My Trophy Wife

[androgyna2000]

 

                                                 MY TROPHY WIFE



 

 Ashley is trembling as I look upon her through the bars of the cell. The door to the death chamber opens. Through it, pushed by a guard, the stretcher bearing Regina Klein in a black body bag enters the corridor and zips past my wife's cell. Her jaw drops as she regards what she assumes are the remains of a woman with whom she had been conversing fifteen minutes ago.

 "That's Regina?" Ashley inquires, her right hand over her mouth, her lacquered nails matching the burgundy lipstick that adorns her lips.

 "I told you we could only do this on an evening my friend was working." I reply.

 "I thought I'd come here, sit in the electric chair with the video camera turned on and let you strap me in, get a couple of jolts of the juice, and that would be it.  Then someday you could watch me getting electrocuted while I'm sucking your dick in that chalet in Aspen you promised me I could have if I did this. You never said anything about me talking to some dead person while I was in here."

 "Obviously she wasn't dead when you were talking to her. Everyone has their time. Her time just came a little sooner because she decided her husband's continued presence on the planet interfered with her plans to spend the ten million dollars of insurance money that was to be hers when he kicked the bucket."

 "But she was nice! We could have been friends."

 "Then a good reason for you two to have met under these circumstances, perhaps."

 "I'm not after your goddamn money! I have three million bucks you can't touch invested in T-bills from that television series I costarred in. And I'm still getting royalties from reruns."

 "Just three million bucks? Try buying a place in Aspen with that. Maybe you better get your agent to get you another television gig."

 "The place in Aspen would be for the both of us. All you'd have to do to buy it is sell some stock or something and it would be ours, free and clear."

 "You mean mine, unless you want to throw some of that three million bucks of yours at it."

 "I worked hard for that money! And all the shit I put up with from the producer. ‘Lose some weight.' ‘We're going to shoot this over because the star doesn't like the way your character made his character look like an ass.' ‘Look like you're in love with him.' He had the chutzpah to say that last thing after he made me get an abortion because the timing was wrong for my character to be pregnant on the show.

 "So no, I ain't letting no man touch that three million bucks. If it's still there when I pass, it's gonna be split between whatever kids I have or going to PETA.

 "If I stayed lucky I could have made another few million from my tits and ass. But I gave it up because I loved you. That's why I signed your goddamn prenuptial agreement without even having a lawyer read it. I want to have your kids and I don't want you or anyone else thinking I'm a gold digger. I can live off that three million for the rest of my life if you fall for some other hottie. So no one's touching my stash. Please don't ever bring that up again."

 "So you don't think I worked hard for my money?"

 "No doubt you did when you started out, but now you can choose from all the projects that come your way. Your money goes to the good ones and when they're hits you just make more and more."

 Riled, she is standing barefoot on the concrete floor in the middle of the cell, clad only in a black brassiere and g-string. The top barely contains her breasts and the imprints of her nipples on the fabric remind me what is underneath, but now standing with her arms folded across her chest, angry that I have demeaned the small fortune she has earned as an actress, I regret having caused her to spoil my view of her luscious bosom.

 There is fire in her brown eyes and I hope I have not gotten her so pissed that she will call off the scene. Although never a diva as an actress, admission to the ranks of the super wealthy is known to have that effect.

 Dark blue eye shadow adorns her eyelids. Her Sephora powder has given her face the precise tone needed to fully bring out her beauty and the hint of blush on her cheeks enlivens her face, increasing the pathos of the story of a vibrant young woman waiting to have her life extinguished in the electric chair for a crime she didn't commit.

 Her dark brown hair hangs only to the nape of her neck. It will be tragic to spoil her hairdo by shaving a bit off the top to apply the scalp electrode. But she has decided that acting in this little scene that will bring to life one of my adolescent fantasies is a price worth paying to become an occupant of the chalet in Aspen with which she has fallen in love.

 My friend Ross emerges from the death chamber and walks up to Ashley's cell. We have been buddies since the First Gulf War during which we served in the Medical Corps.

 I went to film school, began making movies, and ended up a Hollywood mogul. Ross studied electrical engineering, couldn't find a job in the field, and became a prison guard when a new lock-up was built near where he was living. His electrical engineering degree allowed him to become a savant on the effects of electricity on the human body as well as the means to deliver a lethal jolt. Given the rarity of electrocutions, he is now the only man in the country qualified to operate the electric chair, and he travels from state to state for the purpose of meting out this uniquely American form of justice.

 "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Ross inquires, having heard a bit of the end of our tiff.

