Across The Yard

The brutal murder of one of Appleton County's most recognized residents sent shockwaves through the affluent community, shaking it to its core. What appeared at first to be a tragic accident soon unraveled into a dark and twisted tale as old as time: forbidden love, betrayal, and bloodshed.

At the center of this sordid story stood Madison, or Madi, like her five-foot-two-inch stature, for short. What she lacked in height she made up in thickness, a front porch big enough for the pope himself to post up and pontificate from-- and the way men bowed to her every whim it's no wonder his holiness didn't.

Whether greeted as a goddess or with an oh my goodness, Madi's supple breasts weren't her only points of attraction. Her eyes were engaging, her smile inviting, and her overall personality nothing less than magnetic. Despite drawing people in, her marital vows stood watch on the guard tower, effortlessly shooting down any passes made by armies of men. Her loyalty to her husband Mathew was ironclad and steel coated. But even steel is subject to rust if neglected and left to the elements, and lately, her husband's month-long absences and anticlimactic returns were creating chinks in the armor.

It all started on a sticky summer evening in late July, the departing day casting long shadows of darkness and doubt on Madi & Mathew's relationship.

Madi was draped over the kitchen sink, her hands mindlessly cleaning dishes, her mind awash with dirty thoughts and filthy fantasies. After nearly forty days and forty nights, her husband's physical form was home, but his mind was somewhere else.

To Madi, a healthy marriage was rooted in a healthy sex life, and Mathew's many business trips provided the perfect environment for their relationships to feed and flourish. While neither looked forward to the time apart, the homecomings fostered sexual nourishment and routine rejuvenation. It was like pressing the refresh button, with each raunchy reunion reigniting their intimacy, punctuated with passionate exploration, a kinky playground to pursue carnal pleasures while pushing each other past previous boundaries.

The ritual began before Mathew even landed--flirtatious texts exchanged mid-flight, each message building on the last. Tension mounted in the car ride from the airport, and by the time he crossed the threshold, the space between them was on fire.

Not this time.

The married couple were out of sync in the weeks leading up to Mathew's trip, and the time apart had pushed them further off track. Mathew had been home for over an hour and instead of working her body over had so far seemed content working on his own body's imprint on the corner sectional.

Madi's mind was doing mental gymnastics, flipping between empathy and apathy.Maybe he's actually jet-lagged like he claims and just needs to relax a bit. But... wait a minute... Relax? What about me? I work, cook, clean... yet still managed to lose 6lbs this past month and endured the pain of a Brazilian this morning... all for him! Ahhh fuck this, if he doesn't want it, neither do I."

Madi slipped from the mental monkey bars as Mathew's voice boomed from the adjoining room,

"Oh C'mon! Where did you put the damn remote for the TV?"

Still wearing yoga attire from the morning's session, Madi removed the compression shorts and top, leaving only a matching set of turquoise Tanga briefs and a racer-back bra. She strutted into the living room like it was a runway, purposefully positioning herself between Mathew and the TV. She stopped, locked her knees, and slowly bent at the waist, her framed bottom broadcasting in high definition.

Stealing a glance, she was unsurprised to see Mathew's gaze still fixated on the flat screen featuring two muscle-bound men wrestling in Speedos. Though Madi was growing accustomed to being ignored the past few months, this felt deliberate, almost personal. She straightened up before tossing the controller to the seat beside him.

"I'll be upstairs if you're looking for-- " her voice trailed off, swallowed by the sudden increase in the TV's volume.

This episode was a microcosm of their marriage; Madi doing all she could to rekindle the flame while Mathew selfishly pissed on the kindling. Lately, the man was forever preoccupied with something, with anything, other than his wife. He'd rather watch grown men play pretend than pay her any attention, or pick up any slack, her mood, or lately, even her skirt.

A romance once full of passion and spontaneity had long since settled like sugar in a glass of tea, the sweetness of yesterday replaced with a flavorless routine of repetitive todays.

