He sat there on a black-leather, Victorian chair, purposely placed in the far corner of the room, looking at her without saying a word. In his mind, he envisioned many things he would do with Consuelo… if only he weren’t married. Mr. Jones wasn’t one to cheat on his wife, but he saw nothing wrong in fantasizing about the maid. Twenty-two years… he had come thus far without cheating on his wife, and he did not intend to either, but Consuelo sure made it difficult for him to stay faithful. Sometimes it seemed as if Consuelo got a kick out of Mr. Jones’ dirty looks and mental fornication. She would tease him by wearing revealing outfits and “accidentally” dropping things around him.
Mrs. Jones wasn’t too concerned about the maid, however, as she was too busy snorkeling the pool boy. Poor Mr. Jones had his suspicions, but he had faith in his wife’s loyalty and faithfulness to him. He never thought she would cheat on him. He occasionally heard noises in the bedroom area of their three-story home, but he just thought his house was haunted.
“Could it be?” he asked himself. “Never! Karen loves me too much. I know it… I can see it in her eyes. I can see it in the way she cooks dinner every night. She makes all my favorite meals and we drink my favorite wine. Karen would never do that to me.”
Mr. Jones did have reason to suspect his wife, or should I say… widow, was sleeping with the pool boy. That’s because she was. What Mr. Jones did not know is he had been dead for the past 4 years… right before Mrs. Jones hired the new maid.
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