Grinning to himself, Mark placed a large manila envelope into the mailbox of Parson Macks & wife. Gleefully, he headed home to wait for the response from the preacher’s wife.
An hour later, Mrs. Emily Macks returned home from the morning trip to the grocery store, retrieving the mail as she pulled into the driveway. She eyed the manila envelope nervously as she carried the groceries in, wondering why there was neither a return address nor a stamp. When she was finished putting her purchases away, the preacher’s wife opened the large envelope and gasped.
“Oh my God!” she said, staring at the picture of herself, nude on her own couch, her fingers buried in her sex as she watched the lesbian porno on the television.
“Someone saw me,” she said, alone and scared in her kitchen. “What am I going to do? I can’t let Robert see these! These pictures will destroy him and our marriage! I, I can’t let that happen!” Spreading the pictures out on the table, she moaned in fear, afraid of what could happen, until she saw the note sticking out underneath a picture of her white dildo thrust into her sex.
“Oh, no,” she quivered as she read the note. “I’m being blackmailed! And, and I have to email this person soon, or… or he’ll contact Robert immediately. Oh God!”
Mrs. Macks rushed to her computer and booted it up. Taking a few breaths, she realized she would need to create a new email address that Robert could not know about! Steadying herself with a deep breath, the preacher’s wife hooked up to the ‘Net, typing quickly as the skilled receptionist that she was, hoping that her blackmailer would be notified in time.
At home, Mark opened up the email he had received from [email protected].
“Mr. Blackmailer,” it read. “Whoever you are, why are you doing this? Are you trying to ruin my life? Please, just leave me along and I will never go to the police about this.”
Frowning, Mark sent back his own reply.
“I am doing this because I want to,” Mrs. Macks read from [email protected], “And you don’t want to go to the police because they will need the photos as proof, and then the whole town will know about your sins. Surely, you understand that no one can keep a secret in this town.”
He’s right, the preacher’s wife thought. I’m at his mercy. What do you want me to do, she emailed back.
“Excellent,” Mark said. “She’s mine, but what should I have her do?” |