So You Thought You Knew Me

By Mark Stephens

Born into a fundamentalist cult where “normal” relationships had been abandoned and the sole purpose of women was to produce as many children as possible, Annette was far from happy with her life. She left, and on the run she became a drug mule, an escort, a hooker and, finally, a police informant. Now at risk from her previous associates, the police found her a new home and a new family. Suddenly Annette had two older “brothers”, but as a result of her previous life – or perhaps simply because she was that kind of young women – she desperately needed sexual relationships, and plenty of them. In fact, her new older “brother” encouraged her and helped her to find as many young men as she wanted.

After many sexual encounters of many varieties, Annette met Jay, who assumed she was innocent and virginal. She did not disillusion him, and she married him, but inevitably he slowly began to find out the truth. Unfortunately, he overheard part of a conversation and completely misunderstood the situation. Furious, and thinking that his wife had been abused when she was younger, he set out to take revenge – with disastrous consequences.

A powerful, uncompromising story of love, sexuality and revenge, for adults only.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Strict Publishing International
• Release date: May 22, 2017
• ISBN: 9780857794338

Mark Stephens

Mark Stephens lives in Orlando, Florida, by route of St. Marys, Ohio(birthplace) and Asheville, NC. Moving here in 1998 after visiting, he fell in love with the climate and the city, becoming active in the community and its growth. Writing has always been a love of his ever since high school, but, until recent advancements in technology, it was always an unrealistic passion to become a published author. Now, he's able to devote his time between writing and family and work. At least, until he doesn't have to work anymore.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE: Seattle in Winter.

Most people think of rain forests as hot and wet. Seattle is wet, but in winter it is not so hot. Situated at the North West point of the USA a short distance from Canada, this modern city can be dismal during months of virtually nonstop rain.

In February, which is where this story starts, it may seem as though the existence of the sun is only a rumour; it has not appeared since October. People say that they should be thankful as you don’t have to shovel snow.

I finally got out of bed, and slowly prepared for the day ahead. I was retired, or, rather, prohibited from working following a car accident, and although I expected to get money from the insurance it was not in yet. My apartment was small and, combined with the rain, conducive to claustrophobia. I needed to get out:

My car was old; the tires were worn. The temperature had suddenly dropped and it had snowed, so within an hour the roads were icy and I ended up sliding to a ditch. I was not hurt, but I was unable to get home. As I stumbled out of my vehicle they were waiting. There were two of them, and they had seen what had happened and wanted to help. I climbed into their late model four wheel drive Jeep, introduced myself, and discovered that the driver was Annette and her friend was Jasmine.

That is how I first met this remarkable woman, and it was the start of a meaningful relationship. I was divorced and so was she. We were both in our late fifties and lonely, and it was not long before I realized that she was a very unusual woman with an interesting past. I tried to get more information about her, but all she would say was that she was born in South Africa, had two children, a boy and a girl who lived in the USA, and had been married twice. Her ex husband was with the U.S. prisons department and her first husband had died. She would never talk about him or any other aspects of her life and threatening to leave if I continued to pursue the subject. Most weekends we were together, but I seldom saw her during the week.

It was clear that there were ‘skeletons in her cupboard’ but she was not going to talk about them. She was intelligent, but her mind was closed to anything she did not already believe to be an inalienable truth, and that included almost everything. She was radical in many ways, but ultra-liberal in others. She was unapologetic racist, xenophobic, yet she firmly believed that if Hitler had not killed the Jews but instead had worked with them, the war would have ended differently. The British, not the Nazis, had been the first to start concentration camps, she pointed out, in 1900 during the Boer war. It was in these that many Afrikaans men, women and children died, and so, she implied without actually spelling it out, the Nazis were not too bad. She never really understood politics. She hated Margaret Thatcher but had some nice things to say about De Gaul and about Stalin. It was religion that really upset her and if the subject were brought up she would immediately point out that the two most dangerous books ever written were the Bible and the Koran. These, she said, had been responsible for the deaths of millions of people, and religion was all about control. Nobody had ever spoken to God; nobody could predict the future; the Bible was like the story of Santa Claus, a ridiculous series of events that any fool should see were totally false.