*****

Feeling insulted and flat-out pissed, Madi marched upstairs and burst through the bedroom door, the fiery frustration reaching a boiling point. She sighed, fed up and frustrated with her husband's sudden asexuality and no touching policy. At 34 years old, Madi felt trapped on an island between dejection and despair, her hormones and middle-aged mind unleashing a daily deluge of desire. Her sexual appetite had become insatiable, and what she craved was ostensibly no longer on the marital menu. The dead bedroom had left her starving, her unmet sexual needs becoming cannibalistic, consuming all her thoughts and eating her alive.

With a sharp tug, she sent the cream-colored roller blinds racing upward, revealing the sprawling bay window that framed the day's fading light. She exhaled sharply, irritation flickering in her eyes as the sun--no longer golden, but painted a pale yellow--clung stubbornly to the horizon, resisting its inevitable descent into darkness.Soon, it'll be invisible just like me,Madi thought as a sudden sadness swept over her.

Like a shot of espresso, her mood instantly perked up when she spotted her new neighbor on his back patio. The 23-year old was holding both a guitar and - like most other evenings - the undivided attention of a female companion. The college beauty queen sat starry-eyed and bemused, like a teenager in the presence of her celebrity crush.

Unbeknownst to her husband, Madi and the neighbor had struck up a friendship over the past few weeks. Technically, it was more like they were reacquainted, having previously known each other in an altogether different capacity--

Madi's mind reeled back a few weeks to that humid, airless afternoon-- the day her husband and marriage departed as a motorcade of moving trucks arrived, a collision of everything she thought she wanted with something she never knew she needed.

*****

Five Weeks Prior

"Call me when you touch down in Dallas."

After wishing him a safe flight, Madi realized she had misspoke - Dallas was the previous trip - this time he was headed to Vegas. She waited, hoping he would chime in and correct her, but was not surprised when he said nothing at all.

Whatta you know? He's not even paying attention. Big surprise.

Madi had learned to pick her battles, choosing this time to let it go, lest she be bombarded with a barrage of defensive excuses--I was in a rush... or... I didn't hear you... or... You're just hormonal...-- before he'd inevitably start grilling and gas-lighting her into submission.

Mathew continued to scramble, yanking the keys from the hook and nearly bowling her over as he bounced out the door. Madi stood like a bellhop, motionless, her arms folded across her chest. In an exaggerated show of mockery, Mathew stopped short, shaking his head in disgust. He feebly feigned interest by leaning back and planting an obligatory, cold kiss on her forehead.

There was no hug, no eye contact, no I love you. Just a terse, compulsory and muted gesture.

"Don't blow me up... I'll call you if I get a chance."

An afterthought. Madi was becoming an afterthought.

Back in motion, he pressed the key fob, flung open the drivers-side door, and launched his carry-on into the passenger seat. The black Benz roared to life and began reversing the length of the concrete driveway, the barely-audible base bumping from the Burmester speakers within.

Madi saw it before he did, and like an airplane marshal on a tarmac, began frantically waving her hands, shouting, and flying toward her husband. Responding to the rear sensors, the brakes of the C-Class locked as the vehicle lurched and came to a screeching stop. Another few feet and Mathew's sexy little sports car would have been gang-banged by the armada of trucks making their way through the neighborhood.

Madi stopped advancing as Mathew slammed his hands on the steering wheel. She watched as he angrily adjusted the mirror, then set his eyes on her, almost accusingly. As soon as the last Penske pick-up puttered past, Mathew mashed the gas and launched the tail end of the car into the street. He spun the tires like a teenager and took off in the direction of the airport, anxious to leave both Madi and his marriage in the rear view for a bit.

*****

What the fuck was that all about?

As Madi stepped back through the front door, the cooler, typically refreshing air felt anything but-- it actually felt frigid, too still, too expectant. The quietness that usually gave a sense of peace now carried the weight of things unsaid. Over the past few months, Madi and Mathew had seemingly hit - what her friends referred to as - a rough patch.

If only they knew.

The truth is they had been in a fiery wreck, a head-on collision with a brick wall.

In almost a decade, their marriage had seemed impervious to the typical ups and downs of a normal relationship. Sure, they had small disagreements and arguments from time to time, but they both subscribed to the belief of never going to bed angry. This simple practice worked miracles-- not only did it foster honest and open communication, but it laid the foundation for the healthiest sex life imaginable.

