It all started the night I blew the asshole’s brains all over my wife’s office wall. I had stopped by my wife’s office to pick her up on the way home, as her car was in the shop that day. When I opened the front door, the chime didn’t sound for some reason, and as I made my way down the hallway to her office, I heard her sob “No” in an oddly broken tone. Her voice ran through me like a knife to my heart -- I knew something was wrong, very, very wrong.

I’m not a large guy, as I’m 5’7” and I don’t work out, so I wasn’t going to just charge in and get my wife and me possibly killed in a rash act of bravado. I quietly turned around, went back out to my car and got my gun, then went back in as quietly as I could. As I got to my wife’s office door, I peered around it and saw my wife ... well, splayed out and getting raped from behind. Her computer desk faces the wall, so I was behind them. I didn’t hesitate. I quietly stepped up behind the man, put my gun to the back of his head, and pulled the trigger.

My wife didn’t move as he fell, first onto her back and then as he slid to the ground, his cock slipping from her as he did.

“Honey? Are you okay? Honey? Honey!” She didn’t move at all. She was looking at her computer screen which was a swirling mass of colors and falling letters like from The Matrix, and it was like she was frozen in place. I hit the power button on the monitor and the screen went dark, the screensaver’s patterns catching at my attention as it did. My wife still slumped there on her forearms.

She’s in shock, I thought. I did see her move her head slightly to look at the picture of the two of us with our daughter that she kept on her desk next to the computer, but that was the only movement she made. She didn’t respond when I called her.

I carefully backed up and called the police. I explained that I’d walked in on my wife being raped and had killed her rapist, but that she wasn’t moving or responding. They dispatched a couple of police units and an ambulance, and told me not to disturb her.

It took about five minutes for the police to arrive, and I was escorted out to be interviewed. I’m not sure how they got Lisa to come around, but they did.

It turned out that the rapist was a co-worker, and only the fact that she was still frozen in that bent-over position with her panties cut off saved me from being taken in for more questioning and possibly charged with murder. The policewoman who pulled her out of the position she’d been frozen in said she came to once she moved her.

Lisa told them she couldn’t remember any of it. She said she had no idea why I would have shot Bradley, the co-worker, that she wasn’t in a romantic or sexual relationship with him, and she had no idea why she wasn’t wearing her panties or pantsuit bottoms. They did take her to the hospital and did do a rape kit, but apparently while there had been penetration, he hadn’t actually ejaculated. They did find her vaginal secretions on him, though. This bothered Lisa more than anything.

They assumed that she had repressed the memory due to trauma, and had her examined by a psychologist with the Sexual Assault Unit. All she could remember was the picture on her desk. So, given the circumstances, I wasn’t arrested or charged, though the police were less than happy with the way I had handled the situation.

Lisa’s boss wasn’t too happy either, as it was his nephew I’d shot, and eventually word got around about the rape. It hurt his business, and given the situation, he couldn’t really let Lisa go over it without exposing his company to a wrongful termination lawsuit that he would lose, so he had to lay off a couple of more senior employees with whom he had longer and closer connections. Afterwards, he was unfailingly polite to us both, but I suspect his family relations were cold, especially since his sister killed herself the next day. I think he’d hired Bradley as a favor to that sister, and I get the feeling there was an insurmountable rift in the family after the incident and its fallout, but that would all come later.

I got Lisa home, and took care of her for the next few days, taking those days off from work to do so. My boss was great about my taking that time -- when she heard Lisa had been raped and I was trying to be there for her, she told me I could take whatever time was needed, and wrote it off as Family Leave which allowed me to keep getting paid. Lisa was most upset about the blood and mess that had splattered all over her when she came around. She had a bunch of conflicting emotions about discovering that the man she loved had killed a man as that man was fucking her. She knew Bradley, of course, but she hadn’t even disliked him -- now suddenly he was dead and she was a rape victim. And she couldn’t remember it. It is a terrible situation to be in, and it happens more often than people think. Date rape drugs have devestating consequences.

