Oh, Sh*t

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I know she's cheating and I'm going to make her pay.
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BillandKate
BillandKate
2,452 Followers

The 1947 film noir movie, "Lady in the Lake" used the concept of a (mostly) unseen first person protagonist to narrate the story. We've used a similar, though not quite identical, narrator for our tale below. Our narrator is not a nice person; and we've received complaints in the past for having very unlikable people in our stories. If this kind of thing bothers you, please hit your back-space button now.

It's a quick one with no sex. This is a work of fiction. All characters and incidents portrayed and names within are fictitious and any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental.

Oh Sh*t

Chapter One - The Watcher Watches Her

This is the second time I see the two of them in the food court. They aren't making any effort whatsoever to be discrete. She wears a wedding ring; but he doesn't. Everything about the way they look at each other, the little touches, and yea - the smoking hot kisses when they part, convinces me she's cheating on her husband.

I hate cheaters. Women who cheat on their husbands, who disrespect their vows, their family and their husbands; are nothing but whores and have no right to breathe the same air as faithful women like my mother. Mom knew what it meant to be a wife; she kept the house clean, my dad's shirts ironed, and had a wonderful meal on the table when we all sat down together every night for dinner.

Women today don't understand this type of commitment; they want it all - job, children, husband, girls' nights out. Who needs a wife that doesn't know how important the traditional roles are to a healthy relationship?

I tried to compromise; for those two years Betty Tyler and I spent together I thought she understood, even though Mom tried to warn me. But when I saw Betty dancing with Chad Roper, I knew. No woman could dance with another man like that - he had his hand on her waist and her hand was on his shoulder - and claim to be innocent.

Betty called me the next day. She wondered why I left her at the party without saying a word. When I told her why, what I had seen with my own two eyes, she made it worse by giving me the excuse she hadn't done anything wrong because they never kissed or even got that close to one another; it was just a slow dance.

See - that's what I'm talking about. That kind of behavior seems to be excusable in the minds of women today. It's why I'm thirty years old and still single. That, and the fact Mom needs me at home since Dad died five years ago.

Mom's good about it. She understands a man needs his privacy; which is why she allowed me to build my man cave down in the basement. It has everything I need; including the high-speed internet for online gaming and downloading videos. I even have a beer fridge.

So, that's why I decide to keep an eye on the cute blonde who meets her lover at the food court. They made it almost too easy. The following Tuesday, they're at it again; but this time I'm ready. I have my digital camera pointed at their table and use my remote to take pictures of them without anyone knowing what I'm doing.

I'm ready again when they meet on Thursday. I follow her this time after they split up; discover she works at the jewelry store on Clark. It will be easy to find out her name; she's behind the watch counter as I enter - perfect!

"May I see that watch?" I ask while pointing to one of them.

"The Tissot? Of course." She pulls the watch out of the display case to hand it to me. Her nails are painted a whorish red; but I must admit the color looks good on her. I pretend to be interested in the watch and after talking to her, she gives me her card. Janice Gartner; it even has her email address at the store.

Monday, I follow her lover; but hit a dead end. After leaving their table he walks four blocks to where they're putting up that new high-rise condo building on Howard Street. Sixty stories of retail shops, a hotel and condos. I don't have a pass to get inside the work site. It wouldn't matter anyway, I don't need his name, I have his photo. And, it's not his fault she's a cheating skank, it's on her to keep her vows.

I try to follow her to see if they meet after work; but she's always gone from the store by the time my shift is over in the mailroom. Twice, I take a few hours off without pay so I can leave early and follow her; just to see if she goes to a hotel. Both times, she heads straight to the subway; so, that's also a dead end. I decide I don't need any more than the photos of them at lunch. The kisses are damning enough. Any husband seeing those two lip-locking will know she's a cheater.

It's time to put the next phase of my plan in action. I use a dummy email account, using the public computers at the library. The email reads:

Dear Janice:

I know you're cheating on your husband. I'm attaching a sample of the photos I've taken to let you know I'm serious. I have many more that I'm certain you don't want your husband to see. I will call you at the store tomorrow at 2:00; it's in your best interest to take the call.

Don't even think about telling your lover or the police. All the photos I have will get posted to the internet and I'll tell your husband, family and friends where to view them in an email my friend will send if something happens to me.

Yours truly,

The Watcher

Of course, I don't know who her husband, family or friends are; but she doesn't know that. She also doesn't know I only have the photos from their lunch engagements and no photos of them walking in and out of hotel rooms or wherever they're meeting for their little fun fucks. She's probably wetting her pants right now; and out of fear, not sexual anticipation; wondering who knows about her affair and whether I'm going to end her marriage.

The next day, I call Ms. Gartner at 2:05; thinking if I make her sweat a bit, it will work in my favor. She takes the call and gets right to it. She sounds like she's trying to be brave.

"What do you want?"

I wasn't falling for that, I'm not stupid.

"I want you to meet me at the food court tomorrow morning. When do you get a break?"

She answers, "I can be there at 11:30."

