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Corrupting Lisa - Part 5
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
STORY: Corrupting Lisa, Ch. 5 (mf, ff, teen, nc)
This is a fictional story which includes elements of teenage sex
with an adult, lesbianism, non-consensual sex, a negative comment
about the Democratic party, and other manner of things which you as
a decent God-fearing American may find highly offensive. In light
of this, please do not continue to read unless you want to.
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Chapter 5.
In Which Two Young Ladies Have A Pleasant Video Debut, and I
Discover Some Hitherto Unknown Things About My Co-Worker.
"So what did she do then?"
"She says that when the guy showed up at the house, she told
him that she would call the cops, and he got scared and left."
"That's it?"
"Well, except for...you know."
"Yeah, I know, you little slut." A brief kiss.
I stopped the tape and grabbed a beer from the fridge. Sam's
Wholesale Club had had a special on Lone Star, and I sunk the last
of my discretionary income into three cases. Financial planning
for the future, as far as I was concerned. My latest taping effort
had been the most complicated one thus far (not counting my
imaginary tape from last Friday's motel room episode, which was
easy to make but tricky to sell) and I was pleased with the quality
of this video effort. A few days of surveillance had let me figure
out that Tracy and Karen Webb were indeed involved with each other
in a way of which the Catholic Church would not approve. Rigging
the video camera had been trickier, but in the end, aided by
Tracy's fortuitous ground-floor bedroom, a heating vent in her
ceiling, and a willingness on my part to risk three-to-five for
breaking and entering, I had managed to place Nordstrom's most
compact long-playing camera in such a way that I had a good fish-
eye view of most of the teenager's room, and excellent sound
pickup. I figured that anytime I wanted to quit Nordstrom's and
become a private eye, I was ready to go.
A quick trip to Radio Shack had given me the capability to
start and stop the thing remotely, and my trap was set. It wasn't
ideal - I needed to get to it periodically to swap batteries and
tapes - but since I only needed to hit paydirt once, I figured it
was worth the trouble. Tracy's household appeared to be just Tracy
and her mom, which left large windows of opportunity for me to roam
about. The neighbors on both sides appeared to be largely
uninterested in what went on, which made the whole thing even more
ideal.
After successfully setting up my camera, I had rewarded myself
with a quick visit to the Webb house. Lisa had been home alone,
and had come with me, reluctantly, outside. Since her abortive
attempt to tape record *me*, I wasn't going to put myself in a
vulnerable position if I could help it. Lisa and Tracy were no
doubt baffled at the complete silence on their tape, courtesy of my
quick reflexes and a handy magnet. But they were sure to try some
similar stunt again, unless I put a stop to their upstart behavior.
In the interim, as a small down payment on the punishment I
planned to administer, I had escorted Lisa into her spacious
backyard, taken her behind the woodpile, and then simply taken her
behind. I was as rough and quick as I could be, simply bending her
over and dropping her shorts, then ramming home. My only
concession to comfort was a quick squirt of hand lotion on the end
of my cock, and frankly that was more for my comfort than hers.
The tentative smile that she had given me when I showed up at the
door vanished had quickly. She grunted in discomfort as my prick
opened her backside up, but must have known that loud noises might
bring curious neighbors, so she suffered in silence. I huffed and
puffed my way to completion, squirting a tribute up her bowels. I
pulled out, slapped her affectionately on her butt, and said,
"Thanks, Lisa. Not bad." She had hung her head as I zipped up,
and made no move to repair her own clothing. I had to tell her to
cover it up. She had pulled up her shorts, then turned to face me
with a stricken look, biting her lower lip. It had looked like
there was something hovering, ready to come tumbling out, and I
watched her curiously, striving to keep a disinterested and
pleasantly neutral expression as she struggled with whatever it was
she wanted to say. In the end, though, she just turned and
scurried back into the house. Interesting. I'd have to watch how
far I pushed her.
I activated my camera three days later, as Tracy got home from
school and Karen Webb showed up minutes later. I assumed she was
taking off work early in order to get in a little nookie, so I
snuck around back and pressed my transmitter. The shades were
down, so I had no idea if they were madly caressing each other or
calmly discussing Edna St. Vincent Millay, but I figured the odds
were good on the former, and I had six hours worth of tape in the
thing.
