He pocketed the card and got out his keys. He noticed as he was crossing the lawn that Mrs. Bauer’s yellow corvette was in the driveway.
Mister Bauer sure is a lucky dude, with a hot wife like that.
Maybe?
Wouldn’t that be great if I walked in on her and Sandy getting it on?
Maybe she’s a lesbo. That could be why she’s been avoiding me?
He could hear classical music playing in the living room and just could not wait to get this insane day behind him. He turned the key and stepped inside, with his patented greeting on his lips, “Honey…”
“…you’re a slut?”
Benjamin Long could not believe his eyes. His dear, petite, sex-averse Sandy was naked except for a pink dog collar, which was attached to a pink leash, which was looped over the banister at the base of the railing. She was on her knees gagging on—Mister Baeur!
No way, he’s—oh no!
Mister Bauer was a veteran of the first Gulf War, a tall muscled up guy. Benjamin had no idea that he was tattooed, and, well, dangerous looking under those suits he wore to work. Sandy was presently unable to talk—heck, probably unable to breathe! So she just looked at him with big surprised eyes that got angry. Mister Bauer was cool, “Hey, Ben, you’re fired.”
That’s it?
He just stood there with his mouth open, watching, and Mister Bauer never even slowed down, started getting rougher even. And Sandy just gave Benjamin a look that said, “Oh well” and continued to gag.
Am I dead?
Did I die in the car accident?
What is happening?
He stood there for some time in a daze before Mister Bauer let go of her head, picked her up with his big hands around her tiny waist like she was a small dog, and turned her around, holding her between his hands like she wasn’t even a person, and looked at Benjamin, seemingly surprised he was still there.
“Hey, Ben, I don’t think you want to stick around for this.”
Benjamin felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. Then, as his former employer set his wife cruelly down on her hands and knees on the hardwood floor, she looked at Benjamin with a mixture of disbelief and disgust.
“Are you retarded, Ben? Just leave.”
He became instantly ill and fled out the door, slamming it behind him and vomiting on the porch, spewing General Tsoa’s chicken across the brickwork. He could not stop running or puking and kept at it as he staggered across the lawn in tears, clutching for his cell phone, hoping to call the only friend he had in the world, the drug dealer he met twenty minutes ago…
