On their way to the abandoned cabin, a stop was made for Plan B in which Bill quipped to her, “You really should just use birth control and be done with it.” In response, he received a scoff, and the subject being ignored when she returned. Conversation was not a part of the trip onwards as the plan was pretty straightforward: Enter abandoned cabin; Open trap-door; Take whatever’s there and leave.

The tool-kit in the back seat’s footwells jangled about as they traversed the rougher areas, closing in on their destination.

“Do you even know what to do if there’s a padlock on that thing?” Frankie asked with a raised brow.

“Yeah. I double-checked it on YouTube to be sure.”

“You knew how to get past a padlock without a key beforehand. Riiight.”

Bill tapped Frankie on the shoulder and pointed in front. The abandoned cabin was in view, but they weren’t the only visitors that morning. An empty, black sports car was in their line of sight.

“You sure nobody else worked with Dante?” Bill whispered.

“Yes, I’m sure. I don’t know who that is.” Frankie pulled her phone out, set it horizontal, snapped a few pictures and rested it in her lap.

“Keep that camera ready. Whoever’s in there has to come out eventually.”

With no time wasted, a young couple exited the abandoned cabin. Giggling and smiling as they chipped down the steps, jumped into the car and crunched away from that spot. The jeep’s passenger door clicked open, but Bill raised his index finger and dropped it after about thirty seconds before they both exited and proceeded to the house. Upon entry, the interior showed no real difference to their last visit except for the absence of a boisterous Italian man who enjoyed waving his machismo around. Bill approached the trap-door, squatted and grumbled.

“What is it?” Frankie asked, stopping behind Bill’s stooped body.

“The hasp looks out of place.”

“Well, open it. Let’s see what’s in there.”

Bill flipped the hasp and opened the trap door. No downstairs secret room here. Only a deep compartment below the floorboards capable of hiding items you’d prefer out of the public eye. In this case, nothing of value occupied it. That is unless you fancied empty spaces.

“Bill…”

“Yes, Frankie.”

“There’s nothing there.”

“I know, Frankie.”

“Why is…” She swallowed, sighed with closed eyes and resumed when they reopened. “Why is nothing there?”

“I don’t know, Frankie.”

A mannequin state possessed them for a few moments. Both stared at the void of the open trap-door.

“Alright.” Bill broke out of the trance. “Alright, am… your phone.” He turned to her, snapping his fingers. “The pictures you took just now. Check them. License plates, maybe am, we could take a better look at those kids, figure out who they ar–”

“What’s the point?” Frankie pouted, then turned and paced towards the exit.

“Excuse me?” Bill stood and winced at the cracking of his knees.

“Like, why bother going any further with this? All because I was greedy. Why couldn’t I be like every other college girl? Getting a regular job or stripping? Nooo, I had to go start selling drugs. What a fucking moron.”

“Hey!” Bill barked, making Frankie straighten out her stance with a wide-eyed stare. “This isn’t the time to feel sorry for yourself.” Bill stepped forward and held her shoulders. “Yeah, you sold some pot – which was a bone-headed thing to do – but you did it. And from what I saw, you were pretty decent at it.”

“Only decent?” She gave a fake smile.

“I’m not done.” Bill’s tone didn’t match hers. “You earned that money. Was it a legal way? Preferred way? Absolutely not. But the point is, you earned it. I watched how you were with your… customers. You’re a natural saleswoman. Dante was lucky to have you, and as far as I’m concerned, you deserved way more than the lousy ten percent he wanted to give you. So let’s put our heads together, find out who those kids are and get a hold of whatever the hell was in here.”

“You really think they have it?”

“Think, not sure. But what else do we have, right?”

Frankie jutted out her lower lip, glanced up at him with a smile and raised her phone to scroll through her recent pictures. Combinations of swipes and finger splays between index and thumb dominated the next two minutes until she squinted and released a hmm.

“Got something?” Bill asked.

“Maybe. This girl, I recognize her.” Frankie showed Bill a zoomed-in photo of the smiling brunette coming down the stairs.

“Who is she?”

