Mystery Girl

There were only a few more minutes of this before the tape ended. A ninety minute tape.

I sat on the floor of Dan's tend, stunned. It was about six o'clock, and in a couple of hours the campsite would be waking.

I stared at him, laying on his front, unconscious.

And then, I developed a plan.

I went out to my car. The sun was up, but the campers were still slumbering. In the boot I removed the two rolls of Duct Tape, before taking the cricket stump I had seen discarded on the grass just outside Dan's tent. I returned to the tent and began removing Dan's clothes.

It was then I spotted his mobile phone. I picked it up, but it was locked. It had one of those fingerprint identity systems, so I grabbed his hand, and after a few seconds, I had unlocked his phone.

There were dozens of pictures of Sally, many of them taken in his tent, with her sucking his cock, or riding on top, and being taken from behind. I saw texts from him to her, and her to him. Many times he thanked her for being so understanding, and for being such a good friend when he was so in need. The only other woman who had ever been so good to him was his mother. He mentioned his mother several times in his rambling texts to her. She replied saying that of course he was a lovely man, that it was such a shame he'd had so much bad luck, and that she felt so sorry for him. And of course she would agree to meet up with him.

There were scores of texts and e-mails between them, all starting on the night of that party, including one the next day from him:

-Thanks for what u did 2 me in the toilet hun. Hope you had a good time on the back seat?

It had been his idea to move in to our house, but he had put it so subtly that it sounded like Sally had come up with the idea in the first place. He had even told her that he could look after the girls for us. And it was clearly him who had put the idea in her brain that he should come on holiday to recuperate.

As I read, I became more incensed. There were messages to other women too. E-mails, mails, texts, instant messages, Wotsaps, every conceivable form of social media had been used to communicate with other wives and girlfriends.

I picked up the Duct Tape and cricket stump. The next ten minutes of his life were probably the most uncomfortable.

I zipped up his tent as I left.

#

I watched him enter the fast food restaurant, just after it opened. He was first in there, just as always. So predictable. He ordered the same bacon roll and the same tea with two sugars and sat in the same table, away from the counter and away from the door. That the table was secluded from the rest of the café by a screen, was just perfect.

He rose to leave, the moment he saw me. But I just placed his Camcorder on the table, staring him down.

"What do you want?" He was hyperventilating.

"A chat," I said. "Sit down, Dan."

Obediently he sat, eyeing the Camcorder. "So it was you?" I said nothing. "You bastard. Do you know what permanent damage that's caused to me? My doctor says..."

"Do you think I give a fuck?"

He stood up, and grabbed the Camera. "I'm going to the Police. What you did was assault."

I shook my head. "I don't think so." I reached in to my jacket pocket, and pulled out his mobile phone. I placed it on the table.

He fell rather than sat back in his seat. "What do you want?"

"I want you to leave town."

He laughed. "Fuck you. What do you think this is? High fucking noon?"

I leaned forward, staring him in his eyes. "I've seen the contents of your phone, as well as the tape." I tapped the Camcorder.

He switched it on, but the screen was blank. He stared at me. "What have you done to it."

"Wiped it, of course. You don't think I'd let you keep that, do you?"

"She loved it!" he sneered at me. "She came begging to me for it. She said you weren't man enough for her. You didn't satisfy her. But I..."

"Shut it, you prick. You're in deep shit."

"Am I? Am I really?" he sneered. "I don't give a fuck."

"No. You don't, do you. You really don't care whose lives you ruin. You don't consider the families you could pull apart."

He looked over his shoulder, eyeing the door. "I'm out of here."

"No, you're not. Not before you agree to leave town."

"Why the hell should I do that?"

"Because of the texts and the e-mails on your phone."

He grabbed the phone from the table, and flicked through his messages, and texts. "The photos? And videos? What have you done?"

"I've deleted them from your phone, of course." He sighed, relieved. "It's a bloody good job that the Chief Exec of that company you're working for, hasn't seen the e-mails between you and his wife." He looked pale. "Or the video of her tied to a hotel bed with something sticking out of her private parts. Did she agree to let you do that?"

"Fuck you!" He checked his phone again.

"Of course, I've made backups of everything on your phone. Everything. Including your contacts list. All those wives and girlfriends, and their husbands and boyfriends. All their home and work e-mails, mobile numbers. Plus all the dirty pictures and videos. And the ninety minutes of you gangraping my wife."

"She agreed to that. She wanted to come. And what are you going to do anyway? You and your whore wife will be a laughing stock if anyone sees any of that!" He sat back in his seat, folding his arms. "No, mate. You're fucked."

"The thing is, Dan, what Sally and I have, is called a loving relationship. You see, unlike the sordid little affairs you have, Sally and I have been together a long time. We know and we trust each other. Of course, what she's done has shaken me to the core. It's ripped us apart, made us question our whole lives. But we're turning a corner. That's what the marriage guidance people are telling us. And our friends. You see, they all know. They knew from the night you took her to the barn. From that moment, we all realised what a complete shit you are."

He licked his lips, and glanced at door. "Fuck you, Harry."

"So. I'm giving you one week. And then, as you say, you're out of here."

"Fuck off!"

"You're going to work now, as usual. But not as usual, you will hand in your resignation. You will copy me in to your resignation. Give personal reasons, whatever. You won't be able to work your notice, you'll have to go off sick. And then, once you've packed all your stuff, you will fuck off out of town, and out of the county. And you will never, ever come back.

You see, I have a huge online Cloud account set up. In that account is a repository of all your nasty videos, pictures, messages and e-mails. I have a link to that account, which is pasted into an e-mail. That e-mail is set to go out to every contact in your phone. There are quite a lot of contacts. Over five hundred, did you know? Business partners, customers, as well as friends. Can you imagine how they will perceive you, when they see that little lot?"

"Fuck you." It was a weak reply. His mouth was as dry as a bone, his face pale, and his hands trembling as he clutched his phone.

"And of course, number one in your contact list, is your mother."

His lips tried to form a word, but all that cam out was, "Ffff..."

"What would she think of her precious little boy? What would she make of his adultery, his lies, his tricks and deceit? Would it sadden her to know that her son targets married women? Would she cry for hours and days at a time? What would she say to you, Dan? Would she even speak to you?"

I let this sink in for a minute.

"One week. That's all. I give you one week. If you're not gone, then I click send. If you come back, then five hundred people find out the real you." I stood up and made to leave. I had a family to put back together.

"Oh, and one more thing," I said, reaching in to the bag I had over my shoulder. "If you ever contact my wife again, this will go in all the way."

I placed the cricket stump on the table and walked out the restaurant.