Twenty Grand


Looking down at the naked blonde woman snuggled up to my chest, I felt awful. I should have been feeling like the luckiest stiff in the world because her body was tanned and toned. Her breasts: well developed and topped with mouth-watering pink nipples. Her ass: heart shaped and blemish free. Her legs: long and silky smooth. Her pussy: shaved and breathtakingly pink. She had more than enough to satisfy any man. Never mind that she was pretty and witty and even laughed at my lame jokes.

I stroked her shiny hair. It smelled like heaven. A mile wide smile should have been etched on my face, given the fact that the sex we had just had was great, and she didn’t seem in any hurry to leave. But I wore a frown. I should have been looking forward to round two, because she said she’d love to go at it again after a little break, but I didn’t know if I could do that again. I felt like a heel for going through with it once.

You see, I had this woman’s life in my hands, and she didn’t even know it.

It had all started with a simple brown bag full of money. I found it in my truck one day after work. I had no idea how it got there, inside the locked truck, and there was no note or explanation. Just ten bundles of twenty dollar bills, with exactly $1,000.00 in each bundle. It was obvious that the money didn’t come from a bank — it was messy, and the serial numbers weren’t in any order. Someone had put some effort into this….

But I had no idea who.

The money sat in that bag for days. I didn’t know what to do. It seemed like an obvious mistake. It was early December, so I finally decided some poor fool was out ten grand of Christmas shopping money, and it was finders keepers. You might say that temptation took over, and I slowly started spending some of it.

I was 36-years-old now, but I had spent most of my 20s in an alcoholic haze, so the first thing I did was clear up some old bar tabs around town. Christmas came early for a few bar managers this year.

Then I had some overdue work done on my truck, and I bought some new clothes and got a haircut and a shave. In days I’d spent about half the money. The other half I decided would be used to pay off some of my credit cards. I would actually try to be out of dept for the first time since my 18th birthday (half my frigging life). For the first time in a long time, I slept well.

And then, one week after finding the first bag, I came home from work and found another brown bag sitting on my kitchen table.

“What the fuck’s going on?” I raced over to the kitchen knives and pulled out one of the biggest ones. I searched around, but didn’t find anyone. I up-ended the bag and out tumbled more bundles of twenties. I didn’t have to count it to know how much, but I did. (Another ten grand.) This time there was also an envelope with my name on it. This was no accident.

In the envelope I found a handwritten note, a hard cardboard thingy with a hotel name on it, and a flier (for a Christmas party) from the same hotel. My heart pounded in my chest as I read the note.

Hey dude,

Glad to see you’re enjoying the money. Thought you could use a little more. But this is it and it isn’t a Christmas gift. No, now you have a job to do. It might even be a fun job. We just need you to pick up a woman named Angela, a regular at this Christmas party, and take her back to your room. (Use the hotel card-key here.)

Do what you must, but do not hurt her in any way, just make sure she spends the night. If I was you I’d fuck her good because it will be her last. It’s that simple. We’ll do the rest. And make sure you get your ass out of there by dawn. Or it will be YOUR last as well.

Think you can do that? I hope so. Your life depends on it.

The note fluttered out of my hand. It wasn’t even signed. I pounded my fist into the table. (Fuck!) I’d just started to turn my life around and now this. What was it all about? Where did it come from? Who’s this Angela? Who’s behind the note and the money? Shit like this really happens? Nothing made sense. I was back to restless nights.

Over the next couple of days I weighed my options. I could take the money and run, but it wasn’t really a lot of money. I’d managed to spend five grand of it in a few days. How long would the rest last on the run? I’d also just gotten things back on track. I liked my job (managing a small lube and gas station) and my apartment. No, I just couldn’t start over again. I thought about going to the police, but I’d had my brushes with the law and never really trusted them. Maybe my parents could help? But they were retired and had just moved down south. No, I have to figure this out on my own.

I gave it even more thought. Maybe I could just blow it off and take my chances…? But whoever was behind this seemed powerful. I mean, they got the money into my locked truck AND my locked apartment. And they knew that I was spending the money. Maybe they were watching my every move.

It felt like the walls were closing almanbahis yeni giriş in.

Did the note really say that it was her life or mine? (I must have read that note one thousand times.)

