by Camryn King
“I’m too nervous to feel it,” Jayda said as she wrung her hands. “I probably should have added Jim and Bud.”
“Hold this.” Kim handed Jayda the phone and walked over to the bed. After the slightest of pauses, she reached for the belt and undid it. Next, she unbuttoned and unzipped the dress slacks. “Jayda, raise him up a little so I can pull these down.”
Harley walked over to where Kim stood next to the bed. “Don’t take them all the way off. He looks like the type who’d screw without bothering to get totally undressed.”
Kim pulled the pants down to Hammond’s knees. The room went silent. The women stared. Kim looked at Harley. Harley looked at Jayda. The three looked at each other.
“Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?” Jayda asked.
Harley rubbed the chill from her arms. “We’re all seeing it.”
“Star Wars? Really, Hammond?” Kim quickly snapped a couple pics, then gently lowered the colorful boxers and murmured, “Looks like his political viewpoint isn’t the only thing conservative.”
She snapped a few more. Harley donned the wig, looked in the mirror, and snickered. “Guys, how do I look?”
“Don’t,” Kim began, covering her mouth. “Don’t start to laugh . . .” The low rumble of muted guffaws replaced speech.
The liquor finally kicked in.
“Come on, guys!” Jayda harshly whispered, though her eyes gleamed. “We’ve got to hurry.”
“You look fine, Harley. As gorgeous a brunette as you are a blonde.”
Harley removed her thong and climbed on the bed. “Remember. . .”
“I won’t get your face, Harley. What the wig doesn’t cover, I’ll clip out or blur. You won’t be recognizable in any way.”
“And you’re sure this super glue will work, and hide my fingerprints?”
Jayda nodded. “That’s what it said on the internet.”
“I’m nervous.” Harley straddled the unconscious body and placed fisted hands on each side.
“Wait!” Kim stilled Harley with a hand to the shoulder. “Don’t let your mouth actually touch his. We don’t want to leave a speck of DNA. I’ll angle the shot so that it looks like you’re kissing.”
“What about . . . that.” Jayda pointed toward the flaccid member.
“Oh, yeah. I forgot. Look inside that bag.” Harley tilted her head in that direction. “With the condom on, it looks like the real thing.”
Jayda retrieved a condom-clad cucumber and marched back to the bed as though it were a baton. “He won’t like that we’ve filmed him, but he’ll hopefully appreciate that we replaced his Vienna sausage with a jumbo hot link.”
The women got down to business—Jayda directing, Harley performing, Kim videotaping. Each job was executed quickly, efficiently, just as they’d planned.
Finally, after double-checking to make sure her work had been captured, Kim shut off the camera. “Okay, guys, I think we’ve got enough.”
Harley moved toward the edge of the bed. “Pictures and video?”
“Yep. Want to see it?”
“No,” she replied, scrambling into her jeans. “I want to get the hell out of here.”
“That makes two of us,” Jayda said, walking toward the coat she’d tossed on a chair.
“Three of us.” Kim took another look at the footage. “Wait, guys. I have an idea. Jayda, quick, come here.”
“What?”
“No time to explain. Trust me on this . . . please?”
Five minutes later they were ready to go. “What should we do about him?” Jayda asked, waving a hand at his state of undress.
“Nothing,” Kim replied. She returned the phone to its hiding place in her pocket. “Let him figure out what may or may not have happened.”
They’d been careful, but taking no chances, they wiped down every available surface with cleaning wipes, which they then placed back in the bag that once again held the condom-clad cucumber. Harley almost had a heart attack when she glimpsed the wineglass that if forgotten and left behind would have been a forensic team’s dream. After rinsing away prime evidence, she pressed Grey’s fingers around the bowl, refilled it with a splash of wine, and placed it back on the nightstand. After a last look around to make sure that nothing was left that could be traced back to them, the women crept out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Harley turned off the outside light and unbolted the side door.
Kim turned to her. “You sure you don’t want to come with us?”
Harley shook her head. “I have to leave the way I came. Don’t worry. The car service is on the way. See you at the hotel.”
After peeking out to make sure the coast was clear, Jayda and Kim tiptoed out the back door as quietly and inconspicuously as they’d arrived. A short time later Harley left, too.
Once down the block, around the corner, and into the rental car, Jayda and Kim finally exhaled. The next day, as the women left the nation’s capital, hope began to bloom like cherry blossoms in spring. Until now their calls for help and cries for justice had been drowned out or ignored. Maybe the package specially delivered to his office next week would finally get the senator’s attention, and get him to do the right thing.