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  Thank God Kimberly had a brother to share in the responsibility of an elderly mother. But as Kimberly would soon find out, Frank had a devious plan in the works. He called Mother only an hour later. “Mom, are you okay?”

  “Well of course I'm okay, Frank.”

  “The reason I ask is because I got a suspicious phone call from Kimberly. I guess she went over to your house last week and noticed a gas leak on the stove. Apparently, she's blowing it way out of proportion, trying to say that you have dementia or something.”

  Mother was shocked, “What? No! You've got to be kidding me!”

  “I'm not kidding. And get this, Mom. Kimberly was talking about putting you in a nursing home. She's trying to convince me that you can't take care of yourself, anymore.”

  Poor Mother grew increasingly outraged, “Why would she do that? That's terrible!”

  “I know, Mom. I think there's something going on in their personal life and they need money. My guess is if they can get you declared mentally incompetent, then they can have control of your finances. Dad left you a lot of money. I'm sure they'd love to get their hands on it!”

  The poor, old woman was terribly disturbed by the news and already in the early stages of some old-aged, mental illness. In a weakened condition, she fed on every lie of Frank's while trusting her son with any insight he might have.

  Frank continued to drive more worry into his mother. “You don't want to go to a nursing home, Mom. You just can't. They give you all those medications which make you get worse. You know how it is. Doctors give you pills to treat one thing, but then it has a negative effect on something else. Why else do you think people walk around like zombies in those places? Is that how you want to be; all drugged up and staggering around, pointing at imaginary people and little elves on the walls? And the food they give you is awful. Plus they put you to bed at six o'clock at night and make you wear diapers so they can chain you to the beds.”

  Poor Mother was in tears, “Oh my God, that's awful!”

  “And they make you sit in your diaper until around eight o'clock in the morning. And I'm sure they yell at you while changing it.”

  Mother couldn't even sit in her chair as she now paced the family room, trembling with tears rolling down her cheeks. How could Kimberly do such a thing to her? If she needed money, Kimberly could have simply asked. Well Kimberly's true colors showed, now! “Frank, I only bumped into the stove and it opened the pilot. It could happen to anyone.”

  “I know, Mom; I know. I've done that before, too. Like I said, Kimberly is trying to blow it way out of proportion so she can get you in a home. Here's what you can do. You need to get out of Mapleview. You need to come down to Georgia and live with us. A change will definitely do you some good.”

  Her son was so goodhearted, but she couldn't take advantage of him. “Oh, Frank; I couldn't. I might get in the way.”

  “You're not going to get in the way, Mom. Besides, we need to get you out of there as soon as possible. I'm leaving tonight. I should be there in the next day or so to pick you up.”

  “Frank, that's so soon!”

  “Mom, do you want to end up in a nursing home? Kimberly is serious about this. The quicker we get you out of there, the better. Just start packing up some of your clothes and necessary belongings. And definitely be sure to have your investments, your bank account information, any money you have in the house, all those antique coins that Dad collected, your jewelry; all that stuff. Kimberly and her husband will be going through the house when you're gone. They want money and valuables. As far as selling your house, I know a good Realtor out there named Jack Swieley. He'll sell the house for you, and the money will be yours.”

  * * *

  Kimberly was never aware that her brother was in town. She simply received a phone call one late afternoon from Frank's cell phone. But it was Mother's voice! “Kimberly?”

  “Yeah, Mom…”

  “Kimberly, I thought I should let you know that I'm heading back to Georgia with Frank.”

  Suddenly, a surge of panic streaked through Kimberly. Mother was being kidnapped! How else would she be calling from Frank's cell phone? “Mom, what are you talking about?”

  “I know all about it, Kimberly; how you were trying to put me in a home. I think it's rotten of you. Don't worry about my money and investments or anything of value. I have it all. And don't worry about the house. I'm putting it up for sale.”

  Kimberly desperately tried with all her might to talk sense into her Mother. Time was running out and she needed to be rescued. But for a woman Mother's age, she instinctively trusts her most powerful emotions. That moment of terror brought on through Frank's lies was all too real for Mother. How could she have trusted Kimberly?