In the end it came down to my life and sanity or this unseen face, Angela. I know it was a shitty thing to do, but I decided it would be best if I go through with it. I got on my knees and asked for forgiveness.

Now that I’d made that decision, a new panic set in. Could I actually pull it off? After all, I’m not exactly a player. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been able to pull off a same night hook-up. (Meaning meeting someone new and having sex with them that same night.)

I’m an average-looking dude who is generally considered to be a “nice guy” (when he ain’t drinking). Usually it takes me many dates before I can score. And lately even that’s been rare. I’m talking a cold spell. I wasn’t keeping track, but I’m pretty sure it has been a couple of years since I had sex — period. (I’d even got to the point were I’d tried Internet dating. Met some nice ladies, but still no luck.)

I guess, lately, I haven’t really been trying all that hard. Like I’ve said, I’ve been trying to pull my life together. I’d stopped the boozing and had been going to the gym instead. I was making some effort to lose some weight and concentrate on work.

Strangely, it wasn’t until this happened that I realized how lonely I’d become. I mean, there was a part of me actually looking forward to this party and this challenge. (I really wasn’t all that afraid of the threat on my life, because I didn’t value it all that much…though I wasn’t ready for the pine box, either.)

I didn’t really have a lot of time to plan and prepare. The flier said the party was Saturday night. So I had two more days to get my act together.

The first thing I did was, under the cover of darkness, hide the remaining money in the woods behind where my parents used to live. (As a kid I buried a small lockbox and kept all my important stuff out there, so I knew its location well.) I needed a safe place just in case I had to make a run for it.

Then Friday after work, I dyed my light brown hair, cherry red. (The lady who sold me the stuff said it would wash right out.) I also picked up some blue-colored contacts for my hazel eyes. I figured if someone was trying to make me into a suspect, I’d change my look somewhat. Then, the next day I’d just revert back to my old look.

Saturday morning I packed a bag like I would for an overnight trip, except I included a few extras. I tossed in some strands of rope that had been noosed, and some bandannas. If I managed to get her to my room, she was spending the night — one way or another. For extra insurance I also tossed in my folding knife. It was small, but razor sharp and quite lethal (not to mention illegal).

I didn’t know if I was ready, but it was party time.

The drive was long and nerve-racking. I made one stop to pick up some condoms and lube. Once I got to the hotel, the hardest part was mustering up the courage to go to my room. I was really apprehensive about what I might find. But, to my relief, the room was empty and quite nice. I kept my bag packed, but settled in and tried to relax. I had five hours until the party started. I used the time to scope out the place. I was really paranoid (and I don’t smoke grass), afraid that someone was trying to set me up.

At last I got dressed and headed to the party. It was located in this fancy ballroom. I went straight to the bar and ordered a soda water with lime. (Tonight wasn’t the time to fall off the wagon.) I also gave the bartender a twenty-dollar tip. He wasn’t busy yet, and the tip worked; we chatted. He said he knew Angela. I pumped him for info. He said she started coming here recently, every Saturday. He said she was the kind of gal that you notice. He also said that she seemed to like sharply dressed men and was always on the prowl for fresh faces. He called her a “good time girl.” I gave him another twenty, and he leaned real close and offered me one final piece of advice. “Play up the fact that you don’t drink. Her husband was killed by a drunk driver, so she never goes for a drunk.”

It stung (I’d been popped for DUI), but I kept that in mind. I also went to my room and put on my tie that I’d thrown into my bag almost as an afterthought. It was a gift from my grandmother and had candy-canes and Christmas shit on it. It only added to my uneasiness.

When I returned to the ballroom, the bartender that I’d been cozy with pointed to a pretty blonde in a simple red dress standing at the end of the bar.

“That’s her?” I mouthed. He nodded and smiled. I had my work cut out for me.

I watched her make the rounds. She seemed to have a nice word or a hug for everyone. I sat back (God! I’d so wanted her to be a bitch) and waited for an opportunity. It happened about an hour later, when a woman she was talking with was asked to almanbahis dance. My target was alone! I moved in and ordered a soda water with lime — and made sure she heard me. She offered me a smile. I returned it and offered her a drink. She politely refused.