But something had shifted a few months ago, and it had only gotten worse. They weren't just having less sex-- the small gestures of affection, those that had always come so naturally, had all but vanished as well. And now that Madi thought about it, they hadn't really even spoken much over the last few days-- the few interactions had felt labored, like two actors reading lines they no longer believed, with one of them no longer wanting to be in the scene at all.

As for today, it was as if Mathew had escalated with her on purpose, like he wanted their last minutes together to be strained and uncomfortable.

She hesitated by the staircase, half-expecting Mathew to call out from the kitchen. But the echo she'd grown accustomed to, the sound of two lives colliding in small, domestic rituals, had been replaced by the absence of expectation. Even the ticking of the hallway clock sounded accusatory, reminding her of seconds spent trying to hold something together that may have already fallen apart.

Never one to shy from confrontation, Madi unpocketed her cell and dialed his number, his voicemail like a shield, repelling yet stoking her infuriation. Next, she opened a chat window and began an all-out assault on her digital keyboard, pelting him with profanities. As tears welled up in her eyes, she suddenly stopped typing. Her breathing slowed and she regained composure. In the flick of a finger, she highlighted everything she had just written, and deleted it.

I'm not doing this today. It's too beautiful outside to be cooped up in my own head.

Madi powered down her phone and for the first time she could remember, allowed herself to smile.

Madi snatched an over-sized beach towel, a bottle of bronzer, and her aviators, then filled her pink Stanley with a mango-flavored White Claw before stepping onto the back patio. The heat hit her like a blast furnace--easily thirty degrees hotter outside than in her air-conditioned abode. Between the smothering humidity and lingering distraction over Mathew's awkward exit, she barely registered the Penske trucks playing a precision game of Tetris in the neighbor's yard.

Not wanting to look like the nosy type, Madi sank into the chaise lounge and fastened her shades to her face, choosing a look of subtle indifference over intrusive curiosity. The world sharpened and softened all at once, like adding a filter to her perspective and enhancing the clarity of her surroundings. Her sights set on a shirtless man who may have climbed from the pages of a men's fitness magazine. His toned body and chiseled physique seemed out of place amongst the other movers.

"I'd be ripped up like Rambo too if I carried refrigerators on my back for a living," Mathew quipped in a condescending tone. Having come home to apologize for his behavior, Madi spun her head quickly before realizing her husband's voice was merely a manifestation of guilt brought on by fantasizing about the Adonis next door.

Like a menacing mosquito, Madi swatted the thought of Mathew from her mind and focused back on her afternoon delight.

He's probably the boss.

He seemed too young to be the homeowner, especially considering the selling price of the massive Victorian with its steep, gable roof. She sipped her Stanley, watching as he worked, never shying away from the heavy furniture, and rarely fraternizing or slacking off like the rest of the crew. Even the slightest exertion caused his muscles to bulge and Madi's heart to race.

The heat, the alcohol, and the weeks of acrimonious abstinence had Madi's mind and hormones in overdrive.

Madi lost track of time. She must have been watching the crew for hours. The stranger became blurry, as if heat waves were rising from his skin. She thought she was seeing things as he began to traverse the yard and approach the back deck where she lay sunbathing.

Maybe this is a mirage, its definitely hot enough,she thought to herself, wondering if the alcohol and heat had her hallucinating. When she looked up, the stranger was standing on her porch, his tall frame shading her face from the sun.

The fact he walked onto her property, that he came up right beside her uninvited like they were old friends was both unnerving and exciting.

"Can I help you with something?" Madi asked, her voice feigning genuine confusion.

"Funny, I was gonna ask you the same thing, considering you've been watching me like a prison guard since I got here this morning."

Madi was mummified with mortification. She couldn't move, nor could she speak. His tone, his cadence, his directness in calling her out. Rarely was she at a loss for words, but the man's presence left her paralyzed and speechless.

"Good thing I'm a mind reader and know what you need."

The man lowered himself into an opposing chair until they were face to face, his strong hand coming to rest on her bare thigh a few inches above her knee. His mouth moved, the words indiscernible, his penetrative stare eye-fucking every inch of her. Her thighs spread ever so slightly as his fingers crept upward, softly like a whisper, ready to tell her bikini-clad box a secret. Shhhhhh...

This was happening fast.

