Chapter 5: Dosed
I didn’t have a plan for how this would go. Making blackmail material without just fabricating something was not the same as a datasteal, extraction, or wetwork. You had to work with the target, in some ways, so that they were the ones who messed up.
Most people who are as publicly religious and straightlaced as the Congressman and his family had some skeletons in their closets. Secrets that they didn’t want anyone else to know about, because people were people and making something taboo just made it more ‘exciting’, in some ways. That was even more true when it came to younger people, who sometimes needed to make mistakes and work things out for themselves.
So, when the eighteen-year-old Grace climbed into my lap in the limo, I was more surprised that she was getting so bold in front of her parents than anything. The girl had drunk her share of wine at the gala, maybe a bit more than her share, but all that meant was her inhibitions were lower, not absent entirely. As we began exploring each other, I glanced at her parents, and saw them looking our way, with a hungry look in their eyes, a raw expression brought on by their own reduced inhibitions. That’s when it clicked.
Congressman Nicholas Anderson was well known for never being in a room with other women unless there were plenty of witnesses, or if his wife or daughter were there. You could call it chaperoning, or just making sure that there was never a ‘he said, she said’ case to be made against him. But what if the women around him were part of the package? If they were ‘social hunters’, and worked together to get attractive playmates? Then, there is a reason for the Congressman to be around them. After all, they’re a friend of his wife or daughter, and he’s only with them when the wife or daughter is around. Nothing untoward here. And if everyone was a willing participant?
I moaned softly against Grace’s mouth as the girl’s hands slipped my dress down, off my shoulders, exposing me. She definitely knew what to do with her hands. I’d been with girls before, both in game and in real life. Given the gender imbalance from the Y Plague IRL, it wasn’t like I had much of a choice if I wanted companionship. RL men were rare, which is why so many players took up a sex addiction or a sex worker ‘day job’.
I gave back as good as I got. Soon, Grace was the one moaning, as her dress was off and her thighs wrapped around my head in the back of the limo. And then I felt fingers running along my legs. A woman’s hands, lifting my dress up over my hips, and pulling my thong to the side, before Holly began eating me out, while I ate her daughter, and her husband watched, stroking himself.
The drive from the Fox Theater to the Anderson’s mansion in Marietta took just about forty-five minutes, because there was a wreck on I-75. That was just how Atlanta was. Every time you drove, you could count on there being a wreck on 75, 85, or 285. And when there wasn’t, there was road work. At least it was late enough that there wasn’t much of the normal traffic, so it wasn’t backed up further. Plenty of time for everyone to ‘warm up’ properly. Holly was just swallowing her husband’s first load of the night while Grace sucked my nipples as we pulled into their estate.
I already knew from TechKat that the Congressman did not have much in the way of staff at his estate. Driver and a housekeeper, who doubled as live-in security, though they slept in a small cottage behind the garage. They were also married, and the housekeeper was actually Holly’s cousin. Made it easy to keep secrets when the ‘help’ was not only paid well, but also family. And the separate living space meant everyone got plenty of privacy. The rest of the work around the house, like lawn care and maintenance, was contracted out, so no one was there to watch us as we all piled into the living room.
The blinds in the living room were blackout curtains, and had a special coating to keep sound from traveling. Even if someone had a laser mic on the windows, they wouldn’t hear anything. Which was good, since as soon as the blinds were shut, the clothes started coming off for real.
I got my first good look at the Congressman as Holly guided me to my knees in front of him. He was gym fit, with a trace of abs, but not really a six-pack. But when I was face-to-dick with him, I could tell that he was definitely not ‘all-natural’. Either that, or the genetic lottery had gifted him with a package that would make human porn stars weep, even in this world where men were more common than they were IRL. Troll-sized would be the best term. I’d noticed he was big before, in the car, but I hadn’t really understood how big until now.
I let Holly guide my head forward, taking Nicholas into my mouth, and then my throat. Fortunately, I’d had plenty of practice with this, during the beta. Not just when I was doing mattress work on the side, either. You’d be surprised how many powerful men were willing to spill secrets between rounds one and two. And sometimes, like now, you needed to get someone in a compromising situation, and a leaked sex tape was always a classic.
Once Nicholas was good and ready, he laid back on the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace, and I slid down onto him. My eyes widened, despite everything, as Grace straddled her father’s face. When she leaned forward to kiss me as I began moving my hips up and down Nicholas’s length, I decided to let the thinking go, for the moment. The tape would be more convincing if I was acting more ‘natural’. That still didn’t prepare me for Holly’s fingers stretching my back door, in preparation for the strap-on she’d produced from who knows where.
Thankfully, I had my simrig running the whole time, ever since I left the apartment. This was a blackmail operation, after all, so recording things was only natural. Plus, being the ‘special guest’ at a family frolic like this was something I was definitely going to replay in the future.
Somewhere after round four (or was it five?), Grace came over and offered me a glass of amber liquid that looked like some kind of brandy. My buzz from earlier had worn off, replaced by the comfortable fuzz of someone who has been well-fucked by people who know what they are doing. I accepted the drink, naturally.
