(This is part three of a three part series. Please read the first two parts first. As always, your constructive comments and your votes are very much appreciated.)
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Jessica stood almost naked, dressed only in her sheer g-string in the living room of her apartment, frozen with fear. Of course she recognized Gerald Hershberger from the many pictures of the Country Club board members that she had seen. And while Gerald was about the only man on the board of the Country Club who hadn't hit on her incessantly during her time employed there, Jessica knew that this was probably more because he was almost never there.
Jessica also now knew that the man, holding her at gunpoint was a mob associate who was presumed to be dead in the explosion that killed his wife onboard their family yacht nearly a month ago.
It took no time at all for Jessica to add up all of the pieces: obviously Gerald had killed his wife to cover his own trail. And Muffy, Gerald's only daughter had been told the wrong information. Now Jessica saw that she was in mortal danger from a man who had little or nothing left to lose.
Gerald looked Jessica over appreciatively and casually reached over to the kitchenette counter for his half finished glass with his free hand, "Well the photo that my man in New Jersey sent me doesn't do you any real justice Jessica."
Jessica glanced quickly at the opened and now empty vodka bottle on the counter. Then she looked at Gerald with a questioning look on her face.
Gerald casually slugged the last sip from the glass then put the empty glass down, "You, Jesshica Fallon are eminently fuck-able!"
Jessica heard the slight slurring of speech and quickly realized that something was about to go very, very wrong for Gerald Hershberger. She knew instinctively that she had to stop him thinking the same thing.
Jessica tried to look terrified and knelt down on the floor with her legs spread and her hands laced over her head. She gave her crystal pendant an experimental wiggle to see how it rolled between her breasts. She saw instantly that the lighting here near the back of the apartment was wrong, so she gave up on it.
"Are you with the Police?"
Gerald smiled a cruel smile and leered, "No, I'm Melissa Hershberger's father. Melissha has been sending you money; don't bother to deny it!
If there's one thing I know about, its money laundering. Melissa has been withdrawing money from her trust fund and deliberately losing it to you on that poker WEB site for months now.
Although, I can't quite understand why she feelz that sshee has to do it sherecretly... Why doesn't shee shust ssend it to you for your little love nest here...?"
Jessica quickly lowered her head and stifled her smile: the fool had obviously helped himself to her supply of drugged vodka. Now the only trick would be to make him feel in control and relaxed until he became so relaxed that he would do whatever he was told.
Jessica knew from her own experience after Van had first slipped the drug into her drink then with using the drug on Veronica and then with Jim; once it got to that point, she would have to work fast: Gerald Hershberger was going to be taking a long nap very soon.
Gerald tried to puzzle it out and took a step into the living room. "Unlessh shee doesn't know that shees doing it..."
Suddenly Gerald put it together, "Shomehow, you and that fucking guy Arron... you've been shcamming her, haven't you? You lying, fucking cunt!"
Jessica waited and continued to try to look terrified while Gerald was obviously beginning to have trouble organizing his thoughts.
"I've already killed my wife... I shoulda killed the stupid little air head before I left too. Then I coulda got all her money before I hadta leave."
Ar-ite bitch! Hereshs what you're going to do. You will call Melissha back and have her come right out here. I'll just take the little cunt licking bish'sh money when shee gets here. Then I'll have you and all the money!" Gerald made a quick movement with the gun barrel towards a blue bag under the table, that Jessica knew wasn't hers.
"If your boyfriend Aaron wants to shee you alive again, he'll fork over the resht of the money. But you... instead of killing you, I might shee what I've been misshing out on firsht! I'll tie you up and let you shee what a real man can do for you instead of some little pushy licker like Melissha!"
Gerald began to fumble with his pants, with his free hand. "Ya kno... with Melisha out of the way... I could use a new daughter... It would help with my cover... with looksh like yoursh... You and me, we could jusch shail out on my boat... I can finally get what I want... any time I want, for the resht of my fucking life!" Gerald's pants slid to the floor, followed by his shorts.
Jessica looked up with her best pleading face, "I'll do anything that you want. Just don't hurt me please."
Gerald stepped unsteadily towards her and nearly tripped over the pants around his ankles. Jessica saw that his eyes were completely glazed over.
Jessica stood up tentatively.