I’ve tried to imagine what it must be like, being in that situation. She said the last she remembered was knocking something off her desk as she moved to turn to her computer to answer an email, and then suddenly a policewoman was helping her to the chair she’d just been sitting in but which was now on the other side of the office. It was then that she realized she was covered in gore and not wearing panties anymore.

She said she didn’t know how to react, or how to feel. To be honest, I really didn’t either. I mean, I kept having flashbacks, seeing that ... that asshole fucking my wife from behind, and I also kept flashing on Lisa’s voice when she’d said “No” in a tone of voice that broke my heart. There was a lot of anger that I didn’t know what to do with. But for Lisa, it was almost like nothing had really happened, at least, the rape part, I mean. She said it was like going through a normal day, standing next to someone who got shot and being covered in their blood. The rest of it just didn’t make any sense to her, and she was shocked, appalled, and ashamed.

That first night, she was really pretty flustered. I took her home, got a cheeseburger and hot cocoa into her, and got her to bed after she took a long shower. While she was in there, I called our daughter Jen and told her what had happened. This was Jen’s first semester away at college, and she decided to come home the next day after informing her professors that she had a family emergency.

Lisa slept really hard that night, but from time to time I’d hear her mutter something in her sleep. I didn’t sleep at all that night, sitting with my back against the headboard of the bed and struggling with my feelings. I’m not a violent guy, but I really wanted to punch Lisa’s boss’ face hard and frequently for hiring that rapist douchebag, even if he was his nephew. I was angry that he had left Lisa alone at the office with him. I was just ... angry, and hurting for my wife.

The next day, Jen came home around noon, and hugged me hard when she saw me. “Is Mom okay?”

“She can’t remember most of it, just coming around with blood all over her and police asking questions. She was upset about the dead body, and that she knew him. She ... doesn’t seem to know how to feel.”

“Did he give her a date rape drug or something?” Jen asked.

“I don’t know. They drew her blood at the hospital, but they haven’t said anything to us,” I told her.

“Hum,” Jen said, acknowledging this. “How are you doing, Dad?”

I shrugged. “Mostly angry ... at her boss, the cops, even God. The son of a bitch is dead, I killed him, and it still doesn’t feel like enough.”

Jen hugged me again, and said, “I’ll go in and see her. Why don’t you go have a cup of coffee or something?”

I nodded, and Jen turned and knocked on the bedroom door. “Come in,” came Lisa’s voice. Jen went in and closed the door behind her. I’m not really proud of it, but instead of getting coffee, I stayed outside the door and listened.

“Hey, Mom, how are you doing?” Jen asked, probably giving Lisa a hug.

“I don’t really know,” I heard Lisa say. “I’m really confused.”

“Confused?”

“Well, I know what happened yesterday because people told me, and I was covered in Bradley’s ... blood, but I only remember parts of it. I feel like I should remember more, but ... it just isn’t there. I feel like I should be upset and angry or hurt, but ... well, I just feel mostly normal.”

“Mostly?” asked Jen.

“Yeah. That and ... confused.” Lisa paused, then said, “You’re looking good! Did you change your hair?”

“No, Mom, it’s just a bit longer than last time you saw it.”

“Huh. Makeup?”

“No different than usual, Mom.”

“Well, you are looking lovely today,” said Lisa.

“Thanks!”

“I guess you’ve just grown into a beautiful woman,” said Lisa.

“Um, thanks, Mom,” Jen blushed, a bit uncomfortably. “Ah, um, well, I guess I should let you get some rest...”

“Yes ... yes, that might be a good idea. Thank you, dear,” said Lisa.

I backed away from the door and made as if I was just walking toward it as it opened. Jen came out, blushing and a bit flustered. “How’s your mother feeling?” I asked.

“A bit better, I think,” said Jen. “I think I need a cup of coffee, myself. Long drive.”

“Come on down,” I invited her. We walked down the three stairs into the kitchen, and I fiddled with the coffee maker, setting it to brew, and got a couple of cups. As the machine grumbled and dripped coffee into the pot, I sat down at the table across from my daughter. “Well?” I asked.

“She seems ... I dunno, mostly normal?” Jen said after a moment of consideration.

“‘Mostly’ normal?”

