Karen's Comeuppance Ch. 02

What do you want me to do?

Karen sat on the floor of her hotel room for several minutes after sending the text, filled with a mix of rage and fear as she waited for a reply. She wondered what the person who'd filmed themselves having sex with her wanted.

Should she go to the police? But she couldn't risk anyone she knew finding out about this and her ex-sister-in-law was a police officer (and would definitely find out). Besides, it was unlikely the police would do anything about this anyway. So few sexual assaults were prosecuted and she was pretty sure that revenge porn wasn't even illegal in her state.

Her phone vibrated and she looked down at the message.

Do? What do you mean?

She quickly sent a reply. What do you want me to do so you delete the video

Karen sat in silence for a few minutes thinking about her options. She could pay them, she'd gotten the house and half of Steve's money in the divorce so she was fine financially even if she wasn't currently working.

Finally she received a text.

We heard you like facials

Karen was confused. A facial? She made sure to exfoliate and moisturize her skin regularly, but it wasn't something she was particularly into.

Another text arrived.

In case you're too old to be up on all the slang, a facial is when a woman lets a man cum on her face

Karen gagged and grimaced at the memory of the sticky stuff she'd washed off her face earlier that morning before she'd known what was going on. Her mind replayed the video that showed cum spraying on her face over and over again.

She looked back at the phone, rage building up inside of her.

So we thought you might like a trip to the hotel salon

The rage dissipated somewhat as a wave of relief washed over her. A trip to the salon couldn't be that bad could it? She'd gone to the hotel salon the day before as part of her ex-husband's niece Christy's bridal party, though she had felt the service had been terrible. The staff people had been pushy, trying to get her to do things she was uninterested in, and they clearly didn't know what they were doing. They'd practically ruined her nails! She'd complained extensively to the manager of the hotel and had planned on writing a critical email about the quality of the service she'd received because she wanted the hotel management to have her complaint in writing. Sometimes it was too easy for conversations to be "forgotten."

Still, even if it had been the worst salon in the world, it seemed a small price to pay.

That's it?

For now. just go along with whatever they suggest. Your appointment's in an hour.

***

"I can't believe she asked what we wanted her to do," said Alice giddily. "We hadn't even told her we'd share the video unless she did what we said!"

"I guess she just assumed that we would," said Dave. "Or she's just really desperate to have it deleted. Still, we're just sending her to the salon?" He looked across the café table at Alice. "That's it?"

"For now. We can't tell her to go and do something really extreme right away. Telling someone to get "SLUT" tattooed on their neck or suck a bunch of cocks at a gloryhole won't work even if you are blackmailing them, they'll just refuse. You need to start small with uptight people like her and work up to bigger things," replied Alice. "Plus, I want to get her out of her room for a while and this seemed like the easiest way to do that."

"Alright, I guess. But I'm not paying for whatever she gets done at the salon. That stuff's expensive!"

"She's here with the wedding, right? Like twenty of them went yesterday to get stuff done then and half of them will be back today to get "touch ups," since that's part of the "Complete Wedding Package," or whatever it's called. It costs a fortune, but it's already paid for."

"I guess that makes sense," said Dave. "Now what?"

"Now, I make a phone call," said Alice, dialling the number of the hotel's salon.

"Hi, you've reached--" said the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Hey Jenny," said Alice, interrupting. "You've got someone from that wedding party coming down to the salon."

"Yeah, I know," replied Jenny. "There's like a dozen of them. But I thought all the bridesmaids were already here. Did someone show up late or something?"

"No," said Alice. "Someone from yesterday is coming back."

"Oh fuck, I bet it's that woman who wouldn't stop complaining. According to her we couldn't do anything right and the other members of the bridal party didn't even seem to want her there."

"Just ask her if she wants everything done," said Alice.

"Everything? There's no way she wants everything done. She barely let us do her nails yesterday. I'm not even sure why she came at all."

"I think you'll find her more," Alice paused. "Agreeable than she was before." She smiled.

"I hope so," said Jenny. "But I doubt it."

"Just make sure she gets asked about every service you offer."

