Bluehound
02-21-2011, 06:59 AM
On entering the room she admired the man's physique, he was so powerful and strong yet supple and flexible; she crossed the floor to meet him.
Mrs Brown always wore a disguise when she met her three men, a different wig and a different name for each. The one she was meeting now thought she was a blonde named Lucy.
It was so liberating to be someone else, even for a short while and she had become addicted to the thrill of it. Besides her husband would kill her if he found out what she was doing, she had no doubt about that.
These engagements made her feel so alive; something she hadn't felt since she was first married. Sometimes she cried at night for the girl she once was, lost now in this body already bowed and middle-aged at 32.
However when she was Lucy, Catherine or Amelia, she was vibrant once more, brought to life by attention from the men that she met in those guises. Just by putting on the wigs; blonde, brunette or red head she felt much sexier and more exciting than she could ever be as mousy Mrs Brown.
She had once been so full of optimism but Mr Brown had crushed and beaten it out of her. Not that he put her in hospital every week, he didn't need to, just the knowledge that he could and had done in the past was enough.
Chipping away at her confidence everyday for 15 years, with snide comments and little slaps. He constantly told her she was useless and no one else would want her, until she almost believed it.
That had finally changed a few months ago. A friend from work had persuaded her to go to an aerobics class. Such a small thing, it had been the only thing she had done for herself in years. Mr Brown had grunted something about "sorting out your saggy bum" when she asked for his permission and so she took that as authorization to go.
The experience was vitalising, with each bend and stretch she felt life return to her limbs. She could almost feel the youth flowing like tonic into her veins and the strength returning to her, both physically and mentally.
Her confidence came back and with it a new sense of purpose. She felt like a different woman.
Now she regularly became three different women that her friends and family, had she been allowed to have any, wouldn't have recognised.
The man "Lucy" had her rendezvous with today was a personal trainer, he made her body do things it had forgotten how to do, and after every session she was left exhausted and aching.
"Amelia" was a brunette who had an arrangement with an actor, an occupation Mr Brown would definitely disprove of.
Before they had married she had enjoyed the theatre and painting, but he thought such pursuits were a waste of time so she had stopped them.
Stopped them without a struggle, like so many things he had taken from her, she had given in so easily.
At times she could feel the rage inside, like a ball of hot white light, as if every time she should have fought back or retaliated was stored there, compacted down but threatening to spill out.
"Catherine" was an incandescent red head; she regularly met up with an older man whose interests were in the ancient orient and martial arts. His home was beautifully decorated and she loved spending time there with this calm and disciplined man, such a contrast to Mr Brown. She would settle in the garden and meditate, feeling composed and happy for the first time in years.
Mrs Brown was sure that the glow she could feel on the inside must be visible without.
She would arrive home always afraid that he would know what she had done. Such a predictable man, almost constantly sat on his throne in the lounge. She would approach head down and give him the customary peck on the cheek.
Luckily he would rarely take his eyes from the telly to look into hers; usually he immediately barked an order at her, so she could withdraw to the safety of the kitchen. There she would fight back the bile of repulsion that threatened to rise and smother any, hysterical, feelings of elation and fear.
She only went out alone at night once a year, to the annual works do. This year she planned to make the most of it, she was going to be free of Mr Brown and tonight was the night.
As usual he was nesting in the lounge as she left him, surrounded by neat piles of snacks and newspapers. Looking as though he intended to be there all night, but she knew differently, she knew what he really did on this night every year. She had followed him more than once, down to a seedy bar where girls will do more than just dance for you if you have enough money for them.
She pecked him on the cheek and walked out in to the hall, collecting a specially packed bag on the way and off into the night.
Quarter past ten and the girls from work were quite merry now, half heartedly asking her if she would like to dance, but knowing she would refuse as always. This year she might have said yes, her confidence was back and would have loved to join in, but she was distracted.
It was nearly time.
