Lindsays Love Letters Ch 08

"I'm sorry," Eileen repeats for maybe the two or three hundredth time and Lindsay just shakes her head, not wanting to hear a single word.

I'm a bit more sympathetic to Eileen's plight because of several reasons. I know Linda intimately. I know how conniving and twisted she can be. I also don't know Eileen that well. We may have shared a moment or two, but other than that, I don't feel as betrayed as Lindsay does. Add to that, Eileen has tried explaining multiple times, and It seems I'm the only one listening.

"She didn't know," I say softly, trying to calm Lindsay's rage.

"This is bullshit," Lindsay says. "You should have left her ass outside, and we should have gone to work! Now we're both taking a day off that we can't afford-"

"I'll give you the -cunt!- money," Eileen says quickly. "I'll give -fuckface!- you all of it."

"You get paid like, half of what I make," Lindsay says snidely.

"No. I -cunt!- I'll give you -suck my dick!- I'll give you the money your mom paid me."

Lindsay blinks and then narrows her eyes at Eileen. "What money?"

"She paid -whore!- me," Eileen says in a sad voice.

"She paid you to spy on us?" Lindsay asks, and I shake my head not fully realizing how desperate Linda has become, but I should have known. If she paid some man to spy on us, why not one of Lindsay's friends? Why not all of them?

"Explain everything," I say. "Don't leave anything out. Not one thing."

Eileen frowns sadly and then nods. "Can you -rape my ass!- loosen the ropes?" Eileen asks softly, giving Lindsay a pathetic look. "You know I don't mind -asshole!- the legs and feet, but the hands..."

Lindsay glances in my direction as if to check if I caught the insinuation, and while I have, I don't let on. I've been learning quite a bit and being reminded pretty regularly, that Lindsay is not an innocent little angel like I've always thought she was.

"Fine," Lindsay says.

I get up and untie the rope around Eileen's hands.

"You can still -bitch better buy me!- leave me tied up," Eileen adds quickly. "I don't mind."

I leave the rest of the ropes and sit back down.

Eileen looks from me to Lindsay and back and then sighs. "So... a couple of weeks ago, I -toodle doo!- put an ad in the paper. I was -fucking asshole!- looking for a place to rent. I was trying to -whore!- find a place that's cheap. I need to move out of my -cum slut!- grandmother's house."

"Tell us about Linda," Lindsay says sharply.

"I will. I'm -fuck my ass!- trying. -fuck my ass!- Linda called me and said she had an apartment for rent. I was so excited, I -cunt!- I asked how much and she said -fuck off!- five hundred a month. I said -cunt!- I'll take it. And then she said, she needed to verify -cock!- some things."

I give Lindsay a look and she motions for Eileen to continue.

"At first, it was just, you know, -the V word!- normal stuff. How much do I make? Where do I work? Things like that. -Cock sucker!- Then she says I need to pay a security -asshole!- deposit. Fifteen hundred. And I'm like, I don't have that. I'm basically living paycheck to paycheck. Well... then she -cunt!- said she might be able to help me out with the security deposit if I can give her some references."

"So you used me?" Lindsay asks.

"No. I wasn't even going to. But she -Nook Nook!- said, "Do you know Lindsay Treebody?" and I was like, "Yeah, I know her." And then she started -fuck my pussy!- asking me questions about our relationship, and how I knew you."

"You didn't think that was strange?" I ask.

"I... I don't know. -Faggot!- Maybe," Eileen says. "When you have tics like I do, everyone acts strange. Either people can't stand to -fuck my ass!- be around me, or, they just accept it. Some people ignore it," Eileen says, focusing on Lindsay. "I'm so sorry. I really am."

"Tell us the rest," Lindsay says, and Eileen nods.

"So, once I told her that we were best friends, and I... I told her I come over all the time, -Fuck face!- she said she would waive the security deposit, and then I could come see the apartment the next morning. But when -fuck my ass!- I went to see it, and the woman, Linda, said -you fucking whore!- she was sorry. Someone else had already signed a rental agreement, and she -fuck off!- didn't know."

"Sure she didn't," Lindsay says snidely.

"There isn't an apartment," I say flatly. "She was telling you what you wanted to hear, so she could manipulate you."

Eileen drops her head shamefully and then lifts it up a moment later. "She said, she could still help me." Eileen shakes her head and a tear rolls down her cheek. "I'm so fucking -cunt!- stupid," she wails, and she bends forward. If she weren't tied in the chair, she would have slammed her head into the table, but the ropes do their job, and she sits back, tears streaming. "She said she worked for the sheriff's office. She had this -child molester!- deputy with her, but he was a real asshole. He kept glaring at -fuck my ass!- me, like he wanted to hurt me."

