Maid Paid To Slay

Guilt can make you do crazy things.

We'd had an argument that morning.

She keeps insisting she wants a maid. She's been demanding one for weeks. I say we don't need one. She doesn't work. My job covers our nut. What's she going to do if we get a maid? Eat bon-bons all day? More likely, spend all our money shopping.

Not that we couldn't afford one. I'm half-owner of my own software company. Shareware, actually. The difference between my shareware and most others is that people actually pay for mine after trying it.

So I'm sitting at work, tweaking the latest upgrade, and I'm suddenly overwhelmed by "the guilts." Sigh. Normally I'd kvetch about it to my partner, Bill, but he'd taken the day off.

I decide to call the florist. Instead of a whine to Bill, it was roses to Elaine. Minutes later, an arrangement was on its way to our semi-modest mansion.

Uh oh. I'd better call her. As much as I'd like it to be a surprise, the delivery truck will never get through the security gate without her clearing it. So she'll have to know.

I hit the speed dial for the house and I really thought I'd have to leave a message, like almost always. Since I was expecting the machine, I was taken aback when a voice answered. Not only a voice, but one I did not recognize.

"Si, hallo?"

Si hallo? What the ...? "Who the hell is this?"

"This the maid."

That BITCH! "The maid?" I couldn't believe it. "How long have you worked there?"

There's a pause. "About a week. Quien es esto, por favor?"

I didn't know whether to be impressed or pissed. My wife deserved an Academy Award nomination for her performance this morning. Arguing for getting a maid when she'd had one for days already! "This is the man of the house! Where's the lady of the house? My wife?"

There's a long pause on the other end. "Afligido. Sorry. My english, not so good. Senor, I thought lady of the house with you."

That's puzzling. "With me? Why would she be here? You mean she's not home?"

"No, no. Not what I mean. She in her room. En cama. In bed."

"I don't understand, then... I'm sorry, what's your name? ummm... nombre?"

"Carlita."

Of course it was. "Carlita. Why did you think..."

Ok. I was slow on the uptake.

Now I got it.

"Carlita, are you saying she's, um, en cama, with a man that you thought was her husband?"

Very long silence

"Are you pausing because you're not sure what I'm asking?"

"No, senor. Comprendo. I no want to get in trouble."

I tried to remain calm. "Carlita, trust me. You are not in any trouble. Tell me, is she screwing around on me?"

Another delay. "I think so, Senor. She there with someone."

I was stunned. I had no idea. Other than this whole maid debate, I thought things were going so well. We're deeply in love! I tried to think back, were there signs I'd missed? But all I could think of was her claims of love and loyalty.

In other words, her LIES!

I was getting angrier and angrier.

I guess only I was in love. Well, she may be in love too. But not with me, evidently. Not her doting, loving, SUCKER of a husband!

No, no, no, no. I had to be sure. Maybe something else was going on. There had to be an explanation. I hesitated to ask this next part, but it had to be done.

"Carlita, You realize that technically, I pay your salary, yes?"

"Si, senor."

"OK. I need you to check something for me. I need to know what my next step should be, so I need to know for sure. Can you spy a little for me? Can you be positive she's fucking him?"

To her credit, she didn't wait long. "I go check for you. I call you back?"

"No! I'll hold the line!" I didn't want to take the chance someone else call in and tie up Carlita.

She was gone for a few minutes. Then, "Senor?"

"Yes?"

"She very busy. I hear through door. Both of them grunting and groaning."

Ok. Didn't look good for the home team. But still, I had to be absolutely sure. "Just noises? Are they saying anything?"

"Um... I, how you say, shy?"

"Carlita, I apologize, but I need to know. What is she saying?"

"She say, 'give it to me.' She say, 'I love your fat cock.' And, "It feel so good up my ass.'"

I almost dropped the phone. That CUNT!

Of all the ironic twists... she never let me fuck her up the ass. Ever! I'd begged her ad infinitum. And, my dick being way smaller than average, I needed the tightness her bunghole offered me in order to get any real good friction.

And here's the kicker...

I had told her she could get a maid if she let me do her up the butt! And she'd said "No deal."

So instead, I pay for the maid, and someone else gets the anal sex.

Oh, I was seeing red.

And then, out of nowhere, I decided. I'd just become the epitome of a crime of passion.

"Carlita. I'm very rich."

"Si senor, I know. Su casa es.... grande y bello!"

"Umm... thanks. I think." My espanol was spotty at best. I only knew the basics. "How would you like to make a quick... oh, 10,000 dollars?"

"What I gotta do, kill someone?" I could hear the humor in her question. Oh, Carlita...

"In the front hall, I have a gun. I think it's in the desk."

"Desk? No, in the closet. I see it when cleaning."

Closet? Could be. It's been a couple years since I even looked at it. My wife could have moved it. She uses it too, and cleans it. Actually, for a further irony, it's technically her gun. Oh! Carlita was still talking. "Senor! No! No pistola!"

Maybe she was right. I mean...

NO!!

You'd given her everything, made a life for her, and she fucking cuckolded you!

Bitch deserves this!

"20,000, Carlita." She was still hedging, so I dropped the bomb. "50,000."

That sold her. "Si, I do it. Tell me."

"OK. Don't be scared. Take the gun. Open the bedroom door and empty the clip into both of them. You know how to use a gun?"

"Si, Senor, I grow up in the barrio bajo."

"Hmm, not sure what that means but the 'si' part works for me. OK. Again, I'll stay on the line. Can you do this? Are you up to it?"

"Senor, lady of the house, I no like her much. That much money? I can make life easy for my family. I'll do this. But what about neighbors?"

We lived pretty remotely, up a hill, separated from the nearest house by sound-buffering trees and at least 500 yards. "They won't hear anything, and they usually aren't home now. Now hurry, before they're done fucking!"

There was another delay. Eventually, I heard several rapid shots in a row. Then two more single ones. Soon, her footsteps.

"It's done, Senor. Muerto."

Oh my god. What had I done?

Well, it was too late now. "OK. I'm coming home now. For now, wrap them up in the bedding. Clean up as best you can. Can you help me dump them in the pond until nightfall? Then I'll do something more permanant."

"Si, Senor. But, what pond? How far is it?"

What did she mean, what pond? "Our pond. Behind the house."

A pause. "Senor.... you no have pond."

HOLY FUCK!!

"Umm... is this 555-2368?"