“She ... I don’t know, there was this vibe, I guess. She said I was beautiful,” Jen said hesitantly.

“Well, you are,” I stated matter-of-factly. “Why is that odd?” I asked.

“Um, the way she looked at me when she said it. It was ... just, kind of ... off.”

“Hmm. Well, she’s been through a whole lot in the last twenty-four hours, of course.”

“Dad, it was ... like she thought I was sexy or something. She’s never done that before, acted like that. It was a weird vibe.”

“Um, ‘I am not programmed to respond in that area,’” I said, quoting a line from an old television show Jen and I used to watch reruns of together when she was a kid.

She smiled, and said, “I know, Dad. That is one word that you can’t equate with me.”

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” I said. “I can say objectively that young men must fall for you right and left, smitten by your charm and beauty.”

Jen stuck out her tongue at me, grinned, then said, “This was, um, like she meant it. Kind of like she saw me for the first time, and like I wasn’t her daughter. She was kind of reaching for me, but stopped herself. It was kind of uncomfortable. It just ... didn’t feel right.”

“Really? Hmm. I don’t know. I don’t quite know how to react, myself. I mean, she isn’t acting or reacting like I would expect. I don’t really know what to expect. Crying fits? Depression? Anxiety? Fear of me as a male? She just seems ... restless. Kind of frustrated at having to take it easy. Maybe even a bit bored. It’s kind of like what happened yesterday isn’t important or something.”

The coffee was ready, and I poured two cups and handed one to Jen.

“I don’t think there’s a standard way that women who’ve been raped have to react, Dad. She may be locking it all away somewhere in her mind. You’ll just have to be patient. Either she’ll remember, and have to deal with it then, or not. You’ll just have to be very understanding if and when it comes out.”

I nodded. “How did you get to be so wise for an eighteen-year-old?”

“I have great parents,” she said with another grin. “Also, a psychology class at school.”

Later that afternoon, Lisa got up and started working on dinner. I’d been prepared to order a pizza, but she shooed me out and began working culinary magic. She was done with moping around, she said, and needed to do something. I didn’t want to make things any weirder, so I retreated to the living room and watched television with Jen.

At one point I looked up from Naked and Afraid to see Lisa in the doorway, looking at Jen and me with an odd look on her face, with what seemed almost a kind of loving ... hunger. Then it was gone, and she went back to stir something on the stove.

During dinner, I caught that same look on her face from time to time as she talked with Jen and me as I told her about taking a week off of work and Jen talked about being off for Fall Break. After dinner, I did the dishes as they watched more television.

After the show they were watching ended, Lisa announced she was going to take a shower, and hinted that she’d like some company as she did so. Jen and I exchanged glances as she left the room, moving her cute derriere in a way that underlined the hint. Neither of us said anything until we heard the shower start.

“That was ... unusual,” said Jen. “Was she talking to you, or to me?”

“It kind of seemed like she was just throwing it out there, but it must have been for me,” I said. “Have you seen some of the looks she’s been giving this evening?”

“I’ve caught her making sexy eyes at both of us,” said Jen. “What the hell is going on? It’s kind of creeping me out! Mothers should not look at their daughters like that!”

“Maybe ... maybe she’s finally reacting to what happened? Looking for some kind of, I dunno, sexual validation or reassurance?” I guessed. “It is definitely worrying me, though.”

“Maybe you should, um, try making love with her tonight?” Jen suggested. “Maybe that will help. Just ... be careful, try not to do anything that might, um, remind her of yesterday, you know?” She rolled her eyes and scrunched her nose. “This is not a conversation a kid should have with her parent! I’m trying hard to not imagine the two of you making love, you know?”

“It’s not comfortable for me, either,” I said. “I...”

We both stopped as Lisa’s moans and cries carried above the sound of the shower. She was obviously masturbating, and climaxing. Jen and I both blushed and looked away from each other in embarrassed silence until she was done.

“She did that on purpose,” Jen said, shaking her head afterwards. “Had to be.”

I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “I don’t know how to deal with this. Maybe I should call that psychologist?”

“I’ll do some research online tonight, and see if I can get a phone number for you, Dad.”