 "Oh no, we're fine," Ashley assures him.

 "My wife's spunk is what attracted me to her. The rule is that arguments will have no ill effect on our marriage as long as she wins."

 "He doesn't want to buy us a chalet in Aspen."

 "Chalets in Aspen are a little out of Ross's pay grade, I'm afraid."

 "Little lady, if I were married to a woman as good looking as you, I'd buy you two chalets in Aspen even if I had to rob every bank in America a half dozen times to get the dough."

 "Well, every problem has a solution. My wife lets me make a movie of her getting a fraction of the juice the other woman just got, and after she gets out of jail tomorrow, we fly out to Aspen and sign the papers to buy the house. Right, Ashley?"

 "That's the deal."

 "How many people have you done in the electric chair?" I ask.

 "Six here, two in Alabama, three in Ohio, five in Virginia, two in Georgia, three in South Carolina, one in Nebraska, and four in Tennessee. I think that makes twenty-six."

 "That woman I was talking to in that cell across from me, Regina, she's dead now, isn't she?"

 "I did my job. It went without a hitch."

 "So she didn't suffer?" Ashley asks.

 "No one really knows; certainly not for more than a fraction of a second."

 "Did they cut off all her hair?" my wife inquires, fretting about losing her own mane.

 "Yeah, she cried a little when they were shaving her head. I guess that's when it hit her that this was the end, that she was really gonna get buzzed tonight. But she got over it and when they brought the witnesses in she told her victim's brother's and sisters how sorry she was; gave a real nice apology in her final statement..

 "She didn't give us no trouble when we were putting the electrodes on her. Even when they're strapped in, sometimes they try to delay the inevitable. It's a bit of a pain in the ass holding a wet sponge on a person's head when they're moving. We got a big strong boy who can hold them still but when you're dealing with smooth wet skin and a person fighting for their life, sometimes they can even slip out of his grip.

 "After they're ready I don't waste any time giving them the juice. Maybe ten seconds after the electrodes were on and her mouth and head restraints were in place, I turned on the current. And then she was gone. That's all there was to it."

 "Did she say anything about me while you were getting her ready/" Ashley asks.

 "Yeah, she said you were plumb crazy."

 "Bruce, can I have a cigarette, just this one time?"

 "I'd like one myself, but there's no smoking in the facility, not for the corrections staff, not even for inmates before they go to the chair. Could lose my job if I let you have one. But mister big shot here, if he wants me to give you one, since he's paying for this project, there'd be no way I could refuse."

 "'Fraid not. The deal we made was that you never could have one again ever, period."

 "And I haven't. But you aren't the one who's gonna have to sit in that damned chair. It's pretty fucking scary to think about. What if he can't turn off the juice? I'll be dead. And it's not like that ever would have mattered before."

 Ross turns to us. "Are you ready?" he asks, first looking at me and then to Ashley.

 "I love you, Bruce!"

 "Ashley, I love you too. After the divorce, I figured I'd just end up screwing starlets who wanted parts in my movies for as long as my pecker worked. That may not sound too bad, but once you've done it with someone who you think loves you, there's just no going back to one night stands and short flings. But there was no way I would fall in love again. Linda had just hurt me too much.  

 "And having been raised Catholic; I figured I was going to go to Hell since I couldn't be celibate for the rest of my life. I'd always figured I'd somehow get Last Rites before I passed and slide through the Pearly Gates with a pure soul. But the divorce closed that avenue to me. I began counting how many mortal sins I committed every day, and worried how much worse my eternal torment would become the longer I lived. Imagine me, the producer who has to beg the MPAA not to put an NC-17 on most of my films, worried about his immortal soul!

 "After I convinced myself that I was damned because that cunt of a wife I married cheated on me and liked the guy's dick who had cuckolded me more than mine and wasn't coming back, I drank myself half to death.

 "And then you came along. Your love saved me. When I fell in love with you, life made sense again. Our love is pure. There's nothing to feel guilty about. Living and loving; that's all there is, that's what we were created for."

 "I'm doing this to make your fantasy come true. The place in Aspen is just an excuse now. When you told me you wanted me to do this, I knew I had to; not because I was afraid you'd stop loving me if I didn't but because it's my duty to make your life complete."

 "I guess she's ready."

 "We shackle their wrists and ankles before we take them to the chair, like we did to the woman who just passed. You wanted this to be as real as possible, you said."

 Ashley and I shake our heads yes. Ross goes to the empty guard's station and returns with shackles and a bottle of pepper spray.

