It was Thursday afternoon, and I was neck deep in a project at work that suddenly had landed in our lap. It was a mess, and it would take forever to finish, which worried me a little because I had dinner plans with my beautiful wife Miriam, whom I've been married to for the last 25 years.
Now that the kids were out of the house--and partially out of fear that we would end up divorced like so many of our friends that are our age--Miriam and I recently made a pact that each week we would set aside some time for each other to do something fun. Like last week, we went out dancing. This week I made plans for a meal at our favourite restaurant. Miriam worked from home today just for this specific reason and planned to meet me here at work, which meant I had no choice but to untangle this mess before she arrived.
It was a little after 3:30 when I noticed that must have left my phone on mute from the meeting earlier and I had a succession of missed calls from a withheld number. I usually avoid these calls like the plague--I assume they are a scam--but a second later when my phone started ring again from another withheld number, I groaned and answered it. "Yes?" I said in my best annoyed voice.
"Hello?" said a woman whose voice I did not know. "Are you Miriam's husband?"
"Yes. Who is this?" I asked.
"Miriam had a fall. You must get home and help her right away!" The woman's voice was shaky, and she sounded scared.
The line went dead.
I furrowed my brow for a second and stared at my phone. I quickly called Miriam, but my call went straight to her voice mail.
"That's odd," I said out loud.
"What is it?" asked one of the ladies I worked with.
"It's probably nothing," I said as I started to nervously tap my fingers on the desk, before I tried Miriam's number again and the same thing happened. "I must run home and check on something," I told my team as I snatched my car keys off my desk and headed for the door.
From my office to home only takes about 10 minutes by car. When the weather is fair, I usually take my bike, but since Miriam was going to meet me at the office for our dinner date, luckily today I drove. Thankfully traffic was light, and I made it home in good time.
Miriam's car was in the driveway like I expected. I jumped out of my car and opened the front door to our house.
"Miriam?" I said out loud but got no response. "Miriam!" I shouted louder.
From the back of the house, where her home office was, I could hear the faint sound of fucking. And not just any fucking, it sounded like a full-blown orgy coming from Miriam's tiny home office.
Not knowing what to expect, I tip toed through the kitchen where I found Miriam's big comfortable office desk chair, with one of our good fluffy towels on it, awkwardly jammed in the doorway to her office. I carefully edged my face around the door jam and peeked into Miriam's office.
At first glance the office was empty, and the orgy sounds were thankfully coming from her computer. Then, on the floor I found Miriam. "Oh my God!" I shouted out as I saw Miriam completely naked crumbled up against the far wall from her desk. Her eyes were shut and for a second she looked dead.
"Miriam!" I shouted as I violently pulled the office chair from the door frame and sent it rolling across our large, tiled kitchen. I lunged forth into Miriam's home office and first thing I did was step into something incredibly slippery that she must have spilled on to the hardwood, parquet floors we had installed at great expense a few years back. I nearly toppled over myself, but I just managed to catch the edge of her desk which stopped me from dying too.
I immediately became aware of where the sounds of the orgy were coming from when I looked up and saw a troop of well-endowed black men having their way with a rather cheerful white woman on Miriam's side monitor.
I reached over and hit the off button on the side monitor before I turned around to get a good look at my wife. Miriam was sprawled out on the floor, more naked than I had seen her in years. Most shocking of all was that someone in bold red permanent marker had scrawled the words "Cock Slut" across the top of her naked chest.
"Miriam!" I screamed but got no response. I tried to take another step towards her, and nearly fell again from whatever was all over the floor. Finally, I went to my knees, and inelegantly crawled over to Miriam.
My heart was racing when I finally managed to get a hold of her wrist, and--thank God--she had a pulse. I put my face close to her face to see if I could feel her breathing, but when I looked down, I could clearly see her nipples as they rose and fell with each breath.
"Miriam!" I shouted and shook her gently to see if she would come around. "What's wrong Miriam?"
"She hit her head!" came the same woman's voice that had called me earlier from Miriam's primary monitor.
I looked up to see a video chat screen open and the on light to her fancy webcam she uses for work meetings blaring white. At first all I could see was another home office, not to dissimilar to Miriam's office except there was an empty chair on the screen. Then suddenly, in the corner of the video chat screen, the top of a woman's head rose up until I could just see her eyes while she continued to hide the rest of herself underneath her desk.
"Excuse me?" I said more in shock than anything.
"She hit her head on the wall behind you," the woman said again.
I looked up and directly above where Miriam lay, there was a round, head sized dent in the wall. I ran my hand back behind Miriam's head and sure enough it was wet with blood.
"Oh god!" I shouted out and held up my hand for the woman on webcam to see.
"Is it a lot of blood or a little?" she demanded.
