Realtor Revenge Pt. 04

This is the fourth chapter of Realtor Revenge which is the sequel to Real Estate Games. If you are new to the series, I suggest you start with Part 1 of Real Estate Games.

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Realtor Revenge

Chapter 4

Merryville Inn

Three out of the five city council members had obvious avenues for blackmail... damning events in their backgrounds they wouldn't want to become public knowledge. Casey Green enjoyed screwing underaged girls. Andrew Rowan paid to have his wife murdered. Carson Taylor's ex-wife ran a questionable dairy farm that milked women instead of cows. I planned to use each of these defects to my advantage in the near future. But two council members were apparently without sin.

Katherine Nunn, besides being the lone woman on the council, was also president of the Merryville PTA, chairwoman of the Girl Scout cookie committee and a regular volunteer at the local foodbank. Her husband was a very successful businessman, one of the few in town who wasn't affected by the car plant closing, so she was immune to financial bribery. Katherine was a fourth-generation resident of Merryville who seemed devoid of faults and enemies.

Peter Deacon was the other apparent saint on the counsel. When the forty-year-old banker wasn't handing out loans to local businesses, he was either coaching his son's soccer team or serving as an elder at Merryville Community Church. Peter's wife, a former beauty queen, served on several of the same charitable committees as Katherine Nunn. If anything, Peter was more of a serial do-gooder than Katherine.

Convincing Katherine and Deacon to help me dispose of Janis Moorehead seemed an impossibility, a challenge most folks would turn down. But most people aren't as motivated or as clever as C. Raven Hardwood. Everybody has a weakness and I knew exactly how to exploit theirs.

I paid cash for two adjoining rooms at the far end of the Merryville Inn, signing the register under the name J. Moorehead. With the willing assistance of Officer Flanagan, I hid our video cameras in room 219, the end room on the top floor, and set up the adjacent room, number 217, as our operations center.

I lured our targets to the hotel using a cell phone that couldn't be traced back to me -- what Flanagan called a "burner phone".

"Mrs. Nunn," my text read. "I have information that is critical to the continued wellbeing of our city. You are the only member of the city council I trust. Meet me in room 219 of the Merryville Inn at 6:30 this evening and I will explain. Please come alone. What I have to say is for your ears only. Signed, Janis Moorehead, Southside Realty."

Peter Deacon received a similar text asking him to arrive at the hotel a half hour later.

Katherine pulled her SUV into the hotel parking lot at 6:20; ten minutes early. She spent five minutes bent over her phone and then made her way up the rear stairs to the second floor.

I'd flipped the security latch around so the door to room 219 was slightly ajar. Katherine knocked and, when she didn't get a response, she cautiously walked into the room.

"Hello," she called into the vacant room. "Miss Moorehead? Are you here?"

I'd left two glasses of sedative laced wine on a table with a note that read: "I've popped down to the lobby to get some snacks. Help yourself to some wine if I'm not back when you get here."

It took Katherine a couple of minutes to find the note. And even when she did, she didn't immediately grab a glass.

"How long do we wait before we shoot her with the dart?" I whispered to Flanagan as we watched from the adjacent room.

"Let's give her ten minutes," he said. "Deacon's not supposed to arrive for another thirty minutes, but he might decide to get here early."

Katherine paced the small room for a couple of minutes... peering out the window and inspecting the bathroom. She looked at her phone -- either checking the time or considering calling somebody -- before eventually sitting in the lone chair which was strategically placed by the glasses of doctored wine. She checked her phone one last time and finally took the bait.

Always the consummate professional, I'd done my research and knew, not only what type of wine Katherine preferred -- Cabernet Sauvignon -- but also her favorite brand... a three-year-old vintage from an upstate winery. The half empty bottle stood between the two glasses with the label positioned so she couldn't miss seeing it.

Her first sip of wine seemed to soothe her anxiety. She was no longer nervously tapping her foot against the carpet and seemed content to study her phone while she waited for a woman who would never arrive. Katherine drank nearly half the glass before she dropped her wine glass onto the floor, slumped into her chair and started to gently snore.

