Trophy Wife

I own a small boutique in Phoenix Arizona. I listen to stories from women of all walks of life. Sometimes I hear stories that make me check my moral compass. This is one of those stories. You tell me if the characters in this story are right for the kill.

Kevin Locket looked in the mirror one more time before he left the house for the interview. He took a dab of saliva and went across his eyebrows one more time. He smiled as he thought of his father who had shown him that little trick so many years ago. Just before he turned from the mirror he winked to confirm his already big ego. The interview wouldn’t take long. He had eight key points that he would be focusing on tonight.

Holly Hampton was accustomed to proving herself. Most people took her beauty as a fault and not an asset. So she walked inside her beauty and made her decisions outside her beauty and inside of her brain. She was interviewing an artist today for the new section of her magazine. Holly, checked her recipe bag one last time to make sure she had all the essentials she would need for what she knew would be an evening to remember. Condoms, lubricant, retinol, and handcuffs. She had spent a little time speaking with Kevin over the past few weeks and knew exactly which direction this interview was headed in. She was OK with that. While Kevin was busy looking at her like a trophy of sorts, Holly was busy reminiscing about a few trophies she had collected herself over the years.

While Kevin envisioned a night of pleasure. Holly was just doing business as usual. And she usually likes to make her business nights something she could remember for years to come. To remind her of her conquest she always collected a trophy.

As Kevin walked into her office that afternoon for the official interview he felt confident. He had noticed in his previous encounters with Holly, and, how she looked at him like a delicate piece of meat. He knew she desired much more than a “final interview” as she so delicately worded. She even sent him a list of appropriate attire that she expected him to wear for the “after the interview” agenda as she so calmly stated as the words rolled off her sexy lips

Holly was dressed perfectly for the occasion. Her asymmetric haircut along with her sassy A-frame skirt made her look like the perfect woman that Kevin had been looking for to make his Trophy wife.

Holly stood six foot two and her commanding eyes and parted lips made her a beauty that stood out even in an arena of models. She walked softly as if her own weight did not even exist. Her steps were always small when she walked. But when she made moves in her life they were always the big ones. For all the men/victims before Kevin, the Trophy Wife move that she always expected seems to make her day.

The doors to Holly’s office were tall and French. Which added even more to the ambiance of the night. The day he met her he dreamed that night of her being his trophy wife. Holly was a little more pro-active than her victims. She planned on it. The trophy that is.

Shortly after the interview, Kevin found himself following behind Holly’s BMW to the top of South Mountain in Phoenix. The mountain was delicately touched in dark orange as the sun was heading to her hiding place. Kevin had never driven up the dangerous curve everyone always spoke about. He thought about Holly as he watched her sports car make the sharp turns with little to no effort. He laughed as he realized that he was not her first mountain date. But he was confident in himself and felt he would be her last. If only he could have dug deeper into that thought he could have avoided the mantlepiece he would soon decorate. He was on his way to be a trophy.

Holly grew up with a silver spoon on the floor. Because she was the trophy child of a motherless bride the spoon was never really used to feed her or to spoon the family fortune. Instead, the only thing her beauty spooned up for her was the right to be the slave of the man who colored himself as a father to the public. During the remote hours of the night and the days, his childless wife was gone he displayed her nudity in the living room in front of the fireplace like a trophy.

Holly was not a trophy! Holly was a prize. A prize that no man had ever won except the man who colored himself a father and stole her virginity with his silver spoon.

As Kevin looked into the eyes of his potential trophy wife she smiled a sin that he never would commit. They sat under the stars on top of a silent mountain and Holly poured him a drink of her killer wine. She sat her glass down on the rocks and danced her dress right to the ground. She picked up her glass and offered her prize for the night the infamous Kevin, a toast. They clacked their glasses and he drank the poison.

Moments later Holly dug her ice pick into her prize and rolled his remains off the sharp cliff. His lifeless body rolling as his eyes were being placed in a jar.

Every man that ever came along after Holly rewrote her colorless fathers will on his deathbed she turned into a trophy. A beheaded stuffed bear with the eyes of her victims. Since men chose to only use their eyes only to look at her as a wanted trophy. Holly chose to keep them as a prize.

Kevin Love sat on the mantlepiece next to the others.

Next time you decide to look for a trophy wife you too may find yourself right for the kill

Holly.. The Trophy wife

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