When First We Practice to...Blackmail

Despite his tiredness from the trip, I dragged him to the bedroom and ravished him. I struggled to get off just the once but instinctively knew I couldn't expect normality until Michael was a thing of the past. I made sure to blow him and relaxed my habit of recent years by swallowing. That finally got Mr. Nerd's taste to disappear, but damned near triggered a memorial puke. Despite my continued sexual need, I was one emotionally satisfied woman. Wrapped in his arms, we slept through dinner time. Just before I fell asleep, he whispered in my ear.

"It's good to see your hormones have settled down."

God, I loved this wonderfully naïve man.

I made sure we had time for a repeat performance in the morning. I forwent my usual shower. Michael was going to get the whole sweaty, sloppy seconds experience today.

The day dragged until it was time to leave. I rang hubby on his office line and told him I'd just rung to tell him I loved him. He reciprocated and said he was looking forward to more playing catch-up tonight. I made a mental note to buy some douches on the way home. Once out of the office door, I realised one small flaw in my plan. Sure, we'd covered all bases with our spouses, but the target motel was in plain sight of our office windows. To throw off the scent, I took the long way there. This had the advantage that I could go via a pharmacy for those douches. I still got there five minutes before Michael. Plenty time enough to use the express check-in and set up the camera I'd brought.

When Michael arrived, I let him take the lead. He quickly had me stripped. With my delusions gone, I now recognised what I'd taken as youthful enthusiasm before for what it was; impatience. I knew I was as dry as a bone so pushed him away when he tried to mount me. I forced his head into my groin. It was so hot, as he lapped at my husband's stale leftovers, that I deeply regretted not having done this sloppy seconds thing before. It took all my effort to keep my face blank as he tried to get me off. My plan called for me to play the reluctant participant. If the worst came to the worst, I could always claim I'd been blackmailed into being here. Well, that was kind of true wasn't it?

There followed much grunting and groaning on Michael's part and some discomfort on mine. My wetness from the excitement of Michael's unknowing degradation dried up after two minutes of him grinding away. I knew he was being put off by my lack of activity. I could have ended it sooner by responding to him but that would have spoilt the plan. I grinned and bore it. Or should I say, scowled and bore it?

I woke with a start at 5:10p.m. It was common for Michael to sleep after our meetings, but my sleepless nights had caught up on me as well. Still, it wasn't a disaster. I could still clean up and be home before my husband. I wrapped the doona around myself and reminded Michael to be vigilant leaving. In the stupor of those freshly awoken from an afternoon nap, he dressed, and then, to my dismay, opened the door and stepped straight out. As I was heading towards the shower, I heard unusual noises from outside. Hiding behind the door, I opened the curtains a crack. There was Michael, looking very sheepish, with half the employees from the office standing in the carpark applauding. With relief, I didn't recognise anyone from the senior staff, but did see two of the other three contenders for his promotion and they didn't look anywhere near as happy as the rest. When they saw the curtains twitch, the applause redoubled in effort. I assured myself they couldn't possibly know who was still in the room. I'd taken a circuitous route to get there. Michael-the-dickhead had probably walked in a straight line from the office; In plain sight of any observer the whole way. I was seriously starting to worry about the effect all this stress was having on my health. I'm sure when I looked in the mirror I'd visibly aged in the last few days.

I forced my panic down. What was the worst that could happen? They could deduce it was me and someone could report me for inappropriate behaviour. That would be the end of my career. I made a mental note to type up a resignation letter in case it came to that. Being fired would lead to unwelcome husbandly questions. One thing was for sure, Michael couldn't get that promotion now. That triggered me remembering the camera. I retrieved it and turned it off. I would see if eyebrows were raised in the office tomorrow, and if they were, subtly let the other contenders know the race was definitely still on.

With a good plan, and back-up contingencies in place, I had a thorough shower, douched, and got dressed. Cracking the curtains again to make sure the coast was clear, I carefully opened the door and scanned the area again. Satisfied, I hurried by the quickest route to my car. The car that was sitting on its own in the now nearly empty carpark. My car that should have been at some offsite meeting. As I drove home, I mentally composed my resignation letter.

