? Mama didn't raise me to be a fool so I suggest not to be taken as one--even by him.

Things can be good some days. Others, not so much. Good thing, I signed that pre-nup before he went off to play ball. So if he wants to dip his stick into some other tramp, he can go right ahead.

That's going to be one very costly condom.