Gerald reached out to take hold of Jessica, but missed her and had to steady himself by holding onto a chair.
Jessica calmly took her crystal necklace off. Then she held it up and began to let it swing slowly back and forth, "If its money that you want, you should look at my necklace Gerald. It's worth thousands of dollars! See how it sparkles.
The most valuable jewels always sparkle so nicely!
It always makes me feel very relaxed; relaxed and confident; so relaxed and confident; your arms are getting heavy Gerald.
A powerful man like you shouldn't need a gun to make a woman do everything that he wants.
Gerald, you feel that you don't need that gun to make me do exactly what you want.
You should put the gun down on the table."
Gerald swung his heavy arm over to the table and let go of the pistol.
"That's right. Now count with me Gerald. Count from ten all the way back to zero, the more you count, the more relaxed and confident you feel. Ten."
"Ten."
"That's right Gerald, you feel so relaxed and confident. Nine."
"Nine."
"Yes that's right Gerald. A powerful man like you can always kill someone after you get them to do anything that you want! Eight."
"Eight."
It took almost no time at all to install the two control words that Jessica needed to feel that she could just tie Gerald up with her pantyhose and let him sleep it off on the floor.
Jessica looked down contemptuously at Gerald as he lay sleeping, hog-tied on her floor, "I already know what a real man could have done for me. A real man could have been mine, except that I got mixed up with greedy men like you. But now I'll have to remember the one good man in my life as the one that got away... and that's only one of the problems that you are about to pay for, you murdering bastard!"
Jessica resisted the urge to kick the heartless, murderer in the head and went to look at the strange blue bag. She opened it and found bundles of money. Jessica looked closer at the money. She looked at the dates on the bills. She saw none that were printed more recently than ten years ago. This must be Gerald's 'get-away' money. He was planning all along for the day when he would leave his life in the U.S. behind.
Jessica sat and wondered what she was going to do now. She looked at the murdering, thief on the floor and realized that there was really only one thing that separated her from Gerald: it was a matter of degree. Jessica threw her business suit back on and went out to start her laundry.
Jim watched as the Aruban Postal worker locked the front door for their lunch hour closure. All morning, there had been no sign of Jessica at the only place on the Earth where he could think to look for her.
Jim had thought that all he had to do was to fly out to Aruba and camp out in front of the Post Office; then sooner or later Jessica would come strolling in to pick up her mail. But, after a day and a half, Jim was very disappointed to find that he was wrong.
Jim testily looked at his watch. He had just enough time to grab his bag from the hotel, checkout and fly back to do his hastily arranged double shift at the fire house. Then he could fly back for a full week here.
Jim had made some progress though; it seemed that they recognized Jessica, from the picture on Jim's cell phone, here at the Post Office. But to Jim's disappointment, they couldn't give him an address for her here on the island.
Jim did take the time to ask if they knew American money. Sure enough, two good old 'Ben Franklins' insured that Jim would get a phone call as soon as Jessica came to pick up her mail. Jim hesitated and wondered if there was anything more that he could do before he left for his six day shift back home. Jim decided that he could always hire a private detective if he needed to when he came back next week.
On the way back to the hotel, Jim reflected that he didn't give a furry rat's little ass what it cost: he was going to find Jessica. He was going to find her and ask her... well, he didn't have a clue what he would ask her. Jim just knew that he needed to find her!
After checking out from the hotel and taking a cab back to the airport, Jim stalked wearily through the airport lobby to find his gate and fly home.
Jim slowed down to before reaching his gate when he thought that he saw a familiar face in the crowd. A man was standing with a blue bag, watching a group of arriving tourists. The man was slowly reaching under the arm of his wind breaker.
Jim quickly looked over the large group of arriving tourists and saw just a bunch of people heading towards the baggage pickup area. He looked back at the man who was now pointing the pistol at the tourists. Jim instinctively sprang into action shouting, "Gun! Gun! Everybody get down!"
Jim closed the short distance between himself and the man in seconds, grabbing the gun with one hand and the hand that held the bag with the other hand, while pinning the man up against a column with the weight of his own body.
The man struggled weakly in Jim's grip and tried to get off a shot. The gun seemed to misfire and just clicked once. Everybody scattered just as the first two security guards arrived.