As promised, I didn't resist as hubby dragged me off to the bedroom as soon as he came home. I was so busy contingency planning in my head I have only hazy recollections of what happened. I suspect, I just laid there, ironically, just like I'd intentionally done with Michael this afternoon. Later, I lay awake trying to piece it together. I think my husband must have gone down on me as I had a hazy memory of almost snapping out of my reverie as he tried to put a finger in my dry vagina. All I know for certain was he wasn't there when I snapped out of it. I put a dressing gown on and went downstairs. Any worry he wasn't there was dispelled when he arrived back with dinner. I gave him a huge hug to avoid looking him in the eye and apologised that a work distraction had spoiled his evening. He forgave me.

Claiming exhaustion, I went to bed early. When I heard my partner's soft snores, I snuck out and grabbed my camera. I captured five stills from the video and saved them to a memory stick. I printed them and took them and the stick to my car. Returning to bed, I spent at least the next two hours plotting, until exhaustion took me. Before finally succumbing, I desperately tried to remember any of the pleasure I'd gotten from my affair with Michael, to offset the anguish and terror I was feeling now. Frustratingly, I couldn't.

Consequently, I was very tired, even as I steeled myself to walk in the office the next morning. The only way I could face the day at all was to repeat to myself, 'They think it was you, but they can't be sure'. As expected, the office was one big smirk as I walked in. I put the photos and sticks in my drawer but stayed in my domain with the door open until I saw Michael heading for the coffee room. Grabbing the envelope, I followed him in. Facing away from the door I pulled the prints out and showed him two. His face fell as he digested what he saw. Man, did I look that stupid on Tuesday? Before he could recover, I launched into my prepared speech.

"Now listen, prick, this is how life is now. If we don't handle this properly, both our jobs are toast. You're going to feel some heat today and you can kiss that promotion goodbye right now. Go along with everything you hear today and you should not only keep your job but your marriage as well. Monday, after the heat has died down, I expect you to stay late and put any photos and electronic copies in my desk drawer. If you do that, then Tuesday after work, you will find my photos and a memory stick in that same drawer. Be a good boy and this could all be over by Wednesday. We'll just write it off as a very bad experience shall we?"

I stared at him until he nodded. I noticed his eyes were watering up. What did I ever see in this wimp?

I waited till just after lunch, when several people had been in my office, before calling Michael's line manager in. I told him I had enough evidence that Michael Beaumont had bunked off in company time yesterday to censure him and requested he write him up. I gave him an hour to do that, then called a departmental staff meeting. It took all my courage and acting skills to blast the whole department. I told them of my disappointment that during my meeting of the previous afternoon, the one that our client had picked me up for, a member of staff had used the opportunity to carry on a sordid liaison in the motel across the street. I was proud of the passion in my voice when I told them that such behaviour wouldn't be tolerated and there were now only three contenders for next month's promotion. I tried to look in everyone's eyes before they left, to see if my gamble was going to work. I certainly didn't see any more smirks.

Physically and emotionally exhausted, I gave myself an early minute and went home after stashing my evidence in the car again. Thankfully, I made it through cooking hubby a lovely meal before falling asleep on the couch. Waking up after midnight, I climbed the stairs and woke my darling in his favourite way. Not only to assuage my own conscience but to distract him from asking embarrassing questions about my recent chaotic behaviour. I got my cuddle out of it.

There followed an extremely enjoyable weekend. Sex for breakfast. A picnic by the river followed by sex. A movie, followed by sex. Sex for breakfast again. Well, you get the picture. The sex was every bit as good as it used to be but better was being wrapped in those huge, sweaty arms afterwards. After our session Sunday morning, the man of my dreams told me he'd received an offer to buy his company. For $12M. He could close the deal in as little as a month if I was on board. I was stupefied. I had no idea he had grown the business that big. All of a sudden, the roughly $70,000 I'd squirrelled away from fifteen years of bonuses seemed absolutely insignificant. I had been so looking forward to springing that on him as my contribution to our early retirement, which I'd thought was at least ten years away. The only amounts I ever spent from that account was when I'd written cheques against that account for hotels with Michael. As the boss, and with a higher salary, I'd felt obliged to pay for the room at the normally swanky hotels we'd used. Plus, I was smart enough to know that with me paying, dopey Michael wouldn't accidentally leave a paper trail for his wife to find. The receipts for the rooms, champagne, and dinners, were still in my office drawer with the statements.