  And when asking to talk to Frank, Kimberly's brother would simply hang up the phone.

  Kimberly and her husband, Jim, could only assume that Frank would soon have full control of the money. After all, if Frank could convince Mother to move down to Georgia, it would only be a matter of time before she signed everything over to his care. And that was how Kimberly lost contact with Mother, her brother, her sister-in-law, along with niece and two nephews.

  It's evil, that money! People are willing to purchase a one-way ticket to Hell just for a few, lousy years of the highlife.

  Chapter 22

  Although another holiday would come and go without Kimberly's side of the family, Kimberly remained mindful of all the things she had to be thankful for. For one, at least she and Jim were financially responsible. They weren't dependent on inherited money to pay off bills, only to irresponsibly fund an extravagant year, or so, until the money ran out. She and Jim lived modestly—comfortably modest. Kimberly had two beautiful children. She was every bit a part of their life, staying at home as a fulltime mom. She had a wonderful husband who… well… maybe there was something dark and suspicious going on behind Kimberly's back, but she had a husband who appeared very much a part of the family and appeared to love Kimberly. At least in this moment over Thanksgiving dinner there was laughter, gayety and talk of happy things. Although lurking somewhere in her subconscious, Kimberly wasn't terribly mindful of her own family's absence. But through all the discussions of what her kids were doing and what Jim's nieces and nephews were up to these days, Kimberly continued to watch her husband. He would certainly be tested that evening.

  As for Amber, the day wasn't terribly lonely. Estranged from her family many years ago and divorced from Michael, the only option was to make a small turkey dinner for her and Trista. Trista's father chose to be with that other woman and kids for the day. But maybe she could manipulate the afternoon in her favor so that Jim made a cameo appearance.

  In the meantime, Jim sat there with his own family, discussing the old days with his two brothers, drinking more beer and acting as though nothing out-of-the-ordinary with life. And no one was the least bit wise to the dirty filth that stuck to his body. Jim needed a bath, a shower; maybe even have a fire hose spray him down with harsh force. The dirty bastard left the house that morning and had sex with “that woman”. But Kimberly would find out more after everyone had gone home and the kids were in their rooms for the night.

  Suddenly, Jim's outdated palm-pilot-styled phone sounded an alert. Hopefully it wasn't a Thanksgiving outage.

  Kimberly studied her husband from a distance, just knowing that the text message came from “that woman”. She was probably asking him to come over for Thanksgiving dinner. Kimberly was acting every bit an overly-jealous wife with unfounded reasons for her suspicions. Why in the world would “that woman” text Jim and expect him to come over for dinner?

  Jim opened the message.

  It was from Amber. “HAPPY THANKSGIVING!”

  Jim typed a reply while Kimberly watched from across the room, “Happy Thanksgiving! How's it going today?”

  After pressing the send button, Jim's father suddenly asked, “So Jim, in your opinion, who do you think has the best plasma TV? I'm thinking of get
ting one.”

  “Not sure, Dad. I don't know much about them.”

  “No? Don't you set those up in people's houses?”

  “No, Dad; I maintain the outside equipment, remember?”

  Jim's phone sounded an alert as another text message came through. It was Amber. “Not bad. It's just me and Trista. You should stop over and have a bite to eat. It would be nice.”

  Jim typed a message in return, “No, I can't get out of the house. The whole family's here. Didn't we celebrate last Friday?”

  While Jim pressed the send button, Kimberly asked, “Who are you texting?” As far as Kimberly knew, Jim didn't have any friends. And all his family was there for the holiday.

  Of course Jim lied while quickly deleting the chat thread. “Oh just people at the office sending out Happy Thanksgiving text messages.”

  For some reason, Kimberly had a difficult time believing her husband.

  Sometime later, Jim's brother asked, “I got the new Motorola Droid. They just pushed the new operating system on me, but there seems to be some bugs. Are they going to resolve that?”

  “I don't know, Mike. I don't have a Droid.”

  Moments later, Jim's other brother asked, “Hey, do you know of any cheap, lossless compression formats for music files? I hear MP3 takes some of the quality out of music files.”

  “Don't know; and to tell you the truth, I've never noticed any difference with MP3s.”