 "Impressive!" I exclaim as my eyes survey the shiny metal chains and manacles that will soon encircle Ashley's wrists and ankles.

 "Do you want me to put them on her or do you want to have the honor yourself?"

 Ashley pleads with her eyes not to let another man touch her.

 "I'll do it."

 "Ma'am, we're going to open the cell door. Any biting, scratching, hitting, or kicking is gonna get you a blast of this pepper spray. If I were you, I wouldn't want to be getting a shock in that chair when my eyes are already on fire."

 To gain access to this correctional facility, Ashley had walked out of a store I owned without paying for a tee shirt on which was written the name of my movie studio. I pressed charges; she pleaded guilty and our lawyer arranged for her confinement here at the state penitentiary tonight.

 "I'll be a good girl. You don't actually think I'd do anything to so I'd have to spend a minute longer in here than the twenty-four hours the judge gave me, do you?" Ashley retorts, throwing up her hands in the gesture of surrender

 Ross inserts the key and opens the door to the death cell, pepper spray immediately pointed at the victim's face. I follow him inside bearing the chains. My wife stands motionless before us.

 "I don't know if you noticed what we did with the other woman.  What you need to do first is clamp the shackles around her wrists."

 "Am I allowed to talk?"

 "If the inmate's being cooperative, considering the circumstances, we don't enforce strict discipline."

 "This is so creepy. I was having a pleasant conversation with a woman who's now dead and soon I'm going to be sitting in the chair where she was sitting when she died, the same straps holding me down, wearing the same electrodes that were on god knows how many other people did when they died. And now I'm talking to the man who killed her, and would kill me too if some judge told him to. How goddamn much do you get paid per execution?"

 "Two thousand dollars and travel expenses."

 Ashley offers me her wrists and I clamp the manacles around them.

 "She won't be getting out of those," Ross observes as my wife tests her bonds.

 "Do you ever feel sorry for them; I mean those people you execute-what if one of them turned out to be innocent?" Ashley blurts out.

 "I don't get to form much of a relationship with them, but I probably would feel bad if we became acquainted and found they were a decent person despite whatever they'd done. It's best not to get to know them, I guess. Just take the two thousand dollars and go on and do the next job."

 Ashley is holding her shackled wrists below her waist. Three links connect her wrists. From the middle link runs a long chain connected to a shiny metal ring about an inch in diameter. From the ring extend two more chains attached to shackles that are larger than those now encircling her wrists.

 "Wrap that chain around her waist and when it's tight, we'll put a padlock through two of the links so that it stays that way. Then clamp those shackles around her ankles and she'll be ready to go."

 Ashley cringes as the cold metal touches her midriff. I wrap the chain around her belly as she stands before us like a wax figure, and quickly take out the slack. Ross takes the loose end of the chain from my hand as I hold her wrists in place, and pulls it even tighter around her waist, forcing her to suck in her gut. I then thread the arm of a padlock into two adjacent links in front of her navel and bury it into the body of the lock, pinioning her wrists in front of her. I then bend over and clamp the leg irons around my wife's ankles while admiring her trim legs and the burgundy lacquer on her toenails.

 "Are they too tight?" I ask.

 She shakes her head no.

 "We can tape her mouth shut too if you want," Ross offers.

 "That would spoil my makeup," Ashley frets.

 "I don't think we have to. Remember, she said she was going to be a good girl."

 "If she was that good, she wouldn't be here. That was a fool thing she did, walking out of a store without paying for twenty bucks worth of merchandise. And now you're gonna get the biggest hard on of your life seeing her fry; funny how fate works."

 He looks at the shackled prisoner.

 "You're gonna get a good goddamn lesson, little lady. Crime doesn't pay! And if you don't believe that, just see me!"

 Teaching my wife a lesson was how I convinced my army pal to give Ashley a few jolts of current after admitting to him that I was turned on by the notion of seeing a woman in the electric chair. He is unaware that the shoplifting caper was a charade.

 I walk into the death chamber, focus the camera on the electric chair, and begin recording.

 Ashley is standing motionless in the cell, looking nervous on my return a few seconds later.

 "How are you going to explain it to the cops if I die?"

 "My lawyer says he'll plead it to involuntary manslaughter. Ross and I will probably end up with five years each. And my cohort in crime will have a half million dollars in the bank when he gets out."

 "How much is he getting to do this to me?"

 "Fifty grand."

 "You should have asked for a hundred grand. He can afford it."

 "So I should sell the diamond necklace that's waiting for you in the glove compartment of the Maserati and give my buddy here the cash?"