"Okay," said Jenny, feeling somewhat confused. Still, it wasn't the first time Alice had given her a call like this, and they sometimes led to good tips, even from customers who were truly terrible.

***

Karen spent close to an hour getting rid of the condom, cleaning up the mess, and then washing her hands over and over again. She didn't normally clean, that's what maids were for after all, but she couldn't let anyone find an obviously used condom in her room. Finally satisfied that her hands weren't going to get any cleaner, she took the elevator down to the lobby.

Karen stood in the lobby looking at the entrance to the "D-Luxe Spa & Salon" from across the room, not wanting to go inside. Just the day before she'd been here and they'd done a terrible job on her nails. Would it seem strange that she came back? Or maybe that was the reason she was coming back? Yes, that made sense. She'd insist that they needed to fix what they'd done the day before.

Her phone buzzed, indicating she'd received a message. She hoped against hope that the message would tell her that she didn't have to do this.

Are you there yet?

No

What's keeping you? You don't want to be late to the wedding do you?

Karen frowned. She'd almost forgotten why she was even at this hotel in the first place. There was no way she was going to miss Christy's wedding.

No

You know, you're far too negative. Remember that while you're in the salon I want you to say yes to every question they ask you. Understand?

Karen paused. Yes to everything? Well, if she just told them she wanted her nails fixed they wouldn't ask her about anything else.

She sent back a message.

I don't see what you're trying to accomplish with all this

Just tell me if you'll agree

Fine

Good girl. Let me know when you're done.

Karen bristled. "Girl!" The nerve of these people.

She entered the salon and walked up to the reception desk. The woman behind the counter greeted her in a friendly manner.

"Back to get ready for the wedding?" asked Jenny. "What--"

"Yesterday," said Karen, letting her anger take control. "You ruined my nails and I need you to fix them." Venom dripped off her voice.

"Right, of course," Jenny replied. "We'll make sure your nails are ready for the wedding." She put on her fakest smile. Internally she was screaming. "Just take a seat and someone will be with you shortly."

"It better not be that girl from yesterday," said Karen angrily, before she angrily turned and angrily walked to a chair where she angrily sat down and began angrily leafing through a magazine.

"What a bitch," thought Jenny.

***

Alice looked over at Dave, who looked somewhat worse for wear. He clearly hadn't gotten enough sleep the night before.

"I'm glad the wedding booked pretty much the entire hotel," he said. "It means there won't be many people checking in today and maybe I can get a nap or something."

"Okay, but you can't go to sleep yet," said Alice. "I need to go check on our "special" guest." She used her fingers to make air quotes while she said it. "She went into the salon fifteen minutes ago and I want to make sure everything's going according to plan."

"Okay, fine, just don't take too long."

Alice walked across the lobby to the salon and walked up to the reception guest where she saw a somewhat harried looking Jenny directing some of her staff.

"Busy day?" she asked.

"You know it. These weddings are torture."

"How's our "special" guest?"

"She's over there," Jenny gestured with her elbow to where Karen was sitting. "Honestly, I was hoping she'd just leave, but it doesn't look like that's going to happen."

"Just make sure you ask her if she wants everything done."

Jenny gave Alice a strange look. "Um, sure, okay. Though I don't see why, she's clearly not going to agree to anything. She's so angry!"

Jenny glanced across the room to where Karen was sitting. "Oh shit, she's coming over here."

***

After fifteen minutes Karen was fed up with waiting and stormed back to the reception desk interrupting a conversation between the receptionist and another woman she hardly noticed.

"Excuse me," she said loudly. "I thought you said someone would be with me shortly, I've already been waiting for 15 minutes."

"I'm sorry ma'am, but we're really busy today and..."

"I don't care how busy you are," Karen cried. "I have places to be! I can't just sit around your waiting room reading magazines all day."

"We'll see what we can do. But our nail technicians are all occupied right now. Was it just your nails you wanted redone or did you want your hair and makeup done too?"

Karen hesitated for a moment before replying. "Just the nails."

"We'll have someone with you shortly."

"You better."