At ten twenty she told Janine from accounts that she felt unwell and went to the bathroom. Janine followed her and watched as she went into the cubical, good.
"I will be ok "she said "just give me a few minutes, too much wine I guess".
This was a lie she hadn't touched a drop, but had been pouring it into Janine's glass instead.
When she heard Janine stagger back out of the bathroom she opened the window and climbed down to the street. Retrieving her bag from the bushes she quickly changed out of her party clothes into a black outfit of combat trousers, top and baseball cap. Strapped on a sports watch and started the stop clock.
"Ten minutes" she whispered to herself.
She ran across to the other side of town in three minutes and thanks to "Lucy's" fitness levels she was hardly out of breath.
She slipped into an alley. Her heart started to pound; using breathing techniques she calmed her self and waited.
He soon came along, strutting after his visit to the whore house.
She called out to him "Mr Brown!" he turned with typical arrogance and walked into the darkness with confidence.
He didn't even see her there - a lethal shadow amongst all the benign ones.
"Catherine" took over now, using his body weight against him, spinning him round and snapping his neck before he could react, as taught by her Sensei.
Mr Brown was dead before he hit the ground; gratefully she thought she saw a shimmer of recognition in his eyes as he tumbled.
Quickly she stole his wallet, ring and phone, then dragged him without ceremony dumping him in the corner by some bins.
Swiftly she ran back to the party changed, wiped her self over with a wet towel and shimmied back up the drain pipe to the window.
It had taken 11 minutes; she had to stifle a frenzied laugh as she emerged from the cubical. Janine was just coming back to check on her.
"Feeling better love? "Janine asked
"Oh yes much better, now" she replied as "Amelia" began to take over.
Her performance would be worthy of an Oscar, the concerned wife as they searched for him, the grieving widow when they found him. Oh yes all those acting lessons "Amelia" had would come in very handy, especially for playing poor, dedicated, mousy Mrs Brown who wouldn't harm a spider.
It was with love that later, after she had disposed of all other evidence, she packed the three wigs away in the attic, smiling to herself as she said,
"Not forever, girls, not forever, just till the coast is clear."
Mrs Brown always wore a disguise when she met her three men, a different wig and a different name for each. The one she was meeting now thought she was a blonde named Lucy.
It was so liberating to be someone else, even for a short while and she had become addicted to the thrill of it. Besides her husband would kill her if he found out what she was doing, she had no doubt about that.
These engagements made her feel so alive; something she hadn't felt since she was first married. Sometimes she cried at night for the girl she once was, lost now in this body already bowed and middle-aged at 32.
However when she was Lucy, Catherine or Amelia, she was vibrant once more, brought to life by attention from the men that she met in those guises. Just by putting on the wigs; blonde, brunette or red head she felt much sexier and more exciting than she could ever be as mousy Mrs Brown.
She had once been so full of optimism but Mr Brown had crushed and beaten it out of her. Not that he put her in hospital every week, he didn't need to, just the knowledge that he could and had done in the past was enough.
Chipping away at her confidence everyday for 15 years, with snide comments and little slaps. He constantly told her she was useless and no one else would want her, until she almost believed it.
That had finally changed a few months ago. A friend from work had persuaded her to go to an aerobics class. Such a small thing, it had been the only thing she had done for herself in years. Mr Brown had grunted something about "sorting out your saggy bum" when she asked for his permission and so she took that as authorization to go.
The experience was vitalising, with each bend and stretch she felt life return to her limbs. She could almost feel the youth flowing like tonic into her veins and the strength returning to her, both physically and mentally.
Her confidence came back and with it a new sense of purpose. She felt like a different woman.
Now she regularly became three different women that her friends and family, had she been allowed to have any, wouldn't have recognised.
The man "Lucy" had her rendezvous with today was a personal trainer, he made her body do things it had forgotten how to do, and after every session she was left exhausted and aching.
"Amelia" was a brunette who had an arrangement with an actor, an occupation Mr Brown would definitely disprove of.
