stay-at-home mom was an understatement because she lived in a large four-thousand square-foot house on an acre of land. It was an understatement because the cleaning and cooking was taken care of by the dedicated staff. Lauren made arrangements to have her house cleaned every second or third day, and that person also prepared a meal, so she had to do a meal only once or twice a week. This circumstance came in handy, as she could meet Ron every second day without the housekeeping staff being present. It was also an understatement because a large part of her time Lauren spent shopping and meeting her friends for a chat. You could call her a ‘lifestyle & fashion shopping stay-at-home mom’, but such a term didn’t really exist; she was still a stay-at-home mom, although most stay-at-home moms would be very envious.
Lauren Wimbledon would have been very faithful to her husband had he not been cheating on her. He wasn't cheating on her in the usual sense of the term. He was simply very engaged in his business, whatever he was doing, but Lauren interpreted the lack of her husband's attention as cheating. Well, feminine logic was often beyond the mental capacities of the male brain.
The cries in the parking lot had not abated. Ron approached the car. He knew the car very well, it was the same she used to drop the kids at school every day. Lauren was very faithful in relationships, but she usually got bored quite rapidly, and then her faithfulness subsided. It seemed that Ron’s exploration of Lauren's body, however pleasant for both of them, had become a chore and Lauren let Ron know that she still liked him but their relationship had no future, and then she broke up with him. Or perhaps she felt some remorse. Or perhaps he was unstable, or simply not the man she imagined he would be. Whatever the reason, she dumped him tactfully.
Ron shot a few more bullets towards the car and was just about to shout “Don't you ever fuck with me again,” but noticed the person behind the wheel didn't look like Lauren. He approached the car, trying hard to look through the shattered windscreen. A closer inspection showed that there was a guy behind the wheel. What's more, the guy behind the wheel looked exactly like Lauren's husband Carter.
"Shit," Ron uttered. "Why the fuck did he collect the kids from school?" he pondered.
Ron saw two school-age children in the back of Carter's car.
"They'll be fine," he reassured himself and added: "I don't like fucking surprises, but one dead body is better than no dead bodies."
He thought some more about everything that had happened and came to the conclusion he'd better go before the cops showed up. He might pay a surprise visit to Lauren when the dust settled and it would be safer to do so, but he seemed to have experienced a truly cathartic event and seemed to be satisfied with the death toll for the next few days. Furthermore, he didn't feel any immediate urge to vindicate the wrongs he had suffered from Lauren, being satisfied she would be punished by the death of her husband, at least for now. Ron could be magnanimous on occasion. But his magnanimity was usually short lived.
11.
After lunch we went back to the hospital. I followed Dr. Jane along the long corridors of the Children's Hospital with which I had already become familiar. The swaying of the pretty doctor's ass hadn’t lost anything of its attraction. I admit I was enjoying the view a lot.
Lauren Wimbledon had already woken up and was with her children in their room talking on the phone. When she stopped, Dr. Jane introduced me. We left children's ward and all three of us went to Dr. Lockerby's office, Jane swaying her hips again.
"Lauren, this is Mr. Mike Greystone. He's investigating the shooting at the school."
"Hi Mr. Greystone," Lauren Wimbledon greeted me.
"I'm very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Wimbledon," I said.
"Thank you, it's a difficult time for me, as you can imagine."
"Yes, I won't take too much
Lauren Wimbledon would have been very faithful to her husband had he not been cheating on her. He wasn't cheating on her in the usual sense of the term. He was simply very engaged in his business, whatever he was doing, but Lauren interpreted the lack of her husband's attention as cheating. Well, feminine logic was often beyond the mental capacities of the male brain.
The cries in the parking lot had not abated. Ron approached the car. He knew the car very well, it was the same she used to drop the kids at school every day. Lauren was very faithful in relationships, but she usually got bored quite rapidly, and then her faithfulness subsided. It seemed that Ron’s exploration of Lauren's body, however pleasant for both of them, had become a chore and Lauren let Ron know that she still liked him but their relationship had no future, and then she broke up with him. Or perhaps she felt some remorse. Or perhaps he was unstable, or simply not the man she imagined he would be. Whatever the reason, she dumped him tactfully.
Ron shot a few more bullets towards the car and was just about to shout “Don't you ever fuck with me again,” but noticed the person behind the wheel didn't look like Lauren. He approached the car, trying hard to look through the shattered windscreen. A closer inspection showed that there was a guy behind the wheel. What's more, the guy behind the wheel looked exactly like Lauren's husband Carter.
"Shit," Ron uttered. "Why the fuck did he collect the kids from school?" he pondered.
Ron saw two school-age children in the back of Carter's car.
"They'll be fine," he reassured himself and added: "I don't like fucking surprises, but one dead body is better than no dead bodies."
He thought some more about everything that had happened and came to the conclusion he'd better go before the cops showed up. He might pay a surprise visit to Lauren when the dust settled and it would be safer to do so, but he seemed to have experienced a truly cathartic event and seemed to be satisfied with the death toll for the next few days. Furthermore, he didn't feel any immediate urge to vindicate the wrongs he had suffered from Lauren, being satisfied she would be punished by the death of her husband, at least for now. Ron could be magnanimous on occasion. But his magnanimity was usually short lived.
11.
After lunch we went back to the hospital. I followed Dr. Jane along the long corridors of the Children's Hospital with which I had already become familiar. The swaying of the pretty doctor's ass hadn’t lost anything of its attraction. I admit I was enjoying the view a lot.
Lauren Wimbledon had already woken up and was with her children in their room talking on the phone. When she stopped, Dr. Jane introduced me. We left children's ward and all three of us went to Dr. Lockerby's office, Jane swaying her hips again.
"Lauren, this is Mr. Mike Greystone. He's investigating the shooting at the school."
"Hi Mr. Greystone," Lauren Wimbledon greeted me.
"I'm very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Wimbledon," I said.
"Thank you, it's a difficult time for me, as you can imagine."
"Yes, I won't take too much
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