“Don’t drink either?” I said, slyly sitting down next to her.

“Ah…,” she giggled, holding up her wine glass. “A wine here or there.”

(Ouch! What an idiot.) “Yeah, same here.” (I lied. I hate wine, but it did get us talking.)

I found out that she was a lawyer who worked long hours, and Saturday night was her night to blow off some steam. I felt strangely relived that she was a fucking lawyer and that she appeared to be a little older than me. (I mean, lawyers suck, and she had already lived a nice life.)

I gave her my real first name but tossed out a phony last name. Then I lied and said I was a real estate developer far from home. (Yeah, the lonely businessman ploy.) I’m not sure she bought it, but I don’t think it mattered much. She wasn’t looking for a soul mate.

We danced (badly) for a couple of songs, and she also danced with this other guy that she must have known previously. I was really nervous about this guy because he seemed like my major competition.

The party was really cooking now and more guys were hitting on Angela. I figured I’d have to make my move. I ordered a couple of glasses of red wine and suggested we move to a table. I held my breath like I was back in junior high. She smiled and accepted. I exhaled.

Now that we were at a table, things seemed to be going well. I was doing my best to get her to laugh and generally have a good time. I thought things were going well, but couldn’t tell just how well. I was trying to figure out how to smoothly ask her back to my room, when I saw her dancing buddy moving our way. I hooked my foot around her chair and pulled her closer. He flashed me a dirty look, but he did go away.

“Well, that was subtle,” she said, with a giggle.

I apologized, but didn’t really know what to say. We shared an awkward moment. Then a thought hit me. “If you want to dance, I’d be more than happy.”

She just shook her head. This marked the height of my nervousness. I had a feeling that I was blowing it. (I knew I was acting desperate, because, frankly, I was desperate.) I suddenly remembered the talk with the bartender. I brought up the wine and how good it was and offered her another. She politely declined, saying that she had to drive and she’d had her limit. That’s when I mentioned my hotel room. She giggled. I even brought up the condoms. I thought she was going to give me that “subtle” line again, but she didn’t. Then she surprised me by accepting my offer for more wine. We had a few more glasses (so much for not falling off the wagon), and we danced and danced.

Finally the party was winding down, and I caught a break when “Lady in Red” was played by the DJ. I held her close and sang the words into her ear. At the end of the song, we shared our first kiss. She grabbed my hand and told me to take her back to my room. (So much for all that sweating.)

When we got to my room, I used the bathroom and made sure I washed up good. (I even washed my feet. I also did some silent cheering. I did it, I did it. Of all the guys here, she chose me.)

She freshened up next. Then we talked for a bit. She talked about her nieces and the presents she got them for Christmas. She seemed like the nicest person…at least someone who didn’t deserve the fate that awaited her in mere hours. I started to change my mind about this. She seemed to have a lot more going for her, and she seemed a lot smarter than me. I figured if I told her, maybe she’d know what to do.

She finally tapped me on the shoulder. “Hello, are you there?”

I nodded.

“Wow! I thought I was nervous.” She wiped my forehead. “Look, we don’t have to do anything.”

I closed my eyes. (It was time to tell her the truth.)

She stood up and kicked off her shoes. “Look, maybe I’ll just slip out of these clothes, and then you make up your mind.” She wore a sly smile as she started unbuttoning her dress.

I gulped. “That’s not really necessary.” (Did I really say that? The whole night I’ve been wondering what was under that dress.) “It’s just….”

She stopped her unbuttoning. “Do you have something to tell me?”

I took some breaths. “Ah, it’s just been a while.” (I wanted to tell her about the plot. I really did. But maybe I’d just let her get naked first. Then I’d tell her.)

“Well, you relax and let Angela fix that.” Her dress slithered down her body, and she kicked it aside. I exhaled. Her red dress had been so simple, almost plain. Under it she was wearing a shiny red strapless bra and matching panties. It was really sexy on her tight and tanned body. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, and, considering how much she liked to dance, it really shouldn’t have surprised me that she gave me a hot lap dance (but almanbahis adres it did). It was like once she lost that dress another side of her came to life.