We were miles apart on so many subjects, but when it came to sex that was different. The statement that a woman should always be a lady, but a whore in the bedroom, applied to her. Sex was wonderful: I felt like a king when she whispered OOH! That was so nice. You are a wonderful lover. Not so fast. A little higher. Keep the rhythm; just keep doing that. She told me that I could always use the ‘front door’ but if I gave her sufficient notice the back could also be opened. After some incredible sex, she would thank me and then ask what she could do to make me happy. On one occasion I had bought some sherry, and it was particularly cold and wet outside. We had made love and we were both slightly intoxicated. She had told me that I was a great lover, so, without thinking, I asked her how many lovers she had had. She did not reply. Instead, she got up, walked to the dresser, retrieved a key and unlocked the centre drawer. She was still naked when she walked back holding a thick notebook. Her expression had changed, and she was no longer the loving, sweet person she had been moments before.

It’s in here, she said. The answers to all those questions and some that you would never dare ask. You think you know me, and so did the others, but they never did and neither do you.. I am never going to answer all your questions, but maybe at some future date this will. She returned the book to the drawer, and I saw where she hid the key.

Her mood had changed, and she became quiet. She looked up towards the ceiling and, with a faraway look in her eyes, she started speaking softly. I did a count a long time ago and it was well over one hundred and fifty. She was referring to the question I had asked earlier about how many lovers she had had.

Before I got married, I had had many lovers and during my marriage lots more, she said. My second husband was a sex addict, almost as bad as I was, and we had a lot of friends who were swingers. I have never been nor do I intend to be monogamous, so if that is what you want I cannot give it to you. We can have fun, but don’t expect fidelity. You are always welcome, but if I am with others you must except it and not be jealous.

I had a key to her apartment, and on two occasions I found her in the bedroom ‘entertaining’. I remembered what she said about fidelity, so I sat quietly in the lounge trying to read a magazine, but with the noises she was making it was difficult to concentrate. About an hour later she came out with two guys, wearing only a robe. Although she saw me, they did not. At the door, they kissed, one left, but the other stayed behind. From where I sat I could see them both in profile, and I watched as he undid her robe and caressed her. There was a toilet and basin next to where they stood, and she stepped inside then came out with a towel. She knelt down, took his cock out, wiped it, kissed it, and stood up. He backed her against the wall, she wrapped her legs around him, and I watched them fuck.

He left, she put her robe back on, and she walked over to me, smiling. They didn’t see you, she said, but I did. As she spoke she ran her hands over the front of my trousers. Ooh! He feels nice. I was hoping we were turning you on, as I remembered you told me once that you like watching. Now I know you are not going to be silly or jealous, I can look forward to us having lots of fun together. She leaned over, kissed me, and added that I was special and if I gave her a few minutes to clean up she would be all mine. She disappeared into the bathroom and came out with only a towel on and her perfume filling the room.

We made love, and once more she made me feel like a king, but as we lay in each other’s arms she told me that the two guys were old friends from the days she and her ex were swingers. They were only in town for a few more days, so she had agreed to spend the weekend with them and one of their wives. I needed more info, so eventually she told me, in a matter of fact manner, that it was not only men she liked but also some of the wives. As it was one of those rare occasions when she was opening up a little, I asked why she had needed a towel. She laughed and wondered if I could not guess. Did I not know about D.P. double penetration? They had had her at the same time, and the one who had used the ‘back door’ needed to clean up before using the front. When she anticipated anal sex, she would stop eating solid food the day previous. ‘Bears in the Cave’ could be embarrassing, she would say, so sometimes I was able to determine what she anticipated doing by seeing what she ate for supper.

Her friend Jasmine knew about the weekend arrangements and, not wishing to leave me alone, they decided that she would spend the time with me. She did; we did it and it was nice, but Annette was still the best.

Four months later she died in her sleep and I found her two days later. I called 911, but before the ambulance arrived I had taken the notebook, together with some other papers and photographs, from her dresser. The thick notebook was mostly written by her deceased husband Jay, who I soon realized was a lot like me, in that he knew very little about her.

