The Entertainment Couple

Janell was Frank's junior by nearly ten years when she had married him. Although she did not think of herself as a "trophy wife", she did think of him as "quite a catch". Because he was a record executive for a LA label, she had become accustomed to many and frequent backstage full VIP passes to some of the best music in the LA area. She enjoyed the privilege "meet and greets" after the concerts.

Gradually as she listened to the after-concert chatter, she began to notice that a lot of musicians thought of music like a sexual act and that right after a high powered concert, the sexual energy in the green rooms was strong enough to cut with a knife. Gradually she became aware of how turned on her husband was to that vibe. Their lovemaking the night after seeing a concert was always a little more intense, a little more "rough", than their usual sessions. A concert was like Viagra to her man and she liked this pervertedness to the climaxes he brought to her, making love to her as the CD of a group played in their house.

One evening, after the concert of the hard rock band, The Renegades, Janell and her husband, Frank Williams, were invited to attend an after concert party with the band and its manager, producers, and crew. This was not really an unusual occurrence, but it became a life changing evening for Janell.

Janell was sitting in the expansive suite of the lead singer, 'The Bomb Hailey' on a sofa next to 'The Bomb' himself with a young girl on the opposite side of him. Janell was not intending to eavesdrop, but she couldn't help it catching her attention when she heard "The Bomb' saying to the girl, "Pack a single suitcase. We can buy you anything else you need. Make certain no one knows that you have left and meet me at 2:00 pm at 1927 Albany Lane."

"Oh! I'm so happy!" she said in her exuberance. She was a cute thing, but really just the typically foolish groupie.

"Remember, if anyone sees you leave or knows where you've gone, everything's off."

"No one will ever know. I want to be with you forever," she said and her joy was making Janell nauseous. 'Poor girl, she'd only be used and dumped,' Janell thought quietly to herself, finding it hard not to say something, while realizing the girl would oblivious to any warning she might offer.

So, Janell said nothing to the girl nor to 'The Bomb' about it, but she couldn't stop dealing with it inside. Her mind was a turmoil. That young girl, as silly and as stupid as she may be, did she really deserve her fate?

"Frank," she asked when they were at home lying in bed. "Tonight 'The Bomb' made arrangements with a girl...a girl; she couldn't have been more than eighteen...he made arrangements with her to run off with him. I'm sure he's going to use her until he's had all from her he wants."

"I know, honey."

"You know!?"

"Yes. They usually get one after every concert."

"You don't care!?" Janell was amazed. "One each concert? That's awful! It's heartbreaking! Don't you care what becomes of them?"

"I know what becomes of them," Frank said with understated calm. "You know, they give themselves freely?"

"But one after each concert?" considered Janell. "That's so many! Why do they need that many?"

Frank was silent. He and his wife were very close and openly discussed everything. Janell kept no secrets and she assumed Frank held nothing back from her, yet, he wasn't answering. "Frank?" she said.

"Well," Frank began, hesitantly. "You know that groupies are fucked and often wind up pregnant, illegal drugs are rampant, and bribery prevalent, not to mention common theft or murder. This is the entertainment business."

"What are you trying to say?"

"These girls willingly offer themselves and they are sacrificed."

"Sacrificed?" asked Janell, knowing, but not wanting to admit what 'sacrificed' meant.

"Nothing's taboo to those with the money to get away with it."

"They kill these girls?" she asked, believing, but not wanting to accept. "Why? Whatever for?"

"They have sex with them until just before their next concert."

"And then they kill them?" Janell questioned. "But why? Why not just send them home? Isn't heartbreak enough?"

"Honey," Frank was silent, pausing as though he was unable to speak. Then in a whisper he said, "They eat them."

Worried thoughts flashed through her head. For several moments her mouth hung open in shock. 'They're going to kill that girl! I might have within myself the power to prevent it. I should go to the police. But no, how can I go to the police? That might incriminate Frank. Frank...?" Suddenly shock struck again, along with panic like she'd never known.

Not even looking at him, she said quietly, not wanting the answer, "Have you ever eaten a girl...I mean her...ah...meat?"

Frank let out a long sigh and Janell knew before he spoke, "Yes, Honey, I have."

Janell stared in the dark, laying flat on her back, up at the ceiling. Believing in disbelief, her mind was now lost in a fog of numbness.

They spoke no more about it that night. Janell remained in the same position and was astonished when she woke to realize she could actually sleep with the knowledge that her husband, her sweet lovable Frank, was a cannibal. He'd tasted the flesh and meat of young girls. 'But how many?' she wondered and then she wondered if it made a difference.

They went through their usual morning preparations, showers, his shave, teeth brushing, mouthwash, and dressing. The silence between them was deafening. Frank kissed her on the cheek as he grabbed his keys to go. She returned his kiss without feeling. Her Frank was a participant in abduction, murder, and cannibalism!

She could turn him in, but how could she? Frank was her life. Yet, how would she ever be able to live with it, with Frank, now knowing what she knew about him?

Days passed, a week, two weeks. there had been another concert. That meant the girl was dead and Janell had done nothing. Janell and Frank went about their lives carefully not talking about what they so much needed to discuss. They would lay together in bed until they slept without touching, though when they woke they would often find themselves in each other's embrace.

An odd thing occurred in Janell. Even with her greatest effort to repress them, even while the young girl she'd condemned by her inaction might have been saved, she began to have thoughts. The thoughts plagued her like punishment for her evil deed. At the same time the thoughts fed on themselves like a famished lion, increasing in frequency and intensity. More and more, no matter how she tried, she wondered about that girl. Not about her fear, not about how she might have suffered, no, not that; she wondered instead how she might have tasted. She wondered how they might have cooked the girl.

Sometimes Janell would find herself with other disturbing thoughts. Did the girl know her destiny? Did she suspect she would be eaten? Was she tormented or tortured? Was her death quick or slow, agonizing or painless? How would it feel if it had been herself? What would it have been like to assist in the slaughter, preparation, or cooking of the girl? Those thoughts made her suffer with guilt and anguish, and at other times made her heart race with excitement. 'Oh God!' Janell said aloud almost in physical discomfort. "There it is again. I can't stop wondering how she tasted!'

All these thoughts stewed inside her and eventually it showed on her face. One evening at dinner Frank asked her, "Honey, what is wrong? You seem troubled, distant....what's up?"

Janell blurted it out, all of it, her worries and her fascinations. "Can you help me Frank!! I have to understand...please," she begged, almost on the verge of tears.

Frank held her, embraced her, and told her, "All I can tell you is what I know. I once made love to a groupie after a concert and fucked her for hours. I fell asleep and when I woke up she was gone.

From the kitchen there came this wonderful smell and when I went to see what was cooking, I saw what looked like a strange pie. I was told it was a true road delicacy and they suggested I taste it. I did and then someone said it was baked cream pie.

It tasted delicious. I took a big mouthful and then I was told, "It is your girlfriend's pussy, filled with your own cum...you silly ass!"

She could not believe her ears. Her husband was crazy. Mad. Insane. She was speechless, totally dumbfounded as he carried on. Her head swirled as he continued on about the exoticness of the flavors, the mixture taboos, the drunken feeling of power. The rest of his description was almost lost to her as she shook herself to her own foundation listening to the man she adored going on and on about loving the taste, the flavors, the smell of female meat.