The next two hours passed with squeals of joy, like two kids let loose in a candy store. Cruises were planned, ski chalets were purchased, a Caribbean love nest was acquired, and the globe was circumnavigated. We broke with tradition and had sex before lunch. Then after lunch as well. I hadn't been this sore since our honeymoon. We were still in bed when the kids rang, one after the other for their usual Sunday afternoon check-ins.

Monday was, thankfully, still smirk free. I just couldn't help telling everyone my good news. Reality only struck when it was time to go home. I walked through the office, waited until Michael made eye contact, then secretly nodded to my open office door. It was with only mild trepidation that I opened my office drawer on Tuesday morning. There was the envelope and memory stick I was almost certain would be there. I found it distasteful to look at the photos to check them. Once assured they were all there, I took great delight in shredding them. The stick, I slipped into my pocket for later deleting and disposing of at home. At lunch time I went to my car and retrieved my photos and stick from under the carpet in the trunk. True to my word, I put them in my desk drawer. As an afterthought, I hand wrote a note to place with them. I formally wrote on the envelope, 'Mr. Michael Beaumont'.

Michael

I sold my soul to have my one and only affair with you. I thought we meant something to each other. If you'd just taken my request to break off with good grace, I would have taken fond memories of you into my old age. The fact you abused my trust by taking photos of us having sex, then used them to blackmail me into continuing with you, was a massive abuse of my trust. I will never forgive you for making me further tarnish my soul by threatening you with the enclosed photos.

These are the only copies in existence and I have held up my end of the bargain. If you don't hold up your end and hand over every shred of evidence you have, I will destroy you and to hell with the consequences.

Sarah

The heads of department meeting that afternoon lasted until almost 5:30. Partially because I gave my months' notice. The office was empty when I went to get my bag. Almost as an afterthought, I checked my drawer. The envelope and stick were gone. I sent a prayer of thanks to any god that might have been listening. I was safe. My husband was still madly in love and lust with me. We were a month away from living a life of luxury and glamour. However, best of all, my last month of work could be spent in dignity and relaxation.

When I got into the office, Wednesday, and sat in my chair, I noted with annoyance someone had adjusted it. I had one of those chairs that have three different adjustments and I liked it a certain way. Someone had adjusted the height and the tilt. As I was adjusting it back, Michael strode into my office and shut the door behind him firmly.

"All right, Sarah, what the fuck is going on? I thought we had a deal?"

"We did. What happened?"

"You know very well what happened. You left the stick there but there were no photos. Where the fuck are they, Sarah?"

He looked at the confused expression on my face. It must have been convincing as he sank into a chair with a "Fuck no." I felt exactly the same. Would this nightmare never cease?

I'm sure we both had racing hearts as we discussed the possibility of a third party having some very damaging photographs. I quizzed him on who'd been in the office after I left yesterday to go upstairs. Before he could reply, we were interrupted by my phone. We didn't get a chance to talk for the rest of the day. I was worried all day and all night a home. I wasn't accustomed to not being in control. Luckily, with due diligence investigations in full swing, my husband was flat-out at work. Due diligence financial and technical auditors, I knew, like to fly in for as few days as possible and fill each day to overflowing. Another bloody sleepless night.

In lieu of sleep, I compiled a mental list of who could have taken the photographs. First on the list was Michael. It wasn't impossible it was him, so he had to be on the list. Only now did I think of my foolishness for giving him more blackmail material. What was his motive? Not promotion, surely, and if it were for more sex, he would have said today. Was it pure spite? Had he already sent them to my better half? Only time would tell on that one.

Next on the list were my line managers. They knew my job was up for grabs and had probably guessed the CEO would be asking for my recommendations on a replacement. I'd already given it, but they didn't know that.