"I bet it was that same prick. That's the guy spying on us," I say.

"I don't know," Eileen says and then continues. "She said... -you dirty cunt!- you were wanted."

"Wanted? For what?" I ask.

"She's lying Daddy," Lindsay says sharply and I have to settle myself down, and realize not only is Lindsay not talking about Eileen, but she's right. Linda was playing Eileen for a fool. What a dirty cunt, indeed.

"What did she say I was wanted for?" I ask.

"She didn't tell me," Eileen says.

"You didn't ask?"

"No," Eileen says, shaking her head as if she's the stupidest person in the world. "I... I didn't know what to think. You're my friend, and... your dad is -fucking fuck fuck!- wanted by the cops. I thought... well... here, I might be able to find out... -whore!- you know, say, "No, it's not him. You got the wrong -cunt!- guy," and then nothing would happen."

"What did she say? What did she want you to do?"

"She said she wanted me to take -asshole!- pictures, and video some stuff. Gather evidence."

"And did you?" I ask.

"I mean... a little," she says. "But then she started asking for more. And then her requests -cunt!- were like, really strange... and then... -fuck me in the pussy!- I figured it out."

"What did you figure out?" I ask.

Eileen looks from me, to Lindsay, and back, and I get the distinct feeling she knows something. Maybe she knows something about Lindsay and me, but she's not saying it. She's not going to. She glances down at her phone. "Look at my -pussy!- messages. You can see what I sent her."

Lindsay grabs Eileen's phone and opens it up for the fifth time since we've tied her up, she goes to the text messages between Eileen and Linda, and scrolls all the way to the very top... from days ago... and then further back. A week. Two weeks. Three weeks.

"What the fuck?" I ask, seeing the length of time this has been going on.

"Almost three weeks ago?" Lindsay asks, seeing the date on the oldest message, the one about the apartment for rent.

Eileen nods and licks the salty tears off her lips. "Those first messages are just -fuck my face!- about the apartment. Keep scrolling."

Lindsay does. She scans through the messages until she finds where the conversation shifts and the deception and lies begin.

Lindsay reads the messages out loud, for all of us to hear. "I work for the States Fugitive Investigative Service. The reason I asked you about Lindsay Treebody, whom I already know works close to where you work, is because her father is wanted by the authorities."

"Oh my god! Why?"

"I can't tell you. It would compromise the investigation. But what I can tell you is, we need help. We need someone who can quietly gain access to the residence, gather evidence, and send it back to us."

"What if I can't find anything? What if he's innocent?"

"We already know what crimes he's committed. He's not innocent. We just need you to gather evidence, whatever you can find, and relay it back to us. If you can do that, you'll get paid, and you can move out of your grandparent's house."

"Did you tell her you were living at your grandmother's house?" I ask.

Eileen looks at me and nods and Lindsay keeps reading.

"How much do I get paid?"

"Five thousand dollars."

"Holy shit! Five thousand dollars?" Lindsay says, shocked. "She gave you five grand?"

Eileen nods quickly. "She showed it to me -fuck you Daddy!- on her phone later when she came to my -fuck off!- work."

"Did you check your bank account?" I ask.

Eileen shakes her head. "No. I have to go -shiver me timbers!- to the bank to do that."

Lindsay snarls. "She didn't pay you shit, I bet."

"She showed me on her phone," Eileen says defensively. "She said, "I transferred the -you nasty cunt- money into your account this morning. Here, look," and it was there."

"Did you give her your account number?" I ask.

"Yeah," Eileen says, nodding.

"A blank check?" Lindsay asks.

"No," Eileen replies.

"What about the routing number?"

"Uh-uh. What's a routing number?"

I look at Lindsay and shake my head.

"What?" Eileen asks.

"In order to do a money transfer or wire transfer, you need the account number, and the routing number."

"She... she showed it to me on her phone..." Eileen says, and her mouth trembles as if she just can't believe it. She doesn't want to believe it.

"It is possible," I say, trying to give her a little hope, "that she might have just looked up the routing number if she knew your bank. But... I can't be sure. Nobody can unless you go see what's in your bank account."

"Do you have online banking?" Lindsay asks.

"No. My phone isn't that great. I have... -pussy!- not a lot of memory on it."

Lindsay nods and so do I, and then she continues reading, skipping forward in the messages.

"Tell her, you want a girl's night."

"She won't go for that." Lindsay gives Eileen a strange look. "I wouldn't go for that?"

"I... didn't want her to think... anything."

Lindsay glances in my direction and then focuses back on the phone.

"Just do it. Text me back when you're in the residence."

