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BEWITCHED: THE DIRECTORS CUT
by Amanda Serve



Bewitched: An Ordinary Life

This account is written based on the journal/confessions we found of
Samantha Montgomery-Stevens. As several parts of this account were missing
at times we have extrapolated the events based on our private investigation
into this matter and the accounts of eyewitnesses or others involved.

The account begins:

I was thirty-four when it all started to happen. I guess you could say I was
in the prime of my life, managing a career as a counselor, and raising three
kids practically by myself, even finding time to occasionally work out at a
womans gym and church on an irregular basis.

I suppose before I go into all of that, I should tell you from the start. I
won't bore you with the details of my very ordinary childhood. I am sure you
want to hear the juicy details of what would come later. My father always
taught me to be thorough and methodical and I guess that if you want to know
me, you had better get Samantha's life story-the short version and there is
no better source than the horse's mouth (so they say, anyway).

You might not believe I had such an ordinary common life when you hear what
else I have to say about the events that started that happened later. It
seems like three or four life times ago. I grew up with three sisters and
two brothers in Michigan. Not really the city, not the suburbs, but not
quite the country. It wasn't as puritanical as you might think, not like
Norman Rockwell or Andy Griffith- but it sure was close when I compare it to
the things that have happened to me recently.

My father was a Marine, I guess one of those Sergeants with lots of stripes.
I can't recall exactly, I was never really interested in that sort of stuff.
He was out of the Marines by the time I was old enough to really recall what
was going on, and had taken a job that did not pay much-He was a teacher. He
was a strong man, and an inspiration to me. Maybe if he had not passed away
that summer before the changes took place, well maybe I could have turned to
him for some other solution, some protection. I guess he was always my rock
and so the timing of the first letter could not have been worse.

Well I will get to the letters and what happened, but indulge me. I have not
thought about the happiness of my youth in a while. It was a fun time, even
as things were lean and as a middle child-never enough attention for any one
child-we just all made do. My parents always seemed content and did their
best. I was a bright student, made honor roll, got a few blue ribbons in
horse riding competitions, that sort of thing. Nothing that made me stand
out, and nothing that I would ever say I was ashamed of.

When I think back on that time, I think of kool-aid and paper plate dinners.
I think of crowded bedrooms with naked barbies and GI joes all over the
floor. I think of spending most of time outside on a bike or in a tree.

I guess the only interesting thing I can really say about my child hood,
growing up in the seventies is my uncanny resemblance to that girl on
Bewitched. The mom. I guess I looked like a smart-alecky version of
"Samantha" on Bewitched with freckles across my nose and I think the fact
that my name was Samantha, people tended to say "Oh, did any one ever tell
you, you look just like…". To make them happy, I used to pretend it was the
first time I'd heard it. It would seem as I grew older, the spunkiness of
the actress that played the witch on TV seemed to "fit" my personality. I
always saw her as sort of a tom-boy, who liked sports, could climb a tree
and fall out without crying, and that sort of thing..even though they never
mentioned that on the show. I guess that is weird, it was a character on a
show..anyway, later events would make it an even bigger coincidence..

There was never anything weird in my child hood I could point to, that I
could blame for the choices I made after the first letter. I was never
raped, no incest, no molestation. I can't say that it was anything but good.
I did a few naughty things, like all kids do. Tried marijuana once (yes I
DID inhale, haha) and got drunk a time or two. I think one wine cooler
knocked me over. I shoplifted once or twice..just regular teen-ager stuff.

I was a good girl basically, taught to say "no" to sex and it was drilled
into all of us. Taught to be shy with my body, and just like my other
sisters saved my virginity for marriage. We were fairly regular Catholics,
and even though I did not go to private school, my dad ran a pretty tight
house hold. I guess he was "firm but fair" was what he always said.
Spankings were pretty common, but usually they were done in private. You'd
think with two older brothers, three sisters, plus mom and dad and ONE
bathroom that we'd have had to double-up- one on the potty and one in the
tub. As toddlers we actually did (So say mom and dad), but they made good
and sure that every one had all the privacy you'd ever want, and we managed.
Later when I got married and had children of my own, I would wonder how we
ever managed a schedule like that!

Saving myself for marriage did not take too long. You see I got married to a
much older man, a marine buddy of my fathers at an early age. I was barely
seventeen when I started dating him, he had always been a friend of the
family.

Ed Stevens was just like my father. Strong, dignified, and quiet. He did not
talk much, and he did not express himself much. To a girl who grew up with a
bunch of kids and constant activity in the house, it was pretty quiet when I
first got married.

It does not take a rocket scientist to figure out that I was going to have
kids, coming from a large family, and being so bored as a housewife while Ed
finished up his college and worked two jobs himself!

I took part time jobs here and there during that period, and put off going
to college with every one from my high school. Some thing my father frowned
upon. It put some distance between us, and a definite strain on his and Ed's
friendship. Ed had already "taken away his little girl" as he good-naturedly
joked. Eventually though, the two men really did grow to dislike each other
and so Ed had us move to a city a good distance away.

