Entry #2

Would I be considered a Bad Husband if I said that I’m tired of my wife? I mean, I love her personality, and her looks…but I’m dissatisfied with her, sexually. Come on, you never got tired of the same thing and just wanted something different? No? Never? Then you’re a goddamn lie.

Like I said, got tired of my wife, so I sniffed around town and found something different. That something different, turned out to be a girl named Vicky Morrison. Guess you can dub her as the “mistress”, I like to call her a “goodtime gal”, it has a way better, yet flirty ring to it.

Now I know your wondering, how did you meet her; well, she’s a waitress at this Joint I frequent to,‘s all. We chatted it up, she offered me a couple of drinks, and we ended up in bed with each other. The End? Hell no, it seems like once you get a taste of something you shouldn’t have, you keep coming back for more. And Jesus Christ, she did things that I never would’ve imagined my own wife doing to me.

Vicky, she’s a nice dame and all, but she’s such a dumbass…naturally a blonde, but she dyed her hair black…that sure didn’t change how air headed she can be. She wears her hair like the girls do these days, in the “bobbed” style; I personally think that style is very cute, mostly because you can get a clear view of the nape of one’s neck. Bare necks turn me on; I’m not a vampire or anything like that; it’s just…it really makes me want to strangle her real bad, you know what I mean? I told her that once we when we were making love. She just laughed it off; she was turned on by it just as much as I was.

Sometimes Vicky can be very nosy and fucking annoying; I hate women like that, I’m happy Elisa isn’t like that.

When I’m with her, I still have the balls to wear my wedding ring, but sometimes I regret doing that, it’s a real conversation starter. She’s always asking me about my marriage and what made me find someone else, do I have kids, blah, blah, blah, BLAH! God I wish she’d shut the fuck up sometimes! Ahem…sorry for the sudden outburst, my humblest apologies. It’s just that, common sense would tell you, if I’m with you (the “mistress”), why would I want to talk about the life that I’m trying to escape?

Let me get to the real meat and potatoes of the story people, I know you got things to do and all. Where can I begin---oh yeah, once our conversation got really deep; she wanted to know if she was number one or not. Something about me playing with her emotions and confusing her; she’s Vicky, how much more confused can she get? However, as always, she blows things out of proportion, and we haven’t talk since a good three weeks ago.

I knocked on the door of apartment number eighty-five, on the other side of the door, there was a brief shuffle and her voice called afterwards. “Who is it?” Vicky asked slightly annoyed, I would be too…it’s one o’ clock in the goddamn morning.

“You forgot I was dropping by tonight?” I asked her pressing my ear up against the cold surface of her door, listening to her breathing on the other side; god I’m sounding more and more like a stalker.

Silence was her response and an unlatching of about a million and one locks; she opened the door just a bit, the last chain stretching across the gap.

“It’s not that I forgot it’s just that, I really don’t want to see you right now.” She spat, her brown eyes trying to look as menacing as possible; they failed you know.

“Are you still sore about the other day?” I ask turning up the killer charm, coaxing my way in the door, damn…that last chain kinda slipped my mind. “You didn’t answer my question, Ricci.” She said, a sullen expression plastered on her doll-like face; oh and by the way, ‘Ricci’ is just a nickname, don’t pay it much mind.

“Vicky, I love you, should it matter the time of day?” I asked taking off my glasses, mock sincerity polluting my very words. She let out a heavy sigh and shut the door, unlocking the chain and opening it all the way; she gave in!

Vicky wore a navy blue silk house robe, a little open, exposing her cleavage; her hair slightly damp and she wore no make up, a half of a cigarette held between her thin fingers.

“Ricci,” she sighed while running her free hand threw her hair, “I’m tired, okay. I-I’m not your whore or something, got that. I want to be your number one…not a side fuck, understand?” Seeing her all depressed and such, I did what any gentleman would do: I took her in my arms and kissed her tears away. What a sweet monster I could be, sometimes I even surprise myself.

“You are Vicky, look at me,” I cooed pulling her away slightly so that she can do so, “Let’s forget about all of this, you know, put it behind us. Sounds good?”

“Yeah,” she whimpered while hugging me once more, “sure…”

She lay between the sheets, in the nude, waiting for me to ‘do my magic’ on her. Hmm, I could’ve said something better than that. “Come on Ricci, whatcha standing there for; you wanna play, right?” She asked me while meowing like a kitty cat, too cute this kid is. You heard me right, I said ‘kid’. Vicky lied to me about her age, she said she was twenty-four, turns out she’s only seventeen…eleven years age difference…is that bad?

