It all started the first Thursday in April during his senior year of high school. Adam Crenshaw had decided to celebrate his eighteenth birthday by giving himself an unscheduled holiday. He didn't have any specific plans; he just knew that school was the last place he wanted to spend his birthday. So he left his house on foot, like he did every morning, and began the short walk to school. Only this time, two blocks from home he turned right instead of left and headed for the park.
He had intended to spend the morning on the disc golf course, before heading for the mall. But a sudden, unexpected downpour at 9:30 spoiled his plans. Soaking wet and dejected, the 6'1" blonde haired young man headed for home, knowing he was going to catch hell from his stepmother, Amy.
Adam arrived home, cutting through the garage on his way to the kitchen. It took a second for him to realize that there were no cars in the garage, and another second for his brain to fathom what that meant. His stepmother wasn't home. With a little luck, he could get in the house, change into something dry, and get out without being caught.
He was in his basement bedroom, nearly changed when he heard the garage door going up. "Shit!" he said softly. Quickly, he turned off the lights and waited. With any luck he might still get away with this.
He stood quietly in his room, listening as the car pulled into the garage. A moment later the engine went quiet and the garage door started down. He then heard two car doors closing, followed by the muffled voices of what sounded like two women.
'Now what?' he thought to himself. Every time it looked like he might catch a break, another problem reared its ugly head. Now he not only had his stepmother to deal with, but her friend also, whoever she was.
The kitchen door opened and the women entered. His stepmother was saying something in a soft, inaudible voice, while the other woman was giggling childishly, giggling as only her friend, Becky Peterson, could.
'What's she doing here?' he wondered. Suddenly, it was quiet upstairs - no giggling, no talking. Carefully, Adam eased through his bedroom door and crept towards the bottom of the stairs.
Straining, he could hear what sounded like soft moans. And then silence. "This way," his stepmother said after a moment in a voice he could barely hear. But he could hear their footsteps as they moved through the house. It was with more than a little surprise that he realized where the footsteps were heading -- the master bedroom.
"No way!" Adam gasped. "No fucking way!"
But even as he spoke, he was headed back to his bedroom. In less than a minute he'd finished dressing and grabbed his digital camera. The next thing he knew, he was making his way stealthily up the stairs. One step, pause. Another step, pause. It seemed to take forever to reach the kitchen landing. When he did, he waited, trying to calm his nerves. He listened carefully but heard nothing.
'This is crazy,' he thought. 'I'm letting my imagination run wild.' But he held his ground and kept listening.
Finally, he began to move again, ever so slowly making his way through the kitchen. He finally cleared the dangerous hardwood kitchen floors, reaching the carpeted safety of the family room. And he kept moving.
By the time he reached the hallway leading to the master bedroom, his heart was pounding through his chest. He peered carefully down the hall and saw the master bedroom door standing partly open. He could hear them now - hear them moaning, hear them groaning, hear them encouraging each other.
Quickly now, almost recklessly, he made his way down the hall. When he reached the door he hesitated, took a deep breath, and peered inside.
What he saw was beyond his wildest dreams. There was the Mrs. Peterson, sprawled across the bed, as naked as the day she was born, while Adam's stepmother, still clad in her bra and panties, was sucking on her rapidly rising and falling breast.
Adam nearly came on the spot, almost dropping the camera as he moved away from the door. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He resisted the urge to take a picture now. He wanted Amy in all her glory and he didn't want to risk alerting the lovers prematurely. So he waited.
He waited nearly two minutes before leaning over and peering inside. 'Perfect!' he thought as he saw Amy flat on her back, now completely naked. He raised the camera carefully, snapped several shots, and retreated back around the corner.
He took two more series of shots, pausing a good minute or so between each series. Between all the shots he had a little bit of everything, more than enough for the little scheme that was forming in his mind.
Satisfied, he crept back down the hall, retracing his steps. After several long minutes he reached the kitchen, where he carefully opened the door leading to the garage. The next thing he knew, he was racing down the street towards the park.
* * *
Adam's parents had divorced when he was 5 years old. He'd lived with his mom until her untimely death just over 2 years ago, at which time he moved in with his father and his wife of 6 months, Amy.
Adam and Amy's relationship was strained right from the outset. Although she tried not to show it, it was obvious to Adam that his stepmother was not happy about his sudden intrusion into her life. For Adam's part, he was certain that this woman -- 10 years younger than his father's 46 years -- was only in the marriage for the money, a commodity of which Adam's father had plenty.
To boot, since his dad was often away on business, keeping Adam 'in line' was largely left to Amy.
Sadly, Adam's feelings weren't a whole lot better for his father than they were for Amy. In all the years that Adam lived with his mom, he hadn't seen his father a dozen times. There always seemed to be this big deal or that important issue which urgently needed his attention. The expensive gifts on Christmas and his birthdays never quite made up for his absences.
All in all, the three shared a strained relationship at best. So when Adam saw the opportunity to gain some leverage, he had no remorse whatsoever.
* * *
Adam returned home as he would any other school day and, after exchanging the normal pleasantries with his stepmother, headed straight for his room. Once there, he immediately started the next phase of the plan.
It seemed to take forever for him to copy the pictures onto the discs. He made 3 separate discs, just in case. He chose several pictures, each very explicit and leaving no doubt as to the identity of the lovers, and printed them off.
The next day, immediately after school, he would confront Amy.
* * *
Adam took a deep breath to calm his racing nerves and entered the house. He found his stepmother in the kitchen. "Hi Amy," he said cheerfully. "How was your day?"
"Fine," she answered nonchalantly. "And yours?"
"Fantastic," he replied and immediately headed down to his room.
Several minutes later, he was set. "Amy," he called out. "Could you help me with something for a minute?"
"Sure. What do you need?"
"I'm having a little trouble with an English assignment."
"I'll be right down," she responded.
A few moments later she entered his room. She saw Adam sitting at his computer. "Okay, what seems to be the problem?" And then she stopped dead in her tracks as her eyes took in the slideshow that was dancing across the monitor.
For a moment, the silence was deafening. Amy stared at the pictures as they scrolled one after another across the computer screen. Pictures of herself and Becky Peterson making love. Very explicit pictures.
