Everyone having sex is at least 18. This story is a work of fiction. I made it all up. Check reality at the door and enjoy it for what it is. Special thanks to goducks111 for his help and making this a better story.
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Chapter 8 - Sharing
I am up early. I go down to the gym and workout hard. I am getting soft, and this feels good, my muscles are burning. I do some legs, arms, and core. It's been a while since I've worked out, I need to get all my muscles limbered up. When done, I take a quick shower and find mom making breakfast.
Mom, "You're up early. The staff isn't up for a while yet. I decided to get you some breakfast. I need a few more minutes, I'm not quite a short-order chef."
Coffee is ready, I grab a cup and some cream. I am tired and sore. I worked too hard today. Mom places some pancakes, sausage, and juice on the table, enough for the two of us.
Mom snickers, "Nobody else will be up for a while."
We eat for a bit; no words are spoken.
Mom, as expected, is the first to talk, "What are your intentions with Laura?"
I am flippant, "Oh, I was thinking a hollow-point .38 between the eyes."
Mom drops her fork. She looks at me with the eyes of someone that see's their own death on the way. That chilled me.
I am more relaxed now, "That was a joke, mom. If I were going to kill her, I would have done it already."
Mom is furious, "Never joke about that. She's had a hard time the last year or so. She used to run Escort jobs from time to time. Something happened, something bad, and she stopped. I don't know who or what, but it changed her."
That's interesting, that might be the customer I want. Not a current one but a former one. I will ask about that later. Right now, I need to find out how they know who our customers are. That's an inside job. We have a call center and an accounting firm; both have access to the people and the money. The call center has access to who will be scheduled in the future.
There are a lot of reservations to go through. I am surprised at how infrequently an escort gets work. When they do, it's great money. Perfect college work. Interestingly, there is more demand for a man than a woman. Half are asked for specifically. New guys are the busiest. It's also unusual in that Janet Norwood is the person that booked the last night for each person that died. Wow, this lady is dumb.
I go up to my room, and Laura and Alice are still there. I shake Alice awake.
Alice looks at me with sleepy eyes, "Whattttttttt?"
Clinically, I ask for the facts: "Where is your call center located? Are they people you hired?"
Alice asks, "What?"
Laura answers, "It's a big company, and they handle many companies. It's called JJ Industries, they're at 250 Industrial Blvd, suite 300. Why?"
I smile, "I found a rat."
I go out to the garage, and I find an old '69 Barracuda in rough shape. It hasn't been restored yet. They say the engine has been restored but nothing else. Perfect. Any better and it gets stolen while I am inside.
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I walk inside the office of JJ Industries, and there is an older chunky woman behind the front desk.
I try to sound sexy, "Laura called over, you should be expecting me. I need a conference room and Janet Norwood. She has done an exceptional job, and we want to single her out."
Trisha is more than happy to help me out. She has love in her eyes, and that amuses me. She places me in a conference room big enough for twenty people. An overhead projector and top of the line chairs. It's a nice room.
It's a few minutes later that Trisha brings Janet into the room. She is a young twenty-something woman. Nothing special about her. Average all around. She is married if the ring is correct.
I use a low deep voice to say, "My name is Ken, and I am here representing L & A Industries."
The smile has left her face.
I continue, "Let me put my cards on the table."
I place a stack of 3 x 5 pictures, face down on the table, then I take out my revolver and put it on the table as well. Janet stares at the weapon. She is trembling, she looks at me pleading.
I slam my hand down on the pictures my laser printer spun out. I pick up the photos and offer them to Janet. She reluctantly agrees to take the images, and then looks at them. In three seconds, she flashes through all twenty pictures. She is staring at me, questioning me with her eyes. Her eyes are now swelling with tears.
I tell her softly, "When you give out the information about an escort, that's what happens to both bodies." She looks sick. "I used to work for the CIA, killing people. I never caught the four people doing this in Iraq. How did you get involved?
She is weeping softly as she starts her tale, "I'm a young newlywed. We are short of money. I was at a bar with some personal friends when a guy asks me if I want to make 10k cash. I wake up in the morning, and I feel like I had all three holes stuffed with a baseball bat. I am in a cheap motel room. I take an uber home. I have no money, no 10k, no credit cards. My husband had to pay, and I had to explain what happened to him.
"The next day at work, I get an email with a video of what they did to me. I then get a call explaining that unless I want the video going out to my family, husband, and coworkers, I will give them names when they ask for them.
"Giving out a name doesn't hurt anyone, so I did it. I knew they were up to no good, but what choice did I have?"
I pick up the pictures and lay them down face up in a line.
I use my angry voice, "This is the result of your choice." I pause several seconds for effect. She is bawling. "Now, you are going to fix this mess. Next time they call, give them my next appointment. Then call me, I will make sure they never hurt someone again."
I watch her for a moment. Something is wrong, she stopped crying too soon. She didn't ask about her safety. I smile, stand up, say "goodbye," and then walk out the door. I scan the room to see if anyone is watching me."
I hear Janet make a call, "Hey, it's me. He showed up and just left like you said he would. Ok, thank you. Yeah, I know, what a schmuck, right? See ya later."