Flanagan went through the interconnecting door first. He poked the sleeping woman in the arm a couple of times and, convinced she was out for a while, hoisted her up in his arms and carried her to the adjoining room... placing her face up on the bed.

While Flanagan was tending to Katherine, I scrubbed the carpet where the wine had spilled and, once most of the stain was gone, poured the second glass of wine-sedative mixture down the bathroom sink. Then I replaced the bottle of wine with a bottle of Bud Lite -- Deacon's favorite brew -- lay a note next to the beer and carried the half full bottle of Cab Sav into room 217, closing the door behind me.

Deacon got to room 219 at 7:05. He knocked and called out, just like Katherine did thirty minutes earlier, and then pushed the door open and entered. Unlike Katherine, he immediately spied his favorite adult beverage, read the note, and didn't hesitate to take a long pull from the bottle. Despite his reputation of near sainthood, patience was obviously not one of his prominent virtues.

"at the room," he texted to my burner phone, thinking he was communicating with Janis. "where R U?"

"across the street to find suitable snacks," I texted back. "don't leave. back in a flash."

He read my text, checked his watch and got up to leave... making it halfway across the room before he toppled over onto the bed. Which was exactly where we wanted him.

I rolled the six foot two, two-hundred-pound man over on his back and started removing his clothes. Which was the first, and hopefully only time I would ever have to undress a comatose man. I had removed Deacon's shoes, sports coat and dress shirt when Flanagan entered the room carrying a completely naked Katherine Nunn. Apparently, the police officer had prior experience removing clothes from unresponsive women.

Flanagan laid Katherine on one side of the bed and helped me remove Deacon's under shirt, trousers and boxer shorts. Just for the hell of it, we left his socks on.

Next came the tricky part. Positioning the two unconscious bodies so they appeared to be a fully awake couple enjoying an evening of illicit carnal pleasure. We spent a good hour experimenting with different poses obtaining mediocre results. Sure, we could lay Deacon's limp body on top of Katherine's equally lifeless form, but when we took the picture, that's exactly what it looked like. One person sleeping on top of another.

We got a semi-adequate shot of Deacon's head buried in Katherine's crotch but, when we reversed their positions, there was something obviously wrong. Despite being an inch from Katherine's lips, Deacon's manhood resembled a wilting daisy.

"Anything you can do about that?" Flanagan asked, pointing to Deacon's limp dick.

"Really? You want me to jerk off the unconscious guy?"

"Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of a blow job," he said.

"Why don't you do it? In his state he won't know whose lips are around his cock."

"I'm in charge of body disposal, you're the designated dick sucker."

"Fine," I said. "But don't expect miracles."

I worked a good five minutes on Deacon's dick before he finally mustered a reasonable facsimile of a boner. The picture we took of his unimpressive erection jammed halfway into Katherine's mouth was the best we had to work with. Hopefully plan B would provide better results.

"It's getting late," Flanagan said after we exhausted all picture possibilities. "We need to work their alibis and then wait until morning for the next phase."

Our two sleeping lovebirds both had families waiting for them at home and we had to convince Katherine's husband and Deacon's wife that their spouses had legitimate reasons for not coming home that night.

I unlocked Katherine's phone using her thumb on the touchpad and perused her previous texts before composing one to her husband. Armed with sufficient intelligence on the words she often used while texting and who her friends were, I sent a short but informative message to her hubby.

"Elaine is having another nervous breakdown. I'm spending the night to keep an eye on her. Sorry about the short notice. Couldn't be helped. I'll call in the morning."

While I lied to Katherine's husband, Flanagan was doing the same with Deacon's wife. I'm not sure what he said, but after a few return texts, both spouses were convinced their bedmates were out helping humanity and not sleeping naked with a fellow member of the city council.

It was nearly 10:00 pm by the time we tucked Katherine and Deacon into bed for the night. Flanagan ordered Chinese while I printed out a few of the pictures. They weren't anything a professional black mailer would be proud of but, if nothing else, we had proof that the two of them were naked in bed together. With a little luck, those pictures alone would be sufficient to turn them against Janis Moorehead. I had hopes for something much better.

