"I would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone for their valuable input and critique. I know I have much to learn but with time I believe I can improve. And yes, I do think it may be time to seek out an editor. For those of you who are most dramatic and colorful with your opinions, well...hell, you can't win em' all."
Temuchen
****************
Chapter Three: Why?
The front door burst open, its door jamb exploding inward. I stood there, chest heaving searching the room for any sign of that scum sucking bastard.
"SCOTT!"
No answer, either he was hiding or wasn't home. Swathed in darkness, I stepped into the house, an ASP, a metallic telescoping police baton, in my right hand. I walked into the living room and found the light switch.
"Scott!"
Still nothing. I searched the house but no Scott. Standing in the bedroom, I found the room in disarray. Someone was in a considerable hurry to pack and get the hell out. I thought, hmmm...dear old Scotty might not be so stupid after all. Back in the front room, I found two wine goblets setting on the coffee table, both empty, a testament to their earlier encounter.
Why would she do this to me? It just doesn't make any sense. Did he force her, drug her...blackmail? Was her dislike for Scott just a cover? Questions flooded my mind as I stood there looking at the two glasses. Moving to the mini-bar near the kitchen, I found a half full bottle of Chardonnay. While starring at the bottle, I noticed a faint powdery half moon shape on the black stone top. The interior was clean with a sharp rounded edge that radiated outward dissipating into a fine dust. The rounded bottom of a glass or a bottle once sat there. Running my finger through the residue, I examined the fine particles. "Powder," I growled, "That slimy son-of-a-bitch...he fucking drugged her."
I ran into the kitchen tossing all the drawers until I found a box of plastic baggies. Removing one of the bags, Returning to the mini-bar, I carefully scooped the loose powder into the bag. I searched for anything else that would benefit but nothing turned up. I returned to the bedroom hoping to find something, anything that would tell me why Kay came here in the first place.
Taking one last look, I spied what looked like a camera lens sticking out between two cardboard boxes on the top shelf of his wardrobe closet. The lens pointed at the bed. Reaching up, I pushed the boxes aside removing a Sony high def camcorder. That piece of shit was filming it, he was filming my wife.
Looking for a tape, I discovered the recorder used a hard drive. Flipping open the view screen, I hit the on switch and set it for play. Seconds later, an image of Scott pulling my wife into the bedroom appeared on the tiny LCD. Surprised, I could see Kay didn't appear to be an enthusiastic participant. On the contrary, she was upset, tears streaming down her cheeks. Scott stood next to the bed and ordered, I couldn't fucking believe the asswipe, he fucking ordered my wife to remove her clothes. Once naked, Scott grabbed her arm and sat her on the edge of the bed. While she sat there, he moved toward her removing his own clothes and grinning like a kid with a new toy. He spread her legs and stood between her thighs, his stiff cock pointed at her face. I watched as Scott grabbed a fist full of her beautiful auburn hair and pull her face forward. When her lips met the head of his dick, she didn't open her lips. Scott told her to suck his cock but she refused to take his penis into her mouth. Scott jerked her hair causing her to scream allowing him access between those soft lips. Once inside and with forced assistance from Scott, I could see my wife reluctantly purse her lips and begin to move her head back and forth.
After watching this debauchery, my stomach heaved and I had to shut off the camcorder. I had seen enough. That slime-ball was going to pay big time. One of the boxes contained hundreds of photos of women, some I knew but most unknown. I also found several of my wife, obviously in my bedroom on the bed. "Son of a fucking bitch," I swore when I saw one of the photos. That mother fucker had my wife on her knees, his hand pressed down between her shoulder blades, her head pushed into a pillow. She grimaced in pain, his cock shoved into her asshole.
Taking the camera and box of photos, I left. I needed to talk to Kay. And then, then it was time to take care of business.
*****
Kay sat at the kitchen table sipping on a hot mug of coffee staring out the window. Her mind was cluttered with thoughts of her husband, Jack and that monster, Scott. She couldn't comprehend how she had been so easily lured into Scott's little game. She reasoned he had seduced her with some kind of drug. She knew she wouldn't have been so quickly duped into jumping into bed with him unless he somehow drugged her. It must have been in the wine that time he had supposedly dropped by to pick up some papers for Jack, conveniently right after Jack had departed on his New York trip.
"God, how could I have been so stupid?" she said aloud.
"That is something we have to talk about." The voice belonged to her sister, Becky. Becky sat down next to Kay leaning over to give a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. "Feeling any better today?"
"A bit," replied Kay. "I just cannot grasp how effortlessly Scott was able to take me. My God, Becky, once he, once he...shit...I, I practically begged him. Why? And I confess that I...I liked it." Kay burst into tears. Her elbows on the table she covered her face with her hands, her shoulders trembling from her deep sobs.
Becky's heart ached at her sister's pain, "I couldn't tell you Kay but I do believe you need counseling. You are hurting inside and need help. Have you heard from Jack?"
"No! The last time I saw Jack was at home...af...after he discovered me in Scott's bed. I tried to talk to him, to beg his forgiveness but he ordered, he demanded I leave. That was when I came here."