“Amy’s little sister. Amy that used to be over all the time? We went to high school together?” Frankie’s gestures continued, but Bill’s facial expression showed no signs of familiarity with the name.

“Anyway, I’m going to check through my IG list. I think she follows me. Or do I follow her? Can’t remember.”

“Alright, well.” Bill walked towards the exit, opened it and looked back. “Just find her on the uh, what did you call it again?” He waved his hands in circles with a squint.

“Instagram. And, I just found her. What should I text her?”

“Make up an excuse to meet her.” Bill jogged down the steps, and Frankie soon followed. “You’re the texting specialist; you figure it out.”

***

Jagged Edge Institute’s only request was a twenty-five-minute drive from the cabin. Not too unreasonable given their goal. During the drive, Frankie and Melissa – her friend’s eighteen-year-old little sister – chatted via texts and voice notes to build rapport. They took a break when Frankie and Bill arrived at the institute and made their way to her dorm. The security stop was nothing but a formality as they stated their identities, who they were visiting and received directions on where to go. They climbed a broad, curled set of stairs and searched for dorm 3A. Five doors down the hallway, and it was within knocking distance.

Two raps, then silence. Wait. Another two raps, then the door opened.

“Heeey.” Melissa shrieked and bear-hugged Frankie, who was only a few inches shorter. Both shared a svelte build, albeit Melissa’s bust was more rounded.

“Melissa, it’s been so long. Oh, this…” Frankie thumbed Bill’s chest. “This is my step-dad–”

“Mr Lorde.” Melissa stepped forward and half-smiled with an extended hand. “I remember you.”

“Nice to see you.” Bill shook her hand and gave a polite nod.

“Well, come in, come in.” Melissa flattened against the doorway, allowing her guests to filter in, and then closed it. One side of the room had neatly folded sheets, organized books on a shelf and shoes aligned at the foot of the bed. The other side had clothes strewn on the bed and floor, hanging drawers and open books either face down or up with crumpled leaves.

“So, what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”Melissa sat on the tidy bed, leaving her guests standing.

“I’ll get right to it.” Frankie waved her hands around in front of her as if trying to conjure up a spell. “We believe you may know about a black briefcase…”

“Suitcase.” Bill nodded. “It’s definitely a suitcase.”

“Right,” Frankie continued. “A suitcase that was in the abandoned cabin you were at this afternoon.”

Melissa jumped back against the wall. “How did you... Oh my God, were you following me?”

“Follow?” Frankie asked, “No-no, Melissa, I didn’t even know you still lived in the city before today.”

Melissa scooted to the side, away from them and stood closer to the door. “What is this about?”

“Kid, relax. It’s nothing weird or anything like that.” Bill took a step forward; Melissa took a step backwards, prompting Bill to stop and put his palms up. “Look, it’s nothing dangerous, but there was something in the house that belongs to us, and when we checked after you guys left, it wasn’t there anymore.”

Melissa scanned the room, and her mouth quivered.

“Melissa.” Frankie sat on her bed and patted next to her. “Please, sit with me. You’re not in trouble or anything.” She patted the mattress again, and Melissa slid across the floor before easing her bottom onto the spot Frankie highlighted. Eyes opened wide and staring like a lamb; they shifted between her two visitors.

“Is this about the trap door?” she asked, leaving Frankie and Bill to glance at each other, then at her.

“Yes,” they both replied.

“Okay. Well, I noticed something strange today.”

“What?” Bill asked.

“Well, it didn’t have a padlock on it. That’s a spot my boyfriend and I usually go to…” she paused, swept the floor with her eyes, then looked up at Bill. “...have fun and um… well there was this guy that was there for a little while, and we couldn’t use that spot. But I realized when he stopped coming around, and we were able to go there again, the trap-door had a lock on it.”

“It didn’t have one before?” Frankie asked.

“No,” Melissa said. “It didn’t. And Pete – my boyfriend – would always stare at it. Stare at that lock; he’d just stare. Every single time since that other guy left. Wait, did you know him?”

“Let’s not worry about right now. Did your boyfriend know the guy that was there before?” Bill asked, making Frankie shoot a dagger-filled stare at him.