“Thank you, Jen,” I said gratefully.

There was an uncomfortable silence again, and then Jen stood saying, “I’m going to go get started on that now, then. Have a good night, Dad. Love you, and Mom, too.”

“Sleep well, Jen,” I said, standing myself, and watched her go. I took another deep breath, and went into our bedroom.

I closed the door behind me, and turned to find Lisa right in front of me. “Whoa! Hi there, love! Wasn’t expecting you to be right there!” I exclaimed, startled.

She gave me a sexy smile and put her arms around my neck and pulled me in for a deep kiss, pressing her bare breasts against my shirt-clad chest. She ripped my shirt open, sending the buttons flying, pulled me to the bed and sat down on the edge to undo my belt and pants. Once they were down to my ankles, she hopped up again, wrapped her arms around me, and pulled me down onto her on the bed. She hadn’t been this frisky in years.

She actually grabbed my cock and guided it to her sex with a strength and determination that was amazingly sexy and urgent. She was very warm and wet, and in no time at all I was up to the hilt inside her, and she was moving like she was being electrocuted with pleasure. I’d like to say that I was keeping up my end of things, but I was still a bit shocked. She actually grabbed my ass and started thrusting, and it took me a moment or two to catch up!

My wife is a lovely woman, and can be fairly sexual, but this was new behavior. I mean, we normally had sex about once a week, and it was usually me doing most of the work. There was usually a fair bit of foreplay, usually with me giving her oral sex, some strokjng and kissing, and a slow, middle-aged, married-twenty-years buildup to a grand finale with at least one orgasm for her before we ever got to me being inside her.

This time, there was no real foreplay, but she had at least two orgasms before I even got close. Yes, I’m certain they were real orgasms -- I felt her pussy spasm around my cock both times. She was fevered, driven, and very definitely as turned on as I’d ever seen her, even during our honeymoon!

At one point, she rolled us over, still connected and pressed together so she had me in as deep as I could go, and she actually rode me in a position we hadn’t used in years. As she did, I swear it was like she got tighter, and she pounded down with such force that Jen had to hear us clapping together, and Lisa yowling like a cat in heat. As I got close, I began to growl, and Lisa clawed my shoulders grinding down on me and taking me in as deep as I could go again. We came together, and she screamed in her passion. Lisa had never screamed before. Never. At most, she made fairly quiet moans of pleasure. This scream was loud and long and declared to the entire neighborhood that she was cumming like a madwoman. My ears rang for ten minutes afterward.

After we panted in exhaustion for a couple of minutes, she kissed me frantically and wetly for several minutes, and I kissed her back with almost as much fervor. Lisa crouched down on me, with us still connected, pressing as much of her body against me as she could, and told me how much she loved me and needed me. I said the same to her, of course, and cuddled her in my warmest embrace.

She finally began to settle, and when she moved and we finally disconnected, I took the opportunity to get rid of the pants and boxers that were still tangled around my ankles. When I lay back on the pillows and looked over at her, she was still looking at me with huge eyes, like I was the most amazing and wonderful man in the world. That was an incredibly gratifying look, and it made me feel better than I’d felt in a very long time.

She kissed me again, and looked me in the eyes, and said “I love you” like she wanted me to know it on a cellular level.

“I love you, too, Lis, so much more than I can say,” I told her, and kissed her gently on her mouth, and then on each eyelid. “You are my heart’s treasure.”

She beamed. Then her expression changed. “Don, I ... I don’t ... I need...” she struggled with the words.

“What, my love?” I asked, watching her face as she wrestled with whatever it was she was trying to say. “It’s all right, you can tell me anything.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I know I’m not acting like I used to. I’m having these feelings, and it’s like I’m falling down a hillside, and I can’t stop. I feel like ... like my brakes don’t work. I can stomp the pedal to the floor and nothing happens! And I’m so confused by it all!”

“Honey, you’ve had a traumatic experience. It’s natural to feel like life is out of control when that happens.”

“No, it’s not life, it’s me. When we were, when I was in the shower, I wanted you to come in and fuck me. I knew Jen had to hear, and I didn’t care, it excited me more, thinking of you two in the living room listening to me as I came.”