  Jim didn't know. He didn't know! For some reason, everyone saw him as the technology guru who could answer any questions on the latest gadgets or electronic goods. Satisfied with his TV from the year 2001, his outdated MP3 player and obsolete palm-pilot-styled phone from 2007; he was quite happy staying disconnected from the “latest and greatest” society. Half the time he had no idea what the hell people were talking about. And quite frankly, the Thanksgiving discussion of the latest gizmos and technology was beginning to bore Jim.

  How he wished to be a wealth of information when it came to Ms. Lutrova. Jim's morning of web stalking, Ouija session and psychic reading was all in vain. He should have learned all about Ms. Lutrova and family; who they were, where they lived, stories of their lives and the causes they stood for. Despite how fruitless the web searches were, the hour of secret browsing had turned Jim into nothing less than an obsessed-psycho-stalker. And he was the frustrated type of stalker who had yet to learn anything of his victim!

  * * *

  One thing was certain in Jim's marriage. When it came to holidays, sex was not to be had! As he sat on the sofa with an evening bottle of beer, quartz crystal in his pocket and sneaking a text or two to his mistress; Kimberly walked in the family room, wearing just an oversized nightshirt and carrying a beverage with ice. In earlier years, had Kimberly walked in with just a nightshirt, Jim's hands would have found their way underneath. A man should be so lucky to have a wife like Kimberly; a hot, cinnamon, curvy blond with large breasts. Laying hands on those silky, creamy, bare thighs would only lead to pulling off her nightshirt and seizing the woman for more. But Jim learned not to look at his wife in that light. Pursuing her for sex only led to frustration. Only when Kimberly was in the mood could Jim finally have his way.

  At first, Jim ignored his wife as she sat down next to him. In Jim's perception, placing her luscious, bare thigh on his lap was only Kimberly's way of being rude. Hopefully she didn't feel the phone buzzing in his pocket—another message from Amber.

  Actually sex wouldn't be such a bad idea for Thanksgiving night. Amber was relentless with her desire to have Jim sneak over. Maybe he could stage a Thanksgiving night cable outage and visit the mistress for a little romance. It didn't need to be sex. Even Amber was a prude when it came to sex, as she had yet to fully put out. But Jim would have taken anything at that moment; making out, some nudity, feeling Amber's small breasts. The more Jim thought of it, the more he realized his horniness. And how lucky Jim was! Why did he waste his time with Ms. Lutrova and her silly game of Rumplestiltskin? Jim had a beautiful wife beside him and a mistress down the street just begging for him to come over.

  Pulling out of his thoughts, Jim took notice of the mysterious drink in Kimberly's hand. She convulsed and made a funny face while taking a sip. Apparently, Kimberly was getting drunk! And this practice was only done on evenings when in the mood for love. Was Kimberly attempting sex on a holiday?

  “What do you have in your glass?” asked Jim.

  “Vodka and lemonade, except I made it really strong. Go ahead, taste it.”

  Jim took a sip. It was more like lemonade-flavored vodka. “Jeez! What, are you getting drunk?”

  “It's Thanksgiving; it's a holiday.” Kimberly would never admit to desiring sex. Instead, she took another sip from the glass, already feeling heavily buzzed.

  To test his suspicions, Jim gently placed his hand on Kimberly's thigh and began to sensually rub.

  Kimberly smiled in return.

  It was on! After a five week gap, Jim would finally be rewarded to something he needed so badly. He further reached his hand underneath Kimberly's nightshirt. “Are you wearing panties?”

  Kimberly slightly opened her thighs so that Jim could fondle as he pleased. Being that she removed her panties before slipping into something more comfortable, it was easy for Jim's finger to find the right thing.

  Kimberly crossed her arm over towards Jim and laid her hand on his crotch. “You're not hard.”

  But who was Kimberly fooling? The stiff bulge was already beginning to form.

  Jim didn't pay much attention to Kimberly's silly comment. He continued to play as he wished. And there was no denying for Kimberly of how pleasurable that moment was. She leaned in close and kissed her husband, losing herself in a moment of total ecstasy before returning to Earth for the next build-up. And it was shortly after this first trip back that she pulled away from Jim and looked him in the eyes. “Why are you kissing differently?”