Having eventually received the insurance pay out, moved into better accommodation and having the time, I decided to do what I realized Jay would have wanted: tell their story. The people concerned are all gone, and I have changed the names and the places, so it is unlikely that anyone would be able to join the dots. As I read his notes again, it seemed that she had become confused on several occasions. She would speak as if giving a report one moment, and then as if she was talking directly to him. Of course, it may not only have been her that changed the tenses. Jay might have, but whoever was at fault did not really matter.

CHAPTER TWO: Jay’s Journal. The Downhill Slide Begins.

My name is Guissepi Alfonsus Calberta, and my friends used to call me GC or Jay. I don’t have any of those left now. I killed two men, but I had planned on killing four. Time and fate prevented me doing this. The first one, a long time ago, was a friend of my brother-in-law and supposedly a friend of mine. We often did things together, including regularly working out at the local gym.

I got away with this crime and no one suspected a thing, not even a question asked. The other person was my brother-in-law. Here there were several witnesses, my footprint was clearly impressed onto his face and his nails had my skin and blood underneath them. I am on death row here in the USA, and by the time you read this I will have played my final role as ‘the dead man walking’.

How well do we know each other? How well do you know your wife, husband, mother, father, sister, brother or lover? We think we know the people closest to us, but do we? I had assumed that the pretty girl I loved was from a decent family, a virgin, and had similar dreams and aspirations to mine. For a long time I never questioned this, and it was only by chance I discovered it was not the case. She was caught off guard, and while under stress said she had been raped by what I thought were her brothers. I thought I had overheard her telling her friend that this had happen when she was very young. But they did not rape her, and because of my misguided assumptions two people died. Had it not been for the events of that fateful night many years ago, Annette might have kept her secrets indefinitely and I would never have known. Her story is fascinating, and in my wildest dreams I could never have imagined it.

They say ‘there are none as blind as those that will not see’ and in my case this was certainly true. I really was Guissepi the gullible. Here is my story. Perhaps, after reading it, you can look more closely at your relationships to see if people really are as they appear.

* * * * *

The sound of my alarm clock brings me back from a very deep sleep. I really had not expected to sleep that well or so soundly. However, thinking back, I realize that I had been sleeping extremely well ever since our guests arrived.

6.30 a.m., a beautiful sunny day, a wonderful day to be alive, or perhaps to kill someone. After all, wasn’t that what I had been planning for a long time?

They say that had there been a pair of binoculars on the Titanic in 1912 the iceberg would probably have been sighted in time. If that tragedy had not occurred and the famous and influential people aboard had lived, perhaps the two great wars would not have taken place, events that changed the lives of every one of us. So it is that small things can result in major events. Had I started out an hour earlier, or perhaps planned things for a day or two before or after, I might not be writing this now.

Johannes Jacobus Ludevicus Visser may have had many thoughts in his mind on that particular day, but I think his imminent demise was not one of them. In mine it was paramount.

Sunny and warm with a suggestion of a breeze. A spring day in the American northwest, a beautiful part of the country. The snow-capped Rocky Mountains on the horizon, tall cedars, pines, firs, and dogwood carpet the whole land. Many crystal clear rivers and streams tumble and dance over rocks as they race in a never-ending flight towards the sea. Nature was making a statement, even showing off. Only a few weeks previously things were so different. Everything then was bleak and barren, and snow covered.

Apart from the evergreen trees everything seemed dead. Now Mother Nature was boasting. ‘Look what I can do,’ she seemed to say. Plants in incredible numbers, types, and colours filled the land and hills. The world was alive again, vibrant, exciting and wonderful.

This beauty was in sharp contrast to the dark and anything but beautiful thoughts within my soul.

On the way to the bathroom I knocked gently on Johann’s door. A brief pause,

OK. I’m awake, he mumbled. Be out shortly.

Johann and Esme, his wife, had arrived a week earlier from Mandeni in South Africa and were now guests of my wife Annette and I. All of us under the same roof, all apparently so friendly and polite. Appearances can be so deceptive. Our two children were away during this time so there were no distractions.

