MY WIFE IS A STRIPPER
CHAPTER THREE
“Excuse you?” I turned to see who it was.
It was Patricia, my uncle’s wife, glaring at me with a mixture of anger and disdain. I felt my heart sink; this wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation.
“What do you think you’re doing, staring at that elder like that?” she demanded, her voice low but sharp.
“I wasn’t” I began, but she cut me off.
“Save it, Fred. I know what you’re up to. You’ve been nothing but trouble since you got here,” she hissed, stepping closer. “I don’t want you around my husband, least you inflict him with that fowl spirit of yours going about sleeping with men?”
“I wasn’t staring at him for any reason like that. I was just trying to remember where I’d seen him before,” I tried to explain, but it was clear she wasn’t interested in listening.
“Of course, you were. You think I’m stupid?” she shot back. “Ever since your mother sent you here with all those stories about you being gay, I’ve had to put up with your nonsense. Just stay out of my way.”
The accusation stung sharp in my heart like a bee, and I could feel the anger rising within me. “You don’t know anything about me,” I snapped. “And for your information, that’s not even true!”
Patricia’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t care what you say. Just keep your distance, or I’ll make sure your uncle throw you out of his house in an instance.”
She turned and walked away before I could respond, leaving me with frustration and anger. Why did she have to make everything so difficult?
In front of her husband, Patricia was a role model to be emulated. He often used her as an example in his sermons, praising her virtues and urging young women in the congregation to follow her example. She acted all holy and pious around him, but her true nature was something only I had the misfortune of seeing. There was something about her that seemed off, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
The rest of the service passed in a blur, and I couldn’t wait to get home. As soon as we arrived, I avoided Patricia and went straight to my room, slamming the door behind me. My uncle noticed but chose to ignore it, as if he was used to our constant tension.
Dinner time came, and I heard Patricia calling for me. “Fred, come to the table,” she said, her voice lacking any warmth, but low for fear of being exposed.
“I’m not hungry,” I shouted back, not wanting to face her or my uncle.
“Fred, don’t be childish. Come and eat,” she insisted, but I stayed put.
My room door was slightly open, and I could see her standing there, watching me. Her expression was strange, almost… lustful. She stood there for at least five minutes, staring at me through the opening in the door, completely unaware that I could see her reflection in my mirror. There was something about the way she looked at me that scared me.
Just then, my uncle’s voice broke the silence. “Patricia, is Fred coming?” he called from the dining room.
She seemed to snap back to reality and quickly walked away from my door. After a few more attempts to coax me out, she gave up. I could hear her telling my uncle that I was refusing to come out for dinner. He sighed but didn’t press the issue.
I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing with thoughts of the day’s events. Patricia’s hostility, , and the recurring dreams about my uncle and her it all felt overwhelming. I needed to figure out what was really going on, but I knew it wouldn’t be easy with Patricia watching my every move.
As the night wore on, I made a decision. I would find out the truth about Patricia, no matter what it took. If there was something she was hiding, I was determined to uncover it.
TO BE CONTINUED
