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Prudence Joplin was the paragon of the traditional wife. Married at twenty-three, no kids of a yet, a part-time job as a clerk at respectable store, a loving husband who they both went to church, the country club, and all the upper-middle class functions of their cozy suburban town. This had been their life for four years now, and beyond wanting a couple of kids, neither would otherwise change a thing about it.

Then came the day. The day she went missing. Her husband Johnathan had noticed it when he got home from his office job and he noticed she wasn't there. Several calls later revealed that no one, not even her employer had the slightest idea where she was. In fact, her employer said, she had been absent that day, calling in just before her shift. She didn't sound sick, but they assumed she had other business and since she was such a good employee they thought little of her needing a day to take care of something.

At this, deciding that this did not sound like her at all, he got worried and called the police. They came out immediately and took a statement, noting the behavior was out of character for her and that they'd get things moving for this. As they were about to leave, though, the search came to an abrupt end when her car drove up into the driveway and she got out, a sheepish smile on her pretty face and a nasty incision on her forehead.

The police stuck around to hear the story, and she related why she had to call off work. See, she explained, she had been at the hospital. You know that old beam in the basement, the one that my old uncle Ricky had secured? Well, she said, it wasn't so secure anymore. She took them down to the basement and showed it to them, showing a nasty and sharp piece of wood and where she might have also hit the back of her head, she wasn't so sure exactly. Luckily, she said, she had flagged down a neighbor who took her and her car to the hospital and she it looked at, cleaned, and staples put in. They said she should be fine, just be careful and be a bit watchful. The officers left, believing her story and her husband took her inside, doting on her.

A few days later, Johnathan had just left for work and Lance watched him leave the driveway, acting the whole time as the perfect little housewife. God, this was too damn fun, he thought with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Pretending to be her, being the weak, scared, hurt woman, it was so entertaining manipulating the fool.

Once he saw Prudence's husband leave, he walked inside, taking immense and perverse satisfaction in each step, each sway, each brush of clothing on his new womanly form, enjoying her conservative wardrobe. It would make what he had planned even more delightful. See, this fake neighborhood needed a bit more spice, some drama to kick things up and he thought that the good country club woman having an affair would add the right amount of kick to this bland town!