"Desperation: Driven To Extremes"

[AGuyWhoWrites]

"Desperation: Driven To Extremes"

The OOC Thread​

The wireless bugs were well placed, giving him better than average audible coverage of her entire apartment. Of course, covering the entire unit hadn't been hard; the low-rent apartment only had two real rooms: a combined living room, kitchen, dining room; and an attached bedroom, off which was a tiny, half-bath.

He was a bit conflicted over her -- or anyone -- living like this. It was a roach-infested, flaking-paint dump that reeked of cigar smoke and decade old carpets; he wouldn't have wanted a street whore to be giving twenty dollar blow jobs in a place like this. This was no way for a beautiful woman to live.

Of course, if she had been able to afford anything better -- if her finances hadn't been in shambles, with her up to her eyes in debt and one paycheck away from living out of her car -- he likely wouldn't have a shot at manipulating her into doing things she normally wouldn't do.

He finished installing and testing the bugs just before his accomplice called to inform him that she was on the bus and would be home in thirty minutes. He checked the hallway for nosy neighbors, then slipped out and crossed the street to the apartment he'd rented just a few days earlier. Once there, he opened a beer, dropped into the chair near the window, and waited.

All he needed to do now was sit back, listen to the mikes, and find a weakness that he could exploit.

 

[Haruhicupcake]

Her name is Kristen. She has fallen on hard times. Recently, she was tricked into loosing her savings by an old boyfriend and then fired from her dream job. She works waiting tables at an awful bar, for barely enough to rent her awful apartment. The resturaunt is always filled with guys trying to get a feel, and it bothers her to no end. She tries to push through it, but always looking for a better job. She has long black hair and a slender figure. She has been called beautiful by many, but after her last encounter with love, has pushed the idea from her mind completely. As she heads home from another long shift, her soft blue eyes cant help but look out the window, wishing she didn't have to go back there. She gets off at her stop and walks to the apartment. She tries not to look around too much. It makes her sick to be here. She sets her bag down and slips off her shoes.

 

[AGuyWhoWrites]

He'd drifted off, his book on his chest, his empty beer bottle still clutched before him. He flinched at the sound of her door slamming over the mike he'd put near the entrance and popped up to blink his eyes clear. He heard her shuffling about and was amazed at how truly clear the sound was. Leaning into the spotter scope and shifting it between windows, he caught glimpses of her moving about, settling in.

For a moment, she stopped at the living room's window and stared out upon the street. He zoomed the small telescope in on her face. Her expression was one of weary depression.

At the same time that he began to feel sorry for her, he also smiled. Just where I need you, babe.

 

[Haruhicupcake]

Kristen picked up the phone and pressed start to begin the messages. She sat on the couch and looked through her mail. Mainly bills. The first message began to play.

"Miss Garret, I am calling about your over due credit card payment. Please call soon, or we will be forced to reclaim your things" it said. She frowned and listened as the next played.

"Kristen, it's your mother. I thought I told you I don't want to help surrport your spending habits. Please stop calling us."

She threw the papers of the mail down and sat in silence. Another day full of dissapointment and things only worsened. At this rate she would be working 24 hours.

 

[AGuyWhoWrites]

"Miss Garret," a woman's voice began, "I am calling about your over due credit card payment."

He sat an listened to the recording from the bill collector; it wasn't surprising at all. He glanced to the coffee table where illicitly gained copies of Kristen Garret's credit rating and credit card statements had been meticulously scrutinized, first by his employer, then by himself.

But the next call did surprise him. "Kristen, it's your mother. I thought I told you I don't want to help support your spending habits. Please stop calling us."

Wow, he thought to himself. Cold...

He looked toward her window just as a flash of light filled it. Over the speaker, he could hear the unmistakable sound of papers being scattered about. He almost chuckled, but didn't; once again, he was conflicted by her situation and the obvious despair it had to be causing her.

Oh well, he thought, standing and heading for his room to change. Life's a bitch ... and then you meet me. Of course, he knew that once someone like Kristin met him, they soon came to realize that their previous life had been a bed of roses. Thorn-encrusted roses, maybe, but roses all the same.