A daring commando operation the next day had recovered the
tape, as well as replenishing the batteries and installing a fresh
tape, should the first effort be unusable somehow. It was not, and
watching it made me tingle with equal parts arousal and
anticipation. A small part of my brain was sitting back in
wonderment at the lengths I was going, risking loss of job, loss of
money, and loss of liberty, for this admittedly fine piece of ass,
but most of me was steaming forward on autopilot. It was a
contest, now. And I hate to lose.
I hit play. I found it interesting that Tracy wasn't telling
Karen the whole truth. In her version, I showed up with the
videotape in a blackmail but ran scared when Lisa threatened to
call the cops. It was to laugh, but why was she lying to Lisa's
sister? Unless she was telling the story that Lisa told her? Nah,
I didn't buy it for an instant. That would mean that submissive
little Lisa planned the taping session on her own, and I'd believe
in a Democratic president before I bought that idea. No, Tracy was
clearly up to something. Hmmm...
I called Lisa the next evening to ask her to 'babysit' Friday.
"Um....I can't."
"And why not," I asked, my voice deceptively calm.
"We're all going out to dinner, it's my brother's birthday."
A new wrinkle, I thought. But not difficult to fix. "Get
sick."
"What?"
"Friday afternoon, get sick at school and come home early. Be
too sick to want to go to dinner. Insist that everyone else go so
Evan's birthday isn't spoiled. Got it?"
"Um....I don't think..."
I cut her off. "If you're about to tell me 'no', then you're
right; you're not thinking." I put venom in my voice. "Now what
were you going to say?"
Silence for a moment. Then a barely audible, "OK."
"Thanks, honey," I said cheerfully. You see? Training pays
off. I hung up.
I was outside the Webb home Friday evening in plenty of time
to see the Webb family, sans Lisa, pile into the BMW and trundle
off to birthday feasting. I waited a few minutes - wouldn't do to
get caught because someone forgot wallets or purses - and then
knocked on the door. A pale and subdued fifteen year old let me
in. I entered without a word and made a beeline for the TV. Lisa
looked puzzled, then shut the door and followed me. I replaced the
tape that was in there (_War Games_, not a bad flick) with my tape.
I hit play and leaned back. I hadn't spoken a word thus far, by
design, and remained silent now as Lisa was treated to the sight of
her friend Tracy and her sister Karen fall onto Tracy's bed,
kissing passionately. They were in such a haste to get at each
other that clothes flew everywhere, and in moments the younger
Tracy was astride Karen, and each was lapping at the other's pussy.
Lisa was paralyzed as the action unfolded. She had started to
ask a question, but I shooshed her with a gesture, indicating that
she should wait until the events on screen had played out their
course. In little time Karen quit licking and began thrashing her
head from side to side, her hands balling up the bedcovers as she
made incoherent sounds of pleasure. Her body tensed up and her
back arched; my high school wrestling coach would have been proud
of her bridge form. In a moment they reversed, now Karen crouched
at Tracy's pussy and attacked vigorously. The camera being
directly overhead, alas, prevented us from seeing the gory details,
but it was clear that the young lady had expertise in this area,
for Tracy was soon tossing and gasping her way to a climax. I was
quite proud of the tape, given the technical limitations; the
heating duct vents showed up only as fuzzy blurs on the screen.
The tape rolled on, with the lovers cuddling up and chatting.
I waited until each had called the other by name and there was
enough context that a listener would know who they were. I stopped
the tape before they began discussing Lisa, then turned to look at
Lisa. She may have feigned infirmity to get me here tonight, but
now looked positively ill. I handed her the first of my prepared
notes.
'Lisa,' it said. 'I certainly hope you haven't done anything
foolish like start a tape recorder in here tonight so you could
tape me doing something to you. If you have, you've just
guaranteed that your sister and your friend are in for a lot of
heartache. And who knows what Tracy would say, if she were in
trouble?'
I watched her as she read. She looked up guiltily at me after
the first sentence, which pretty much confirmed my suspicions. As
she finished the note I took it out of her unresisting hands and
handed her the next one. 'Go and get the tape recorder and hand it
to me.' Short and to the point. She looked askance for a moment,
but resignedly got up and went over to the bookcase. Behind a
potted plant was a small microcassette recorder which I recognized
quite well. She brought it over to me and proffered it, head held
low. I took the machine and turned it off, then spoke for the
first time. "Sit down."