I placed copies of the pictures on the furniture next door, positioned so Katherine and Deacon were sure to see them when they woke, and then returned to room 217 where Flanagan and I enjoyed sushi, a bottle of wine, and each other... until after midnight.

I was jolted awake at five the next morning by my phone's alarm. It took me a minute to remember where I was and why a man was sharing my bed. Once my mind was fully functional, I remembered why I woke so early.

"It's time for their injections," I told the half-awake policeman lying next to me.

"How about a wake-up quickie?" Flanagan asked as he pulled me towards him.

"Business first." I pushed away from his grasp, got out of bed and slipped a robe over my naked body.

Flanagan groaned and stumbled into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door as he relieved his bladder.

'He's a good business partner and a worthy adversary in the sack, but certainly not husband material', I thought as he emerged wearing the previous day's jockey shorts.

The knockout drops we put in their drinks the night before worked for less than ten minutes. The shots we gave them before we removed their clothes were supposed to keep them out for ten hours. Since Katherine got her shot thirty minutes before Deacon, we expected her to wake up first. But my illicit drug supplier did mention that everybody would react differently. That's why we gave them their second injections an hour before they were supposed to regain consciousness.

While both council members got the same sedative the night before, their morning medications were different. Deacon received an industrial dose of Viagra, enough to keep him hard for several hours. Katherine's cocktail of mind-altering meds was designed to significantly reduce her inhibitions... kind of like a bottle of wine followed by three shots of whisky, but without the slurred words.

Deacon was the first to stir. Just slightly at first. He rolled away from Katherine for a minute, fell back to sleep, and then rolled back into the spooning position. His belly against her ass, his arm draped around her chest and, eventually, his hand on a breast.

I wouldn't describe Katherine as an overly busty woman, but the boob in Deacon's grasp was at least a cup size larger than his petite wife's. He experimentally kneaded the soft flesh, letting the hardening nipple extend between two fingers. Sensing something was different, his hand strayed down her stomach... which wasn't quite as flat as his wife's. From there, his hand continued to explore until it rested on Katherine's ass... which had more cushion than his usual bedmate's. Only then did he open his eyes.

The partially open window shades let in just enough morning light for Deacon to see a head full of dark brown hair. His wife was a blonde. His hand instinctively jerked off the sleeping woman's generous bottom, but he didn't immediately pull away. Instead, he pulled Katherine's hair from her face and gasped when he recognized who he was with.

I had to hand it to him. Instead of jumping out of bed, which might have woken the sleeping woman, Deacon very carefully extricated himself from their embrace. Which wasn't easy, since his remaining arm was trapped under her body and his chemically enhanced erection was similarly held captive between her thighs. It took him a couple of minutes, but once all his appendages were no longer entangled with Katherine's, he slipped out of bed, covered the sleeping woman's breasts with a blanket and started looking for his clothes.

My guess was he planned to get dressed, leave the room, and hope for the best. That plan immediately changed when he discovered the pictures of his and Katherine's naked bodies in the most suggestive positions we were able to arrange.

"Shit," said the strait-laced councilman when he realized he had been set up. "Shit, shit, shit."

He started to gather up all the pictures but suddenly stopped, knowing that whoever made them could print out a hundred more.

His next move was for his clothes. I had scattered them around the room; his pants lay in a corner, his shirt draped over a chair, his underwear hung from the ceiling fan... next to Katherine's bra. Deacon was standing on the bed, trying to retrieve his paisley boxer shorts when he looked down at Katherine's still sleeping body.

I'm not sure what made him pause. Maybe the facts of the situation, as he saw them, finally caught up with his panicking mind.

Fact 1: Janis Moorehead lured him and Katherine into a hotel room, drugged them and documented their false affair with photographic evidence.

Fact 2: Nobody was going to believe the pictures were fake. If she wanted to blackmail them, she already had the evidence.

Fact 3: There was a reasonably good looking, completely defenseless woman lying naked at his feet.