  Jim's fondling ceased. “What are you talking about?”

  “You're kissing differently. Who have you been kissing?”

  “I'm not kissing anyone else. Maybe you just haven't kissed me in a while.” Jim gave his wife a simple kiss to her lips. “See, this is what I'm talking about. We need to do this sort of thing more often. Doesn't it feel good?”

  Kimberly nodded. But she didn't believe her husband. She would prove it once-and-for-all with a trip to the bedroom. “We better get in the room. The kids could come in here any minute.”

  Unlike other evenings of romance, the bedroom light stayed on while Kimberly stood before her husband, eagerly waiting for him to do more. With his shirt off, Kimberly glanced at Jim's neck and chest for any hickies or bite marks. She even glanced in the bedroom mirror behind him for scratches. There was nothing.

  This was done just a second before Jim seized her. He aggressively pulled off Kimberly's nightshirt to expose her large, bulging breasts, curvy hips and brown bush covering that which would soon be assaulted. He kissed her so crazily with his hands firmly squeezing Kimberly's thick, full ass.

  But then Kimberly went back to the same, silly game. “You're not hard.”

  “You think so, huh?” It was only a cue for Jim to pull down his pants and expose the item in question. It was hot and hard, looking just as dangerous as ever. “There it is, Baby. Any more questions?” With his left hand firmly squeezing Kimberly's ass cheek, Jim's right hand was used to attempt touching her with the thing.

  But Kimberly wanted no part of that thing. STDs, HPV or even yeast infections; Kimberly couldn't allow Jim to touch her with it. She quickly pushed Jim away. “Okay, that's enough.”

  Kimberly didn't push her husband hard enough. He only pulled her back and took hold of his wife's face while whispering against her luscious lips. “You like playing that little game, huh? You in the mood for some rough stuff, tonight?”

  “No, Jim!” Kimberly had to be careful not to talk too loudly. The kids couldn't be aware of what was going on in Mother and Father's room.


  Jim's hand grasped the back of Kimberly's hair as he enjoyed another kiss from her luscious lips. In earlier years, Kimberly and Jim enjoyed beautiful sex as any young couple does. Then, shortly after April had been born, Jim began playing out his sexual frustrations with small hints of aggression during moments of making love. One night, he had one of the greatest, sexual experiences of his life. Somehow, he and Kimberly ended up playing the rape game in bed. She squirmed and fought her attacker, begged him to stop and resisted any unwanted touches while looking away whenever kissed. Just about every husband and wife has played this once or twice. It's a very, exciting game!

  But for Jim and Kimberly, this turned into a regular occurrence. Kimberly was so good at it, making the sexual experience spicy and intense for Jim. And so on that Thanksgiving night under much suspicion and mistrust, Jim only interpreted the resistance as a sign to play.

  “No, Jim! Stop it!”

  Hair is meant to be grabbed and to make a woman understand that “no” is not an option. Of course it hurts when pulled hard enough and can turn a woman irate. Jim wanted that irateness as he aggressively held the sides of Kimberly's sexy, cinnamon-blond hair and continued kissing her. He wanted his wife to be angry in that moment. He desired to see the furious beast come out, slapping him and biting him with a distressed look in her face. Every vicious scratch and every slap to Jim's face was appreciated and enjoyed.

  Jim momentarily stopped to take sight of his roughed-up wife, breathing heavily with red, ferocious face. Then he told her, “Baby, you are so, freaking sexy when you're mad.”

  “I'm not playing, Jim!”

  “Shut up and get on the bed.” Jim seized his wife and pushed her across the room.

  But Kimberly was strong and would not go down without a fight. She stood up from the bed as Jim approached, only to be pushed down against the mattress. Of course Kimberly squirmed and resisted as Jim lay on top. Occasionally, his dangerous thing would make contact with her. But she was good! Kimberly desperately fought off her attacker, even slapped and bit when given a chance. In fact, the difficulty in finally having what he wanted created a crazed frustration for Jim. Oh, she was good! She was so, freaking good! She made it all so real!