Her lap dance left me hard as a rock. She must have noticed, because she turned around and gave me a wink. She turned off the main lights and flipped on a small lamp next to the bed. Then she moved in front of me and asked me to undo her bra. I did (hands trembling noticeably), but she pulled away and turned her back on me and dropped it to the floor. I was enjoying the teasing, but it wasn’t helping my nerves. With her back turned, she slithered her panties down her legs. (She was tanned all over.)

She turned around and used her hands to cover herself. She fluttered her eyes, feigning innocence, before she bounced over and tackled me back onto the bed. This caught me by surprise. She was kissing me all over and grinding into me. It was tough to resist. I tried to fight it, but it felt to good, and it had been too long. I’d almost forgotten how good a woman can make you feel. I wanted her as much as she seemed to want me. (Maybe I’d tell her afterward.) She lowered one of her nipples into my mouth. (Yeah, afterward.)

After enjoying her nipples, she sat on me and undid my shirt and spent some time kissing my chest before she moved lower and undid my pants. My heart was really pounding now; it was the moment of judgment. (I’m not exactly Mr. Foot-long.) She reached into my pants and grabbed hold of me.

“No problems here,” she purred.

I was relieved, but I also figured she was talking about the hardness factor.

“You said something about protection.” She yanked my pants and underwear down my legs and then off, leaving us both butt-naked.

I pointed to the nightstand by the bed. She hopped off and fished out the condoms and lube. I used the time to make sure everything was alright down there. She jumped back onto the bed. “Cool, lube too,” she said, looking it over.

“May I?” she said, ripping one of the packets open with her teeth. I was too numb to really say anything. My mind was just stuck on the fact that I was about to have sex, in this strange hotel room, with this hot blonde that I’d just met. It was surreal. (I’d really done it.)

She opened the lube and asked me to hold out my hand. I did it, numbly. She squirted some on my fingers, and then she flipped around so her ass was by my head. I got it now. I suddenly felt a warm sensation on my dick. Angela had taken my head of my cock into her mouth. She started slowly sucking as I slipped my fingers in between her legs and found her pussy. For a few minutes, she sucked, and I fingered. It was awesome.

“Yes, finger me.” she moaned, finally rolling on the condom. “Yes, lube me, honey.”

I chuckled a little, but I did just that. I pulled her over, and she obliged by moving one of her legs over me. She slid down so I’d have a better view. I used the lube to spread her open. Her pussy was simply amazing. It was so pink inside. I used my fingers to explore it. She was slowly stroking my cock, while also moaning periodically.

She let me have my finger fun, and then she announced that she was ready and climbed down my body and mounted me. She was facing away from me, but I figured she’d turn around in a bit, and she did. I just lay there as she rode me, while enjoying the view. It took me a little while to get over the fact that this was really happening. I finally shook myself and flipped Angela over. It was time for me to take charge. The sex was pretty much standard stuff (no swinging from chandeliers), except that she liked to talk. It was like she was doing play-by-play.

For a finale (I knew I was close), I suggested doggie style. She grinned and flipped over. “Just be careful with your aim back there.”

I laughed. I adjusted my condom and then slid carefully into her pussy. I tried to hold out as long as possible, but seeing her on her hands and knees in front of me was a bit too much. I grabbed hold of her arms and pulled back. I slammed her as hard and as fast as I could until I finally came.

I crashed down next to her. Seconds after, I was flooded with shame. It all came back to me why I was here. I cleaned up in the bathroom, but I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror. I just had to tell her now. Here was a woman willing to have sex with a guy like me after just meeting him, and, to top it off, she was good. No, I couldn’t leave her here to die. In fact, we needed more women like Angela. I wrapped myself in a towel and went back to her with purpose.

The thing was that, when I went back into the room, I just couldn’t seem to find a way to tell her. I was being held back by some simple facts. If someone wanted her dead, eventually they were going to do it. If not tonight then some other time. So why did I have to put MY life on the line? Plus, I’d already spent some of the money, so I couldn’t give it back. I’d gone too far already. She was already here, and we’d already had sex. (I’d also already cum. So my brain wasn’t working that well.)

She snuggled up next to me. She thanked me for a nice evening, and then she said that if I wanted to do it again I could and that she’d give me a little rest. (She wasn’t making this easy.)

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