 "No Bruce, I don't think that will be necessary. And thank you in advance."

 "It's time ma'am," Ross announces.

 I take Ashley's right arm and nudge her forward. She hesitates and then takes her first step toward the electric chair.

 Outside the cell, she looks in both directions down the corridor. I then point her in the direction of the death chamber.

 We cover the thirty feet or so at a slow pace, Ashley's chains clinking with each step. Ross opens the door to the death chamber and my wife looks upon the electric chair.

 The oak chair is dark brown and the grain of the wood is visible through the stain. Black leather straps hang loose from arms and back of the chair, beckoning their victim.

 We cross the threshold into the death chamber. My wife stares at the empty witness box.

 "Didn't you invite any of our friends to watch?"

 "No, I thought this was just for you and me."

 "You, maybe," she mutters and then takes the final steps to the electric chair unescorted.

 Ashley stands with her back to the electric chair. She is helpless, ready to place her life in my hands. On her countenance is written defiance, as if she is daring the fictional court that has condemned her to death to exercise its lethal power to end the life of an innocent woman. Her beauty strikes me in the same manner as on the occasion I first had the privilege to lay my eyes on her. Her skin is radiant; her makeup having been perfectly applied.

 "We'll have to take off her chains before we let her sit down," Ross explains as he hands me the key to her shackles.

 I unlock the cuffs on her wrists and Ashley's arms fall limply to her sides. Ross hands me the key to the padlock. I turn the key and the belly chain falls to the floor. She rubs her wrists as I unfetter her ankles.

 I see that Ross is holding the can of pepper spray inches from Ashley's face. My wife's countenance is expressionless, betraying neither fear nor anger.

 "Little lady, it's time for you to ride the lightning!" my buddy exclaims gleefully in his southern accent.

 "Let's get it over with. This is a bummer but that's the way shit goes down sometimes. I'm ready. If the governor calls while the juice is on, you don't have to bother turning it off."

 "Sit down in the chair, ma'am," Ross commands.

 Ashley descends slowly and gracefully into the electric chair, placing her forearms on the armrests and scooting her butt all the way back so that she is sitting up straight, her back flush with the back of the chair, posture perfect as a model. Her eyes look straight ahead, her expression one of resignation as she awaits the next phase of her preparation for electrocution.

 I take the right wrist strap, place it over Ashley's wrist, thread it into the buckle, and then tighten and secure it to the arm of the chair as the victim looks on, her eyes wide, the mascara and heavy eye shadow hinting at the sadness of a life unlived, silently pleading that her sentence not be carried out, that she be given just a little longer to live, despite the bravado with which she had entered the death chamber.

 She grimaces as she attempts to free her wrist, but finding the strap securely holding it against the armrest and Ross's meaty hand holding pressing her other forearm down against the armrest, exhales deeply, again resigned to her fate. Realizing that her nightmare will not end until a lethal surge of electricity courses through her body; the sadness that had just been written on her countenance fades away and her empty eyes drift to the can of pepper spray pointed at her face.

 She remains stoic as I restrain her other wrist. I then apply straps above her elbows to attach her arms to the stiles of the chair. Through the fabric of her bra I see that her nipples have become erect as I bring a pair of thick leather straps across her chest and fasten them together. The abdominal restraint is next and I pull the straps tight before buckling them together, again making her suck in her slender gut.

 I crouch to apply her ankle restraints, tickling her right foot the way I know she likes it before starting my job. She extends her leg and I massage the sole of her foot, and gently place her lower leg against the stretcher between the front legs of the chair. I then wrap the black leather strap just above her ankle to immobilize the extremity to which will be applied the calf electrode. I tickle the other foot and massage the sole before restraining her other ankle. I admire her sculptured limbs while placing restraints below her knees to complete the process of immobilizing my victim's legs.

 "OK man, we've got to get rid of some hair before the electrodes can go on. Do you want to put the mouth restraint on first? I have a feeling she isn't going to like this," the executioner explains. He has ditched the pepper spray. Next to the electric chair on a table sit a can of shaving cream, a ceramic cup full of water, a washcloth, and a razor.

 "Please don't gag me yet!"

 "You put that mouth restraint on her, and you might never have to hear a word from her again, Brucey boy. You just tell me to keep turning up that current and you can save ten million bucks on Aspen real estate."

 "Don't listen to him, Bruce!"

 "Honey, don't worry about it. You're just playing a part in a scene, like you used to on television. That's all.".

 "You're not going to kill me like Regina, are you?"