Thirty minutes later, he was knocking on Kristen's door, with a bouquet of flowers in one arm and a dress in dry cleaning wrap over the other. When she answered, he gave her a curious look and, with a flirtatious smile, said, "You're not Gretta."

 

[Haruhicupcake]

Kristen stood hearing the sound of the knock at the door. She sighed, sure it was someone she didnt want to see. she opened the door sharply. Not in a happy mood. She was about to yell at whoever it was. But instead of a bill collector, she found a man. With Flowers. She looked him up and down. "Well, no I am not..." she replied qqueitly. "Ho may I help you? I am kristen.."

 

[AGuyWhoWrites]

He hadn't actually been this close to her before, not really anyway; he'd sat in a booth near her in a coffee shop, to listen in on her phone conversation with a creditor; and occasionally he dined where she worked, but he always cased the joint to make sure he was not in the section she was serving.

She was remarkably beautiful up close, much more so that he'd expected. Every one had flaws, and usually you didn't notice them until you got up very close. He himself had a small scar-looking birth mark just under his jaw line that women didn't usually notice until they were straddling him naked; and he'd always thought that his left ear stuck out just a little tiny bit more than the right, but he seemed to be the only one who ever noticed, so he wrote it off as his imagination.

But Kristen Garret was flawless. Once more, he was conflicted about her -- which he was very quickly getting sick and tired of. His job was to put her into such a desperate and hopeless situation that she would do anything he asked of her -- anything he was ordered to ask of her -- yet standing before her now, he couldn't help but want to simply tell her, Run away with me and I'll fix all your problems.

But, of course, he wouldn't do that. He was much better at manipulating women into doing what he wanted of them than of ever making one want to do those same things for him, whether out of loyalty, love, lust ... what ever.

He asked if maybe Gretta was her roommate and, of course, got a no answer; then asked if maybe he'd gotten the apartment number wrong, to which she said she'd never heard of nor met anyone named Gretta in the building.

He put on his most disturbed and disappointed expression as he explained, "I have dinner reservations at a very nice restaurant, and Gretta was supposed to accompany me there tonight." He laughed, trying to sound embarrassed. "To be totally honest with you, I'm attempting to impress my Ex-wife, whose dines there every Tuesday with her new husband. I ... um ... well, this is kind of embarrassing, but ... well, I sort of hired Gretta to go to dinner with me ... to ... act as my girlfriend."

He lifted his arm, drawing her attention to the dress and matching shoes, which, of course, were Kristen's size, right down to the sexy garter, stockings, and thong that were concealed away in a Victoria's Secret bag dangling below the dresses dry cleaning cover.

"These were for her to wear," he said, continuing his disappointed presentation. "To keep actually. I mean--" He laughed. "--it's not like they'll fit me, right?"

He looked up and down the hall as if hoping Gretta would just magically appear in the hallway, then looked back to Kristen and shrugged. "I guess I'm just screwed..."

 

[Haruhicupcake]

Kristen only watched him confused and looked at the clothing he held. She felt sorry for him, really sorry for him. There had to be something she could do. And if she got to keep the clothing, it would not be a bad deal. "Maybe I can help you out" she said finally. "It's awful she ust bailed on you, and I understand how heartbreaking that can be."

 

[AGuyWhoWrites]

A long moment passed and Terry began to worry that his ploy wasn't working. He considered adding more carrot -- I'll pay you, was on the tip of his tongue -- when finally he saw her expression change from confusion to interest.

"Maybe I can help you out," Kristen offered. "It's awful she just bailed on you, and I understand how heartbreaking that can be."

"It is," he said quickly, stepping a bit closer to her. "It would be a life saver, really, and you won't be sorry. It's a nice restaurant, and I've been told I'm not to horrible a person to sit across a fine table from."

He held the dress, shoes, and bag of accessories out to her and, feigning unnecessary concern, said, "These might fit, but if you have something nicer or more comfortable..."

Kristen hesitated a moment, then took the offering.

"Shall I wait out here...?" he asked as gentlemanly as he could.