For the past few days we had been almost exclusively in each other’s company. It was almost six years since our family left South Africa for the U.S.A. and they had not seen each other since then. I was surprised how keenly she had reacted to the letter advising us of their intended visit. I thought she was putting on an act and I could not work out why, considering what I believed he had done to her. I was excited, because maybe at last I had an opportunity to put certain plans into action.

Until now these had only been dreams, but now fate was being kind. I was only going to get this one chance, so I needed to act now or forever hold my peace. To all outward appearances I was the perfect host, friendly considerate and accommodating, but inwardly my thoughts were the opposite.

We probably will be doing lots of active fun stuff when they arrive, I told Annette, so I should start getting into shape. She was going to gym three times a week, and looking good, but I needed to exercise more and that meant a daily hike.

The following day I started to put my plan into action. I now had a chance to punish Johann for the years of pain that he was probably not even aware of, but he had to know why I wanted him dead otherwise it would all be pointless.

Looking in the mirror, I was pleased with what I saw. I was fit and still handsome, in a mature way. Although in my fifties, I liked to think I looked and behaved younger. The only noticeable greying was at my temples, however there were now dark patches around my eyes, probably due to stress.

There was something unusual about this familiar bathroom. Moisture was everywhere, the windows and walls were wet, and a strange scent hung in the air. I assumed that Annette must have bathed during the night, as she sometimes had difficulty sleeping. It just seemed as though she, or someone else, had been there for a long time. This was just another unusual thing, one of several that had occurred since our guest’s arrival. Although curious, I dismissed this issue, for there were far more important things to deal with right now.

I had to keep mentally pinching myself. Was this really happening? It was all going too smoothly. There were not just butterflies in my stomach but more like large bats. I was actually going to do it, at last.

My mind flashed back several years to the time when I planned and executed a similar thing. There had been four people that I had sworn to destroy. One, I had killed a long time ago, and another would die today. For the other two, one had died in a motor accident and the other from cancer. Daniel, the one I had killed, thought we were friends, like I believed Johann did now. Daniel was big and very strong. We both worked out at the local gym and I would watch him with his favourite exercises, bench press and incline bench, and would wonder, ‘what if his grip slipped whilst pushing the 400lb plus weights just above his neck?’

You could connect an electric wire to a bench on which someone is lying lifting weights, and then at the right time and from a distance, switch on the current for a split second. They drop the weights, break their neck and the deed is done. In a moment the cord can be pulled away and the plug removed from the socket. Of course, the circuit breaker will trip but as I stood within a few feet I could easily reset it again.

No one had the faintest idea what had happened. No burns, no blood except from his nose. He just dropped the weights and it all worked so perfectly. In a moment, the incriminating plug and cord had been hidden and ultimately disposed of.

He probably had a heart attack lifting those heavy weights, they said, so young, so strong. Gloria his fiancée was sad because they had planned to get married the following month, and I was sad too. He never knew why I wanted him dead, and that was something that made me sad.

This time would be different. Johann would know exactly why, and he would have a short time to understand and to experience extreme terror before his death. This is how it should have been with Daniel, but at the time I could not decide how to do it. Once he became aware of my true feelings, the element of surprise falls away and then my chances of getting away with it are greatly reduced.

* * * * *

Before leaving, I stood looking down at my beautiful wife. She lay on her side, her right breast almost fully uncovered. She looked peaceful and content, with a half smile on her face. I noticed again one of the two scars just below her nipple, the result, she said of a fall as a young girl. I wanted to touch her, but knowing I had more important things to attend to I gently kissed her cheek and whispered softly.

Today, my darling, I will even the score for what you went through as a child. My honour will be restored and I will be able to love you as I should. I must do what I must do, for both of us. I love you.

Since our guests had arrived I had tried to be the loving, considerate husband. Annette was very sweet, and when I awoke she was always wet and ready for sex. In the past I would nibble her ears, which made her shiver and start to become aroused, so she would pull away for a few moments then move back until eventually we ended up having sex. Since their arrival things had changed. I knew that after she climaxed more than once her ears became desensitized and I could nibble all I wanted without any reactions, and now that is what was happening.

