Oh my god. I remember their names—Reynard and Mauro. He talked about them several times. Which one was younger? Reynard! That has to be the man with the onyx-colored eyes—and that means the other man has to be Mauro.
Eighteen months ago
SweetSunshine18: Hey Wyatt!
MrWyatt2U: Hello, my little dose of sunshine. How was your day?
SweetSunshine18: It was good! I just got off work.
MrWyatt2U: Same here. Another day at the office…
SweetSunshine18: I still can’t believe you run your own company! That’s amazing!
MrWyatt2U: It was my father’s company. Technically, I just run the Chicago branch, but it definitely keeps me busy!
SweetSunshine18: I bet it pays the bills better than mine does. :)
MrWyatt2U: Yeah, but I bet it’s a lot more work. :)
SweetSunshine18: Probably so.
Mr.Wyatt2U: My wife just home with the kids from baseball practice. I have to go. I’ll probably be online later.
SweetSunshine18: I’ll be here…waiting! :)
I closed my laptop and sighed as I picked up my cell phone and saw an alert from my bank. I was about to be overdrawn and if I didn’t come up with some money soon, I wasn’t even going to get the alert when I finally did get a negative balance because I wouldn’t be able to pay my cell phone bill. My plan to find rich men online that I could blackmail was proving to be less lucrative than I hoped.
The first guy I found was by accident—just some creep who used the same name in the chat room that he used on Facebook. I was trying to scare him off when I started typing his personal information into the chat box, threatening to message his wife, and just hoping he would go away—then he typed something I never expected: Okay fine—how much? Please don’t tell my wife.
I never expected the creep to offer me money—I just wanted him to go away. That opened my eyes to an opportunity that I never imagined. If he was willing to pay, then I doubted he was the only one. I wondered how many married men like the creep were out there. As it turned out—a lot more than I expected, especially when I started going to some of the darker places online where sex was the only topic of discussion most of the time.
I had to take some risks at first. I set up an online bank under my real name but funneled the money through a PayPal account that had a fake name. I got an LLC set up in Wisconsin where it could be done privately, used that to open a bank account under my business name, and then I opened an account in the Caribbean to give myself one more layer of security. I even set up a VPN so that no one could trace my IP address and find out where I was—just in case.
As soon as I stopped visiting the regular chat rooms and moved into the ones that catered to people looking for sex, I started getting a constant stream of messages. The problem was that most of those messages were useless. They were people hiding behind a screen name. For every hundred random guys that contacted me, I was lucky if I found one that had enough detail for me to find the information they weren’t openly sharing. Then I had to determine if they co
uld actually pay—and while I found a few that I was able to blackmail for a few hundred bucks, that wasn’t going to pay my bills.
Over time, I got better at what I was doing—better at finding my marks. I masqueraded as a sweet, innocent girl—young—inexperienced. It was actually the truth, but most nights I didn’t feel very innocent after an evening of filthy chatting with guys that were normally fairly unattractive to me. I had to use my camera, show them my face—tempt them with my body—and I had to watch them pleasure themselves. I encouraged them to show me what they were doing so that I could get them on video. But, getting them to trust me enough to get the information for my blackmail scheme took time—and time was money—money I was in desperate need of.
The message from Wyatt was unexpected because he messaged me on one of my older screen names—one that I rarely used after I started hunting in the darker places online. That profile wasn’t dripping with temptation like my other ones—and he just seemed to be looking for someone to talk to. I was going to ignore him since I was busy with my real targets, but then I saw where he worked—what his position was—and the dollar signs blinded me. I started trying to turn him into one of my marks, even though he didn’t fit the profile—I was the one who took our friendly chats the direction that would eventually get me the evidence I needed.
MrWyatt2U: Okay, I’m back. Sorry.
SweetSunshine18: No problem. I missed you!
MrWyatt2U: Did you?
SweetSunshine18: Of course! I like talking to you…
MrWyatt2U: I like talking to you too. I just feel guilty about it sometimes. I used to be able to talk to my wife, but she’s so busy with the kids now.
SweetSunshine18: Don’t feel guilty. It’s not like I’m going to tell her. :)
MrWyatt2U: I doubt she would care. All I do is complain about my life. She already knows that the marriage is…strained.
SweetSunshine18: That’s too bad. You seem like a good guy, and you deserve to be happy.
MrWyatt2U: Maybe…