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The Man Who Raped My Wife

Miscellaneous By: Ben Drake

It's sad. At least it is to me.

Submitted:Dec 12, 2011    Reads: 2,151    Comments: 15    Likes: 3   

The man who raped my wife.

As I was coming in the house after another day at the job that I hated. I noticed my wife seeming very happy and excited. She kissed me so sweetly. Me being the horn-dog that I am, instantly wanted to take this matter up stairs.

Pushing my grope ling hands back she said in an extremely proud voice. "I did it." Knowing instantly what she was talking about, because it had been just about the only thing that we had thought about for the last year or so. I said "are you sure?" Smiling she said "Yes, he checks out he is a real publisher."

"Oh baby, that's so great. I'm so proud of you." I said, having a tremendous erection but no longer wanting to go up stairs. I just held her in my arms, and we both cried.

Looking at the contract offer. In confidence, I could not believe that she was offered a contract, not because of the story which I knew was solid. But it still needed more work, more sitting time for her to take the ideas a bit farther, more editing, with her grammar and punctuation skills not being the best. The publisher, an independent publisher, but still it was a chance for her story to be out there. It's every writers dream, we were both so exited. He explained that he really liked her writing style and that the story was good and unique. That was why he was going to offer her a writing contract. Like with all small time writers, and all writers in general it wasn't about the money. It's an opportunity to get your work out there, to finally be heard, for all of your hard work to finally get some recognition. She was literally beaming. And every one in the world that we new was so ecstatic for her as well. Needless to say, the horn dog was made into a puppy that night. Falling asleep in each others arms, I knew she was having sweet dreams as I lay awake and watched her silhouette sleeping.

The next few weeks were the happiest since our last child was born. As those weeks turned into months and excuses from this man came one right after the other. My BS detector was defiantly going off big time. And hers was as well. I could tell that she didn't want to think it and neither did I. As she typed his name in the search bar and then pressed enter. This time for some reason she got a different response. There it was up in bold print (because of legal stipulations, he has a lot of judicial matters at the moment. I cannot say his name. The law cares about him having a fair trial. I care about seeing his head on stick.) Her heart just sank in her chest. Reading the countless testimonials of other people who all shared pretty much the same kind of treatment that she did, that being a major slow down in communications from this man once they had signed. Some had bought a load of books never to receive them from this man. Some had received a few, then never receiving any more after they did a large purchase . Some had been plagiarized by him and the list went on and on. So now, every day she has the pleasure of not knowing if her story is out there with a different title written by somebody else. This man has so many pen names. But I would like to kill them all. But through all of this she still manages to some how keep writing. She is a true artist.


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