“No, I doubt it. We never talked to him or anything. It’d just be us driving up, seeing him dawdling around, and we’d leave.”

“So this Pete,” Bill started, “Your boyfriend. Was he staring at the lock today? Same as before?”

Melissa rubbed her chin, knitted her brows, then slapped her thigh with the chin rubbing hand.

“No, he didn’t. Now that I think about it… Oooh, that son of a bitch.” Melissa’s nose wrinkled, and Frankie scooted away from her.

“What?” Bill asked.

“Before our little rendezvous, he picked me up from the mall, right? When I was packing my bags into the trunk, he had a toolbox in there. Get this: he never drives with any. Oh-ho-ho. Oh my God.”

Frankie and Bill shared glances with each other in response to Melissa’s mood change from timid lamb to rabid wolf.

“Is it possible, he broke through the padlock and snatched what was in there?” Frankie went to touch her shoulder but then retreated when Melissa snapped a glare at her.

“You bet your ass he did.” Melissa’s voice rose. “Oh, I’ve had it up to here with him. The cheating, the lies. ‘I’ll never lie to you again, babe. No secrets from now on, babe’,” she said in a mocking tone.

“Hey, if you want to stick it to him, helping us get our stuff would be the way to do it,” Bill said with a head nod.

“I can give you the fucker’s address.” Melissa’s forearms tensed, grabbing a fistful of her sheets.

“How about somewhere he frequents instead?” Bill responded. “I got an idea.” Frankie looked at him with a querying head-shake, and Bill mouthed, “I’ll tell you when we leave.”

“Okay,” Melissa said. “I’ll help you, but under one condition.”

“What is it?” Frankie sighed and slouched.

“I really wanna hurt him. Ya know? Like he hurt me.”

“How?”

“Well, sixteen-year-old me had a huge crush on Mr Lorde.” Melissa stood and placed her hands on her hips. “I want to do something risqué. A video, perhaps? That’s if you don’t mind, of course.” She smirked.

***

Bill and Frankie stood in the distant corner from a seated Melissa, who scrolled through her phone. Their argument – if it could be even called such – was nothing but barely audible whispers.

“Bill, I don’t think you should do it.”

“She wants me to record a video of me fucking her. Jesus Christ, what is wrong with your generation?”

“Hey, don’t put this on my generation. And besides, it’s way too far. You already cheated on mom with me.” Frankie shuddered, then continued. “But to do it with someone else? It’s too much.”

“Yeah, but she isn’t going to give us her guy-friend unless I do this. We don’t have a choice.”

Frankie grabbed the back of her head, winced, and then nodded with her eyes closed.

“Look, I’m not a big fan of this option either,” Bill said.

“Getting to fuck another piece of young ass? Like hell, you aren’t.” Frankie rolled her eyes.

“I’m being serious here. Just… just go outside, I’ll take care of this, and we’ll discuss my idea after, alright?”

Frankie huffed and puffed.

“Alright?” Bill asked again.

“Fine,” Frankie responded with an aggressive whisper, marched through the door, and closed it softly behind her.

Melissa strolled to Bill, held his hands, then backed up to her bed and sat. “Have you ever used a GoPro before?”

“Not even sure if I know what that is.”

“It’s a camera. I have one you can mount on your head and wear to record you having sex with me.”

“Ah, okay.”

“You’re nervous, Mr Lorde? Bill?”

Bill winced and said, “It’s just weird to me, being part of some revenge plot. Like a soap opera or something.”

Melissa smiled, reached over the foot of the bed – ass in the air, towards him and almost exposed under her sun-dress –and plucked out a GoPro attached to a head mount. She stood, carried Bill through a quick tutorial on the basic functions he would need to carry out his task, and then fit it onto his head.

“I wish I could see his reaction when he watches this.” Melissa sat down, dropped Bill’s bottoms to the floor and said, “Start recording. I want him to watch from the beginning; with me sucking you off.”

Bill started the recording and shifted around as the young woman kissed his thighs, then limp cock, before gobbling it up with his balls. “Jesus,” he said, fighting the urge to look up and keep the action in focus.