"Are you there? Have you set it up yet?"

"Hello? Eileen? What are you doing?"

"Sorry. I was at work. What's up?"

"Do you think this is a joke? This is a wanted fugitive we're talking about. We need the evidence, NOW."

"She said she's busy right now. Her mother is driving her nuts!"

"Oh, She musta loved that," I say, smiling.

"Her mother is not under investigation. You need to get in the house and collect the evidence, immediately. You've already been paid. Unless you just want to give the money back."

"Oh she's a cunt," Lindsay says sharply. I nod.

"No. I'll do it. I just need a few more days."

"You have two."

"And that's when I saw you at lunch, and I asked how you were, and you asked me -you cunt!- what I was doing..." Eileen says quickly, adding to the timeline.

Lindsay nods and goes back to reading the messages.

"I'm on my way. Lindsay just picked me up."

"Tell me when you get there."

"Okay."

"Are you there yet?"

"No. Stopped for something to eat."

I look at Lindsay who doesn't glance in my direction at all. I didn't know they stopped for food. They didn't say anything to me about it. I turn to Eileen. "Where did you guys stop for food?"

"We didn't," Eileen says.

"So, why did you tell Linda that?" I ask.

"Daddy," Lindsay says quickly. "Can I continue?"

"Hold on. I'm trying to figure this out," I say.

"We didn't stop for food," Lindsay says, her face turning red. "We stopped somewhere to eat... out."

My jaw falls open and I have to pick it up and fasten it back in place. Eileen's face is beet red. Lindsay's too.

"Alright. Moving on," Lindsay says as if it's nothing. As if stopping somewhere to give each other oral sex, is nothing.

"Hurry up." Lindsay smiles. "We were hurrying."

"I was hurrying," Eileen says with a smirk. "You were -suck my clit!- taking your time."

Lindsay smirks and continues. I can't stop thinking about the two of them, parked on the side of the road somewhere, eating each other's pussies in the back seat of her truck. "Okay. We're here. I'm inside. What am I looking for?"

"Security system."

"Yup. I see it."

"Turn it off."

"I can't. Why would I turn off the security system?"

"So it can't record you gathering evidence."

"It only records the outside."

"Turn it off anyway."

"They are right here! They're going to know."

"Do it anyway."

"Fine. Done."

"Good. Alright. Next, go to the bedroom. I want you to take pictures of every drawer in the bedroom. Make sure you get a good picture of everything."

"Okay."

"Is this when you were taking pictures in my bedroom?" Lindsay asks.

Eileen nods.

"I thought that was strange."

"I am strange," Eileen counters.

Lindsay keeps reading. And then she scrolls through the pics that Eileen sent, pointing each one of them out to me.

"Why would she want pictures of your drawers?" I ask Lindsay.

"Not yours," Eileen adds, turning to me. "Yours. -asshole!- I was taking the wrong pics."

"Yeah. She says that right here. "No stupid. Mr. Treebody's room"."

Lindsay scrolls quicker now, and then she stops.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"What?" Eileen asks.

"No. That's what Linda said. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" You said, "Nothing"."

"Oh," Eileen says, and Lindsay continues reading.

"Go in the closet. Take pictures of the floor." Lindsay looks at me and I shrug. "Take pictures underneath the bed. I want pictures of each drawer. Pull them out if you need to. Jesus Christ."

"She... really wanted those pics," Eileen says.

"You only sent pics of my drawers," Lindsay says, listing her focus from the phone. "You didn't go in my dad's room?"

Eileen sucks in a deep breath and then slowly lowers her head. "I did. For just... like... -cunt!- two seconds."

"When was this?" I ask, curious to know when she managed such a feat.

"I told Lindsay I was going to get a drink. You... were going into the shower."

"That was... days ago."

Eileen nods.

"After we uh, did the whole kissing thing."

Eileen droops her head and nods again.

"We trusted you," I say.

"I don't know... Maybe we can still trust her," Lindsay says, reading the messages now without saying a word. "She didn't send shit. If anything, it looks like she lied."

"She was just... crazy," Eileen says, sitting up a bit. "She kept telling me to do stuff that would have gotten me in a lot of trouble. Nasty stuff."

"Oh, here we go. Hahahaha. This is after we sent the pictures using Dad's phone," Lindsay says, smiling.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? You're supposed to be gathering evidence! Not whoring around you little slut! Who's the girl Magnus is sleeping with? Do you see any of her things? Do you know who she is?"

Eileen sighs and then stretches her head way back and I can't help but watch her tits the entire time.

"If you don't start sending pics, the right pics, you're done. You can forget about getting paid." Lindsay looks up at Eileen and then over at me. "Sounds like she didn't pay yet."

