by K O'Hanlon
In a fit of rage he threw the designer bags to the floor and grabbed his wife by the arm. “What the hell do you think you’re doing spending money on all this shit that we can’t afford? There’s nothing in the fridge to eat. I came home early because there’s no work and you’re out on another one of your shopping sprees. What the hell am I supposed to have for dinner? Not another bloody omelette! I had that yesterday and two days before that. The milk has gone off so I can’t even have a coffee. But I noticed you bought yourself a couple of bottles of wine in case some of your boring friends come round in the daytime.”
He dragged her by the arm towards the kitchen and stood her in front of the fridge. He flung the door wide open so she could see inside. The shelves were mostly empty save for a few bits of rotten cheese, a couple of eggs, and some out of date milk. A very sad looking tomato with the first signs of mould sat alone on the middle shelf as witness to what was about to happen.
He still had hold of his wife’s arm as he swung her around to face him. Her high heels lost their grip on the tiled floor and she slipped. He lost his grip on her arm as she fell towards the dishwasher that still sat waiting with the door open and the bottom draw pulled out. The two steak knives that they used for most meals had their sharp pointed ends facing upwards in the grey plastic cutlery basket. One went into her right eye, the other sliced into her neck. Blood spurted in all directions.
James just stood for several seconds and watched in horror. His mobile phone was in the glove box of his car. The house phone wasn’t in its cradle in the hall so he ran upstairs and into the bedroom. The phone handset lay there on the bed where his wife had left it earlier in the day. He just stood and stared at the phone, his own pulse was racing. This could be his way out of a marriage that has gone off the rails. What should he do? How long should he wait? His mind refused to provide the answers. He picked up the phone and walked slowly down the stairs and into the kitchen. His wife was still lying across the dishwasher door covered in her own blood with light from the open fridge illuminating her face. She lifted one feeble arm and reached out to him for help. For several seconds he stood and did nothing. Her arm dropped with a mighty thud that rattled the top draw of blood splattered cups and glasses. Her good eye was dull and lifeless as it stared up at him.
He gently closed the fridge door leaving his wife’s face in shadow and the tomato in total darkness. His hands were shaking uncontrollably as he looked at the phone and pressed the first of three nines.
The ambulance arrived within six minutes of receiving his call. His wife was obviously dead but he begs and pleads with the crew to save her. A pretty young paramedic takes him into the lounge to await the arrival of the police. James needs to get his head straight with the story or he could land himself in a lot of trouble.
The police arrive and start with the questions. They take photos of his wife lying across the dishwasher door with the knives still stuck in her eye and neck. Once the emergency crew are given the ok they set about their duty of removing the body.
The paramedics look at him with pity in their eyes. This isn’t the first time they’ve seen someone die in this fashion.
James sobs uncontrollably as he tries to give his statement to the police officer. He keeps repeating the same words over and over… “I couldn’t find the phone. I couldn’t find the phone.”
His tears are genuine as they transport his wife from the house to the ambulance. Her body is sealed in a large plastic zipped bag. He can’t help thinking she would no doubt have an expensive designer handbag and shoes in her wardrobe to compliment such an outfit.
His first few days back at work are awkward. Nobody wants to mention his wife but all of them want to know the details. He kept his head down and avoided talking to any of his colleagues. He had spoken to his solicitor friend, Vivian Turnbull, and was told not to worry, it sounds like a typical case of accidental death. The only marks found on his wife’s body other than the puncture wounds were from when he grabbed her arms as he tried to stop her from falling.
As James looked back over his married life he realised that he never really loved his wife. She wasn’t a beautiful woman, though she wasn’t ugly either. She was the type of person that you accept as being the best you can get at the time. As he got to know her more over the years he saw all of her flaws come to the surface. Apart from her spending habits which annoyed him recently she had always made him feel inferior in front of friends at social gatherings. He could never match up to her old school pal Peter what’s-his-face who had risen up the corporate ladder and lived in a six bedroomed detached house on the outskirts of London with his posh cars and a driveway big enough to park a London bus. There were no restrictions on Peter’s wife’s spending.
She wanted him to be more like Peter, to have his financial knowhow and of course the big expensive house and cars that all top executives own. James had never craved any of those things because deep down he knew he would never have any of it unless his luck changed and he won the lottery.
He had worked hard to keep up with her outgoing expenditure. She spent it quicker than he could earn it.
When his wife’s body was released for burial James was kept busy making the arrangements and contacting their few friends along with the handful of people that he knew she associated with. Her own family, her mother, father and brother had been dead and buried many years ago. It would seem that none of her family could make it to old age.
The day of the funeral started grey and wet. Only eleven people turned up to say their farewells and pay their respects. Her five shopaholic friends were easily spotted with their designer bags and matching shoes all trying desperately to outdo one another.
