Breakfast was, as expected, more than a bit awkward. Not only did Ted have the unpleasant task of telling Melissa that they were being blackmailed, but he had to convince her that it was, in fact, reality, and not some story he'd concocted to get her to agree to another night of wild, uninhibited sex.
The story itself didn't convince her. She replied that he didn't need to go to such extremes in order to get her to have another sex session the coming evening. Though she didn't remember very much, she was still sore "down there," which meant she must've had a good time and would be interested in having a good time again. For Ted, her reference of "down there," instead of referring to her body parts in more graphic terms, like "pussy" or "cunt" meant that she was no longer under the influence of The Mix. Which in turn meant that she could look at the whole situation with a clear head and find a way out of it before their scheduled command performance that night. Hopefully.
Upon showing her the pictures he'd received the prior night, Melissa had blushed deeply and told him to put those away. They were in a public place, for heaven's sake. They weren't enough to convince her, though, as she did sort of remember him taking pictures of her. Though she was a little concerned about how, and most importantly where, he'd had those pictures printed out. Had someone at the local photo printing store seen her? And when did he have time to get them printed?
It was the list of email and print addresses that the blackmailers had used to pound him into submission that finally made her believe him. That complete and alphabetically arranged list was just a little too much detail for this to be a prank. With that realization, the blush that had covered her quickly turned white as she blanched at the thought of someone not only watching them have sex, but recording it and threatening to make it public.
Suddenly not very hungry, they paid for their breakfast, bought a couple of donuts and some coffee to go, then drove to a nearby park overlooking the lake. It was early enough on a Saturday morning that the park was nearly deserted, save for a couple of joggers making their determined way along the city's scenic hiking path. They had the place to themselves. Still, Ted kept the windows mostly up so no one could overhear as he told his wife the sordid details from the previous night's activities, from the answering of the phone call to the arrival of the pictures to the threats and finally his acquiescence to the whole nasty affair.
As he spoke, Ted both wished that Melissa would come up with a solution to the problem, but a tiny part of him hoped that she wouldn't. The former would mean that they wouldn't have to complete the deal that he'd agreed to in the heat of the moment. But it would also mean that he hadn't been smart enough to figure a way out on his own. A failure he would have to live with for the rest of his life.
Melissa asked several good, pertinent questions. Ted answered as best he could. But even after hashing it out over and over, neither of them could find a fool-proof way out of the predicament. That was the most frustrating part. Their best play, to call the blackmailers' bluff, was also the most dangerous. She had their children to protect, a teaching career on the line, and he had the entire family and their reputation to protect. Playing the odds with all that on the line was a bluff they couldn't make. They both agreed that the blackmailers didn't even have to send out pictures to everyone on the list. That was a nuclear option when all they needed was a surgical strike. A few, select emails to the Superintendent of Schools, to his employer, to a couple of people on the subdivision board would do plenty to tarnish their reputations without exposing the blackmailers to much scrutiny. It would be that easy.
"There's more," Ted said softly, after Melissa had been quiet for far too long, her thoughts on the horrible predicament they were in.
"More? What more could they want?" Melissa asked, anger beginning to take the place of self-pity. If she got her hands around just one of their necks...
"More as in this," Ted replied, pulling out the slip of paper he'd found that morning on the floor by the hotel room door. He handed it to her to read, its contents already burned into his memory.
He'd found the paper first thing in the morning, as he made his way to the bathroom. Memories of the prior night's activities were swirling around his brain, a mix of a particularly erotic dream and a sadistically neurotic nightmare. His had mind snapped back to reality the second he felt that paper crunch under his bare foot. For only a micro-second did he think that the hotel management had somehow made a mistake and mistakenly checked them out of the room. Then he realized that it must be a communication from "them." One he couldn't let Melissa see until all had been explained to her.
Standing in the bathroom, silently swearing, both aware and uncaring that they might be watching him, he read the letter:
"Congratulations. You have completed night one of your sexual adventure. We're sure you enjoyed yourself – we have the proof – and are looking forward to additional adventures tonight. To help make your stay as exciting as possible, we ask that you spend part of your day purchasing a few helpful accessories for this evening's activities. Best of all, you'll get to keep your new toys when you head home, as a token of this weekend's adventures. Remember, failure to comply with these simple instructions would be construed as a breach of contract, and would force us to unleash all the penalties we have previously discussed.
"You may purchase the following items at any of the four addresses listed on the reverse of this letter. Please be assured that this list has been created just for you. There is no possibility that these purchases will tie you in any way to any other couples that may have participated in our program before you.
"NOTE: Today's activities will begin promptly at 8 P.M. Please do not be late.
You are to purchase... "
Ted had scanned the rest of the letter, eyes still blurry from the night before, the awful fluorescent lights making the words on the paper swim in and out of focus. The language in the letter sounded like it had been written by a 16-year-old who watched too many lawyer shows, or maybe a first-year law student with the adolescent humor of a 16-year-old. Either way, the items they had to purchase were very exact, and Ted wondered briefly if the authors had used the same Adam & Eve catalog that he'd used. The note had everything except the SKU number for each item.
Ted waited until his wife had read the whole note, front and back. She'd surely noted, as had he, that one of the stores was located on the interstate about a half hour away. Surely far enough away, and with enough impulse traffic, to ensure that nobody would connect their purchase with anything to do with their hotel. Unfortunately, it was still only 10 a.m., which meant they had to try and act normal while filling the time between now and the time the store opened.
"Well, I'm not going to brood about this and let it ruin our weekend away," Melissa said resolutely, crumpling up the letter and dropping it on the floor of the car. That surprised Ted, because he had actually planned to brood about it all day and let it ruin their weekend away.
"So, whaddya wanna do?" he asked, taking her hand and squeezing it reassuringly.