 

[Haruhicupcake]

Kristen took the bag and things from him adn smiled kindly. she shook her head. "Come on in, have a seat on the couch. I won't be long." She lets him in, and goes to change. She ays everything out and carefulyl goe through each item, checking sizes. Oddly, all seemed to be approtie. She happened upon the small bag and pulled out the sexy underwear it hid. Her face flushed, unsure what to do with them. That seemed to personal for her. She left them in the bag and slowly changed into the dress and the shoes, everything. Leaving the bag only to cotain the undergarmets. She broguth them back out to him. "I didn't feel comfortable will all of the items...and everything sees to fit fine. We were very close in size"

 

[AGuyWhoWrites]

While Kristen changed, Terry ambled about the apartment, pretending to be interested in her things; it took all of about one minute to see all of the place. Of course, he'd already seen all he needed to on his first visit, when he'd planted the microphones and checked out her wardrobe for sizes and preferences.

"I didn't feel comfortable with all of the items," Kristen said, emerging from the also tiny bedroom. "Everything seems to fit fine. We were very close in size."

He smiled as he looked her up and down, ensuring she understood his appreciation with, "Wow ... I was about to say that dress makes you look good, but no, you make the dress look good."

He gestured for her to give him a little spin, complimented her again, and suggested they take off so they could make their reservation. He handed her the shawl that he'd been holding over his flower-bearing arm and escorted her out, giving her one last once over as they headed out.

On the street, he put his hand upon the small of her back, his warm hand gently pressing the cool skin exposed by the dress's low back, and walked her across the street to the steps of his building. Kristen slowed, looking to him with a confused expression.

"Oh, sorry," he responded, trying his best to look innocent. "I forgot my wallet upstairs. Sorry, I guess I didn't mention ... I'm your neighbor."

He gestured toward the steps. "Do you mind."

 

[Haruhicupcake]

Kristen looked at him as they walked out the door. She was kind of glad to be taken out to dinner and not have to worry about paying. She felt his hand lightly rest on her back and she looked down smiling. But instead of heading to a car, they wlaked across the street. She looked at hi confused. "Where are we going?" she asked. She looked back at her apartment trailing aways as they crossed the street. "Not really I guess." she mumbled, now getting worried.

 

[AGuyWhoWrites]

"Good," Terry responded with a polite smile, continuing his feigned innocence.

Again with his hand ever-so-lightly on the bare, small of her back, he led her up the stairs to the building's lobby. Inside, he glanced to see her reaction out of the corner of her eye. The building was older -- like the rest of the neighborhood -- yet had the look of a brand new structure; the lobby, apartments, and community features, which included an exercise room on the top floor and a medium sized lap pool in the basement, had all been renovated over the past year, at a cost of nearly nine million dollars. The renovation -- and the securing of an apartment just one floor higher than Kristen's apartment across the way -- had been the determining factors of his taking the job, for Terry would never have accepted the mission if he'd had to live in a dump similar to Kristen's current abode.

They took the elevator three flights up in silence. Terry could see Kristen was wondering about whether or not this had been a good idea or not. As the doors opened, he began chatting about the building, talking about how it had been disruptive living through the renovation, which of course he hadn't; and about how he'd been lucky enough to be able to help with the choosing of color, styles, and furnishings, which he wouldn't have even if he'd had the opportunity.

His monologue, with his characteristic charm and charisma, seemed to lighten the mood a bit and calm her. Kristen smiled a bit, even mumbling out a really? and a I didn't realize that as they walked to his door.

He unlocked the apartment, moving quickly to the alarm panel and de-energizing it. She was still standing at the door and he left her there, simply calling over his shoulder, "Come in, Kristen. I don't recall where I left it and this might take a moment."

He headed deeper into the apartment listening to the floor boards: despite the construction crews best efforts, they hadn't been able to fix all of the ancient, creaking floor boards; yet Terry didn't mind in the least, as he knew that he was always able to track the movement of any guest that he might have over, as well as anyone who was in his place without permission which, considering his line of business, was something that just might be of value to him.

He listened to her walking down the hall, pausing, walking, and pausing again; he knew she was casting her gaze first into the door on the left, his bedroom; then the door a bit further down on the right, his kitchen; before finally stepping into his view in the living room. His wallet was on the coffee table next to his copy of Jazz Life, toward her but away from him, continuing the illusion that he didn't know where it was.

Terry looked back to her, saw her amazed expression as she looked around the immaculate abode, and casually asked, "It's not much, but it's home. Like it?"