Firstly, this is the first time I've used an editor to review my work -- and I'm so glad I did. Heartfelt thanks to SyleusSnow for the suggestions in rewording, editing and corrections. If there are any mistakes they've occurred post editing where I've made some minor tweaks so they will be on my head.
With the story, I've found it difficult on how to classify it but have stuck with erotic horror as it's loosely tied to Halloween. It does introduce some mind control and non-consensual sex but I believe it blends into the story line sufficiently not to align to those classifications.
It is dark tale; it's would you expect from a Halloween tale. May not be everyone's cup of tea and it's simply fiction so read away at your peril!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I felt great. Better than great: I felt like the king of the fucking world. I'd spent $15,000,000 acquiring a Ferrari collection that included a special new toy: a 1950 Ferrari 166 MM Berlinetta Le Mans, of which only six were ever made.
A Swiss industrialist had owned and loved the collection. It turned out there was something he loved more: pounding his 25-year-old leggy secretary over his office desk. A few days before, he'd died of a heart attack caused by an excess of Viagra and a dodgy heart he didn't know he had.
Using my contacts, I found and called the deceased's widow two days after he died. She had inherited the collection, but I suspected she hated it more than she hated her now dead husband.
I knew I could make them mine as soon as the opportunity arose and it was here and now.
I let on that a little birdy in the business had hinted to me that the late husband expected the whole collection to pass on to the Monaco Top Car Museum, to be displayed in a small hall dedicated to him. If she wanted a way to torture his soul, breaking up his beloved automobile collection was a way to do it and I'd happily give her $15,000,000 for the privilege to help. This was all that was required to fan the anger she held towards her dead husband so, agreeing to fly to Geneva the next day, we arranged to meet to finalise the deal. This meant I could fly back home to be there for our annual Halloween party.
So who am I? My name is Randy De Groot with an American dad and a Dutch mom. My dad was often over from the US in Holland on business, where he met my mom who was the senior accountant at the firm he did business with. They had a few liaisons during his visits, then she suddenly wound up pregnant with me. My dad wanted me terminated, but I thank my mom for letting nature take its course. She moved to the US before I was born and I was named Randy, same as my dad and his dad before him. My parents didn't marry--I think they realised they were not meant for each other in the long run. So at two years of age I moved with my mom to Antwerp where I live today.
To be fair to my dad, he never abandoned me. He paid his way, even though my mom was fully able to support us both. By five years old I was spending weeks at a time in the US with my dad and by the time I was school age, I would spend the longer holidays out with him. I knew he was into automobiles; his business at the time was centred around importing & exporting automotive parts as a wholesaler. He saw an opportunity when online retail came about and set up a worldwide business. Three years later, he sold that business for enough money that he never needed to work again if he chose. He kept working as a hobby and that's how I became a chip off the old block.
My dad collected automobiles. Not the shit that people drive around in, but the special ones: the ground breaking, the rare, the fastest things on the planet or other reasons that made them special. He said they were his toys, once he made his mind up to obtain something no-one was going to get in his way to stop him. I went with him to look at a first-generation Firebird Convertible that was for sale, actually one of only eight produced. It was being sold by the family of the previous owner who had died--but there was a catch: the previous owner had a giant airbrushed picture of his wife sprayed on the bonnet of the car, to show off his two most precious things at once. His wife died several years before him, so the car became a shrine and sat inside his garage with no more than 5k miles recorded. The catch was that whoever brought the car had to sign an agreement that the mural would never be painted over--in memory of his wife.
My dad looked at the car and surprised me when he acted sad. He told the family it's so important to remember loved ones and cherish their memories. Thirty minutes later, the sale was finalised and he happily signed the agreement before calling to a shipping agent to come get the car. As soon as we left, his mood changed and he was ecstatic.
He told me he loved his toys and would do whatever he needed to do to get them, short of stealing or killing someone--although, to be honest, he did say he had stolen the car at the price he had paid.
Dad, why did you suddenly become sad at the house?" I asked, I'd never seen my dad change like this.
"I could have just paid the money they wanted for it but it's a game son, I look for avenues of weakness to exploit, in this case it was the sentimental value. As you'll get older you'll understand that everybody has a weakness in some way. Find that chink to exploit and once you hone that craft you'll get what you want, every time." He turned and smiled and I nodded my head accepting his pearl of wisdom.
The car went straight to a paint shop and the mural was painted over, restoring the car to its original state. The family that sold the car took my dad to court a few months later and he took me along as he thought I'd enjoy it. Turns out the agreement was signed by "M Mouse." No one realised until the court hearing. My dad burst into laughter as we walked away.
