That’s when it happened.One moment, I was standing before the hall closet, hanging up my jacket, and the next, I was on the floor with my ears ringing.I was so shocked that I didn’t comprehend what had transpired.Did I lose my balance unexpectedly?Did an earthquake strike, knocking me to the ground?
But when I looked up, Ned was towering over my prone form, his patrician features twisted in a murderous rage.
“What the fuck?”he hissed.“What is wrong with you?”
I stared at him, still uncomprehending.
“What’s wrong with me?What do you mean?What happened?”I murmured, rubbing at my aching head.“How did I fall?”
My handsome husband let out a sharp bark of laughter.
“You didn’t fall, Angela.You’re such a dumb fuck that I had to knock some sense into you!What do you mean, you have no idea where my slippers are?I expect my slippers to be waiting by the door the moment I set foot in the house.Do you understand?”
I stared at my new husband as a horrific realization dawned.Then, astonishment replaced the realization, followed by abject fear.This manhitme?This is the same man with whom I just exchanged marriage vows where we promised to honor and cherish each other for the rest of our lives?My head spun because it was too ugly to be true.I wouldn’t let myself believe it.
“I’m sure your slippers are in your home office—” I began.
The second blow was immediate.This time, I saw his hand coming down, but I didn’t duck because I was still in a state of shock.But the blow was so forceful that I was knocked to the ground again, this time with my face pressed to the tile as my ears rang with a hollow sound.
“Fuck you!”he exploded.“Didn’t you hear what I just said?My slippers are supposed to be by the door waiting for me as soon I get home.If those fucking slippers are in my office, then it’s a fucking problem!”
Tears smarted in my eyes as I sprawled on the floor, still trying to comprehend.My white dress was smudged, and my heels looked a bit twisted.My ivory veil spilled from my purse, making a mockery of me because what have I done?I married Ned White after only a few months of dating, and now, the true nature of my husband was revealing itself.He’d led me to believe that he was Prince Charming personified, but behind that suave exterior, the man was a monster.
On the outside, everything appeared fine.To our friends and neighbors, we were a happy couple.Ned never hit me where it showed, and I never had to cover a bruise with make-up or wear long-sleeved turtlenecks.Instead, I played the part of a happy newlywed because I didn’t know what else to do.I smiled; I laughed; and I quit my job as a maid because it wasn’t “fitting” for the wife of a successful realtor.But at the same time, my friends grew distant, and slowly, I lost contact with everyone except Kristie.But I was too ashamed to confide in Kris because I’d been over the moon when Ned and I dated.I was embarrassed to reveal that my radar had been so off, and that I’d goofed so badly.
So the abuse continued behind closed doors.I cried quietly in my bedroom, while my husband was at work.I became a recluse of sorts, although I made sure to post regularly to Facebook and Instagram to reassure others that I was alive and well.But behind it all, I was a mess because Ned made me feel like I didn’t deserve better.I was no longer a vivacious woman.I was a shadow of my former self, existing in pain, and coming near to ending it all.
But the end didn’t come for me; it came for him instead.We were driving in Ned’s Tesla when a truck ran a red light and t-boned us on the driver’s side.Ned died instantaneously upon impact, whereas I was jolted badly, but uninjured.To be honest, the condolences were almost worse than when he was alive because no one knew what the true Ned had been like.Instead, I had to listen to endless accolades praising my deceased husband.Many people spoke about how he was a caring man who served his community, and a loyal friend.But I knew the truth, which is that the caring man was also abusing his wife behind closed doors.
I think that’s why I am the way I am these days.I’m always a bit nervous, as if I’m expecting a man’s hand to descend in violence.I’m always unsure of myself, and shy and receding to the point of being an anxious avoidant.But this isn’t something that Prozac and Wellbutrin can fix.Instead, it’s going to take a lot of therapy because I endured violence at the hand of my husband, and the memory will stay with me always.
Tears brim on my lashes as I take in the view of Central Park.It’s a gorgeous day, and the sun warms my skin as a breeze ruffles the blonde strands loose at my temples.But beneath it all, I’m cold and frozen because once upon a time, I was a young girl with hopes and dreams ...but said dreams were smashed, and I’ll never be the same again.
6
Dominic
Ilet myself into the master suite, and something’s off.I can feel it immediately.It’s not a “wrong” feeling per se, but there’s another person here, and I can sense their vibrations in the air.Slowly, I step into the bedroom, and that’s when I see her –Angie.
She’s gorgeous, and I come to a standstill just drinking in her curvy figure.Her blonde strands are pulled into a bun, but tendrils have come loose, framing her rounded cheeks.Not only that, but she’s not wearing that ugly grey housekeeping uniform.Instead, Angela’s clad in a white blouse tucked into a black skirt, which emphasizes her narrow waist.Wide hips make me lick my lips hungrily, and her slim legs are tucked into gray sneakers.
Immediately, I intuit why she’s in my bedroom.She’s trying to retrieve her lost shoe, which at the moment, is tucked into a drawer in my dresser.But somehow, Angela got caught up in the view from my private terrace, and is enjoying the sunshine and balmy weather as she relaxes a bit.
I should interrupt her reverie and then she’ll be flustered and leave.I’m sure we’d exchange some polite words, and then go about our business per usual.But the memory of last night’s kiss remains on my tongue, and I can almost taste the beautiful blonde’s sweetness.I want more.
Like a panther, I stalk to the en suite, but instead of shutting the door, I leave it wide open.Then, I shed my dark suit and get totally naked before wrenching on the shower.I can almost hear it: Angela’s startled squeak when she realizes that I’ve returned from work early, and caught her snooping about my bedroom.
But she doesn’t know that I’ve seen her.It’s totally possible that I walked in and went straight to the bathroom without noticing her presence on the terrace.Grinning to myself, I wonder how this is going to play out.Will Angela try to sneak out unseen?Or are we about to embark on a journey from which there is no return?
Humming slightly, I step into the shower and let the warm water sluice over my big body.Damn, it feels good and I reach for the shampoo before pouring some in my hand and working it through my dark hair.Then, I tilt my head back and let the water rinse out the suds, raising my arms to show off stacked biceps and the thick, heavy slabs of my pecs.
That’s when I hear it.There’s a slight gasp outside, and it’s obviously Angie.She’s likely stopped in her tracks, watching my reflection in the mirror.Perfect.I have the curvy girl right where I want her.
Smiling, I let my hands slide down my slick chest until I’m gripping my cock at the base.Then, I squeeze the hardness and close my eyes while letting out a low moan.
“Fuuuuck,” my growl rings out in the bathroom.“Goddamn.”
The gasp comes again, and when I peek through the slits of my eyes, sure enough, Angie’s poised in the bedroom staring at my image in the mirror.I’m tall, with water running in a hot spray over broad shoulders, and the heavy mass of my build in stark definition.My cock is at full mast already too – it’s ten inches of pure fuck power, with veins bulging on the right and left sides, and a pearl of pre-come forming at the tip.Hell yeah.