Madi had never cheated on Mathew, never even come close. Yet here she was, with a perfect stranger, on the patio of her marital home, her eyes willing him to molest her. She considered screaming. After all, it was still daylight. There were movers and neighbors within earshot. But she felt that she had brought this on herself. She was a big girl and if anyone would be coming to her rescue, it was the man beside her.

As his fingers got closer to her hot sex, he suddenly stopped, a taunting smirk playing across his lips. She couldn't believe how much she wanted him to continue. Madi's mind manufactured a pool, a shimmering reflection of Mathew, suddenly shattered as the stranger's touch splashed through the water's surface.

Her logic and sense of self quickly dissolving into a puddle of passion, hunger, and lust. The spontaneity, the foreignness, the fact she didn't even know his name, none of it made sense, but all of it increased the desire.

She closed her eyes and felt the soft lips of the younger man make contact with her own, his fingers slipping under her bikini bottoms. Her intruder forced his tongue between her lips, into her mouth, melding with hers. His fingers began to explore. When he found her clit, she felt it in her lower back, and her eyes shot open. Her body temperature spiked as she shivered in the summer heat. It was as if it was happening to someone else, like she was floating above herself watching the experience.

He stopped kissing her mouth, leaned back slowly, and stared directly into her soul. He rose from the seat so he was again standing upright. Like a fish following the bait, Madi tried swimming upward to meet his mouth again. The stranger decided otherwise, placing both hands atop her shoulders and applying just enough pressure to keep her seated.

The pause was painful, like stopping a meal mid-starvation, her pussy salivating. Her body was reacting to the hunger involuntarily, contracting and relaxing her pelvic muscles, flexing and puckering her tight asshole. She wanted him wanted him to witness what she was doing, to stare at her private parts, to watch what he was not suppose to see. Every sensual spot, every intimate inch of her body was being stimulated by nothing more than eager anticipation.

Finally, the waiting was over. The man unfastened his belt and let his cock spill out, a massive member that began to get hard before her very eyes. He was moving it as if attached to a string, dancing it in front of her, teasing and tempting her.

His short, manicured pubic hair was stark in contrast to her husband's wild, unkempt bush. His muscular frame came into full view as she reached forward with one hand and finally touched the man's cock. She ran her hand along the underside and felt his solid, cum-filled balls. Time stood still but everything moved in Madi.

It felt different than her husband's. Bigger. Better. Meaner. She gripped and squeezed, pulling it forward as it seemed to elongate in her hand. A large bead of pre-cum appeared that she rubbed with her thumb and spread over the tip. Refusing to release it, she began tenderly stroking it, treating it like it was fragile, knowing full well it was anything but, and that it had the power to break her.

He wrapped his meaty hand around it, like an artisan holding the tool of his trade.

"Open your eyes," the single command activating all the nerve endings in her body, from her nipples to the nape of her neck.

Methodically, the man tapped his tool across Madi's face, her forehead, her cheeks, her eyebrows, then against her lips. Instinctively, Madi's mouth fell open, preparing to take it. He pulled it away.

"Close your mouth, SLUT." Confused, Madi did as she was told.

"When I want your mouth, I will take your mouth."

He finished his sentence and pushed his cock slowly past her eager lips, Madi maintained eye contact, her face fixed with a submissive expression that asked,Like this?

The stranger sheathed himself inside, poking the inside of her cheeks, his thumbs holding her jaw open to prevent her from closing her lips around it, denying her simply because he could. Madi knew he was teasing her, it was all she could do to not start sucking his dick like an icicle in an arid desert. His taste, like an erotic elixir, tantalized her, leaving her dazed and dizzy.

Instinctively, she hunched her head forward again, taking more of his manhood inside her mouth. Finally, she wrapped her lips around the entire head, consuming him. He seemed to relinquish control so she didn't stop there. The man groaned, a guttural sound in tune with Madi's own lust.

Her lips and mouth moved slowly down his shaft until her nose was planted firmly in his pubic hair, his cock impaling her throat. Mathew no longer occupied any space in her mind whatsoever, as she rapidly rolled her mouth up and down on the rigid shaft. She could feel the thick vein on the underside of his cock against her tongue as she devoured him.