Jack Stalker
Star
- Joined
- Dec 26, 2011
Jeff Dean was a little known reporter from a little known newspaper, destined to end up in the little known town of August.... a place where very little happened and when it did it wasn't of much note... and yet people were there and wherever there were people, Jeff knew that there was always a story to be found.
You just had to dig deep enough and get yourself dirty.
At first he'd been following the trail of a group of Tarot card readers from elsewhere, initially looking to expose them as charlatans, con men, tricksters and grifters... or blackmail them for cash... but then he'd stumbled onto something else, something that appealed to him far more than the promise of card readers gone bad, money, or anything else. It was a radio duo who had first attracted his attention with their odd stories, then attracted a lot more when he'd gotten a look at one half of the engaging pair.
Ellis Munro.
A 'sexy as fuck' little red head, who was certainly way too hot for the town she lived in. She'd first caught his attention with the sound of her voice, in his opinion it had been a mix of innocence, titillation and 'fuck me' all rolled into one... then she'd engaged his attention further, when he'd seen some promotional material for her show. Naturally he'd started to make a few enquiries about her at the radio station, subtly, a couple of behind the scenes technicians who could be bribed gave him what he wanted. The story developed fast, accusations about adulterous behaviour, thefts, a missing ring, then he got hold of something that was pure gold...
...footage of their 'In bed with Poe and Munro' show.
He had a feeling, immediately, that she was fucking her co host, or at least had been. No one went to bed for some radio show, (where the footage was simply an insurance policy to prove they had done the whole thing in bed), flashing that much skin, that much thigh, that much leg. If Poe hadn't fucked her, then he must have been a closet gay... and regardless of their situation, imagined or not, those images were enough to get him hard and keep him that way. He was still hard when he located the guest house where the Tarot card readers were staying, and as he had gone through the guest list and seen she was staying there too... well, that shelved all his plans regarding the tarot readers straight away. Fate had chosen another course of action for him, one that he as going to embrace completely.
The red head running the place was hot, there was no denying that, but Ellis? She was off the charts! The Tarot readers were forgotten, except for a fleeting thought that perhaps they had selected the guest house to stay in when the cards had revealed a simple fact... that any reporter who came looking for them there would be instantly diverted by Ellis's presence.
He didn't have time to get to know her, to woo her, to hit on her, to see if he was her type. He wanted her and he was going to have her. In his youth he'd used his looks and attitude to get what he wanted, now, even though he still considered himself to be handsome and in shape, he used his influence, knowledge and negotiation skills... blackmail in any other languages... to get what he wanted faster.
He booked a room at the place, the landlady was distracted by something and didn't ask too many questions. Getting Ellis' room number was easy enough. The rest fell into place with a simple text to her phone,
*** I know all about what you did. The theft. The things you did. When you hear me knock you best open the door and be prepared to talk. If you're honest with me, then the payment will be lighter. ***
followed by a knock at the door. He was a 'hands on' type of blackmailer, and he knew that he had more than enough 'talent' to get what he wanted from a woman and make sure she kept her mouth shut afterwards. 'Fuck them until they like it' was a fact in his mind.
He waited until he knew she was in her room, sent the text from outside her door, pressed his ear against it... heard her movement inside... then KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK. Of course he knew she would be able to pay him what he wanted, because he didn't want money... he wanted payment in flesh. He wanted her sweat, her moans, her writhing body against his. He looked at her and all he saw was someone he wanted to fuck senseless, to ruin for any other man who came after him, to claim her and show her that whatever she had experienced before would fade to nothing when compared to her memory of him.
He greeted the opening door with a broad grin. He struck quite an imposing figure, tall, dark haired with plenty of grey flowing down into his beard. Eyes which had a blend of cruel and merciful all mixed together. He wore a beat up leather jacket and a polo neck jumper over his raggedy blue jeans and black cowboy boots, and he carried a shoulder bag which weighed down his left shoulder.
"Evening Ellis. So... make me an opening bid..." he told her, inviting himself in, pushing the door closed behind him and dominating what little space there was left between them. "...and I'll tell you if it's going to be enough to satisfy me." he smiled at her, while letting his gaze roam about her from head to toe, taking in what she was wearing before settling on her face, her lips, her eyes.
If there was a more cute, more attractive and more fuckable woman in August, he hadn't seen her. "If you need something to call me, for the time being you can call me Mr Dean... or Sir." he finished. She'd get his name soon enough, he hadn't been secretive with it at the radio station... and he was booked in downstairs under it, such was his level of confidence that things were going to go his way... and ultimately hers as well. Given her job maybe she'd even seen some of his stories in the local news, seen how he sometimes dragged people through the mud, and sometimes seemed to shield them from exposure... but mainly how he was respected within the profession, respected enough that no one would believe her over the word of an 'honest' reporter, not with what she'd been doing.