My Wife Disappeared

"Fuck you Frankie, I'm not a whore for you." was my defiant reply.

"That's what I like about you high society bitches, snooty until you start sucking a cock. Rosie was just like you until she learned to like my special pills. Now she does what I want and gets all the pills she needs. When you sit down with your john tonight, you'll get your pill from her with your first drink and not before. I just know you're going to make him happy."

"Please Frankie," I pleaded, "Don't make me do this. You know I'll fuck you anytime you want."

"I know you will Slut and now you also know you will fuck ANYONE I want you to."

"With that he gave me a shove and I stumbled backwards and fell against the wall, next to his dresser. He said, you'll go on this date or your husband and your family will get copies of the DVD showing you fucking me in my office for three hours and you will never get another pill from me as long as you live."

"As I struggled to my feet I was blind with rage at what he was doing to me. I pulled myself upright with my hands on his dresser and I came face to face with his pistol. He must have placed it there before he got into bed with Rosie. I grabbed it and pointed it at him.

"He laughed at me and said I belonged to him now and I would whore for him for the rest of my useful life. I saw Rosie scrambling to get off the bed and then I pulled the trigger. I knew how to cock the gun and in my rage I emptied it at him. Twelve shots and I only hit him once but that one was in the middle of his forehead. All the other shots went wild. It's a good thing I missed Rosie, I would have felt bad if I had shot her. But I'm glad I got him."

When Stephanie finished her confession to us, Abe and I looked at each other and smiled. We knew we had a viable defense. Drugs, blackmail, coercion into prostitution and possibly temporary insanity. With Rosie's and hopefully Rita's corroboration of how they were forced into prostitution, we could get Stephanie off.

Subsequently, a search of Frachetti's home turned up a library of DVDs of other women he had enmeshed in his prostitution ring. Some of them could also be willing to testify. The clincher came when we found out that the FDA knew about the drug and had turned down the application to license it. It seemed it had been developed as a sort of female Viagra but the FDA was afraid it would turn half the female population of the planet into raving nymphomaniacs.

Unfortunately the genie was out of the bottle. The ingredients to make the pill were readily available and just like crystal meth, the drug could be made by anyone with enough laboratory experience. There were plenty of bootleg pills to be had.

I took her home after I posted bail and laid down the law to her. None of those pills for her or any other drugs for that matter and the first time anybody but me has sex with her, we were finished. I could forgive her affair with Frankie because of the drug but another lapse, for any reason, would be inexcusable.

We got Steph off with a plea bargain, guilty, with extenuating circumstances. She got five years and a suspended sentence. I told her if she so much as thought about those pills she would serve out the rest of her five years and we would be divorced. We resumed our lives and everything seemed to going along fine. Our sex life was just as good as it was in the pre-pill days. But truth be told, I missed having the wanton, indefatigable sex partner she was when she had that pill.

Evidently, so did Stephanie.

I was a believer in the old adage 'Trust, but verify', so I left the phone recorder turned on. Just about three months had gone by after her sentencing when I came home from work to an empty house. No wife and no dinner waiting for me. So again I went to the phone recorder and I heard this conversation.

"Hello," my wife said.

"Congratulations," he said, "you got away with it."

"Who is this?" she demanded.

"Vito," he responded, "We met at Frankie's. Remember, you told me you liked the way my cock curved up and rubbed your G spot."

"Fuck you." she said and then hung up.

A minute later the phone rang again and before she could even say hello, he said, "Don't hang up; I've got something you want."

"What could I want from you?"

"A dozen of those pills Frankie used to give you."

"A dozen?" There was a long pause.

"I'm not going to fuck you for them like I had to for Frankie."

"No, no, I don't want that either. I don't want to end up like he did. This is strictly a cash deal. We'll meet in public."

"So what do you want for them?"

"I usually get a hundred each but I need the money so I'll give you the twelve for one grand."

Another pause, then, "OK, where?"

"How about the south entrance to the department store in the Main Street Mall at two o'clock."

"OK," she said and that was the last thing I heard her say.

I never saw or heard from her again. She just disappeared. When she didn't come home for dinner I began to worry, by bedtime I was deeply concerned. By morning I went to the police but they wouldn't take a missing person report until she was gone for twenty four hours. I went back to the mall that night, after it had closed, and there was Stephanie's car sitting there all by its lonesome in the parking lot

So I went to the detective who had investigated Frachetti's killing and told him about the phone call I had recorded. We both came to the same conclusion, that it could be foul play by some of Frankie's associates looking for their own kind of justice. But we could never find out what had happened to her.

We never found a 'Vito' to connect with her, we never found her body. She could be dead and buried in the woods somewhere or on the floor of the ocean wearing a concrete overcoat. I like to think she could still be alive, happily munching on those pills, living her life out........in a Mexican whore house.

We'll just never know.