Melissa hummed with his instruments in her mouth before only the balls could fit. His cock lay across her face, and she continued sucking his balls while looking directly at him. One of her tiny hands grabbed the head, rubbed it, then slipped down to the base as his balls popped out of her mouth. Their weight may have pulled him to the earth’s core if not for her hand cupping them to keep him steady. Down her throat, his cock went, and she gagged repeatedly, causing her irises to disappear for a moment. After releasing him from her slimy throat, a smile broke from her visage, all strung with saliva and speckled with bubbles. With no hands, she pushed forward onto his cock and towards his pelvis again, braced against the thighs, bobbing up and down, making obscene noises with her throat.

Glark! Glark! Glark!

Bill stood firm, daring not to veer away from her depraved actions below. His cock stiffened as she reached behind and pulled up her sun-dress, exposing her round buttocks planted on the mattress. Melissa then rolled backwards, legs elevated and fingered herself until an orgasmic cry broke from her throat.

“She barely touched herself before she came. Was that real? Did she fake it to get under her boyfriend’s skin?”

Bill went to add his fingers to the mix, but Melissa slapped them away and said, “Don’t finger me. Just fuck me.”

To avoid any argument or encourage delays, Bill tapped her mound twice, then eased inside. Melissa’s face contorted initially, but relaxed as Bill went balls deep. The more her insides stretched to accommodate him, the more her mouth gaped to reflect it. With two legs pinned to her ears by the knee-pits, Bill delivered firm strokes – or at least he believed they were.

“Harder. Please, fuck me harder!” Melissa snarled, her mouth spitty, her eyes crazed. Bill crashed into her body with more impact, and she released guttural moans; as if a wild animal was trapped inside of her and its bellows could only escape through her vocal cords.

“Doggy, then… fuck…” She grabbed his hips and looked down at her cunt as he pounded it. “Stop for a moment, baby. Stop.” She gestured with her hand at the camera, and Bill paused the recording.

“Sorry, I paused instead of stopping it.”

“No, that’s okay. I want you to fuck me doggy, then cum on my face.”

“Why the face?”

“If he sees you cumming on my ass, big deal, right? But on my face?” Melissa shifted to all fours, tucked her legs together and pushed her hips back before looking behind. “…that would kill him. Seeing another man shooting his load all over my pretty face. Oooh man. It’s such a big ‘fuck you’ since it’s POV.”

“Okay.”

“You cool with that? Cumming on my face, I mean?”

“Sure. Haven’t done it in years, but I can manage.”

“You don’t do it with Mrs Lorde?”

“Kid…”

“I’m sorry, that’s crossing a line. Shouldn’t have asked. Anyhow, let’s get back to um... ”

“Right.”

Bill almost scoffed at her ‘crossing a line’ comment. As if what they were doing wasn’t more severe than an inappropriate question. He shoved his hard prick into her cunt from behind and grabbed her hips tight. A procession of hard thrusts followed, and anyone close to the outside must have heard their flesh meeting.

Bill could have cared less.

The mention of his wife triggered strokes that intensified with each. He clenched his teeth and grabbed a handful of hair while pounding her tight, wet pussy; a pussy that sent shockwaves through his body. For a moment, all colours brightened; sounds sharpened; scents sweetened. However, this was only the quiet before the orgasmic storm as she dropped ass first to the ground, head laid back on the mattress and hair splayed like a sunflower drawing.

“Uuuaaarrrgggh!” Copious amounts of semen landed on the young lady’s face and hair. Both eye-sockets filled, tongue coated white, drops slapping her uvula, making her gag. It seemed a never-ending drainage onto her youthful canvas, and when it ended, she closed her mouth, licked her lips and pouted.

“Hey, Pete.” She blew a sperm bubble and said, “We’re through.”

***

A knocking on the passenger window broke Frankie’s slumber, so she unlocked the jeep, allowing Bill to hop in and swing the engine.

“How was it?” she asked, void of emotion.

“Was fine.” Bill stared straight ahead, not making eye contact.

“You okay?”

“Yeah… just. Well, coming onto the end, I kinda lost it… just wanted to get it over with.”

Frankie stared.

“Anyway,” Bill continued, “I got something from her. Donut shop he hits every morning...