Blackmailing the Queen

Chapter 3 – Modus Vivendi

I sat down in a back booth and ordered a bowl of red chowder. I was a bit nerv

ous – confrontation has never been my strong suit – but something about the quality of this event had brought out my ruthless side. Under normal circumstances I would have been tongue tied around a girl like her. Now I was in charge, and there was nothing that could change that.

She entered the shop about 5 minutes after the final bell would have rung – I had cut all my afternoon classes too. I was amused to think that she must have hurried indeed to get here so soon after school had let out.

She looked around the shop, but most of the tables were empty. It was primarily a lunch and dinner place, and I knew it would be pretty empty for at least two hours.

She finally spotted me, and I held my camera up and winked. I could not tell if she recognized me, but I doubt it. She'd done such a good job of ignoring me, I doubted she was even sure that I went to her school.

She strode up purposefully and sat down angrily in my booth, facing me.

"Are you the guy who left those pictures?" Her voice was a furious whipser, but there was a lot of fear there. The anger was clearly intended to give her courage and perhaps bully me into giving in. No chance…

I smiled. "Photography is my life, 'Annie.' Of course, I don't usually take those kinds of pictures…"

"Sure!" she spat. "I'll bet you creep all night long spying on people like that, you pervert!"

"I'm a pervert? Maybe you better look at those snapshots again."

"Oh, fuck off!" Her voice was a high, nervous squeak.

"Take care, now, Annie. You don't want to get on my bad side, now DO YOU?" I pointed my finger at her and stared her down.

She looked at me with a stunned horror. Our voices were low, but I imagine no one (except maybe Bill Arnold) had ever talked to her in such a tone, especially no one from the great unwashed masses, like me.

She was beginning to realize that I had her and I knew it.

She looked down at her expensive leather shoes. "Um, no. I guess I don't. OK, OK, I'm sorry." She was silent for a moment. "What is this all about?"

"That's better. Now, I have the negatives to those photos and I can make all the prints I want. What can you offer me to make it worth my while not to do that? I mean, imagine how fun it would be to see a fucking little princess like you get dragged through the shit." She looked up at this, her eyes sad and shocked, but her face as lovely as always. "If I'm going to deny myself that pleasure, I have to have something to replace it."

"What kind of something?" Her voice was a whisper, her eyes locked onto mine.

"A better something. Something very, very pleasant. Something like you gave Bill Arnold."

She bit her lip and shook her head.

"Something even better, perhaps." I smiled the smile of the cat who ate the canary.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then suddenly opened them and smiled.

The smile was the sort of familar, cosy smile she usually reserved for her fellow elite, and she beamed it at me with all the energy she could muster. "Oh, come on, be a sweetheart. You saw what that slime made me do. Haven't I been through enough? Besides, you look like a nice guy – you don't want it like that, you know, forcing me to, do you?"

She batted her eyes and tilted her head. A curl of honey brown hair drifted over one eye and her face assumed a look that was at once innocent, friendly, sexy, and strong. Looking back, it is of course obvious that she was trying to manipulate me through those same charms that had kept her on top of the pyramid for four years. But at the time I was only 16, and very suceptible.

She saw the hesistation in my face, and tried to press the advantage.

"There's no reason we can't be friends, is there? I mean, do a girl one little favor… uh…. um…."

Her smile faded a bit, and I realized that she was trying to remember my name. We'd been in school together since the second grade, had even been lab partners, and she had never taken even enough interest to remember my name. The spell broke.

"Forget it, Annie," my voice was strong and I could see that she knew I was not going to play. "No, this is going to be business." Her espression fell into one of complete despair.

I recognized the look – it was very much like the one she had given Bill Arnold when he threatened to rape her if she did not come across with a blowjob – but there was a difference. Though she was defeated, she was not disgusted, or at least not as disgusted as she had been then.

I spread my hands out on the table and sat back in my seat. "Now," began, businesslike and firm, "you're a rich kid. Your parents probably own a summerhouse or some rental properties or something, right?"

"What?" She was visibly shaken. Shocked at her failure to charm me, she was beginning to see the reality of the situation.

"There must be some place where you can go when you want to party – a boathouse or a cabin or something…"

"No, I…"

"Don't lie to me, Annie. That would be a truly major mistake."

She was quiet for a moment, and a tear leaked out of her left eye and ran down her face. "Uh, well… our carriage hou… our garage… is seperate from the house and has a… a furnished attic."

"Where the chauffeur lives?"

"We're not that rich. It's for that, though, I guess. There's a kitchen and a little living room…" She paused for a moment, then looked at her shoes again. "And a bed… room."

"Perfect. You have a key?"

"No, but I know where it is. My dad used to use the rooms as a den, kind of, but my mom thought he was taking girls there and she put the key away in her jewelry box."

"Good. Get it tonight and make two copies tomorrow at lunch. Meet me here after school and give me one of them. I'll give you further instructions then."

She looked devastated. "You want a keyofyourown!? How long is this supposed to go on?" Her voice was choked.

I smiled and looked her straight in the eye. "As long as I say, Annie.

Now be a good girl and do what I said. Or else."

She muttered a very childlike, pouty "OK" then got up and practically ran away, her arms crossed over her chest as she ran…

I sat there for minutes afterward, basking in glorious delight and hard as a post in anticipation.