Laura looks at the clock on her dashboard which reads “5:43”. She curses herself for staying late at work, but there was just too much to do to justify leaving early. Being Valentines Day, she knows she should have made an effort to get home on time to be with her husband. They managed to somehow get the kids out of the house for the weekend and the thought of missing out on this opportunity for some alone time is nearly frightening.

Rolling into her driveway, she notices something posted on the door. The stack of papers on the passenger seat is stuffed into her bag as she exits her minivan and walks up to the door. Her eyes squint the whole way, trying to make something of this disconformity. It’s a note. She reads it and her heart sails.

“Meet me inside for some fun…”

Part of her feels her level of guilt double, being that he has put some real effort into this special day, but the other part can’t wait to see what her husband has cooked up. She turns around to see if anyone is watching, slightly embarrassed that perhaps someone has seen this sultry example of foreplay. No one. She tears off the note and dances inside, giddy with excitement.

The lights throughout the house are all turned down while candles burn, their dim ambiance casting soft rays of amber against the beige walls. She tosses her bag to the floor and starts searching. The second note is found in the kitchen, stuck to the side of a can of whipped cream.

“You’re almost there. Come to the bedroom and bring this with you.”

Her heart is pumping with anticipation as she grabs it and makes her way to the staircase. She grasps the banister with her free hand, arms shaking. Each step has a rose petal placed delicately on it and rich vanilla cascades from a candle perched somewhere in the dark abyss of the hallway. Reaching the top floor she sees another note on the door to the bedroom.


She quickly fluffs and fixes her hair before flinging the door open, standing in the threshold in her sexiest stance. The bed is made up with heart shaped pillows. A bottle of champagne is chilling in a bucket of ice. More candles fill the room with light and scent but something is wrong. Her husband is nowhere to be found. Confused, she looks around finding one final note across the room, stuck to her dresser.

“Your husband is dead. Perhaps you would like to join him in the closet?”

Credit To – DtheJG

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