She sat. She was wearing a 'Valley High Rules' tee shirt and
blue jeans, and as she sat and looked up at me I began to feel the
rush of power and control again. With some anger as well; this
girl had made every effort to betray me. "Lisa," I began, "I am
very disappointed in you. What did you think you were doing?" She
didn't seem inclined to answer. "Did you think that you'd pull
something over on me?" I let my voice get louder. "Did you think
that you'd get something on tape, and then be able to tell me what
to do?" I was letting the appearance of rage build now, feeling
the role. I reached down and grabbed her chin roughly, forcing her
to look me in the eyes. "Well?" I hissed.
Her eyes were brimming with tears. "I....I..."
"You what?"
"I....Trace saw the tape, the one you left that night. I
forgot to get it out of the machine, and she saw it, and she made
me tell her what happened, and she said that if I....with
her...then she'd get me out of trouble with....with you."
Oh, ho! Tracy *is* a woman after my own heart. File that
away for future action.
I released the sobbing teen's chin, and spoke firmly to her.
"I see. Well, Lisa, you made a mistake, didn't you?"
"Um...yes," she said, almost eagerly. "I...I was wrong to do
that. I won't do it again."
"You're absolutely correct about that, Lisa. You won't." I
got up and started for the door. Here comes my Academy Award
performance, I thought.
"Where....where are you going?"
"Out. I see that our arrangement is at an end. We didn't
have a meeting of the minds. So, it's time for me to mail off all
my stuff to the appropriate people, and move on from this town -
maybe find someplace that has people I can trust." I turned to
her. "People who will honor a commitment when it's made." I held
my breath. Would she buy this one?
Hook, line, and sinker. She scrambled after me, a panicked
expression on her face. "No! Wait! Um... wait, ok?" I watched
her. "Ah....please, give me another chance, I was...please, ok?"
She was alarmed by my lack of reaction. "Look, I can...." she
swallowed "...uh, do, you know, what you like." She flushed, but
resolutely continued. "You don't want to leave me...." she drew a
deep breath and lifted her shirt over her head "...like this, do
you?" She looked anxiously at me.
I reached over to her, grabbing her bra and flicking open the
front clasp. She reddened even more, but held firm. I raised my
hand towards one inviting nipple, paused for a second, then dropped
it. "Nah," I said, turning away. "You'll have to be much more
seductive than this to get me to change my mind about you." Could
she take the subtle guidance? No, she just looked anxious; there
was no comprehension on her pretty face. "Remember the first time
I came over? Now *that* was seductive. You invited me into that
little bathroom, you did all sorts of things.... you see?"
Comprehension. "Steve," she said, trying hard for sexy, "do
you want to come in the bathroom with me." I think she caught the
entendre this time; she flushed again and looked away.
"No." She looked alarmed. "We did that already." I paused.
"I haven't seen your room yet, though."
"Um....can we maybe not...Steve, won't you please come see my
room?" This last came out quickly as I turned away again.
"Uh...I'll make it worth it, Steve... I promise.... please?" Her
voice rose in panic as I reached for the door knob. I hesitated,
trying to telegraph indecision. She took a deep breath, stared
fixedly at her shoes, and said, "Anything you want," in a voice
about as loud as a soap bubble popping.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that?"
"Anything you...you want."
I turned to face her and again took her chin in my hand.
"Lisa?" She wouldn't meet my eye. "Lisa?"
"What?" in a tiny voice.
"If you don't mean it this time, you'll be one sorry little
girl."
"I mean it."
"Louder."
"I mean it."
"Then go on - where's your room?"
Lisa's room was teen-crowd animal personified. Posters hung
everywhere: Madonna, Peter Cetera, Prince, Bananarama, Berlin, and
Huey Lewis were well-represented here. There were a few stuffed
animals piled on a window seat, and some clothes tossed carelessly
over an unmade bed. "Geeze, honey, if you know I'm coming by you
ought to pick the place up a little."
"But I didn't think you..."
I silenced her with a look. She looked down at her shoes
again and mumbled, "Sorry."
I waited. She waited. Finally she realized that it was her
show. She looked around as if seeking some last minute
reprobation, but the only things watching were her stuffed animals,
and they didn't seem predisposed to come to her aid. She bit her
lower lip - damn, she looked sexy when she did that - and dropped
to her knees in front of me. I nodded encouragingly. She reached
up and unfastened my pants. There was no pretense at being coy for
this stage; she'd had her mouth around my cock enough that it
wasn't traumatizing anymore. As my jeans dropped around my ankles,
she took my cock in her mouth, applying suction and friction as she
began to move. I was inclined to believe that one day she'd make
a world-class cocksucker, given her improvement in just the short
time I'd known her. It was my gift to the world, I guessed.