Eileen groans. "Soooo stupid," she says to herself. "I'm so stupid."

"You didn't shut the security system off!" Lindsay continues reading, now smiling as she can literally read the frustration and anger in Linda's words. "You dumb fucking bitch! What the hell are you doing?"

"She sounds mad," I say.

"Oh, it gets better." Lindsay turns to Eileen. "Did you have your ringer off?"

"Everything was off," Eileen says.

"Well, on top of that, you weren't responding," Lindsay says.

"I was busy," Eileen says in a casual tone of voice. "Practicing... and then -whore!- later on, not practicing."

Lindsay scrolls and then starts laughing. "You're not supposed to be making out with the fugitive! What are you thinking!? What are you doing? You conniving little cunt!"

"Oooo damn," I say.

"That's not even the worst of it. She says she's going to call the FBI, and the CIA, and Homeland Security."

"Sure she is," I say, giving Lindsay a smile.

"Why... you... his hand..." Lindsay looks up and turns to me, then turns to Eileen. "Did..." She stops and turns back to me. "Daddy? Did you have one of your hands... down her pants?"

I feel the world shift and roll. Consequences start with tiny trivial things that build and build, and suddenly, it's a fucking avalanche. I can't deny it. Lindsay can see right through my bullshit. I've raised her that way. There's no sense in me lying.

"I did," I say in a low apologetic tone of voice. Lindsay's face falters like she can't believe I would do such a thing. I go into apology mode, desperate to make things right. "I... I did. I'm sorry. I didn't... I was just..."

"He was just going along with it," Eileen says, sucking in a deep breath. "We both were. -bitch!- We were putting on a show. You said make it -slut!- look real."

"Not... feeling you're -bitch!- cunt, real!" Lindsay says sharply and imitating one of Eileen's tics as a way to get back at her.

"He wasn't -whore!- feeling my cunt," Eileen says quickly. "He was making me -you slut!- cum like a fucking dollar store whore."

I turn to Eileen who looks like she might burst out laughing, or simply explode. I don't know which.

"You said kissing," Eileen adds quickly, speaking directly to Lindsay. "I asked you what that meant, and you said you'd let me know. After the first time, you said you were fine with it. You said, make it convincing. Whatever it took."

I turn to Lindsay. "You said that?"

"I... didn't know she was going to"

"How am I going to say your -cunt!- dad is -cunt!- fucking me... if all we're doing -cunt!- is kissing?"

"It's my fault," I say, shaking my head. "I'm the older adult. I'm responsible." I turn to Lindsay. "I'm sorry. I got carried away. Her lips are... really soft. I mean, super soft. When I say-"

"I get it, Daddy," Lindsay says, sucking in a deep breath to calm herself. "I've kissed her before. I know."

"Oh... right," I say, and then add quickly, "I keep forgetting... you're not as innocent... as I... remember."

Lindsay's face turns a dark shade of red, but Eileen breaks the silence with her own admission of guilt.

"I'm the one who stuck -asshole! asshole!- my tongue in his mouth." I turn to Eileen as if this is new news. "I put his hands on my tits. I begged him to tease me."

"You were teasing her?" Lindsay asks, a look of betrayal on her face.

"I wasn't teasing her!" I say, as if it's a bad thing. "I, she- she told me to pinch her nipples! So I pinched them."

"What else did she tell you to do?" Lindsay asks accusingly, turning her focus to Eileen.

"I... I mean, she didn't tell me to..."

"I asked if he wanted to feel how wet my pussy was."

I can see from the look on Lindsay's face, she's had enough. She's fed up with the bullshit, and the betrayal. But Eileen's not done.

"I didn't really give -you slut!- him much choice," Eileen says, wriggling in the chair against her restraints. "I had one hand on his -toodle doo!- cock. The other on his pants, so he couldn't get away."

"Is that true?" Lindsay asks.

I stammer because I'm not sure what to say. The way Eileen is putting it, it sounds like she was in complete control, but it didn't feel that way to me.

"He made me cum, and then he stopped."

"He made you-" Lindsay looks back and forth between us, a look of surprise on her face.

"I... I didn't mean to. I didn't even know it happened, until just now. She didn't say anything."

"You couldn't feel my pussy grabbing your fingers?" Eileen asks incredulously.

"I could. I did. I just didn't think-"

"Yeah," Lindsay says sharply. "That's right. You didn't think."

"Like you have room to talk," Eileen says, a bit of courage shining through the despair. "You didn't think either. -cunt!- What would any man do in his situation? You practically threw me at him. "Kiss her for practice." We both know it was making you all hot and bothered."