Before they had married she had enjoyed the theatre and painting, but he thought such pursuits were a waste of time so she had stopped them.
Stopped them without a struggle, like so many things he had taken from her, she had given in so easily.
At times she could feel the rage inside, like a ball of hot white light, as if every time she should have fought back or retaliated was stored there, compacted down but threatening to spill out.
"Catherine" was an incandescent red head; she regularly met up with an older man whose interests were in the ancient orient and martial arts. His home was beautifully decorated and she loved spending time there with this calm and disciplined man, such a contrast to Mr Brown. She would settle in the garden and meditate, feeling composed and happy for the first time in years.
Mrs Brown was sure that the glow she could feel on the inside must be visible without.
She would arrive home always afraid that he would know what she had done. Such a predictable man, almost constantly sat on his throne in the lounge. She would approach head down and give him the customary peck on the cheek.
Luckily he would rarely take his eyes from the telly to look into hers; usually he immediately barked an order at her, so she could withdraw to the safety of the kitchen. There she would fight back the bile of repulsion that threatened to rise and smother any, hysterical, feelings of elation and fear.
She only went out alone at night once a year, to the annual works do. This year she planned to make the most of it, she was going to be free of Mr Brown and tonight was the night.
As usual he was nesting in the lounge as she left him, surrounded by neat piles of snacks and newspapers. Looking as though he intended to be there all night, but she knew differently, she knew what he really did on this night every year. She had followed him more than once, down to a seedy bar where girls will do more than just dance for you if you have enough money for them.
She pecked him on the cheek and walked out in to the hall, collecting a specially packed bag on the way and off into the night.
Quarter past ten and the girls from work were quite merry now, half heartedly asking her if she would like to dance, but knowing she would refuse as always. This year she might have said yes, her confidence was back and would have loved to join in, but she was distracted.
It was nearly time.
At ten twenty she told Janine from accounts that she felt unwell and went to the bathroom. Janine followed her and watched as she went into the cubical, good.
"I will be ok "she said "just give me a few minutes, too much wine I guess".
This was a lie she hadn't touched a drop, but had been pouring it into Janine's glass instead.
When she heard Janine stagger back out of the bathroom she opened the window and climbed down to the street. Retrieving her bag from the bushes she quickly changed out of her party clothes into a black outfit of combat trousers, top and baseball cap. Strapped on a sports watch and started the stop clock.
"Ten minutes" she whispered to herself.
She ran across to the other side of town in three minutes and thanks to "Lucy's" fitness levels she was hardly out of breath.
She slipped into an alley. Her heart started to pound; using breathing techniques she calmed her self and waited.
He soon came along, strutting after his visit to the whore house.
She called out to him "Mr Brown!" he turned with typical arrogance and walked into the darkness with confidence.
He didn't even see her there - a lethal shadow amongst all the benign ones.
"Catherine" took over now, using his body weight against him, spinning him round and snapping his neck before he could react, as taught by her Sensei.
Mr Brown was dead before he hit the ground; gratefully she thought she saw a shimmer of recognition in his eyes as he tumbled.
Quickly she stole his wallet, ring and phone, then dragged him without ceremony dumping him in the corner by some bins.
Swiftly she ran back to the party changed, wiped her self over with a wet towel and shimmied back up the drain pipe to the window.
It had taken 11 minutes; she had to stifle a frenzied laugh as she emerged from the cubical. Janine was just coming back to check on her.
"Feeling better love? "Janine asked
"Oh yes much better, now" she replied as "Amelia" began to take over.
Her performance would be worthy of an Oscar, the concerned wife as they searched for him, the grieving widow when they found him. Oh yes all those acting lessons "Amelia" had would come in very handy, especially for playing poor, dedicated, mousy Mrs Brown who wouldn't harm a spider.
It was with love that later, after she had disposed of all other evidence, she packed the three wigs away in the attic, smiling to herself as she said,
"Not forever, girls, not forever, just till the coast is clear."