Housewife Indian

They quickly and efficiently grabbed their utility belts and pulled their coveralls up and snapped them, got up, and headed for the door.By the time Debbie untied her hand and leg, they had already gotten into the van. By the time she had stood up, they had pulled out and were gone...The next hour was a complex one for Debbie.She sat on the settee, a number of things whirling through her mind. She thought at first that she should call for help. But whom should she call? A neighbor? The police? Her husband? A strange feeling came over her. The longer she sat thinking about it, the less inclined she was to call anyone. The more she thought about what had happened, the more inclined she was not to tell anyone. She felt a sense of guilt, but it was a vague feeling. She felt a sense of being violated, but it grew less and less the more she thought about it. She had resisted; she had struggled; she had fought as hard as she could against it, but she had been simply overpowered. She decided. ’ ‘I’ll change and help you.’ For the rest of the afternoon, we carried and stacked firewood inside the screened porch. Pam proved to be a very hard worker, carrying and stacking as many pieces as I did. We stopped only once for a beer and to rest a few minutes. The very crisp air helped preserve our energy. By dinnertime the job was done and we carried some of the old wood in for the evening fire. I asked, ‘Can I grill the steaks for us tonight?’ ‘Yum, that’d be great. We have a few potatoes and onions left. I’ll make onion rings in the oven if you’d like. We also have carrot cake left.’ ‘Let me run out and grab a bottle of wine. You like red wine, don’t you?’ ‘I do. I love most all wines.’ ‘So a shiraz or Bordeaux would be good?’ ‘Sure. You want me to go with you?’ ‘No, why don’t you start on the onion rings and I’ll only be a few minutes.’ Well, that promise of a few minutes turned into 90 minutes. I had a flat tire and didn’t have the cell phone with me to call Pam. There was no.
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