10-24-2020, 03:45 PM
[The previous day]
Gail Atwood sits at her desk, scheming, plotting, deep in deviant thought.
She summons her grunt-work lackey "Orville, get in here!"
Through her office door slides the gangly, lumbering figure of Orville Shotsworth, a man
of lowly means given to nervous ticks and always, above ALL else, following Ms. Atwoods
instructions. There was a kind of beaten-down admiration that he had for her, born in fear
and a shocking lack of worldly experience. He would follow her and her dictates to the edge
of Creation, even if it meant going over and into Forever. Orville wasn't his own man, but
he was loyal. And simple. And Atwood knew that and used it greatly to her advantage.
"I need you to do some things for me, tonight" she hissed seductively.
His imposing figure standing before her suddenly grew more erect, as with purpose.
"As you wish" he said quietly.
"This is a very important task, so I must ask you not to leave anything to chance, is that clear?" she asked.
Orville took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and answered "Yes, m'lady. Exactly as you say."
Atwood then stands and walks around her desk to utter a last few words of encouragement to
her man-on-the-job. Standing beside him, she whispers "No mistakes."
His face grimaced, a sudden twitch shot beneath his right eye as the hairs on his neck bristled
upward. "Yes" was all he could manage in that moment.
[Later that night]
Detective Delicato exits her hotel room and casually walks down the luxuriously carpeted hallway.
Unaware of the hidden eyes upon her, she takes to the stairs and the unknown plan is put into
action.
Orville is quick in reaching her now locked door. He removes a burglars gadget from his pocket,
fumbles with its intricacies and clumsily breaks into Delia's room.
Closing the door quickly behind himself, he falls back against it as he takes in the view. It's sparse.
Meat & potatoes. Not anything you would feel as becoming for a woman like the Detective. He was
surprized, yet unmoved. And he had to be quick!
He searched the room for just the right carrier. As luck would have it, or Fate, he caught sight of
Delicato's high heels lying beside her bed. Her gentle gait moments before now explain that she
chose to wear flats for this outing. He got to work immediately. Ever-so-carefully prying the heel away
from the body, he expertly placed a tracking chip between before filling a part of the recess with
strong bond glue.
"Press and hold, one one-thousand, two one-thousand" he counted off as the adhesive mixture
hardened. Well practiced in his trade, it was the one thing he took pride in.
Once the deed was done, he extracted himself from the scene. This time, through
a window. One that he made sure would be a guaranteed entry point for later.
Gail Atwood sits at her desk, scheming, plotting, deep in deviant thought.
She summons her grunt-work lackey "Orville, get in here!"
Through her office door slides the gangly, lumbering figure of Orville Shotsworth, a man
of lowly means given to nervous ticks and always, above ALL else, following Ms. Atwoods
instructions. There was a kind of beaten-down admiration that he had for her, born in fear
and a shocking lack of worldly experience. He would follow her and her dictates to the edge
of Creation, even if it meant going over and into Forever. Orville wasn't his own man, but
he was loyal. And simple. And Atwood knew that and used it greatly to her advantage.
"I need you to do some things for me, tonight" she hissed seductively.
His imposing figure standing before her suddenly grew more erect, as with purpose.
"As you wish" he said quietly.
"This is a very important task, so I must ask you not to leave anything to chance, is that clear?" she asked.
Orville took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and answered "Yes, m'lady. Exactly as you say."
Atwood then stands and walks around her desk to utter a last few words of encouragement to
her man-on-the-job. Standing beside him, she whispers "No mistakes."
His face grimaced, a sudden twitch shot beneath his right eye as the hairs on his neck bristled
upward. "Yes" was all he could manage in that moment.
[Later that night]
Detective Delicato exits her hotel room and casually walks down the luxuriously carpeted hallway.
Unaware of the hidden eyes upon her, she takes to the stairs and the unknown plan is put into
action.
Orville is quick in reaching her now locked door. He removes a burglars gadget from his pocket,
fumbles with its intricacies and clumsily breaks into Delia's room.
Closing the door quickly behind himself, he falls back against it as he takes in the view. It's sparse.
Meat & potatoes. Not anything you would feel as becoming for a woman like the Detective. He was
surprized, yet unmoved. And he had to be quick!
He searched the room for just the right carrier. As luck would have it, or Fate, he caught sight of
Delicato's high heels lying beside her bed. Her gentle gait moments before now explain that she
chose to wear flats for this outing. He got to work immediately. Ever-so-carefully prying the heel away
from the body, he expertly placed a tracking chip between before filling a part of the recess with
strong bond glue.
"Press and hold, one one-thousand, two one-thousand" he counted off as the adhesive mixture
hardened. Well practiced in his trade, it was the one thing he took pride in.
Once the deed was done, he extracted himself from the scene. This time, through
a window. One that he made sure would be a guaranteed entry point for later.
