"Fuck you" she yells, slamming the door in your face.
You turn around and walk down the driveway, half satisfied, half shocked. You've just broken up with your girlfriend, Lilly, of two years. You figured she would have seen this coming but your weren't prepared for such a hostile reaction. Either way, it's done now. A relief. You feel an exciting sense of freedom almost immediately. For the past eighteen months you've felt suffocated. Well not anymore.
You hop in the car, drive off, pull out your phone and call the boys. Tonight's a good night for celebrating. Everyone expresses bawdy excitement on your behalf - plenty of crude allusions to the fun you'll be having now that that bitch is out of your life.
The next morning you roll into work a half hour late, hungover. You sneak in the back door so the boss doesn't see you. Always works. A few polite good mornings and a quick coffee and you slip into your desk, unnoticed.
There's a note on your desk. And a zip drive attached at the bottom. "REMEMBER THESE?" it reads. Your heart skips a beat.
You plug in the drive but you already know what it contains. Photographs, about 100 of them. One night, about a year ago, Lilly got you plastered and decided to explore her darker side with you. She had snapped an imaginative range of photos in which she revealed her inner dominatrix, and had put you in a number of compromising positions.
"That fucking bitch", you murmur. "That absolute fucking bitch." |