A man sits in his office staring out his twenty-third story window, dressed nicely in an Armani suit tailored to his muscular body. His wife sits at home, tall and skinny with skinny jeans and a retro tee shirt, waiting on him to come home every night. His children sleep in their Los Angeles mansion, dreaming of a day with Dad. He calls his wife to tell her not to wait up for him because he is swamped at work. She sighs loudly on the phone as she has done all week, expecting the call.
A woman walks into his office slowly and gracefully. She is tall and slender, wearing stilettos and a tight fighting black dress that contours to her body, hugging her hips. “Mr. Smith would you like to escort me to dinner?” she speaks softly, her voice husky and musical. “I would love to Violet,” responds Mr. Smith in his usual quiet voice. Calm, but assertive. Violet has been working for Mr. Smith for three years now as his secretary. She is stunning. Long smooth legs, a nice tight butt, large breasts, and gorgeous facial features. Her lips are seductive and her blue eyes seem to just stare into your soul. Her long blond hair rounded out her face when she let it down; otherwise she wore it pulled back into a tight ponytail as she worked answering calls and delivering messages to Mr. Smith. They had started their affair a year and a half earlier.
It all seemed to be casual at first, harmless flirting and the occasional touching of the skin. Their relationship became more sexual as one late day at work turned into an early morning. Both terrified and guilty of what had just happened, the workroom was quiet and awkward. No more touching of the skin, no more subtle flirting.
Even though Mr. Smith was ashamed of his affair with Violet, he couldn’t seem to get enough of her no matter how awkward things became in the office, he wanted her. He stared at her when she walked by him, admiring her beauty. Slowly he began to pick up the flirting again, the touching resumed, and once again a late night at work turned into an early morning. The long nights at work began to become routine. Mr. Smith would call his wife three or four times a week to tell her not to wait up.
Mr. Smith could no longer face his wife and children. He made up any excuse he could to avoid speaking to his wife. He backed away from his wife’s affection, he avoided eye contact at dinner, and he spent all hours of the night slaving away in his home office. Mrs. Smith, his wife, had started to become suspicious. She felt betrayed by her once adoring husband. She was confused about her husband’s new behavior.
Mr. Smith and Violet became closer and closer. Their relationship became more than just sexual. Violet fell in love with Mr. Smith and she was certain that Mr. Smith returned the affection, but why then has he not divorced his wife. Mr. Smith struggled with this same issue. He felt he was slowly falling out of love with his wife, and he was becoming more and more affectionate with Violet. Yet, Mr. Smith could not see himself leaving his two beautiful girls. What kind of father would he be if he if he walked out on his two daughters?
Mrs. Smith started to become more and more suspicious of her husband’s late nights at work. One Thursday, she decided to try and get to the bottom of what was tearing her marriage apart. She called Mr. Smith’s office only to get Violet on the other line. “Hello, Smith Enterprises this is Violet how may I help you?” The phrase that she uttered so many times before in her three years working as a secretary. Mrs. Smith was used to the voice on the other end of the phone. Stammering Mrs. Smith responded, “Hi, this is Mrs. Smith, may I talk to my husband please?” Violet was taken aback by the voice on the other line she quickly put Mrs. Smith on hold and paged Mr. Smith. “Yes, Violet?” he asked. “Your wife is on the phone,” she quietly replied. “Tell her I’m in a meeting and I won’t be able to make dinner, but I will call her when I get out,” Mr. Smith said calmly. “Will do sir,” Violet’s voice echoed, “I’m sorry Mrs. Smith. Your husband is in a meeting, but he wanted me to tell you that he will be late for dinner tonight and not to wait up for him.” Mrs. Smith sighed and said, “Thank you, Violet,” as she hung up the phone.
It was another night that Mrs. Smith would toss and turn alone in their empty king sized bed. As she lay awake in her bed, she thought to herself ways to save her marriage and what her husband could possibly doing at work so late. She had never asked questions before, but now more than ever she had horrible thoughts shoot through her mind. Where could he be? What was he doing? She could easily call him, but she didn’t want to seem too needy. She was afraid of what she might find out if she went and saw him while he was at work, but she needed to know. She sat up, staring into the dark. Finally, she got up, grabbed her keys and got into her shiny sliver Mercedes Benz that Mr. Smith had bought her for her thirtieth birthday. She pulled out of her LA mansion quietly trying not to wake the girls. All the way to Smith Enterprises, she drove in silence, debating whether or not to turn around at every intersection and red light.
Finally, she pulled upon her husband’s place of work just in time to see him and his secretary exit the building. What she saw next she could hardly believe. Violet kissed her husband, long and seductively. Mr. Smith hung from her lips as he stood at his car’s side. He opened the door for her and she stepped in. Mrs. Smith was unsure of what she had just seen, but she was in absolute awe. As Mr. Smith stepped into his red H3, she decided to follow them to wherever the night may take them. The red H3 pulled out of the parking lot with Mrs. Smith hot on the trail. She kept her distance from the car, but kept her eye on her husband and Violet. She imagined them holding hands in the front seat as Mr. Smith drove into the night.
Eventually, the red H3 pulled into a sleazy looking motel. There, her husband and the secretary exited the car and grabbed a key to a room upfront. As they entered the room, Mrs. Smith played out many scenarios in her mind. From the continuing of business that Mr. Smith and Violet may be doing, to the more evident sex that was happening as she looked onto the motel with disbelief. She parked her car next to the H3. She stepped out of her car and walked slowly up to the window to peak in on her husband. As she peaked in through the blinds covering the window, all her worst fears had come true. There on the bed, naked, was Violet with Mr. Smith hovering over her.
Mrs. Smith walked back to her car and pulled a large blade out of her glove box. She walked up to the room where her husband now laid naked with Violet. She gently knocked on room 103. She heard silence and then walking. The door cracks open and she sees, Violet’s face in the crack of the door. Violets eyes quiver in fear as she turns to slam the door, but Mrs. Smith lunges her hand to block the door. She busts in to find Violet screaming as she walks towards her husband with the long blade in her hand. Mr. Smith lay motionless in bed as his once loving wife moved towards him with a six inch blade. From outside, all that was heard was a violent scream, until it was silenced by a thud. Blood splashed against the window of the motel. The door creaked open and out walked a stiff Mrs. Smith. Still holding the blade in her hand, covered in blood. As sirens roared in the distance, Mrs. Smith turned the key in the ignition and sped away back to her LA mansion where her two darling little girls slept, never to see their father again because laying on the floor in a pool of blood was Mr. Smith. One large, deep cut across his neck.