 "I only do what I'm told. It's up to your hubby here. Think about the last time you two did it. How much do you think he liked it? And did you like it, or did you just pretend? He's an old geezer, just like me. I'll bet you'd rather be doing it with some young buck.

 "But the most important thing, do you think he'll want some more? Or is he ready to move on and save those ten million bucks you're trying to chisel out of him?

 "You know Bruce, I bet it wouldn't be all that hard to find some other chick that looks enough like her for you to walk out of this facility with if you tell me to turn the juice up all the way on the little lady here. And maybe I can get them to dump two bodies in poor Regina's grave. There's plenty of people who owe me favors around here."

 He turns to Ashley.

 "You see, no one is interested in claiming that Klein bitch's body. She's going underground tonight in the prison bone yard after her autopsy. See, there's this doctor who's gotta make sure the electricity was what killed her so I can get my money. So this might be the next to your last stop, little lady, ‘cause the late Regina might be getting someone to join her underground!

 "Bruce, I'm scared!"

 "That's why I told you about putting the mouth restraint on her, so we wouldn't have to hear none of her whimpering,"

 "Ashley, everything's going to be all right. We're going to have to shave you now. And we'll put the electrodes on you before we cover up your mouth and eyes. Then we'll give you the juice. And it will be over. We'll sign the papers for the chalet in Aspen tomorrow. And by the way, you look fetching strapped in that chair."

 "You won't let him hurt me when he turns on the current, will you?"

 "Ross and I have worked this out. He knows exactly how much electricity is dangerous."

 "Him-he's who I'm worried about. I think he thinks you want him to kill me."

 ""We're all just hamming it up, having a little fun. Nothing's going to happen to you."

 "I love you, Bruce."

 "I love you, Ashley."

 "Ain't that sweet. But I'll bet the little lady still wants that cigarette, don't you, girlie?"

 Ashley shakes her head yes.

 "Why don't you let her just have one puff?"

 "I didn't ask her to marry me until she stopped smoking. And it says in our prenuptial agreement that she gets nothing from me if I catch her with a cigarette. Ross, you'll cost my little lady a lot of money if she gets back into smoking."

 "I can give you some snuff," Ross offers.

 "Gross!" Ashley exclaims.

 I take the washcloth and wet a spot on Ashley's crown. I wait while she shivers before squirting shaving cream on the spot. Her eyes follow my right hand to the razor. She frowns when I pick it up.

 "Please, not too much!" she shrieks when the blade touches her scalp.

 I drag the blade across her scalp and depilate an area about one inch square on her crown. I take the washcloth and wipe away the shaving cream and loose hair, suddenly feeling sad and guilty over spoiling her mane.

 "No more please; that's enough!"

 "Good job, Bruce buddy. I'll put the scalp electrode on her. Don't worry. She'll be riding the lightning real soon now."

 Ross produces a round metal disc attached to a black cable that leads to the wall. One side of the disk is covered by a sponge. On the side opposite the sponge, perpendicular to the black cable, two leather straps dangle from the metal disc. Attached to the end of one of the straps is a buckle. A couple of inches from the metal disc, leather bands extend perpendicularly from the two vertical straps. At the ends Velcro fasteners have been applied.

 Ashley winces as the wet sponge touches her scalp.

 "Hold still, little lady; this will only take a second," Ross tells his victim. He then explains to me, "Now buckle those straps under her chin while I hold this against her head. Pull ‘em real tight so this electrode don't move. We don't want the thing to slip so we don't have to play with no live wires."

 "You're doing real good, little lady," he assures the victim as I thread one end of the vertical strap into the buckle and secure it beneath her chin.

 "Now fasten them bands around her forehead. They gotta be tight. You don't want any of that pretty hair to catch fire, do you Brucey boy?"

 I Velcro the ends of the forehead bands together as Ashley begins to hyperventilate.

 "Little lady, when we're doing this for real, we got me putting on these electrodes and two guys strapping the inmate in. If this were for real, you'd already be in the big sleep. But your hubby, he's a rookie, so you've got to give him some extra time."

 "You're really scary. You know that, don't you?" Ashley mutters.

 "The calf electrode's easy," Ross remarks, ignoring my wife's utterance.

 He holds up a four by two inch rectangular strip of metal, one surface of which is covered by a sodden sponge. Black leather straps to encircle Ashley's right calf emanate from each end. Another black cable leading to the wall trails from one end. Water drips onto the floor, forming a tiny puddle.

 "If this thing ain't wet enough, the person in the chair don't get enough of a jolt. I've heard of inmates living through two cycles of the current because they didn't get enough juice just because some son of a bitch didn't want to get the floor wet. But since you aren't going all the way with this I don't think, it shouldn't matter a heck of a lot."