“Ah. Well. Um, I guess I can say that your imagination was accurate. It was a bit uncomfortable for us both.”

“Don, it’s like some sexual madwoman has been let loose inside me, and she takes over! But, Don, she’s me. It’s me that gets crazy, that wants...” she stopped herself then continued in a smaller voice, “ ... things.”

I kissed her and hugged her. “Well, I love you, sexual madwoman at the controls or not. Give it time. Give yourself time. Things will settle, and you’ll get your control back.”

She shrugged, then nodded, and kissed me gently. “I love you,” she said again. I turned off the light, and we cuddled until we fell asleep.

Lisa woke me about 4:00 AM, tossing and turning and making sounds in her sleep like she was both having sex and arguing at the same time. I was just about to wake her when she cried, clearly, “Not Jen!” I sat up in bed beside her and watched. “No! Mmmm, yes! No! No! ... need it! ... can’t, mustn’t!”

Lisa shivered in orgasm, tensing and stretching, then relaxed with a sad little “ ... no...” It was an echo of the word I’d heard the day before, but much more soft.

“Honey, wake up! Are you okay? You’re having a dream!”

“Mmm?” She purred as she opened her eyes. “Don, hi! Do you want to fuck?”

“Lisa, honey, you were having a dream. Do you remember what it was about?” I put aside the fact that she never propositioned intimacy with me like that before, certainly not using that word.

“Mmmm. Jen, I think. Is she here?”

“She’s in her bedroom, honey, it’s the middle of the night.”

“Oh. Pity. Um ... do you like my boobs?”

“You are beautiful just as you are, love, you always have been,” I answered. A pity that Jen wasn’t here? In our bedroom? “Lisa, love, you were having a dream. It was about Jen?”

“Jen? What about her? Is it hot in here? God, I’m so horny! Suck my nipples, baby, I need your mouth on my tits!” Her nipples were standing out from her breasts, the areolae tight and rigid, the tiny bumps on them visible even in the semidarkness.

“Shh. Do you remember what you were dreaming?” I pursued.

Lisa pouted a moment, then said, “I don’t know. I think ... maybe she was watching television? Not here, though, that doesn’t seem right ... Maybe at the office? I don’t know, Don, I can’t remember. It was just a dream. It’s not important, and I need you inside me, now!”

I kissed down her breasts to a nipple, and began tickling it with my tongue. Lisa laughed throatily and pulled my head down, forcing her nipple deeper in my mouth. I sucked at it with slowly increasing force, and Lisa arched her back to push it in farther while making a cooing needy sound. Her nipple was amazingly hard and it was pulsing with her heartbeat against my lips and tongue.

Lisa grabbed my already-hard cock and began pulling me by it towards her very wet sex. She was making whining, needy sounds in her throat as she did so. I shifted onto my knees and moved into position -- the missionary position. Lisa ran the head of my cock along her slit, lubricating it with her copious juices, then grabbed my asscheeks and pulled me into her. As I sank in, she made a sound in her throat and said, “Ah, yeah, that’s good! Now, fuck me!”

Lisa was not someone who had really ever talked dirty during sex. She made sounds pretty often, but in twenty years of marriage she’d never used the word “fuck” while we were in the middle of the act. It just wasn’t her thing.

While it was kind of exciting for her to be so forceful and vocal, it was also kind of alarming -- she was acting so differently from her usual self that her behavior was showing that something inside her had shifted, like a fault line of her personality was causing quakes of sudden change.

Lisa was moaning and groaning happily with pleasure at each stroke, again, very different from her usual style, and her nails were digging into my butt cheeks as she pulled. She writhed like a snake beneath me, and her pussy was doing something amazing to my cock. She looked at me with pure lust on her face and in her eyes, her teeth gleaming in the darkness.

I felt her tempo change, and knew she was getting close to orgasm. “Fuck me, Don! Fill me with your cum! I ... need ... you ... SO... MUCH!” Her last words were a scream that ended with her biting my shoulder as I came inside her, her pussy rolling and pulling on my cock. She vibrated with her climax, tensed so tight that her muscles quivered with the strain.

