Chapter 4
568 Words
Chapter 4
Dino watched the clip.
Kinky.
His client hadn’t told him what was going down, just offered enough teasing tidbits and a large enough sum of cash to capture his attention. He could always hack a bank if he needed cash, but s**t, she’d offered a pile. Meant she was bound to be up to something fun.
And now this.
“Make it viral!” was all she’d said in the secure dropbox he’d set up for her. Which she thought made her so carefully anonymous; no such thing. Not from him anyway.
A sugar sculpture blood-bath.
He wasn’t even going to have to work at this one; the video was made to rock. He considered a theme song from Corrosion of Conformity or Dog Fashion Disco or go really retro with Metallica’s Sad But True, but decided that the original soundtrack gave it a real world grittiness that rocked all on its own.
She’d also been adamant about the video’s title: “Kate Stark Nails Another.” Another One Bites the Dust? Nah, Queen was way too mellow.
He did a quick search and scared up a video entitled “Death-by-Poisoning Double Header at Cooks Network!” It had earned well over fifty million views before censors had deleted it. It still kicked around on a lot of the smaller, edgier channels and had continued clocking a strong following.
The Stark lady was a cool one as people dropped dead all around her. Her composed dark-brunette and mystic blue-eyed beauty made a total contrast to his client’s frenetic redhead. Stark was like Betty Rubble, the classiest of the whole crowd in the original cartoon. Dino had always found Betty kind of sexy for that reason, until the live film had put a kibosh on that.
He set about building the layers so that the video’s point of upload wouldn’t be traceable. Better yet, he laid down traces that would lead to both Iran and Israel simultaneously—which would make everyone bugshit crazy just as a bonus.
Dino started humming the theme to The Flintstones.
He couldn’t wait to see what came next from this client. She definitely wasn’t going to be boring.
While he worked on the launch, he pulled up the montage of all her computers’ cameras. Bless her for wanting the convenience of computer access in every room and not knowing to put tape over the built-in webcams.
Most clients, such results weren’t very interesting, but he could always count on this one for a good show. And she liked to do it with the lights on, which meant he never missed a thing, not even this morning’s wake-up call.
He’d built a chunk of video parsing code that always captured the segments when people were “active” then looped those to his desktop. Oddly, she never did it solo—no self-gratification or electronic devices for her fit, full, and feisty frame. Four Fs for just how much the woman liked to f**k.
Though she was never completely naked. Scarlet teddies, midnight negligees, or, at the moment, the sports bra and Lycra top, but nothing between there and her tenny trainers—natural red all the way.
She had Mr. Fitness Mexican stud strapped down lying on a weight bench—which he didn’t look too happy about, though his body wasn’t complaining. Damn, who even knew there were guys built like that. You could fly a surrender flag from that sucker.
Dino watched in fascination as she proved that she knew exactly what to do with it to get a workout.
He yelled out Fred Flintstone’s trademark cheer to egg her on.
Not that she needed the encouragement.
Yabba dabba indeed! Go girl!
- Writer