She moved onto her back and both breasts were now in view, her nipples hard and sticking out like mini penises. What was she dreaming about?

Within forty minutes Johann and I were on our way. The plan had been to leave within fifteen but I had to wait. It was normal for him to keep people waiting; he did things his way and was not to be rushed. We traveled the route I had been over many times since we had first heard of their intended visit. We soon arrived at our destination, a tall hill within a national park. Johann was a keen photographer and he wanted some shots from ‘lookout point’ a spot that overlooked a valley and the snow capped mountains of Canada in the distance.

There were few people out this early, and we climbed steadily, exchanging small talk.

It was not long before I could hear him breathing heavily. He had let himself go over the years, too much good food and easy living. He had a belly, was bald, and now wore glasses. How he ever managed to land a lovely lady like Esme was beyond me, and to think of what Annette must have gone through was mind blowing. But he did have something in his favour, and that was his size and strength. Years before he had had a bad reputation and it was unwise to get him or his buddy Daniel upset.

Today he climbed, getting progressively slower and more out of breath with each step. His accepting my invitation to go for this early morning climb had surprised me. I admit I had used flattery, which always worked in his case, and I also made it a challenge. I told him how many times I had already done this ‘little’ hike, implying that if he refused he was a wimp. I stressed the magnificent photographic opportunities and how easy it would be for a ‘big strong guy like him’. Now he was regretting it, and I was enjoying his discomfort.

We stopped twice, but I was anxious to get going before other hikers arrived, for that could spoil everything. As we got near our destination we heard voices. I started to panic; my plans would be futile if we had any company.

There was a group of about seven people on the ridge and at first I was not able to determine who or what they were, but it soon became clear they were not hikers. Getting closer, it became apparent that they were involved in some sort of photographic project. They had cameras, tripods, recorders, and other paraphernalia lying on the ground. The good thing was that they did not look as though they intended going any further up the hill.

What are you guys doing? I shouted over to them.

Bird watching, someone replied. There are a lot of eagles around today.

Johann needed two more rest stops before we reached the section that I had so carefully selected. He had asked several times if we were still on the right trail and how much further it was. We are almost there; up this short cliff face, over the top boulder and we’re home. Wait ’til you see the view. I’m sure you will agree it was all worthwhile, I said.

Where we stood was a ledge about four feet wide, and the point we planned to climb to was about twelve feet further up. Not a particularly difficult climb as the rocks allowed plenty of footholds for the first eight feet or so, but the last few feet would be difficult. You had to reach onto the upper ledge and pull yourself up, but fortunately there were several strong roots, which once you had them you were okay.

I think I have climbed enough for one day, he said. I am going back down.

My heart stopped beating. So near and yet so far.

You’re kidding me. You really don’t want to photograph that view?

No, I’m going back.

He turned to start the decent.

Tell you what, you rest here. I will climb up, take a few photos, then we’ll go down.

He settled himself down on a rock, considered things for a while, and then taking a small stone he threw it out over the ledge in front of him. It soared out, then plunged through the trees far below.

Okay. But don’t take too long.

With his camera and a rope over my shoulders, I started climbing. Within minutes I was on the all-important ledge. Here, my plan would succeed or everything would have been in vain.

This ledge was set back into the rocks about five feet, with a rock face at the one end and a tree growing against it, an unusual place for a tree but perfect for my plan. A slope rose towards the back with loose sand and small pieces of rock on the surface, and roots hanging over the edge. Unless you held onto these, you could easily slip and fall. Knowing this, I gripped them and pulled myself safely onto the ledge. This was the only way to get up.

Now came the tricky part. I had to get him to climb up. I put on a big display of admiring the scenery. I took numerous photographs, and tried several times to persuade him, but he continued to refuse.

I had to try something new. Giving the impression that I was about to come down, I appeared to slip and as I did I made sure that the rope fell into the trees below. From his perspective