Fred returned from his monthly business trip, and carelessly flung his luggage on the bed before heading to the shower.
Camille had suspected for months that he’d been unfaithful, but had no proof.
Now, Fred’s suitcase lay open, an invitation for her to confirm her suspicions.
She waited to hear the rush of water from the shower before rifling through his things. Sure enough, on the bottom of his suitcase, beneath the plastic bag of dirty clothes were a pair of handcuffs and a velvet rope.
Camille grabbed the handcuffs, slipped into the bathroom and quickly snapped one cuff around her husband’s wrist and the other around the towel rack.
“Hey! What the…?” Fred hollered.
Giggling, Camille sauntered into the kitchen, spooned some Crisco® into a pan, flipped on the burners, and left—
forgetting to call 911.