Karen sat down again, glowering at anyone who looked in her direction. She felt her phone vibrate indicating she had a text message.

I thought we told you to say "yes" to everything

I did

We're pretty sure that you didn't. Now, be a good girl and remember to say "yes" next time someone asks or our little video will become a lot more public

Karen looked around the room frantically. How could they have known what she'd said? And so quickly? The blackmailer must be in this room. She saw the receptionist looking at her phone and leaped to her feet, rushing towards the reception desk.

"It's you isn't it!" Karen exploded at Jenny. "You're the one who did this to me." She pointed her finger straight at Jenny's face.

"Look ma'am, I have no idea what you're talking about," replied Jenny. "But, uhm, do you want," Jenny racked her brain trying to think of what she could offer this woman. "A complimentary massage?" Too late she realized that this woman had emphatically refused the massage the day before.

Through her anger Karen realized that the look on Jenny's face was one of genuine confusion. She lowered her finger, oblivious to the stares she was getting from other people within the salon, and thought back to the text messages she'd received. "Yes," she said between gritted teeth. "That's the least you could do."

Karen hated massages. The idea of letting someone else touch her disgusted her and she'd spent the day before grumpily waiting while the other members of the bridal party had gotten their massages.

Jenny let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding in.

"Let's head over there now," said Jenny leading Karen over to the massage rooms, relieved that the woman had agreed to this. She'd fully expected a loud tirade about her incompetence.

Over Karen's shoulder Jenny saw Alice holding her phone in one hand give her a thumbs up with the other before heading back to the hotel's reception area.

"Do you want the full massage?" she asked Karen, mentally kicking herself after the words escaped her mouth. There was no way this woman would--

"Yes, obviously," Karen replied, sounding angry about something.

Jenny considered the possibility that this woman was angry about everything.

"Okay, there are robes over there and you can place your clothes in one of the nooks. When you're ready, lie down on the table, the masseuse will be in shortly."

Nervously Karen removed her shirt and pants, folding them neatly and placing them in one of the nooks,, and put on one of the large, fluffy bathrobes that had been hanging up in the room. She lay down on the massage table. Was she really going to do this? Then she thought back to the video. Nobody could ever see it. If a massage was the price to pay, then she could deal with it.

The masseuse came in and Karen felt relieved that it was a woman. She didn't think she could deal with having a man touch her right now.

The masseuse tried initiating a conversation, but after a few attempts realized that Karen wasn't interested in small talk and, much to Karen's relief, stopped asking questions.

The anger that Karen seemed to always carry around with her had been magnified by the recent anxiety and stress and her muscles were filled with tension. It didn't help that when the masseuse began touching her she tensed up, but eventually she managed to relax somewhat and, if not enjoy the experience, put up with it.

She found herself slipping into a dream world of a sort, in which she alternated between getting revenge on whoever did this to her and relaxing on a beach, drinking cocktails. In her daydream she'd just been passed an entire pineapple filled with alcohol when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Yes?"

"All done," said the masseuse. "You can get dressed again."

Karen looked at her phone she'd placed on the table in front of her. An entire hour had passed and she hadn't even realized. Her muscles felt relaxed and she actually did legitimately feel considerably better overall. Maybe massages weren't that terrible. Though she still resented that she'd been forced to have one.

"Okay, I can do this," she said to herself.

Karen put the robe back on, but before she'd had a chance to cross the room and get dressed again she heard a knock on the door, quickly followed by it being opened by the receptionist from earlier.

"Hiiii," said Jenny. "So sorry about earlier. I didn't realize you were with the wedding party." This was, obviously, a lie. " You wanted everything done right?" Alice had texted her and again told her to ask this woman if she wanted everything done and she'd finally relented, figuring it was easier than having to deal with Alice's relentless badgering.

Karen paused. She said she'd agree to have everything done, right? She tried thinking back to what she'd been offered the day before, but couldn't remember much of it.

"Yes, everything," Karen replied. "Of course." Karen tried to make it obvious that she thought the receptionist was an idiot for even asking.

