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About the author:
I enjoy the art of writing and the freedom it allows me to explore where I otherwise could not go. When I put pen to paper my only desire is to bring out stories and characters that capture the imagination. My readers are given a front row seat on a journey like never before when they flip through the pages of a Wagner Wolf publication.
What inspired you to write your book?
The book is in a sense art imitating life because some scenes and dialogue usage comes straight from what I experienced during stages of my marriage and long term relationships.
Here is a short sample from the book:
During my private lessons, Devin would make advances to me either through words or how he held me while putting my body in the desired positions. His rock solid arms and deep penetrating voice swayed my petite frame in any direction he wanted it to go. Through the time we began spending together he managed to charm his way back into my life. As sessions went on our interaction intensified. Devin was however always a gentleman and would only occasionally be overly aggressive with me. I would give in a little to him then pull back a little. It was our unspoken game of tease and flirt we played.
Antoinette interjected to say “When it comes to a healthy marriage it’s important to exercise caution because affairs can be such a workout. How were you juggling all these men without them knowing about each other” she asked? “After years of deception and betrayal, I know it’s only a matter of time before the whole truth is revealed. I know Charles still loved you because he was unable to see that all these conflicts around you were red flags.” The other girls looked on also wondering if Kerry had gone too far with this game of relationship roulette.
I also wondered if I had gone too far then realized I just needed to learn how to play the game from both sides of the fence. I began to merge my dual lives seamlessly. Keeping other guys under control was fairly easy because they knew I was married. It was a given that most times I wouldn’t be available or be able to promptly respond to messages they send me. I could tell them anything and they would accept it and believe it without asking any further questions. Lying to Charles in his face consistently was a bit trickier. We saw each other every day and he has a pretty good idea of my routines and who I keep in touch with regularly. To keep Charles in the dark I had to fight for my space to do privately what I could never do in front of him. It was nowadays taking more effort to get out of the house on my own since he now had valid reason for suspicion. He began to second guess some of my movements and question my whereabouts. I was on my best behavior for a while with Charles but the lure of forbidden pleasure was too irresistible for me to bare. When he wasn’t around old habits proved hard to shake. I was chatting and meeting up with Kenneth, Terrance, Devin, and whoever else I wanted in our designated private secluded areas.
The secretive amoral behavior I displayed was guided completely by lust. My true colors were being revealed and it wasn’t pretty. With effortless charm, my youth and beauty was used as an asset to gain male attention. I was like a little girl lost in the grown up world of sin and seduction. In my fantasy world I was the center of attention loving it and thriving on it. I felt sorry for myself and wanted pity but Charles was the only real victim in all of this mess.
My mild mannered reserved husband waited patiently for his pure and wholesome wife to come running into his arms. The sugary sweet romance we once shared had gone sour as he began to discuss counseling and therapy options with me. I agreed for us to go for help to please him but had no intention whatsoever of seeking a professional. In my eyes I was fine and knew everything would eventually work itself out in my favor. What I didn’t know is that Charles became highly suspicious of everything about me and had been periodically going through my phone. When I went to the bathroom or let my cell get out of my sight for a moment, he would scroll through to see who I was talking to. Luckily I had a safeguard in place for if that happened. I stored names in my phone by last name only. This was to confuse him so if he saw my call history or a message thread he would be unsure if it was from a girl or a guy. I would also erase inappropriate lines of text in messages sent by me or received by them. This would make the conversations hard to read or understand by an outsider because key sentences were removed.
One evening after dinner to my surprise Charles asked “who’s Walsh?” He immediately got my attention because I knew he was referring to Kenneth. I feared one of the skeletons in my closet may have come back to haunt me. I calmly said “oh that’s a co-worker of mine, why?” He said “I looked at your phone here and there and noticed every single time I checked your phone there was a new message or two from Walsh. Some about feelings he has for you and how he can’t wait to see you again at the usual spot. Some are answers to questions he asked that appear to have been deleted. Don’t bullshit me, are you sleeping with him?” At this point I was experiencing every emotion you could think of all wrapped into one. I wasn’t sure how much he knew or how far back into the messages he went. The truth came crashing down on me. With already raised suspicions, a message from anyone would turn a little concern into great interest for Charles. The calm demeanor and happiness usually found in him was ripped away as he was overcome with the deepest sense of betrayal. His unwavering look of fury and desperation for answers led me to believe he had something ruthless in mind for me. I was prepared for an all-out war this time but preferred to keep the peace instead of driving him over the edge.
My defense began when I opened my mouth and began rambling on and on about how Walsh was just a co-worker I hardly saw. I told Charles he only had my number because one time we had to coordinate transportation of a patient and the walkies were down. We just continued texting occasionally after that. Charles asked “why Walsh clearly and repeatedly saying he has feelings for a married woman?” My response was “I can’t control how people feel. He’s not important, plus we only talked about work and problems with his long-time girlfriend.” I didn’t know if Charles was buying any of this or not but could sense the charade would have to end sooner or later. Charles said to me “when he asked your thoughts on a sexy love song, you told Walsh the song makes you think about him.” I saw Charles clench his fist, puff up his chest, and a blank stare overshadowed his face. His fit of anger reminded me that love is a drug that makes heroin look mild. He was becoming increasingly jealous in a pathological way. Charles was visibly emotionally unstable and without further warning flew into an uncontrollable rage. His once dormant and non-existent possessive side came bursting to the forefront as he shouted “you’re mine and I’m going to make sure you remember that!”
To Charles love was becoming a full contact sport. I initiated a dangerous game playing by my own rules when I began under estimating his heart and what he’s capable of. Terror struck in my soul when Charles lunged forward and tightly locked on my upper arms. He lifted me a half foot off the ground and threw me into the wall behind me. I crashed into the wall puncturing the sheetrock and slid down landing on my rear end. Screams of I’m sorry went un-noticed as his closed fist struck the crown of my head as he shoved me back down each time I tried to stand up. He lifted me up to my feet by grabbing a fistful of hair. Through the tears and blood saliva in my mouth, I pleaded guilty and vowed to end my involvement with Kenneth for good. My last ditch plea for mercy fell on deaf ears. The once man of my dreams was forcefully escorting me across the kitchen to the sink full of hot soapy water for dinner dishes I was preparing to soak. Without warning or hesitation he used the full force of his two arms to hold my head under water. My arms viciously attacked the air and clean dishes resting neatly to the side of the sink. I thought about Amanda as I held onto my last breaths hoping she wouldn’t wake up and see what was taking place. Charles stood firmly on my left side while I was submerged so my backwards kicking was a useless counter attack. Seconds felt like minutes and I thought I was dead because everything blacked out. Then suddenly his killer grip released me simply because he ran out of steam. I raised my head up wiping soap from my eyes with a tattered dish rag and spitting bloody red soap bubbles from my mouth. In my darkest hour Charles ended the ordeal by adding a cruel taunt. As he walked out of the kitchen he said “now wash the dishes filthy bitch!”