"Come alone, no purse, no cell phone. I don't want you recording our conversation. We'll talk then."

I hang up. Good, make her sweat another day. Everybody thinks because I work in the mailroom that I'm stupid. Well, fuck them! I read a lot, especially stories of how wives cheat and how guys get caught trying to blackmail those whores. I'm not getting caught; this is my chance to score a nice piece of ass and a few bucks. The thing to remember - number one - don't be greedy. Nine out of ten of these things go south when the guy over-extends. Make the payout low enough to make it worth the cunt's cooperation. It's a cost-benefit thing.

See, I told you I'm not stupid; I read the Wall Street Journal every day before I deliver the paper to all those big shots upstairs.

I watch her come into the food court and look around. She stands there, looking a little scared. My god; what a beautiful woman. She must be five-six, long legs, breasts just the right size for her slim frame. I bet she looks outstanding naked. I can almost picture her naked in bed on her back, her legs spread open, waiting for my hard cock.

"I wonder if she shaves her cunt?" is what I'm thinking to myself. I don't plan on putting my mouth down there, who knows what I'd be eating, but I wouldn't mind using my fingers to feel a woman's bare pussy - that would be something.

After double-checking to make certain we're alone, I walk up to her. She looks at me with those big brown eyes and I can tell she recognizes me.

"You were looking at watches last week! Who are you and what do you want?"

"Never mind who I am. I'll tell you what I want as soon as you take that jacket off." As she removes the jacket, I grab it and pretend I'm a gentleman hanging it behind her chair; but really, I'm checking it for recorders or wires. When I'm satisfied that I'm safe, I sit down and quietly tell her my terms. I talk tough because I figure she's less likely to get brave if she thinks I've got her over a barrel.

"You'll meet me Saturday afternoon at the Hilton across the street. You'll bring two-thousand dollars and you'll dress sexy. Wear some nice lingerie under your clothes. You'll strip for me, I'm going to fuck you just like that construction asshole you've been seeing. Plan to be at the hotel at 3:00. I don't care what excuses you give your husband or boyfriend. Be there and plan to spend at least two hours in the room. Who knows? Maybe you'll end up liking it and will spend the night."

I say this last part because it's what a 'tough-guy' would say.

"When you leave Saturday, you'll have all the photos I have of you two."

She doesn't look as frightened as I expected her to be; maybe she's a good actress; that could be how she can cheat and fool her husband.

"How do I know you'll keep your word and I get the photos?"

"You don't; you'll just have to trust me." I answer with my best sinister laugh. "Be at the Hilton Saturday. I'll email you the room number a half hour before. Can you get email from your phone?"

She nods yes; I get up and leave.

The next two days are filled with anticipation. Even though I read a few dirty stories and watch some great porn, I don't masturbate. I want to keep my edge and if everything goes according to plan, I'll need what I'm storing up on Saturday. Damn; maybe I'll even plug that sweet ass of hers. Now, that would be something.

Chapter Two - A Night at the Hilton

Saturday morning I finish my chores around the house, get cleaned up and tell Mom not to wait up for me. I make up a story about meeting some guys from work for the evening. I feel bad, lying to Mom, especially when she acts excited that I've got some friends to hang out with tonight. Without letting her know, I also grab Dad's hunting knife and the .357 he used to keep in his nightstand. Mom asked me to throw it out when he passed; she never did like having it in the house; but I kept it instead.

I check into the hotel room at 2:30 and use the hotel business center computer to email Janice. Short and sweet: "Be in room 633 in a half-hour or the photos go public."

I start to place the knife and pistol in the nightstand next to the Bible. I chuckle seeing it in there; "Our little Janice should have paid better attention to her Commandments." is what I'm thinking as I double check the gun's action. It feels good in my hand; I open the cylinder and make certain all six chambers are loaded. It's the third time I've checked; maybe I'm more nervous than I thought.

At exactly 3:00 pm she knocks softly. I open the door and look left and right down the hallway. I close the door, turn around to see her standing there. Damn, she's good looking; wearing a black leather vest over a ruby red chemise. The skirt is short, five or six inches above those cute knees, made of the same material as her vest. At the bottom of those long legs, she's wearing high heels, they call them come-fuck-me heels - right?

I start to walk up to her; but she holds out her hand to stop me. In her hand is a bundle of bills.

"Let's make it clear. I give you this two-thousand dollars and spend the next two hours in bed with you and you'll give me all the photos you have; plus you guarantee those photos never get seen on the internet, right?"

I know I have this bitch now; she is mine. I decide to press my luck.

"Give me your phone."

Janice hands me the phone and I make certain to power it down before saying anything.

"You'll have to suck my cock. And I want you to swallow."

Janice looks defeated. "Yes, I'll suck your cock, and swallow. But you didn't answer my question."

"We have a deal. Get that vest and skirt off and get on your knees. I'll give you all the photos when we're finished - if you please me." I grab the bundle of cash and keep my eyes focused on her chest as she reaches for the first button on her vest.