"Great! Just check off everything you want done on this form and sign the bottom." Jenny passed Karen a clipboard with a menu of services and a pen.

It might seem strange to some that the salon had each person fill out and sign a form, but Jenny had dealt with too many customers like Karen and had found that having a signed form ended at least some of the complaints they received.

Karen took a look at the same form she'd filled out the day before and began to read it before remembering that she had, unfortunately, agreed to everything. She quickly marked x's through all the boxes and scrawled her signature on the bottom of the page.

"Let's do the mud facial next," said Jenny.

"Yes," said Karen, with more confidence this time. Not even the employees here could be incompetent enough to screw this up.

Jenny grabbed Karen by the elbow and began to guide her out of the room.

"But my clothes--," Karen began.

"They'll be right there when you're done," replied Jenny cheerily.

Karen almost yelled at Jenny, but just managed to stop herself. Instead, she warily let Jenny lead her over to one of the large, fancy chairs in the salon and soon Karen's face was covered with a mud mask that was supposed to "rejuvenate" her skin. She also accepted the "complimentary" champagne that was offered to her, but not before insisting on seeing the bottle and sending back the first glass for not being clean enough.

Next had come the foot bath, which she'd placed her feet inside. Karen sat back in the chair and tried to relax and think of the beach she'd go to once this was all over.

"Ready for your nails?" a voice asked.

Karen opened her eyes and saw that a nail technician had come over with a large number of supplies. She was relieved that it was a different technician then the incompetent one who'd ruined her nails the day before. That technician had used some terrible product to remove Karen's nail polish which she thought had abraded her nails terribly. After an argument she'd finally allowed a different technician to apply a clear base coat, but had baulked at anything else.

Karen nodded at the technician.

"Let's start with your feet!" said the technician, in a perky way that Karen found particularly grating.

"Yes," said Karen, shuddering internally. "Great."

The technician removed Karen's feet from the foot bath and began tending to Karen's toenails, trimming and shaping them.

"Do you know what color you want?" the technician asked.

Karen realized that she meant toenail polish and hesitated. She'd never used colored nail polish on her toenails, feeling that was something only Millennial strippers and pornstars did.

"How about red?" the technician asked, seeing that Karen wasn't about to offer any suggestions.

"Yes, sure, fine," said Karen. At least it wasn't pink, she told herself.

She'd been offered and accepted a second glass of champagne when the technician said she was done. Karen looked down at her toenails, now a bright red colour. She thought they looked immensely trashy. Though she could just about put up with them as she planned on wearing closed-toe shoes to the wedding, so it wasn't like anyone would see.

"Manicure time!" said the technician reaching for Karen's hand. Karen flinched and pulled back her hand at first, before letting the technician take it. The technician began buffing and trimming Karen's fingernails, but quickly realized that they were so short there wasn't much to do.

"Oh," said the technician. "Your nails are so short, do you want acrylics?"

Karen paused. Acrylic nails? Like she was some sort of slut? A part of her head thought back to the video of her being fucked by someone she didn't know and wondered if she was some sort of slut, but she quickly buried that idea.

"Yes, acrylics," said Karen tersely, frustration rising again in her mind. She finished the second champagne flute and indicated she wanted another.

"What length would you like?" asked the technician, bringing out a variety of lengths and styles for Karen to see. "The almond style are--"

"Yes," said Karen, cutting her off. "Those ones." They were longer and pointer than she usually kept her nails, but she worried that if she didn't do what the blackmailer told her to do and say "yes" now then she might end up with something even longer and more extravagant.

"I'll match the color to your toenails," said the technician.

"Great," muttered Karen.

The technician got to work and before too much time had passed Karen had bright red fake nails that extended past the end of her fingers. Karen frowned, unlike her toenails, nobody would be able to miss those.

"Is everything okay?" the technician asked, nervously looking at Karen's frowning face.

Karen paused, she wanted to say that they were terribly garish and ugly and needed to be redone, but she didn't think it was possible for her to end up with something she liked more. "They're..." Awful. Dreadful. Hideous. "...satisfactory," she finally managed to say.