The service was short and nobody stood around for long afterwards. Some went straight home while a handful followed James back to his house expecting tea, cake, and a sandwich. The disappointment showed on their faces when he removed half a loaf from the freezer and put it in the microwave on full power to defrost. The butter was too hard to spread easily and ripped large holes in the bread. Roughly cut chunks of almost out of date cheese were quickly stuffed between the slices and served up as sandwiches. The kettle capacity wasn’t enough to provide everyone with a hot drink so James went without.
His guests didn’t stay long once they realised no more tea would be forthcoming and the expectation of cake wasn’t to be fulfilled. Only one of his wife’s friends stayed behind with the offer of clearing away the dirty plates and cups.
He stood behind her as she loaded the objects into the dishwasher that had been responsible for the death of her friend. Tears started to stream down her face as she shut the door and pressed the start button.
James wasn’t totally heartless so he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. He needed a shoulder to cry on too. They remained locked together in their tearful embrace for what seemed an eternity.
Outside the light was fading fast as the evening grew ever darker. No lights were on inside the house. Darkness surrounded them as they clung to each other, their senses slowly awakened to what might happen next.
James kissed her forehead then slowly trailed his lips down over her face following the trail of her tears until he reached her mouth. She ran her hands up around the back of his neck and pulled him closer.
That proved to be his undoing. He lost all sense of his surroundings as they both sank to the kitchen floor on their knees. Clothing was quickly pushed aside before making love in a silent frenzy to the rhythm of the dishwasher as it whirled hot water and detergent around its half empty load.
A buzzer sounded and a small orange light flashed on and off indicating that the dishes were washed and ready. James stood up and fumbled in the dark for his trousers. The woman with him who he thought was named Sophie also reached out for her abandoned underwear and top. The two of them hurried to get dressed in the darkness, their only light being the orange glow that flashed intermittently lighting up a small area nearby.
Sophie l
eft with mixed feelings of excitement, sadness, uncertainty and guilt. James only felt guilt, not because of what had just happened with his wife’s friend. He didn’t know if she was married, single, widowed or divorced. What’s more, he didn’t care.
From now on he would be the man he wanted to be. But first he had to write to his parents and break the news to them. He hadn’t yet had the heart to tell them about his wife’s death. They lived in New Zealand and there was no way he would’ve let them spend their hard earned savings to finance a trip to England for the funeral. He didn’t want them to visit and fuss over him and he couldn’t bear the thought of his mother seeing the guilt in his eyes.
The internet being the uncontrollable beast that it is had taken work from companies like the one James worked for but in return it also provided a chance to improve the turnover of any business that used it to the full.
When his boss finally retired and handed the running of the company over to his daughter she threw herself headlong into promoting the business on the internet.
Sales figures started to rise. More and more items were added to the now ever growing list of products that a stationery printing company could offer its online customers. James was starting to feel financially secure and was once again in control of his destiny.
Evenings and weekends were very lonely times for a forty year old man who over the years had lost contact with his friends. An advert in the local newsagent’s window caught his eye. Good Home Wanted for small mongrel dog called Scamp. Owner emigrating to Australia. House trained. Good temperament. Good companion.
There was a black & white sun faded photocopied picture of Scamp with a phone number attached. James hadn’t gone to the shop with any intention of getting a pet but he made a note of the number and rang it as soon as he got back home. That same day he found himself driving twenty miles to see and collect the unwanted little dog.
Scamp lay in his basket on the front passenger seat of the car with his one eyed teddy. A box on the rear seat housed his squeaky plastic toys, tins of food, two ceramic bowls and his blanket. The dog kept looking up at James every time he changed gear. Once at his new home he went from one room to the next until he had seen the whole house. He obviously approved of his new surroundings and jumped onto the armchair facing the television. James didn’t have the heart to move him so he put the teddy next to him and left him sitting there while he sorted out the food bowls and put the tins away. That evening, watching the telly with little Scamp on his lap was the first time in years that he actually felt wanted.
His wife’s insurance had paid out enough to cover the mortgage on his house and still have plenty left over to help secure his immediate future. It wasn’t enough to retire on but it gave his bank balance a huge boost. He no longer drifted through life with a frown on his face.
The world was becoming a much better place. Time that was once spent worrying about cash flows had become a time of leisure. Taking his newly acquired canine friend for long country walks gave him plenty of exercise and trimmed his waistline down. He was looking better, he felt better. There had been one or two rather attractive women that caught his eye and he knew he had caught theirs. He no longer felt invisible.
One of his new pastimes was online chess. He had spent several months on a site called Chessbyte and enjoyed the banter with other people around the world.
There had been several women who obviously joined the site just to tease the men. Some even went so far as to use photos of famous models or topless page three girls to attract the male sex. James could give as good as he got from these women but for him it was just a bit of fun. Nothing serious could ever come from his online encounters.
Chapter Three
S amuel Fairchild’s day started grey and wet for the third time this week. Spring should be bright with the first signs of colour, but today the weather matched his mood.
