(Result of a prompt given to me by my ex, long ago. I wiseassedly wrote it with him as the protagonist as vengeance for something silly, but all names have been changed to protect the innocent. It’s adult content, but nothing too graphic. Tongue in cheek happens, what can I say?)
The Blackmailer’s Visit
by Caitlin Carrigan
Terry shuffled across the dusky carpet of room 418, his fingernails nibbled to the quick. He had paced there for hours, awaiting a knock on his hotel room door. His expected visitor had threatened a 5:00 PM arrival. It was now 7:42. Terry was growing antsy.
What could be fucking taking so long, he thought to himself. No sooner had the words rattled in his addled brain than the forceful tick of a knuckle on wood echoed through the room. Terry sighed nervously, padded his hair, and went for the door. As Terry pressed his face against the peephole, a voice called from outside.
“Sorry, I am late Mr. Dillard. Another appointment ran longer than expected.”
Sten Maltovicz looked nothing like Terry had imagined him. He seemed more like an airline pilot than a hardened criminal, his hair gelled perfectly, his tie immaculate, as though some little woman waited at home for this man in pearls and kitten heels. Terry gripped the door handle and reluctantly opened the door.
Sten traipsed by Terry without a glance, and quickly made his way to the mini bar, where he retrieved two small bottles of whiskey. Terry didn’t feel like drinking, but as he watched Sten down both, he realized it wasn’t an issue.
After a swig and a sigh, Sten spoke, “I am glad to see you waited, Mr. Dillard. Best course of action, I’d say. Given your situation, that is.”
Terry shrugged, “I felt it best to get this over with.”
“Wise decision,” Sten snagged yet another small nip from the fridge, took a quick swig and sat in a chair. For the first time, Sten gazed at Terry. Terry felt microscopic.
“So, what is it you normally do? I mean, what’s the protocol? Do you give me some extravagant sum of money I have to produce and then I get the pictures, or…”
“Oh, I don’t want your money, Mr. Dillard. Does nothing for me.”
“Oh…ok. Well, then…look, I can’t go to jail, I just can’t, so…this is my first time being blackmailed. I really don’t know how this works.”
Sten rose from his seat, tossed his head back as he downed the last of his tiny bottle of whiskey, “Why don’t you have a seat there, Mr. Dillard. I’ll handle everything.”
As Terry sank onto the edge of the double bed, Sten unbuckled his belt.
Terry twisted his wrist against the fabric that bound him there, face down on the mattress. He felt his bare skin cooled by the open air as Sten rose from his perch atop him. Terry turned toward the clock; 10:17 it said.
Terry listened to the sound of Sten’s gadget laden watch being reaffixed to his right wrist. “Well, Mr. Dillard,” as Sten spoke, Terry’s mind raced; thank god he took that watch off, I should have fucking had a drink, if I never hear how nice my ass is again, it will be too soon!
“You’ll be happy to know that I have found your payment quite agreeable. I will incinerate the photographs upon my return to the office, and you will never hear from me again.”
The sound of the belt fastening gave Terry, nude and covered in his blackmailer’s sweat, cause to whimper against the ball gag.
“Oh, don’t worry about this. I’ll have housekeeping come up in a few minutes.” Terry could hear the minibar opening one last time as Sten headed toward the door. As Terry heard his company leave, he thought to himself.
“Jesus Christ, that was best goddamn fuck I’ve ever had.”