The next obvious group were the three remaining contenders for the upcoming line management role. With my imminent departure, there would be two line manager vacancies. Surely, with those odds, none of them would risk something underhand, would they?

That left, well, everyone else in the office. If just one observant person had seen me going to that motel room they would know I had big things to hide. Sure, I was leaving soon, but they would know my post departure reputation was worth a great deal to me.

A chilling thought struck me. Please, let it not be that creepy IT guy. At that thought, I'd swear I could taste his rank cock again, and I had to fight the urge to puke.

Well, that was the list. Now what was the plan? That, at least, was easy. I would line up one-on-one interviews with the line managers and the contenders, ostensibly to allow them to pitch to me on why they should be promoted. If it was one of them, then surely they would use the private time to lay their cards on the table. If I taped all the interviews, and one of them played their hand, it was all over. Their handing over the photographs would guarantee my tape didn't go to the police. That was a bluff, but they didn't know that. The police led to my husband.

Talking of my husband, I was almost asleep when he came in and straight to bed. I cuddled his back to let him know I was still awake. He rolled over and enveloped me in his arms. That was the point I knew everything was going to be all right.

First thing next day, I sent out emails to all concerned with a timetable of interviews and what they were about, apologising for the short notice. I had just finished my second one at 11:00 a.m., and was having a coffee, when the receptionist delivered an express mail envelope. Coffee forgotten, I went back to my office and tore it open. Inside was one of the five photos I'd culled from my motel video. On the back was typed, 'This is a freebie, just so you take us seriously. The next one will cost $20,000. Have that amount ready, in cash, by next Monday at 10AM. If you talk to Michael Beaumont about this, or go to the police, the rest of the photographs will be sent to your husband's office.'

So it wasn't about promotion at all. It was good, old-fashioned avarice. I assessed my options. That didn't take long. Then I reassessed my list of potential blackmailers, which had just got much bigger. With money as the motive, one candidate started to stand out. The retiring line manager. I'd beaten him to my job. Could he be harbouring some resentment and want to sweeten his retirement? Before my next interview, I stopped by his office and invited him to have lunch with me to reminisce about old times. Back in my office, I tried to bring my blood pressure under control. Shoot, at this rate, I wouldn't make the end of the month. I would pop a cork for sure.

I was committed to completing the rest of the interviews. As expected, nothing but earnest self-aggrandisement occurred. Lunch would have been pleasant if I wasn't trying to second guess my companion. In between interviews, I tried to look into as many eyes as possible but nothing and nobody jumped out at me. By the end of the day, I was as clueless as the morning. Except for one of the contenders, out on a sales trip today, I'd seen everyone.

Friday was the announcement of my replacement. We had a celebratory morning tea, then I started showing him his duties. With no other choice, I did slip out briefly to withdraw twenty grand from my secret account. God, that hurt.

Both hubby and I were mentally exhausted after a tough week, so it was a quiet weekend. We just slept late and I cuddled him often. Lying in bed on Sunday morning, it suddenly struck me how isolated I was. When I rejoined the workforce, I'd let all of my motherly friendships lapse to concentrate on my career. At work, I couldn't befriend my bosses or subordinates. That wasn't the done thing. I'd always kept my peers at arm's length. They were rivals, after all. Obviously, Michael was no longer a confidante. I didn't ever consider turning to my children for comfort. The thought of their opinion of me taking a nose dive if they ever even suspected what I'd done to their father, ruled that right out. That left my husband. For the past few years he'd been the anchor to my sanity, my best friend, and my life support system. Now, because of one major lapse of judgement, I was totally and utterly alone in the world. I cried as I contemplated telling him of my transgression, just on the chance I could regain him as a friend. No, I just couldn't risk it.

I was exhausted when I went to bed Sunday night. I was just dropping off, when Hubby joined me. I snapped at him when he put his arms around me from the back, his left hand automatically enveloping my right breast. It was our usual way of falling asleep, but exhaustion, and the fact he had roused me, made me chew him out. Five minutes later, I realised I was now fully alert and deeply regretful. I tried to drape his arms around me again, but they remained stiff and uncomforting. I think I managed about three hours sleep that night.