 Ashley's muscles flex involuntarily as the cold salt water on the sponge makes contact with the skin on her right calf. Ross holds the electrode in place as I wrap the leather straps around her leg and pull them tight before fastening the ends together.

 "She's about ready now; just got to put on the mouth and head restraints. Then she'll ride the lightning. And you'll be ten million bucks poorer if she's still alive when we pull off them restraints. I can't imagine a guy like you reneging once you've made a pretty gal like this go through all the shit we've just put her through."

 "Just get it over with!" Ashley pleads.

 "You're so fucking scared! This is great!" I exclaim.

 "Ross, am I going to be the second woman to die in here tonight? Oh god, help me! I don't want to die!"

 "You really want out of that thing don't you? You'd even give up on the place in Aspen if I took those straps off you, wouldn't you?"

 "Please, just do it already!" she pleads.

 Her fear has driven me into an erotic frenzy. My underwear is now laden with pre cum as my rigid member prepares for action.

 "I can turn the juice up real fast and make it end real quick if you want. The only thing is that her hair might catch fire since you didn't shave very much," Ross offers.

 A wooden post arises from the back of the electric chair. Two wide black leather bands, one above the other are attached to the wood. Velcro covers each end. Once the final two restraints are in place to keep the victim's head still as the current surges through her body, Ashley will be ready for the finale of the scene

 "Ashley, it's going to be all right," I assure my wife.

 "This is my favorite part. You'll never have to hear a word from her again if you don't want to," Ross remarks as he places the leather strap over Ashley's mouth, pulls it tight, and fastens it behind her head.

 Ashley strains against her bonds, but her restraints hold secure.

 "She realizes how totally fucked she is now. She probably wants to call us sons of bitches, cocksuckers, bastards or some such things, but now she can't even do that. She's done all the bitching and whining she'll ever do. All she can hope for is when that when we turn on the juice that it don't hurt her too much," Ross remarks.

 He then looks at Ashley as she writhes in the chair, desperately attempting to free her limbs.

 "What did you do to get yourself into this predicament? Did you cheat on my buddy? Or are you just too high maintenance?"

 He turns to me.

 "You can say whatever you want to her now. She can't do a goddamn thing. I can make her into a dead woman in about thirty seconds if you want me to and she knows it."

 He looks at Ashley.

 "Look in her eyes. She knows she's gonna get more than she bargained for. Toast; you're about to be turned into toast. And that man of yours-he'll jack off every time he watches you die in that video."

 He turns back to me.

 "You know, instead of the inmate getting to make a last statement and saying how sorry they are and how they've been saved, wouldn't it be better if the victim's friends and family got to come up to them when they're sitting in the chair like this, just a few seconds away from being fried and tell them exactly what they think. Something like, ‘I hope you rot in Hell for what you did to my son' should be the last thing these bastards hear. You wouldn't consider giving me a copy of this little movie you're making, would you?"

 I shake my head no.

 "If we turn the juice on all the way, it'll be awhile before you can do it if you want to fuck her one last time. Their bodies go up to about a hundred twenty degrees. That'd be enough to fry any man's pecker."

 Ashley strains to get out of the chair again. I motion to her to be calm. She looks into my eyes, begging to be released from the chair. I kiss her on the forehead and then place the black leather band across her eyes and secure it to the back of the chair. Ross and I then slowly walk away.

 I watch Ashley alone in the electric chair, twenty feet away in the control room. Regina Sharp, my ex-wife's niece joins us there.

 "It was so fucking hot in that body bag," Regina remarks.

 "Occupational hazard," I tell the aspiring actress who plays a young mom in a kiddie show.

 "Bet you wish that was Linda sitting there instead," Regina remarks as she looks upon the woman helplessly restrained in the state's instrument of death.

 "Linda was much too straight laced for this. I guess that's why she took up with the accountant," I muse about my ex-wife's choice of partners for adultery.

 "Their happy in their own simple way," Regina says in a snarky tone.

 "It cost me a lot, but I'm glad to be done with her."

 "You know, you could have had me instead of that Ashley chick."

 "Would you be sitting in that electric chair now?"

 "Hell no, you pervert!"

 "But you'd accept a pervert's largesse otherwise?"

 "Hey, I got a house to pay off!"

 "Time to get this over with," Ross interjects.

 "Yeah, sure," I say, my eyes fixed on Ashley while my mind wonders what a fling with Regina would be like.