Everyone wants to leave a legacy.
I let her work on my rigid erection for a few minutes, pulling
her head back and forth along the straining shaft. She went with
the guidance, and was able to go deeper than she had before. We'd
work on that skill another time. After a bit I stilled her head in
the down position, then said, "Look at me, Lisa." She started to
pull away. "No!" I said sharply. "Keep me in your mouth. Just
look up at me." She complied. I'm not a giant in the genitals
department, but her face looked stuffed as she gazed up at me, her
blue eyes and blonde hair framing the scene to perfection. "How
does this feel, Lisa?" Again she tried to move away, and again I
stopped her. "Just do the best you can. I know you've been taught
not to talk with your mouth full, but we'll make an exception
here." Chuckle, chuckle.
"Whoa-quay."
"It feels OK?"
"Yef."
"Does your boyfriend make you do this, Lisa? Does he make you
talk with your mouth full?"
"Now."
I paused, looking down into her upturned face as she waited
for my next command. Damn, was this good. "You like sucking cock,
don't you?" No answer. "DON'T YOU?"
"Uh-huh."
"Tell me you like it."
"I wike suffing cock." She closed her eyes as she said it.
"Do you like my cock up your ass, Lisa?"
"Uh-uh."
"No? Why not?'
"Hurps."
"It hurts?"
"Yef." Her eyes were still closed tightly, as if by not
looking at me she could deny this conversation was happening.
"Gosh, honey, I feel terrible." I paused. "Tell you what -
let's play a little game. If you can get me off in..." I glanced
at my watch "...three minutes, then that'll be it for tonight. And
you won't have to take it up your butt again." I paused again.
"But if you don't..... if I don't come in three minutes, then...
well, then I'm not responsible for what I have to do. OK?"
"Umm..."
"Two minutes, fifty-five seconds," I said. Lisa got the
picture. She immediately began bobbing her head up and down,
jacking me with her free hand and breathing through her nose. It
was an arousing sight, but I felt confident of the win. As the
blonde girl slurped and bobbed, I calmed myself using ancient Hindu
techniques. OK, I didn't know any ancient Hindu techniques, so I
recited the starting lineup of the '67 Red Sox. Rico Petrocelli,
I thought to myself. Lisa was making little panicked grunting
sounds, now, as she worked her mouth up and down, drool dripping
freely from her mouth to my cock to her hand. It
was...ummm...quite good, actually. Carl Yastrzemski, I reminded
myself. Jerry Adair. Dalton Jones. She pulled off my cock now,
jacking me frantically with her right hand and fondling my balls
with her left. Rich must have taught her a new trick. She ovalled
her lips again and descended once again on my cock, which twitched
in spite of my iron control. George Scott. Then was it Mike
Andrews? Or was Reggie Smith next?
The indecision saved me, as the genuine confusion actually
distracted me and the second hand swept around the third time. I
stepped back, my cock bobbing out at an angle in front of me.
"Time," I said, striving to keep a controlled tone in my voice.
Not bad self-control, Steve. Not bad at all. I had to
congratulate myself, as Lisa didn't appear eager to do so. "OK,"
I said. "Lose the clothes, and hop up on the bed." She started to
speak. "NOW."
She bit her lip again, looking very apprehensive. "Uh...
could we... I mean, could I... um... maybe do something else?"
"Get up on the goddamned bed."
She rose to her feet, then turned away from me. She
unbuttoned her jeans and let them fall. She had been barefoot, and
so was now clad only in a pair of pale green panties. She
hesitated, then slipped them down as well. Her shoulders dropped
resignedly, and she took two steps forward and bent over the bed,
her cute little ass pointing suggestively at me. "OK," she said
quietly.
My sense of purpose was always deserting me at moments like
these. Why couldn't she be more defiant? I'd have no trouble
maintaining an iron resolve then. Or why couldn't she try to
cajole me out of this? I didn't really want to hurt her. Did I?
Sometimes I did. When I found that goddamned tape recorder, I
wanted to make her pay. But was it her fault? Some of it was.
You know who really needed to pay? Tracy. That was one on whom
I'd have no mercy.
But for Lisa, bent over her bed, her blonde hair loosely
falling to one side, her small frame tense with anticipation... all
I could think of was what she had said with her mouth around my
cock..."Hurps." I didn't want to hurt her now. This was probably
a setback in the Lisa Webb Pacification Program, but frankly I
couldn't see her getting much more pacific than she was now,
bending over and ready to take what I would give her.