This is a mistake because I don't see her knee as it crashes into my gonads. Boy, that hurts! I crumble to the floor; Janice steps over me and walks to the door.

"She'll be sorry." I don't say it out loud because I still can't catch my breath. But, instead of walking out the door, her boyfriend walks into the room. What the fuck? I try crawling to the nightstand to get Dad's pistol. Just as I reach the drawer, he grabs my hand and squeezes.

"What you got in there?"

The guy pulls my pistol and the knife out of the drawer as he keeps my hand in a vice-like grip. Between the pain in my groin and in my hand, tears are starting to fall down my cheeks. The asshole gives Janice the weapons and reaches into my back pocket for my wallet. He pulls my license out and reads it out loud.

"Samuel Benjamin Rook. Why the hell are you trying to blackmail my wife with some pictures of her and I having lunch?"

"Your wife?"

"Yea, my wife, douchebag. Let me see these supposed photos."

For the first time I notice his left hand has a wedding ring on the fourth digit.

"You're not her husband. You can't fool me with that phony ring on your finger. You never wore a ring at any of your lunch rendezvous."

The big guy has a confused look on his face. "Haha; got you there." I'm thinking this; but not stupid enough to say it out loud. He finally shakes the cobwebs out of his head and answers with a statement that is either a brilliant lie or true.

"I'm an electrician, stupid. I don't wear my metal wedding ring on my finger when I'm working."

While the two of us are jawing at each other, Janice finds the envelope with my photos. Her voice cuts through my head.

"This is it? A few pictures of Ken and I having lunch and kissing?"

The big guy, I guess his name is Ken, takes the photos from Janice. He looks through them and looks back at me. His eyes are a bit crazy; he grabs me by my hair and practically has me nose to nose.

"What the fuck is this all about?" He doesn't wait for me to answer; he grabs Dad's pistol and puts the barrel on the tip of my nose. I'm embarrassed to say that I piss my pants when he pulls the hammer back.

"Oh, shit!"

I spill my guts; telling them what I saw, what I thought and why I decided to take advantage of what I assumed was an illicit relationship between the two of them. The big guy is the first to speak.

"Are you some kind of fucking idiot? Why would you even come up with such a stupid fantasy concoction? Seeing two people having lunch together and you come up with this? Crap! We were only taking advantage of the rare opportunity of us working in the same neighborhood for a change and not having our kids interrupting us."

When he put it that way, it did sound pretty stupid; but maybe he never reads porn online, so he can't understand. I just keep my mouth shut.

I didn't expect what happened next. Janice calls the cops and when they show up, Janice hands them the recorder she had hidden in her vest. Son of a bitch! I was so stunned by her outfit that I forgot to check for a recorder after she gave me her phone. It had my threat to release the photos unless she paid me the money, sucked me off and fucked me. The cops also took exception to the fact I brought a gun and large hunting knife to the hotel room.

The cops completely ignore that my nose is flattened against my cheek and the blood flowing out of it. Did I forget to mention that Ken slammed his fist into my nose just after Janice called 911? When they finally ask, Ken tells the police it happened when he and I struggled for the gun. Whether the cops believe him or not is a moot point; they place me in handcuffs while Janice and Ken are holding hands, watching me get led out the room. To add insult to injury, I hear Ken ask her, "What do you say; should we keep the room tonight? Seems a shame to waste it."

Epilogue

I probably would have gotten off with only a couple years in prison for blackmail; but the cops got a warrant for my home computer while I was waiting for Mom to post my bail after the arrest. The pictures I took of my next door neighbor's wife and daughter really screwed my pooch. The cops figured I had to be in the big tree in the neighbor's backyard looking though their second story windows to get those pictures.

How was I to know the daughter was only fifteen? I mean, really? She looked older. The DA was not impressed with my claim of ignorance; especially when they found the girl's photos on some voyeur website. My attorney even tried to get the DA to reduce the charges if I pled guilty; but my bad luck continued and the DA refused - he was planning to run for governor the next year. I ended up getting sentenced to fifteen years for kiddie-porn in addition to the four years for extortion.

I think I might have gotten a better deal if I had a better lawyer; but Mom refused to mortgage her home to pay for a hot-shot attorney. I guess I can't really blame her; but it would have been nice to serve a few less years in a nicer facility. The assholes in this place rarely leave me alone.

The worse part? I can't even get access to the internet. I haven't read one damn story since they plopped me into this hell-hole.

BillandKate
BillandKate
2,452 Followers
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AnonymousAnonymous6 months ago

Don't understand why this is rated under 4, it's funny as hell... and he seems awfully close in demeanor to a lot of the rabbits anony commentors on here.

Maybe that's why... it's a hard thing to look critically in a mirror.

LT56linebackerLT56linebacker7 months ago

BEAUTIFUL!!! The Bear loved it. Funny as hell. 5 stars. The Bear approves.

The BEAR

AA82ndAAAA82ndAA12 months ago

Great story. Guys a wack job and will love the morals of fellow inmates...

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