 Ross points to a foot long metal lever with a black knob on the end.

 "If you throw this switch, she'd get the cycle of jolts that's used to kill a person," he explains, pointing to the metal lever. "But we're not going to be doing that today," he continues, looking into my eyes for confirmation.

 "No, no; we're not killing my wife!"

 Ross places his hand on the handle.

 "Give me a million bucks or she gets it," Ross demands.

 "No!" I cry out.

 He takes his hand off the lever.

 "Got you there, buddy!" he jokes.

 "Let me pull it!" Regina exclaims. "I've always wanted to kill someone." She turns to me. "Not that I have anything against her, Bruce. You two seem very happy. And she's a pretty cool chick for letting you do this to her."

 "That's not a bit funny!"

 "Ross baby, if you hold him off while I pull the lever, I'll give you a blow job that would be worth spending life in prison for."

 "Sorry ma'am, the inmates know what I do and I wouldn't last a day in here before I got a knife stuck in my back. I'm afraid I wouldn't have a whole lot of time to cherish the memory of that blow job."

 We watch Ashley wriggle in the chair, her futile attempt to escape maintaining my erotic frenzy.

 Regina looks at my crotch.

 "Do you want me to do something about that? It seems Ashley's indisposed. I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

 "That won't be necessary."

 "Think about it. There's no way she'd ever know if you or I didn't tell her. And how do you know she's never screwed anyone on the side since you two have been together?"

 ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã‹Å“"I'll take a rain check."

 "That's too bad. I was thirsty for some cum."

 Ross points to a black metal knob. "This dial adjusts the amperage. We use this to test the cables; to make sure they can handle the current and not short out during an execution."

 I nod, signifying my understanding as I ogle the terrified woman in the electric chair.

 Ross points to a number on the dial. "Turn it to here and she'll feel the current. Her body will stiffen and she won't be able to breathe."

 "Yeah, that's what I'd like to see."

 "Fucking perv," Regina remarks.

 "You'd dump that painter fellow you're fucking for me in a minute, wouldn't you?"

 "I suppose."

 "I wouldn't leave her there for more than a few seconds," Ross explains. He then hands me a microphone. "The warden uses this to read the death sentence to the inmate the inmate right before they get fried. I don't know why they bother. Any motherfucker that's in the electric chair knows why they're there."

 I turn on the microphone and a loud buzz fills the death chamber until Ross turns down the volume.

 "Ashley O'Connor!" I bellow. "You have been judged by a jury of your peers to be guilty of murder in the first degree for the premeditated killing of your husband. The sentence of death by electrocution will now be carried out!"

 I grab hold of the black know, placing it between my thumb and index finger. I watch Ashley struggle to free her limbs from the straps. Will she still love me when this is done, I wonder.

 It is as if my hand is paralyzed. Every neuron in my brain wants me to turn the knob. My wife's fate is in my right hand. As much as I want to enact my adolescent fantasy, it is even more exhilarating to be her god. Just as does the Supreme Being whose Church I have forsaken, I hold the power to snuff out her life with a command from my brain. But if I turn the current up too high or let it stay on too long, I lose my power over her and then her fate will rest elsewhere. And I will lose the pleasure of her company during my earthly sojourn.

 I turn the knob to the right making the needle jump, indicating the circuit is live. My eyes are fixed on the woman in the electric chair. As the amperage goes up, Ashley's torso stiffens. Her fists ball up. Is she conscious? Is she thinking of me? Does she feel hate, scorn, or love? Does she dare pray to her Creator for her life to be spared after defying Him by refusing to bring another life into the world?

 I can't help liking what I'm seeing. The site of a helpless woman terrified that all she will ever have will be lost unless the love I feel for her overcomes my lust is now not just a pubescent fantasy, but Ashley's reality.

 Alas, love once more conquers lust. Fearing infliction of lasting bodily harm, I turn the current off.

 I rush to Ashley's side and am reassured that her chest is moving up and down. Ross puts his first two fingers on her right wrist.

 "She's got a good pulse!"

 I tear away the mouth restraint.

 "Bruce, is that you?"

 "Did it hurt?"

 "A little."

 "It must have hurt more than a little!"

 "It did. It hurt a lot. But I'm all right."

 "Are you mad?"

 "Do I seem mad?"

 "No."

 "Was I a good victim?"

 "An Academy Award winner; you acted real scared."

 "I was real scared. That friend of yours is real scary. After he killed that other woman tonight, I thought he wasn't going to be able to stop himself and kill me too."

 "He didn't kill any other women tonight," Regina tells Ashley.