“Give me one second, sweetie.” Leaving the room and retreating in her bathroom, I sat on the edge of the tub and began to think threw what I’m about to do; weighing the pros and cons if I might add.

Sighing, and running cold water in the sink, I splashed my face and whipped it clean with a towel. My eyes are what caught my attention, such a light and piercing hue of green for a half colored man. Well you really can’t say that I’m such, everyone I encounter, and they just think I have a nice tan…maybe I vacation too much in Florida or something. In sort, I’m not an unattractive guy, really I’m not. The only thing that’s probably unattractive about me is my ‘habit’, but if you can live with that, then give me a call.

Returning to her dimly lit bedroom, still fully dressed, I hovered above my “goodtime gal”, running my fingers through her hair, caressing her baby soft cheek. Vicky embraced me, her breasts pressing firmly against my chest, moaning directly into my ear. That’s what I really like about this girl, almost anything makes her moan. I like it when a woman moans.

“Can I ask you something sweetheart?’ I whispered in her ear.

“Wh-what is it?” She panted as I grazed her wet pleasure parts with my free hand.

“How would you react if I told you: I’d love nothing more than to see you dead?” Vicky chuckled; guess she thinks I’m kidding.

“There you go again, can’t you be romantic for-?” She stopped suddenly, as I grazed her face with my naturally cold hands; I could imagine how I look at this very moment, an expressionless blob of a face, my eyes probably look like that of a dead man’s too.

“I was serious, really I was.” I spoke softly to her while tightening my grip on her hair; her hands shooting up to my massive hands, fear washed over her beautiful face.

“What are you saying Ricci, your scaring me!” All I could do was smile at my favorite word in the English language; her fear fueling my urge to do away with her even more. “Do you need me to spell it out for you?” I asked, tracing her flustered cheek and grazing her gorgeous neck; I took it in both my hands, squeezing tightly, my grip rivaling that of an anaconda.

“R-Ricci...p-please-STOP I-!” Vicky’s screams were silenced by my vice-grip; a little tighter and I could’ve crushed her windpipe and just ended it right there; but where’s the fun in that, right? Plus, her face, it’s just perfect: her once rosy cheeks, turning a stunning shade of pastel blue; her eyes shut tightly while clawing at my hands. Her jaw hang loosely as saliva ran down either side of her mouth.

Then before I could say exactly how I was feeling, the bitch cracks a lamp against my head, it certainly did the trick of making me stop; and she ran out of the bedroom…stumbling I suppose, because I heard crashing echoing down the hall, along with her gaunt breathing.

Rising from the bed, in the near darkness, I rubbed the side of my face, it was wet; blood I supposed. Tasting it made me think of the lighter side of this situation, things could be worse, but I doubt I’d let them get that way. Vicky wants to play, I mean she did draw blood first, so I’m gonna give her a run for her money!

Emerging from out of the bedroom, I saw her stumble once more at the very end of the hall. The cream colored sheets draped around her nude body and I can faintly hear her try to speak; or whatever you call the noises erupting from her. I saw her hazel eyes make contact with me from over her shoulder; she scrambled to get up and run again; but I was faster, yanking her back down to the floor by stepping on the sheets.

Standing above her, my little friend held lovingly in my hands, a twisted smile plastered across my face. “Tag, your IT!!” I yelled while striking her in the head with my hammer. Blood speckled my white slacks, and soon it began to mingle with the blood that stained my face; I stopped my ‘violent’ barrage after about ten minutes.

Her once baby-doll like face, was beaten to a bloody pulp; an unrecognizable mass if you will; pieces of flesh and hair were left behind on my hammer…you know what, her head kinda resembled a gruesome toss salad if that’s a better picture for you.

As I made to rise from my crouching position, her hand clung to the hem of my slacks, she was still holding on for dear life! What a trooper, I applauded you! “Hmm.I'm it now?” I asked while breaking free from her grasp, “I don’t think so.” And I stomped her head in until my oxfords became a brilliant shade of crimson.

This just happens to be my favorite color.

End entry

A/N: I have like, six entries already written. The challenge that I face is converting them into first person p.o.v. I think it would get very confusing if I posted them up the way that they were. One minute or narrator is telling the story, the next it’s being told in 3rd person p.o.v.

Just tell me what you guys think…was it too long, too wordy? Plz give me some feedback!