But then, something happened. A sudden wave of fatigue hit me. “What the—"
Pussycat’s Toxin Resistance Test (10S Damage): 4d6 = 2 Hits, 0 Miss (8S Damage)
Pussycat: 8/10 Stun Monitor
Unconsciousness: 20 x 1d6 minutes: 5 (100 minutes)
Memory Erased: 12-BODY hours (8 Hours erased)
I woke on a couch, in an unfamiliar room, dressed in the gown that I was planning to wear to the gala tonight. No, a quick check at the time on my commlink said that it was after midnight, on the night of the gala. And my biomonitor was reading like I’d been knocked out. What in the hell?
Pussycat: Guys, what the hell happened to me?
TechKat: Good news, bad news time. Which you want first?
Pussycat: Bad.
TechKat: After an orgy involving all four of you, where they were just as involved with each other as they were with you, your fan, Grace, gave you a glass of Laésal Wine. So, any memories you had of the last 6-12 hours or so is gone, permanently.
Pussycat: And the good news?
TechKat: Two pieces. First, they didn’t do anything much to you while you were out. Just cleaned you up, redressed you, gave you a ‘morning after’ pill, and let you sleep. There’s a note on the table next to you, saying how you passed out after too much to drink, and inviting you to sleep there, for your own safety. Which is a clever way of doing things. Keeps their secrets safe.
Pussycat: And I guess that’s why you’re not mounting a rescue right now?
Cougar: Once we saw they were cleaning and redressing you, and not going through your things, we decided to let things ride. They either didn’t notice or didn’t care that your bracelet was a fancy shell for a biomonitor.
Pussycat: Careless. The readout shows they drugged me.
TechKat: Which leads into the second piece of good news. Thanks to the cameras in there, which were perfectly focused to catch the bearskin rug from multiple angles, with full audio, and the recordings on a private server Holly led me to when she was editing the raw footage to make a proper sex tape, we have plenty of blackmail material on the Congressman. Apparently, not only does their daughter sleep in the same bed with them, and all that entails, but they like bringing over ‘playmates’, having their way with them, and dosing them with the wine.
Lioness: With no memories, and golden boy’s reputation, no one ever suspects. At the very least, they can never prove anything. Especially since, between cleaning the girl up and the pill, there’s no real evidence left behind.
Pussycat: Lovely. So, you have the server, right? How many files are there?
TechKat: Thirty-seven, going back eighteen years. Men and women. I don’t think any of them have shown up more than once. Grace shows up in the last six, starting on her sixteenth birthday. That one ‘starred’ one of her friends from school.
Cougar: They’re predators. Not quite like me, but similar. They’re smart enough to figure out where the line is, and how to have as much fun as possible without crossing it.
Pussycat: What do you mean?
Cougar: The key is never picking the same target twice. Someone partying, and drinking too much, blacking out, and losing memories of where they were or what they were doing? And then waking up fully dressed, on a couch in someone’s living room? That paints a certain scene. Even with them missing the biomonitor, that becomes circumstantial, at best, without any corroborating information. And removing a biomonitor would definitely signal foul play to anyone monitoring it.
Cougar: However, if it happens again, then someone might start suspecting, even with the Congressman’s squeaky-clean image. Especially if you do it too often, to people who might know each other. The system works on there never being enough doubt to build suspicion and make people start checking for things.
Tigress: Plus, it isn’t like the three of them aren’t having plenty of ‘fun’ without dragging in other people. They’ve definitely been fucking together with Grace for years.
Pussycat: Well, isn’t that just delightful. Hmm. Looks like I set my simrig recording before I left the apartment. I’ve got a full recording of everything from my POV. Including audio from when I was out.
KittyKat: Sit on that for now. We can have it as a backup, if we ever need to deal with the Congressman directly.
Pussycat: Fine. What about our job? Do we have what we need? And did you get a time to meet with our Mr. Johnson?
TechKat: Their commlinks are insultingly clean. Probably because they expected anyone trying to get into their stuff to start there. But I did copy all their sex tapes from the home server. Not just the ones from the living room, but also the ones shot in their bedroom, which are more fetish-focused, and purely ‘inside the family’. The sister and her husband also appear in those, including one from last week with the two men sandwiching Grace between them, front and back. We have blackmail material for days.
Lioness: As for the meet? Small parking deck on North Avenue and Spring Street, next to the Varsity. Time’s set for tonight at 23:00. Well after closing, so even the night shift should have slipped out by the time we’re getting there.
I took a breath, and slowly moved to sitting. As promised, there was a note on the coffee table, next to my purse, along with a glass of water, and some pills that a quick scan told me were aspirin and something to help me sleep. Probably not a bad idea, honestly.
Pussycat: OK, since it looks like they are treating me like the other victims they ‘catch and release’, I’m going to play the part. Get some sleep, keep watches, just in case. And I’ll have a car pick me up tomorrow, so we can go over everything in person.
KittyKat: No problem, boss. We’ve got this.