Finally she fell back, relaxed, her body surrendering its tension all at once, her lips giving me the happiest smile I’d ever seen on her face. She ran her hands from her breasts down to just below her belly. “Mmmm, I love you, baby, so very much!” she purred.

I stretched out next to her and gazed down into her clear blue eyes, pupils wide in the darkness. “I love you, too, honey. Why don’t you see if you can get back to sleep? It’s still very late, or, early, now.”

“Mmm, okay,” she said. She closed her eyes, and I watched her face as she drifted off. Something was happening inside her, some struggle, and her new, powerful sexual drive was a part of it. I was worried about her, and resolved to call the victim services counselor in the information that the police had given us in the morning.

Lisa seemed to drop into a sound sleep, and didn’t seem to struggle for a while, so I finally drifted off again, myself.

Detective Lori Abrams knocked on the door at 9:00 AM sharp, and wanted to talk with Lisa. I took the opportunity to call Victim Services Counseling, and spoke with a Dr. Victoria Tandy. I described what Lisa had been going through the last couple of days, and asked if this was usual.

Dr. Tandy said that she would be happy to talk with Lisa, and, I was surprised to hear, would pay a house call rather than have her come in. Her tone of voice was not exactly encouraging, though, and she wouldn’t speculate on what was happening with Lisa until she’d actually talked with her. She offered to come by right after lunch. I did not get the feeling that Lisa’s recent behavior was typical of her experience with rape victims.

Detective Abrams wanted to talk with me after she’d talked with Lisa for about half an hour, and had me go over the events of the incident step by step. I told her everything I could recall. She wanted Lisa to see the police psychologist to see if Lisa could recall more under careful questioning by a specialist. I told her that I’d already talked with Dr. Tandy and set up an appointment for today at 1:00 PM. The detective nodded at that, and said Dr. Tandy was very good, and that Lisa would be in good hands.

While we were talking, Jen came out and joined us in the conversation. The detective turned to go, and as she was walking away, Jen told me that her mother had just fondled her breasts from behind, and shouldn’t she see someone to help her with her recovery?

The detective turned around immediately and came back. “Your mother is behaving strangely since this happened?” she asked Jen.

“Well, yes,” Jen said. “She’s been sort of ... acting out, sexually. Why?”

“It may be nothing,” said the detective, carefully. “She doesn’t seem depressed or suicidal, does she?”

“No,” I told her. “She’s mostly been kind of frisky, to tell you the truth.”

“Are you kidding?” said Jen, “I heard you two last night, and in the middle of the night! And it feels like ... like she’s making passes at me.”

“Has your mother ever said anything about being bisexual?”

“No,” said Jen and I together.

“Hmm. Thank you. It’s good that she’s going to see Dr. Tandy later. Give me a moment, I should talk with your wife again for a few minutes. Would you two stay here?”

Jen and I looked at each other, then agreed. She went back into the house and while she was gone, I told Jen about the Victim Services appointment, and what I’d set up with Dr. Tandy. The detective came back out a few minutes later, and thanked us, and said we should keep a close eye on Lisa for the next few days. We assured her that we would.

She asked if Lisa had been behaving strangely before the incident, or if she’d been associating with any other women recently, and if we’d noticed any other changes in her behavior. The answer to all those questions was “no.”

“Several women who were also associated with Bradley Lowenstein have apparently committed suicide in the last 24 hours,” Detective Abrams told us. “Two, a mother and daughter, were his neighbors, and one ... other. All left notes saying that they couldn’t live without him. It’s extremely odd,” she said, “but there isn’t any proof of anything. Yet.”

“You think I may have interrupted him in the middle of something more than the obvious?” I asked.

“I don’t know. But I find it interesting that she wasn’t even aware that he ... well, she wasn’t aware of what was happening. How long was she ... how long between when you shot him and she ... regained awareness?”

“I don’t know. I thought she was in shock. You and the other officer who responded to the call were with her,” I told her.

“You said she didn’t respond to you when you called her name or touched her?”

“That’s right. When she didn’t react, I called 911. I don’t think I touched anything else.”