Samuel’s life could be better and this obsession he has to control and use people should improve it given time. It just takes focus and planning but in the end it will be worth it. But for now he’s living in a dirty basement apartment, watching life pass by from below street level through grey dirt smeared windows with paint that clings to the frame by willpower alone. He watches with interest at those who pass by, some tall, short, laughter and silly giggles, high heels clicking loudly in his ears. He grows to hate them all.
His life will take a turn for the better soon. There are plenty of people on the internet who believe everything they’re told. They swap stories of their boring drab lives. He’ll search for a suitable candidate to help him take his plan forward then he’ll no longer need this awful apartment with its cheap hand-me-down furnishings.
He’ll find a sad soul to manipulate. He knows he has the power to control their weak simple minds.
Sam had signed onto an online chess site called Chessbyte. BustyLady was his username for his trial run. He knew that the majority of players would be male, just what he wanted. The fools are so easy to control when their imaginations run wild with sexual fantasies of a long legged blonde with near perfect features and large breasts.
It’s not long before he’s playing chess with a good mix of idiots all waiting for the moment when they think they know BustyLady well enough to ask questions about life, loves, and in particular, marriage status. Some he actually felt sorry for but that didn’t last long once he knew the direction he was heading, and to achieve his goal he absolutely had to stay in character as female. There were however, quite a lot of players who had seen it all before and weren’t taken in by his sexy female talk. They knew from experience that it was most likely a man playing tricks on other site users just for a laugh. Even with all the warnings from some well-respected players there were always some desperate fools who wanted to believe he was a big busted blonde female.
Joe Costa, the poor sad fool was the first to fall head over heels for BustyLady. After only a couple of weeks he was hooked. Joe transferred money to Sam’s account after falling for the hard luck story of having nothing left for food after paying rent. He sent $500 to start with followed by another $3,000 to finance a trip to Chicago for his online lover. Apparently, his family where quite wealthy, they owned apartments and bars all over Illinois.
Joe was the worst chess player that Sam ever encountered on the site. He could beat him easily without any effort at all, a total loser.
From things he’d said Sam got the impression that he was probably a teenager so he ended the sexy talk by closing his BustyLady account with no warning not even a thank you and goodbye. The poor sod was so gullible. His dream of meeting the love of his life was never an option on Sam’s part.
Joe Costa was good as a trial run but was of no further use to him. He needed someone nearer who lived in England, but not so near that they could ever see the real person he was, that really wouldn’t do.
Sam’s new account and username on Chessbyte is Samantha25. This time he’ll play it with grace and style. He needs to attract the right type of person if his plan is to succeed.
It’s not long before he’s talking to another guy, his username is 64squares, his real name is James. He is, according to him about fifteen years older than Sam. He’ll not rush into telling James about his life. He wants him to like Samantha, trust Samantha then fall totally in love with Samantha. That is the only way his plan will ever come to fruition. He needs his help and he needs it quite soon but he can’t afford to rush and make mistakes. This plan has to work first time or it won’t work at all. If James suspects at any time that Samantha isn’t female he’ll have to end it and start over from scratch.
They have been talking for several weeks now and Sam knows the fool is attracted to Samantha. It’s time to send dear old James a picture but he wouldn’t want to see a short somewhat dumpy looking untidy mousy haired twenty-six year old male dressed in a baggy jumper all splattered with paint so he must find a nice photo from somewhere. He can’t use images from the internet they’re too easily expose
d as fake. He’d seen it happen many times before.
A quick trip to the local shopping centre could be the answer. There would be plenty of nice looking twenty-five year olds to choose from and they would never know their faces were being used online. Everybody walked around with a mobile phone in their hand and nobody took any notice or cared if they were caught on camera in someone else’s pictures. He only needs one good shot for now.
The food hall was quite busy so he made his way over. He pushed aside what looked to have once been a happy meal and wiped ketchup from the table before sitting down. Young mums with screaming kids filled the place. He just needs one nice looking twenty-five year old blonde, get a quick photo on his mobile and get out of here. One walked right over near his table, he wasn’t ready, he panicked, touched the photo button on his phone and got a close-up shot of his own fingers. It wasn’t working out too well. He must get away from all the noise so he makes his way towards the larger stores. He needs somewhere with some space so he can think.
After hovering around the furniture store for a while he spots a really nice looking girl. She looks about the right age, tall but not too tall, long styled blonde hair, nice figure, pretty face, not too much makeup. Perfect! He plays around with his phone trying to look like he’s reading a text message then manages to get a shot of her while she’s standing near the large white leather sofa set. Brilliant! It looks just like she’s indoors rubbing her hands over the soft leather.
She smiles at him a bit suspiciously. Sam smiles back and leaves the shop. He has no idea who she is nor does he care, for now she will serve her purpose as Samantha. He can crop out the large red sale price that hangs above the beautiful leather sofa before sending a copy to James via the chess site.