I remember reading the classic, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, as a youngster. Something about the duel personality of the main character hit home for me. I realized at an early age that I had an evil side.
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My family, neighbors, and friends would have laughed at the notion. Evil? Mean? Him? No way! I hid it well.
I'm Christopher. I am a twenty year old college sophomore. Eighteen months ago, I was a fresh high school graduate. I moved from my Connecticut home and enrolled in a well known Atlanta engineering college.
Coming from an upper middle-class family, I knew I had it easier than most. Mom and Dad had saved for my education. Although money wasn't going to be a problem, I was determined to be independent. I had the drive, competitiveness, and ruthlessness to achieve my goals.
All I needed was a bit of luck.
The luck came quite by accident, three weeks after I moved south for my freshman year. I was sitting in the parking lot of a local Best Buy. I had just purchased an expanded memory card for my digital camera and was testing the equipment.
I noticed the blonde locks of a woman as her BMW whizzed by me and parked across the isle and a few spaces down. Figuring that test pictures of a pretty blonde were better than the photos I had taken, I waited for her to exit the car.
I was surprised when she stayed in the car until a Volvo S80 Sedan stopped and idled in front of her vehicle. The blonde jumped from her car, gazed around the parking lot, walked quickly to the Volvo and jumped in.
I had three immediate thoughts. Damn, she's hot. Shit, I forgot to take her picture. This is weird.
As an eighteen year old, fresh from high school, I was naive. However, I'm not dumb. I knew something was strange and decided to follow the Volvo. I trailed the couple out of the shopping area and onto the interstate. Keeping three or four cars between us, we drove for twenty minutes and exited onto a busy commercial street.
A few miles down the street, the Volvo pulled into the parking lot of "The Bluebird," a cheap by-the-hour motel. I parked at the 7-11 across the street and took pictures of the man as he exited the car and went into the motel office. A few minutes later, I took more pictures as he walked back to the car, opened the passenger door, helped the blonde out and led her to room 103.
As soon as the hotel room door closed, I reviewed the eighteen photos I'd taken. I was mesmerized when I had a chance to study the blonde. I guessed that she was in her mid-thirties. She was dressed like a professional in a dark emerald green blouse, black knee length skirt/suit set and black pumps with a two inch heal. She had sexy legs and a nice set of tits.
The man was nothing special. He was average height, a bit over weight with a small tire around his middle and was balding. I guessed that he was in his early forties.
I waited almost three hours for the couple to emerge from the room and almost missed them when they did. I snapped a few additional pictures and high-tailed it back to Best Buy .
I arrived before the pair and positioned myself so I could take photos of her as she exited the Volvo. I wanted the Best Buy sign in the background. The sedan barely came to a stop, before the blonde jumped from the passenger seat and briskly walked to her car. I was able to get three great shots of her before she roared out of the parking lot.
You might think that I had a plan worked out in my head, but that would be a lie. I was running on the instinct of a dumb eighteen year old. I decided to follow the woman. We drove ten minutes to an office building that housed Marlin Real-estate and Marlin Mortgage.
It was approaching 4 p.m. As it was Tuesday, I doubted the woman would be working too late, so I hung out in the parking lot. At 4:45, she came out of the building with two other professionally dressed women. She got in her car and I followed again.
After leaving work, her first stop was a local grocery store. I took a few quick photos and followed her in. I'm glad I did. She had a short list in her delicate hand. Her fingers were tipped with long red fingernails.
Her shoulder length blonde hair was parted. It bounced as she glided down the food isles. It was difficult to see the size of her breasts as she was wearing a waist length suit jacket. Her suit skirt hugged her swaying hips.
When my mystery woman stooped to pick up a box of cereal from the bottom shelf, I could see a gap between her skirt top and her blouse and suit jacket. The sexy lace of her string thong rode up over the top of her skirt. I wondered if thongs were part of her everyday attire or if she wore it for her afternoon rendezvous.
Her next stop was an after-school day care. I took pictures as she hurried inside and returned a few minutes' later, leading two children. I guessed her daughter was ten and her son was seven.
Heading south, I followed as the family drove to an upper middle-class neighborhood. They arrived in their driveway just before a second car. I laughed when I realized that "Dad" was home also.
Parking four houses away, I finished my afternoon activities by taking pictures of the days end reunion. Dad hugged and kissed his wife and children and led them into their home.
It would have been a perfect Norman Rockwell moment, except I knew that Mom had spent her afternoon getting banged in a third rate motel.
As I said, I did not have a plan. I spent that evening trying to determine the possible uses of the information. My final list contained sixteen uses, but three stood out like a blinding light; power, money and sex.
The next morning, I phoned the receptionist at The Marlin Companies. Introducing myself, I started, "Hi, my name is Chris. Last weekend, I met a woman from your company and we talked about a new mortgage. I lost her business card and forgot her name, but I'd like to do business with her. She's in her thirties and has blonde hair."
"I'm sorry sir, but that describes a number of employees."
"The only other thing I remember is that she drives a BMW."
The receptionist chuckled, "That makes it easy. You met Mrs. Roy. Michelle Roy. Would you like me to connect you?"
"Michelle Roy. Yes, that's right. I'd rather get her email address and send her my requirements before I phone her." After getting her email address, I disconnected the call.
I debated on what to write Mrs. Roy in the initial email. In the end, I filled in "Tuesday afternoon at The Bluebird" in the subject line and sent six photos of Michelle and the fat guy going into the hotel.
Her response took two minutes and simply said, "Who are you?"
I did not respond until the same time the next day. I sent seven photo's of the couple leaving the motel and climbing into his car.
That day, the response took less than a minute, "I'm going to call the cops, if you don't tell me who you are."
"Sure you are Michelle," I thought to myself.
Classes were starting that day, so I was busy. When I checked my email account after dinner, Michelle had sent three more notes. Two were threats and the last simply asked, "What do you want?"
On Friday morning, I sent an email that included Michelle climbing from the man's Volvo and moving toward her BMW. It also included a picture of her at the grocery store, two from the daycare facility and one of the day end reunion with Dad.
I let Michelle stew over the weekend. I'll admit, I was swamped with work from my first week of classes and spent a few hours in the library. I did not want to get behind.
On Saturday evening, one of the university's fraternities hosted the first party of the year. Around 11 p.m., I hooked up with a cute southern belle. She was also a freshman and dressed in a white tee-shirt and tight blue jeans.
We danced for three or four dances and then fought our way through the crowd and to the bar. We shared two shots and two beers. We were buzzed and spent some time kissing on a worn couch in the corner of the basement.
