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He entered his house, and was relieved by the rush of warm air that welcomed him. He flopped on the sofa and kicked off his shoes, smiling with that nice "ahhh" feeling that one can only get after a long day at work. Just then, however, he noticed the absence of his wife. Where could she be? "Martha?" he called. No response. Hoping nothing was wrong, he went to look for her.He slowly walked to the bedroom. The door was shut, but he didn't think anything of it at the time. He turned the knob and pushed the door open. When the door was fully open, he was greeted with a horrible, heartbreaking sight. He felt like he had been hit in the stomach by a three hundred pound pulling guard. His wife was laying spreadeagled on the bed. Her long, chestnut-brown hair was blanketed underneath her heaving chest. Her face was contorted into a look of pleasure, her chocolate-brown eyes open wide, and her sweet lips puckered into a round O-shape. Her lewdly spread legs were facing directly towards him.. A beer would be nice too, but it had to wait. Clarice was an innocent girl, perhaps that's why she chose a weekend sleepover instead of throwing a party. It's like being a teen all over again. You didn't know her too well, but she was a close friend of your sister.You reached down your pocket and felt the touch of your crystal necklace. Father left it at your table before he disappeared. Beside the blue jewel was a note, you remembered the scene clearly. The note said that it's the same necklace father used for his hypnosis and that it was his most powerful focus. This weekend was a good time to try it out. And sadly for the girls, you had some dubious things in mind.Music blared from upstairs. The kitchen was bright white, and different tea types in colorful boxes crowded the counter. You heard a female clear her throat. "Don't touch the cinnamon."She had her obsidian hair in a short style ending just after her ears, like something from the 1920s. Her pale skin stood in contrast.
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