By nineteen I had my first born on the way. I guess I should spill it, I
had three kids. Tiffany 14, and the twins Tabatha and Andrew 11. Yes I
know, if you have been paying attention to the story, by now my last name
was Stevens and my second-born was "Tabatha". I guess that even with the
teasing, I could never shake the uncanny resemblance to the TV witch, so I
figured "Whatever works" and I had always wanted to name a daughter
"Tiffany" because it was such a delicate name (I had no idea how popular it
would become when I did, and how many other mothers would name their
daughters "Tiffany"). When Tabatha came along, she was more of an unexpected
surprise, and I knew for sure I did not want their names to rhyme, it's hard
enough for a twin to be their own self, even fraternal. Andrew was named
after Ed's Grandfather or something in the civil war.

Well Ed and I grew apart some, but as I am stubborn (A trait I got from my
father) and because of my values I stuck with him. I just kept thinking that
eventually we'd get to a point where we could have more time to each other.
As soon as Ed got his degree though, he took a new job that had him
traveling a lot.

I was stuck raising the kids basically by myself and had a house full of
screaming toddlers, mean while I was missing my family and trying to take
correspondence courses. I guess I recall seeing a movie as a kid about a
social worker who makes a difference, and so I had this dream about the
perfect life- a white picket fence, a glass of lemonade, a good husband, and
many kids…and then in between all that family time, I was going to help the
less fortunate as a good social worker and turn frowns upside down
everywhere I went. Naïve me, I thought this wonderful life was what every
one did, what the average family did.

Well, it never materialized. By the time I graduated and started wanting to
work Ed and I had separated and he had a new girl friend. He hadn't cheated
on me while we were together, but I know that he wanted a little wilder sex.
I think back on it now and I realize that it's basically my fault. I was
just never taught to be aggressive or even really what to do in bed. I had
read a few harlequin novels and I'd have to say that the way that love
making happens in those, is not even remotely close to what men expect or
want, or what they are going to do to you.

I think that also it did not help that when I was sore from the twins, Ed
was a little rough with me one night and I had an angry out burst and
stormed out of the room. I was tired, sore and basically as un-horny as a
young mom could be, and I think that ever since that night, he had been
afraid to get me upset and hurt me.

Ed grew up in the sixties, so I guess he was also used to a little looser
rules about the privacy issue. The "Honeymoon" is over when your man is not
afraid to burp, fart, or even go pee when you are in the same room. I always
expected privacy for myself, and insisted on it for the kids.

One summer, my parents agreed to take our kids and give us a little break. I
guess I was about twenty-four and my boobs were still heavy with breast
milk. He had talked me into taking a trip with him to a nudist resort. Now
do not think it was swingers or sexual. It was really actually very nice,
and very quiet, and no one batted an eye…at Ed.

Every one there seemed to be about Ed's age, and he seemed to have a lot in
common with everyone. I felt as though every one were looking at me. I guess
the fact that my tits stood out like rockets and even dripped a time or two
didn't help.

I won't go into too much detail about the naturist life style. Suffice to
say that Ed had convinced me with brochures and a lot of convincing
arguments that it was "natural" and "healthy" and "fun". We were in Florida
for sort of selfish reasons, even my parents new that we needed a break if
we were going to last, and were down there to re-kindle some romance, and
maybe he planned to take me to the nudist resort all along, but it seemed
spontaneous when we got there. I really did not have too much choice, and I
figured "what the heck". So I guess every one has their wild side. I never
told any one that I did go those times, it's not nasty, I just figured it
"was not for me". I think it did help me to feel more comfortable with my
body on some levels, because I was the center of attention, but it would not
be until those years later that I would draw upon the courage I had then, to
bare myself.
NOTE: See www.aanr.com for more information.

Still, I really felt pretty strange, so after two visits I insisted we never
go back. I know he was disappointed. He wanted me to be adventurous, and he
would bring home handcuffs, blindfolds, sex wax, games, toys, whatever..I
would usually scrunch up my nose and say "nah..not tonight Ed" and put them
up in the closet and hope he forgot about them.

I associated what he wanted with dirty-nasty sex, not the gentle and sweet
romance that I craved. That gentle and sweet was pretty boring to him I
guess, and it caused tension.

Well, I guess I could go on and on like a soap opera. I'll skip right into
what I call the "Apocrypha" in just a moment. I just want to tell you about
Ed's mom. You see Ed's side of the family is a little 'eccentric' and he
never had us visit. The only person who came to visit us was his mother.

She had red-hair, and over-indulged in make up, giving herself sort of a
Persian flair. She seemed a little like a cross between Mrs Garrett from
facts of life and Joan Collins. She had a definite catty side, that she
rarely displayed, instead pretending to be sweet and adoring, and even
affecting a sort of upscale british accent.

I wanted to make sure you knew about his mom Desiree' before I went to far
into the story. She only visited to make me uncomfortable, sort of judging
how I kept house, how I made dinner, how I dressed the kids. Nothing ever
seemed to please her, but rather than just say it, she would say "Oh that's
how YOU do it? Is it….is that how they did it in Michigannnn?" she would
drag out the "n" at the end of Michigan, and it made the hair on the back of
my neck stand up. Fortunately her visits were short and sweet.

Okay, so I guess you are now sufficiently bored with what I told you was an
ordinary life, with an ordinary woman. I suppose knowing these details
though will help you to understand that the things that were about to happen
to me, did not happen to some street walker or tough street-wise woman who
holds all the cards and would not be shocked by what was about to become the
turning point in my life.

The Apocrypha!

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