I stepped forward and placed my hands on her ass. She drew a
sharp intake of breath and held it. I caressed her upthrust cheeks
softly, then ran my hands down the insides of her thighs. She
shivered. I let my hands wander for a moment, then stopped them at
mid-thigh and indicated with gentle pressure that she should spread
her legs apart more. She did so without resistance. I moistened
one finger, then let my right hand slide under her. She tensed
again. "Relax," I said softly. "I won't hurt you now." My finger
coasted forwards, finding her downy patch and the slightly moist
slit at its center. I stroked lightly up and down her opening,
with just a little more pressure on each succeeding stroke.
"Wha...." she started.
"Shhhh..." I crooned. "It's OK, honey. Relax. It's all
OK... nobody's going to hurt you tonight." I continued my gentle
massage, up and down. She made a small sound which I could not
interpret. I was lingering at her top, now, circling her clit with
steady motions while my palm was rubbing her lips back and forth.
She was moistening my palm now, as her body reacted to the
stimulation. I continued this motion for a few moments, then
stiffened my thumb slightly and began to probe at her entrance. It
was not the most graceful approach, but I persevered, not forcing
but gently pushing, and soon my thumb was stroking an and out of
her. She was very tight; even my thumb felt the pressure. I was
willing to bet she'd not used tampons yet. Pads are so
inconvenient, but if you're this small, they may be a necessity.
I moved my hand rhythmically back and forth, making circular
motions with my thumb and tiny taps with my middle finger. She was
very wet, and making tiny little 'uh' sounds as I continued.
I worked her for a good five minutes before the control freak
side of me poked his head out just for a moment. I stopped all my
motion. Lisa made a small groaning noise. "Lisa," I said.
"Mmm?"
"You have to help." I paused. "Move back and forth on my
hand." No motion, no response. "Or I'll stop." I gave her a
final wiggle. She moaned softly. And began to move.
She flexed her knees ever so slightly, which caused her ass to
move down and into my hand. She did it again, and I rewarded her
by pressing upwards into her. She sighed and redoubled her
motions. The sight was incredible. She was bent over the bed in
front of me, her hair cascading over her shoulders, her head turned
into the sheets as if shutting out the world. But her body
continued to move, faster and faster. She was tensing, now, as she
gave up all pretense and began to work towards her release. My
middle finger made swirling motions over her clit, and my thumb was
inside her past the knuckle. She was making little 'whuff' sounds
on each downstroke. She moved faster and faster, and less
rhythmically, until finally she pushed herself down hard onto my
hand and clamped her thighs together, gripping the sheets tightly
in each balled fist as her body vibrated with release.
My hand felt a bit numb when she relaxed her legs and fell
forward on the bed, exhaling. I sat down as well, my mind a blank.
Why had I deviated from the plan? What the fuck was I thinking?
Incredibly, my cock was still rock hard, even as I berated myself
for lack of clear thinking.
Lisa rolled away from me and looked at me curiously. "I
thought you were going to.... you know.... do it to me... um, in
my..."
I thought so too. "Nothing about me is predictable, girl.
Remember that." Her glance moved from my eyes to my cock, still
standing tall.
"And you didn't...I mean, you're still..." she blushed and
gestured at the proof of my passion. I nodded. She swallowed
hard, then looked me straight in the eye. "Can I...?" Can she
what? She held my glance as she leaned forward and again took my
cock in her mouth, then had to look down as she began her task.
Oh. Can she do *this*? Where the hell did *this* come from?
I was not inclined to ask the questions now, though, as I was
overstimulated, ready to burst, and I couldn't think of one Red Sox
player. She had her mouth on me as I spasmed, exploding white
cream into her sucking mouth. I heard her gulp several times as
she swallowed down what I gave her. Even after I was done and
beginning to soften, she kept me in her mouth, nursing on me, as
contented as a cat.
I broke the spell. "Get up and get dressed. Who knows how
soon your folks will be back." I suited actions to words and
reassembled my own clothing. When I turned to her she was just
pulling on a new tee shirt, having left her old one in the family
room. I crossed to her. "Hey."
She wouldn't look at me. "What?" she mumbled.
I turned her head around to face me. "Why did you do that?"
I asked her.
She bit her lip, looking worried. "Well, you...you made me.
