Modern day Cinderella Pt. 2

The McGovern family BBQ. It’s a glorious day, the sky’s crystal clear and the sun’s so perfect you could fry an egg on the asphalt. Dan and his friends have assembled ‘round the grill, drinking suds, cooking fried chicken, burgers, sausage and pork chops.
Tina’s adjourned to the shade of the living room. A four year old girl named Rachael McGovern bobs happily on her mother’s lap. Tina’s more than content to sit here all day, she doesn’t approve of barbeques or any excessive carnivore rituals, meat is an essential part of a person’s daily diet, anything beyond that Tina considers cruel (something she decided in her early twenties). Guests pop in an out all afternoon and well into the evening, Tina gets snippets of their conversation: did you book an appointment with Mr. Welsh?…got fifty bucks on Roger for Friday night…neighbour’s kid’s a vicious little bastard, one more bit of bother and I’m calling the police.
The telephone rang over a minute ago, some Puerto-Rican friend of Daniel’s picked it up, did two laps of the house before finding Tina.
“Hello?” she smiles in thanks at Luis.
“Mrs. McGovern?” Tina doesn’t like the sound of that.
“Tina McGovern, yeah. Who’s this?”
“I have information regarding your husband.” Tina stops bobbing her knee, Rachael twists her head around, perplexed.
“What kind of information?” asks Tina.
“Somethin’ real juicy.”
“Who is this? This had better not be some silly prank ‘cause if it is I’m calling the cops, I’ll have them trace this call.”
“I can’t tell you but we could meet.”
“When? Where?”
“Starbucks on Washington street.”
“There’s like a zillion Starbucks on Washington Street. Do you know Wendy’s place?”
“What’s that?”
“Old fashioned diner off from the bend of the monorail, Morgan Avenue.”
“I know the place.”
“When?”
“Twelve, tomorrow.”
“I’ll be there.”
Tina presses the little red button and drops the phone in the crack of the couch. Somethin’ real juicy. Her mind swirls with nefarious speculation for a good few minutes until someone offer her a drink.
“Oh! No thank you.” The high spirited, orange haired lady in her late seventies smiles warmly and returns to the kitchen. Tina fondles Rachael’s hair, jerks her knee to make the little girl giggle, it soothes her.
There was something sinister about the woman who called, she seemed to get a kick out of their business, seemed oblivious to the fact that she was jeopardizing the family pillar, purveyor of gossip fancies herself a vigilante. Stupid!
She stands up with Rachael in her arms and goes into the garden. Once on the grass, she sets Rachael on her feet to run wild, roll around, beat the bushes, explore daddy’s tool shed, chase butterflies etc. She tugs a beer out of the ice box, walks over to the grill and asks Daniel to open it for her, he does and hands it back.
“What would I do without you?” she pines.
“You could always share with Rachael?”
“Cheeky!” she slaps his forearm, pecks his cheek and walks away. Dan’s friends shuffle their shoes into the grass.

Tears splash upon photograph four of sixteen. Tina didn’t even realize she was crying. Debra Benz set up a remote camera in Dan McGovern’s office, took snaps of him fucking her. Blackmail scored Deb her first taste of power, something she’d given up on more than a dozen years ago, nevertheless, there it was and she loved it. Daniel McGovern treat her like a bug on his shoulder blade, since the threat he’s been under her toe. She’s found her fix, power, but what got her off in the beginning don’t get her off now, she’s hungry for more, has been for a while in fact, climate’s always been in Dan’s favour, until now.
Deb’s looking a whole lot nicer since we last saw her; Dan set her up with a no-nonsense personal trainer, arranged two surgeries on her tits but Bill Gates couldn’t fix that face. When the affair started, Dan dictated anything and everything sexual, made her his cum bucket. Over time however, she’d been able to twist his arm. Lately, when he fucks her, there’s more to the ritual than lust. He’s working his anger out on her, trying to bruise every orifice, rather than let him know he getting to her she groans in fake pleasure and begs for more.