Fact 4: He had an erection that was starting to hurt.

Deacon forgot about his boxers and transferred his attention to what lie beneath the bed covers.

Pulling the sheet and blanket down to her waist, he tentatively explored her breasts with his hands, and then his lips. Even in her sleep, Katherine's nipples still responded to his touch and, with a little coaxing, hardened up nicely.

He pulled the covers down further, exposing her large but firm ass. Rolling Katherine onto her back, Deacon got his first view of her pubic area. If his smile was any indication, he liked what he saw.

With the bed linens on the floor, Deacon parted Katherine's legs to expose a neatly trimmed patch of dark pubic hair above a recently shaved pussy (another first for me, shaving another woman's crotch). Deacon stroked her outer lips for a minute or two and then put his nose where his fingers had been... like a male dog smelling a bitch in heat. He inhaled deeply, obviously liking the scent, and spread the outer barrier so his tongue could taste what lay below.

While Deacon was lapping at the trough of trouble, Katherine let out a slight moan... our first indication that her sedative was losing its effect.

Deacon's next move was a saliva wetted finger inside Katherine's tongue moistened slit. His digit seemed to slide in with minimal effort, indicating she was producing her own form of lubrication. Katherine moaned a second time as Deacon drew her knees up and slid his now desperate cock into the ready position.

Brought up as a gentleman, Deacon bent forward, kissed Katherine on the lips and whispered, "I'm sorry," just before he rammed several inches of petrified pecker towards her still waking womb. No telling if it was the Viagra or if Deacon wasn't getting enough at home, but once the man got started, he continued fucking Katherine at a pace that would make a greyhound jealous.

And that's what was happening when Katherine woke up.

"Peter Deacon," she screamed. "What the fuck are you doing."

"Blackmail", he said.

"You're blackmailing me?"

"No. The two of us, we're getting blackmailed," he gasped while continuing to pound her pussy with his chemically enhanced cock.

"Who's blackmailing us?"

"Janis Moorehead. The realtor."

"How do you know it's blackmail?"

"Pictures," he said. "Naked pictures of you and me together... all over the room."

"But why are you... why are we doing this?" she asked.

"Can't help myself. Must be the drugs."

"What drugs?"

"The drugs Janis gave us."

"How can you be sure Janis did this?" Katherine asked as she wrapped her legs around Deacon's waist.

"She asked me to meet her here."

"Yeah, I got the same invitation, but why would she blackmail us?"

"Maybe it's her new client. The mysterious Mr. Seiman the mayor keeps warning us about." Deacon grabbed Katherine's ankles and placed them on his shoulders as he continued to drive into her soaking wet lust hole.

"But what do they want?" Katherine's body shuddered as her orgasm hit her like a taser.

Deacon gave her one final thrust and then froze, his balls quivering against her ass, his throbbing cock completely ensconced in her pussy as he finally got the release his body so desperately needed.

"I have no idea what they want," Deacon said when he finished filling Katherine's womb with his seed. "But I know what I want."

"What?" Katherine asked after regaining control of her body. "What is it that you want Councilman Deacon?"

"You. On your hands and knees. With your tits in my hands and my dick in your ass."

Katherine squinted her eyes and balled up her fists, like she finally realized what had happened and was preparing to slug the man who raped her. But just when I thought the drugs no longer controlled her, she relaxed.

"Fuck it," she said. "In for a dime, in for a dollar."

I don't know if the drugs still clouded her judgement or if she always wanted to try anal and knew the current situation presented a built-in excuse for her decadence. Regardless of her motive, she assumed the position and only whimpered slightly when Deacon's fully functional sex tool first entered her virgin ass.

Flanagan and I watched for another half hour until our hunger for food overrode our appetite for live porn. We packed up our gear and left with enough video for a full-length adult movie. I could still hear them going at it as we exited via the back stairs.

"Breakfast is on me," I told Flanagan. I was smiling because...

I held the respective leashes of Councilwoman Katherine Nunn and Councilman Peter Deacon.

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