The following story is a direct follow-up to 'Jen-Hewitt's Lover 1 and 2'. If you haven't read those and don't want to, or if you did and need a refresher, this is what has happened thus far: Angie was trying to set up Carl, her cheating husband, by plotting to trick him into thinking her new friend, Jennifer Love-Hewitt, wanted to have an affair with him. She snuck a video camera into Jen's hotel room to catch him in the act for evidence to be used against him in any eventual divorce settlement. While Angie kept Vinny--the man Jen was expecting to get a late night visit from--busy, Jen actually found herself to be quite enjoying her time with the dominating husband, Carl. In the morning, after Carl left and a regretful Angie went to see how Jen was and to retrieve the video camera before she got caught, Jen showed up as if nothing was amiss. Angie was confused about what had happened in Jen's hotel room. She needed the camera to find out, but also to cover her ass. But she was forced to delay, and ended up taking Jen to breakfast first...
Now they have just returned to the hotel room, and are surprised to find themselves not alone, as Angie tells the story...
"Oh! Jesus! You scared me!" Jennifer called out when she saw the black woman standing in the back of her room.
The woman was wearing a hotel maid's uniform, so we both calmed down a little upon recognizing that, but it was still wrong for her to be in there. Jen had left explicit instructions that no one was to enter her room to clean until after she'd checked out. She knew that plenty of sickos out there would pay top dollar for her panties, or anything else a rogue hotel employee might be able to wrangle up.
Turns out that was exactly what this was. But I saw right away that the worst possible scenario--one I hadn't considered--had become reality. The maid was holding my video camera.
"We need to talk, Jen-baby," the maid said. She seemed cool considering the seriousness of this confrontation, but she also spoke as if she'd been rehearsing it for an hour. "I have your tape. It's in a safe place."
Jennifer skipped the obvious question about what this woman was doing here. She knew, at this point, that it didn't matter. "What tape?"
Of course I knew, but nobody knew that. And while Jen had no clue about the camera, her face paled noticeably when she realized, if that camera had been in here last night and was recording, what was on it. Not having seen the tape myself, I was even more curious as to what went on after seeing that response from her. Until now she'd been acting like nothing odd had happened.
"Two hours of video," the maid said. "Some pretty sick stuff. Handcuffs...a leash..."
Jen started shaking. So did I.
"What do you want for it?" Jen asked. "How much?"
"I don't want money," the maid said coolly. "The paparazzi will pay me more to see it than you will to keep it a secret..."
Jen shook her head. "No. I promise you that isn't true. I will beat anything they offer. Millions. I will pay you millions. Please!"
Even though this was entirely my fault, I felt angry at the maid for blackmailing Jennifer. She was just a casualty of war in my plot, but the maid had turned her into the enemy. It wasn't right. "You so much as breathe a word about that tape to anyone," I said, "and you'll be sued for defamation of character and arrested for breaking in here--"
"No," Jen said, holding me back. She gave me a look that told me I was out of my league here. And it was true that I'd never had to deal with someone like this before, whereas she probably had. "Don't threaten her," Jen said. "This isn't about the money anyway, is it?"
The maid shook her head. "You're right. It isn't. Do you know my name?"
We both tried to read her name tag from across the room, but she caught us.
"I'll spot you my first name, Jen-baby. Charlotte. You can call me Char."
"Do I know you?" Jen asked.
Char grinned and shook her head. "Guess not. I was just the president of your biggest unofficial fan club a while back. Until you snubbed me on the red carpet. Twice. And when you were in town last time, I came up to you to ask you what your problem was--"
"And I had my bodyguards take you away. I remember you now. But they never told me your name. And I see lots of people on the red carpet--"
"Too late to explain yourself, Jen-baby. Too late. The tape is going out."
"Then why are you here? There must be something you want," Jen asked.
This seemed to catch Char off guard, and she broke eye contact for the first time, evidentially to think about what she had come here for. I had a feeling she knew, but maybe she just hadn't figured out how to ask for it yet, because so far everything she said seemed like it had been written in a script.
Jen slowly approached the woman, and I followed. I looked Char over, hoping to not find a gun or a knife, and I was pleased when I didn't. But as we got closer, I found that Char was still an intimidating woman. She looked to be in her mid-20s. Her skin was a dark chocolate color, and her long, thick hair was so black that it shimmered. She was over six foot tall. She wasn't at all skinny, but not fat, either, and if it weren't for her wide, curvy hips, huge bubble ass, and big, fat breasts, I might have considered her average size. When she had been talking to Jen, she looked angry, but now she just seemed shy and worried. I half expected her to run away.
For the next five or so minutes Jennifer pleaded with Char not to release the tape. She offered all kinds of money and apologized profusely for not being kind enough to her "biggest fan". But Char wouldn't hear it. She was adamant on releasing the tape. The whole exchange made me think that maybe my husband had fallen into my trap after all. And he must have really worked Jen over if she was this desperate to keep it a secret. But why, I wondered, would she be protective of that footage? If she was going to use it to go to the police and go after my husband for what he'd done, she would be wanting the tape back, but in reality Jen was just trying to bury it. And there was no reason she should be protecting my husband Carl, so the only one left to protect was...herself.
And as I tried to figure it out, I wondered, impossibly, if maybe Jennifer wanted to hide the tape because it didn't show her--as I first suspected--being manhandled by a creep. Maybe it showed her enjoying being dominated and humiliated.
I was still trying to convince myself of this unlikelihood when something Jen said snapped me out of it.
"That's right," she said. "If you're so adamant on ruining my reputation, let me give you a different tape to turn in. Something just as damaging, but not so embarrassing. I'll give you a nude tape. Six hours of me naked. That's better than your two hours."