I mean, you.... you know."
"No, I don't know. What?"
She studied her toes intently. Without looking up she said
softly, "You could have done it to me in my bottom. And you
didn't. I thought you were going to. And then you made me...uh...
you know, with your finger. And you didn't get to. It just wasn't
fair. So I... did it."
"Look at me, Lisa." She looked up at me. "I made you come,
didn't I? With my finger?" She nodded. "Say it."
"You made me...come... with your finger."
"Again."
"You made me come with your finger."
"What else did I do?" She looked puzzled. "I gave you a hot
sperm meal to drink, didn't I?"
Softly, "Yes."
"And you liked drinking my come, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, I liked drinking your... your come."
I turned away. I wished desperately for more time with her.
But we were getting into the danger zone, here, for an early return
by the rest of the Webbs, and I didn't want to get arrested after
such a stunning success. One loose end to tie up, though. "Oh,
Lisa?"
"What?"
"What are you going to tell Tracy?"
This was the $64,000 question hidden amongst the chaff.
"Um... I... nothing," she finished firmly.
"Nothing?"
"Nothing. I'll say you never came over. You never showed
up."
"Good." And I'll be talking to Miss Tracy before too long,
anyway, so she'll have more on her mind than what I'm doing with
you.
On the way out I remembered to get the tape out of the VCR -
semper momento. OK, maybe not semper, as it was an overlooked tape
that had brought Our Miss Tracy into the picture in the first
place. Lisa was standing by the front door, and as I opened it,
she stood on tiptoes and kissed my cheek softly, then turned and
ran upstairs. Hmmm.
Oddly enough, I wasn't quite as upset about this as I had been
about my previous lapse of control. Last time, Lisa had clearly
begun to feel like she had some say in what went on. Now, she was
responding to me as a superior, from whence blessing and beatings
both flow. Metaphoric beatings, anyway. This was better. And if
she reflected on the contents of the tape she'd seen tonight, she
wouldn't be likely to confide in either her sister or Tracy anytime
soon. Better and better.
The message light was blinking when I got home. I grabbed a
Lone Star and listened to the sole message. "Steve? Eddie Logan,
from work? Um, listen. I need you to call me immediately.
There's a camera missing from the display case, and someone tells
me that you borrowed it? That better not be true. Call me back."
Shit. Why was he being do officious all of a sudden? Of
course I borrowed the camera. Two cameras, as a matter of fact.
Where was I going to scare up enough scratch for video cameras? I
dialed and got the electronics department. "Eddie? Yeah, hi.
Listen, don't panic. The camera is in the back storeroom." Where
I left it after dubbing the first Lisa tape. "Just go get it,
and..." whoops. Oh shit, the original tape, without the dubbed
music, was in that camera. "Um...on second thought, let me get it
for you tomorrow."
"If it's back there, Steve, I can just run over and get it, no
problem."
My usual talent for verbal tap dance was gone. What to say?
Stay away from it, you little fuckhead? Pleasing thought, but not
likely to engender the right response. "Well...." Brilliant.
Keep thinking. "Well, the thing is, Eddie - it may not be there."
"What do you mean, 'may'?"
"I might have it here in my apartment."
"You took stuff out of the store??"
"I may have.... I don't quite recall."
"You don't recall?"
"I was doing a lot of different stuff, and I may have
accidentally taken it with me. Tell you what - I'll just bring it
by tomorrow, OK?"
"I'll tell you what - let me go take a quick look now, and if
it's in the storeroom, no problem. If it's not, I'll let you know.
Thanks!" Click.
Now what? I could drive down to the mall at breakneck speed,
which would take me maybe twenty minutes. Meanwhile, Eddie could
walk to the storeroom and look for the camera, which he would find
in maybe three minutes. No percentage in going. Shit.
Four minutes later the phone rang, and I pounced on it.
"Steve? Got it, right here. Let's be more careful about this
stuff, shall we?"
"Hey, Eddie," I said as casually as I could. "Did I by chance
leave a tape in there?"
"Lemme check....no, nothing here. Why? You missing a tape
too?"
Now I am. Where the fuck could it be? "Uhh, no, just
checking. Thanks - sorry for the unauthorized borrowing, there..."
"Yeah, well - watch it, OK?" Click.
Where the fuck was that tape?
Chapter 6.
In Which I Discover That I Have Made Quite An Impression on Nina
and Tracy Is Hoist By Someone's Petard
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