 "Regina?"

 "Yeah, it's me."

 "But I saw your body being wheeled down the corridor."

 "And it was fucking hot in there. I'm never getting in one of those things again; at least not while I'm breathing. And by the way, I'm Linda's niece. Don't worry; I hate her. I've graduated from commercials to being on a kiddie show. Your husband hired me to scare you."

 "He should put you in one of his movies. You scared the shit out of me!"

 "She would have pulled the lever that gives the full cycle of jolts we use to kill a person. That's what she told us," Ross interjects.

 "Nothing personal; just something I always wanted to do. I'm actually glad you and Bruce are happy."

 "Since I'm already strapped in, do you want to do it some more? I can beg you to stop, and you can say it's the law making you carry out my sentence."

 I motion for Ross and Regina to move out of the scene.

 "She's alive!" I exclaim as I pretend to take Ashley's pulse.

 "It hurt so goddamn much! Please don't do it again! Don't hurt me! Oh god, I'm sorry! I'm sorry I killed him! Don't turn it on again!"

 I reapply her mouth restraint.

 "The penalty for heinous act for which you were responsible is death. The man you poisoned struggled for life for months. His passing was not easy. Neither does it seem shall yours be," I lean over and kiss the small spot on her cheek that is exposed between the two leather bands before returning to the control room.

 "It's all ready for her. Just turn the dial and she'll get juice again," Ross explains.

 My hot young wife is offering her body to fulfill my lust, not for a chalet in an expensive ski town. She is using her beauty and her spirit to please me, because my love is more important to her than anything else in the world. No woman has ever shown her love for me like this before.

 I look at Regina. The slut just wants to sleep her way to the top. I could fuck her on the side and Ashley would probably never find out. But I won't. The woman in the electric chair is special.

 The black dial beckons me. Seeing my wife being electrocuted is like a drug. My lust is not yet sated. My fingers seize the black knob and I turn it quickly. The needle jumps as the electric current surges through my wife. Ashley stiffens like a board. I turn the dial back a little to the left. Her torso sags and she is able to suck in a breath. Enjoying that she is like putty in my hands, I turn the knob to the right again; daring to make the needle go just a little farther than Ross deemed safe. Her body becomes rigid again. Her fists bowl up and the thought of the pain she must be suffering as her fingernails involuntarily dig into her palms titillates me.

 I leave her there as my heart pounds, not giving a shit how much pain she is in or whether she lives or dies. Never before have I been this aroused. I finally force myself to turn the knob to the left and am saddened as the needle on the black dial returns to zero.

 As I return to her side, I notice Ashley's chest rising and sinking even faster than after the first jolt. I turn to the camera.

 "The murderess is still alive," I announce in a severe tone. "She will be returned to her cell while the electric chair is inspected.

 I remove the leather band from Ashley's eyes. Her pupils flit back and forth. I hear her grunt from beneath the mouth restraint, which I now peel away.

 She begins to hyperventilate. I notice the smell of burned hair. I am surprised by the presence of a smile on her face.

 "Have you had enough?"

 "God yes!" she cries out.

 I undo the Velcro from the straps that encircle her forehead and then unbuckle her chin strap. The electrode comes off her scalp easily, but I notice that the skin over the bare patch on her scalp is hot and red.

 "I don't care if it burned me a little, as long as you're pleased."

 I undo the belts that are holding down her chest and torso, saving the limb restraints for last, maintaining her state of helplessness for a few extra seconds. After I undo the straps on her wrists and forearms she rubs the macerated flesh and is surprised by the presence of a pepper spray can in her face.

 "A condemned murderess who has gotten an undeserved reprieve is the most dangerous inmate in this prison," Ross explains.

 "I won't be any trouble."

 "You thought I was going to kill your ass," Ross tells her.

 "I'll say it again. You're scary. Do you really electrocute people?"

 "I do, just like I said. And that ain't no lie."

 I have undone her leg straps and retrieved her shackles.

 "Get up!" I command.

 Ashley slowly arises and offers me her wrists. I clamp on the shackles, wrap the belly chain around her waist, let Ross padlock the handcuffs to the waist tether, and then shackle her ankles.

 Ashley stares at the electric chair until I take her right arm and prod her to move forward. She says nothing, reprising the role of a condemned murderess in shock after receiving an unexpected reprieve from death. We pass through the door to the death cells. Ross closes the door behind us, leaving me alone with the evil woman who has cheated death.

 I wrap my arms around Ashley. Our lips meet in a kiss and we start making out like teenagers.