1
Jack
Halloween. The one and only night each year when a man like me can put on a mask and roam the streets freely without fear of violating his parole and being thrown right back into the same prison I walked out of this morning.
What would my parole officer say now, if he saw me this October 31st, not even a full day removed from incarceration, and here I am standing outside of the house of the man who got me locked up in the first place?
My ex-best friend.
I throw my big body behind a perfectly manicured set of privacy bushes the second I hear the neighbor’s rent-a-cop whistling as he does his rounds. Looking at my Timex I see it’s exactly ten o’clock. He’s too predictable. Right on schedule…just like most everything here in Beverly Hills, which is why I can’t wait to get outta this city. But not until I get what I came here for.
She walks in front of the window in her form-fitting catsuit, the razor-thin, tight material hugging her body, leaving nothing to the imagination. And boy have I ever imagined.
In my cell late at night.
In the prison shower.
In the corner of the exercise yard when no one’s looking.
I’m done pretending. It’s time to make her mine. To take her whether she’s ready or not. To claim her as my own.
As far as I’m concerned she’s owed to me after what her family did to me.
Moving to the window, she opens it letting in that fresh California breeze. Not two seconds later I swear I can smell her scent, fruity and ripe. And ready for me.
Adjusting my feet, taking a wider stance to relieve the pain in my groin I see the patch of grass I’m already starting to wear out, not even realizing my feet can’t stay still. I’ve been waiting for this moment for too long. Way too long.
Her curvy little body disappears from the window, back into the well-lit home and her absence sucks the life right out of me.
Don’t you worry, little girl. You can run but you can’t hide. Not after all this time I’ve spent waiting, plotting, planning for this one opportunity to get revenge on your step-father.
Now’s my time. This is my chance. I’m done waiting, for more things than one.
Trick or treat, huh? Well, I’m about to deliver both…on a different kind of silver platter than the opulence you’re used to.
Oh, someone’s going to be eating well tonight, all right. But it won’t be the Brooksby family. It will be me, when I devour their daughter within the confines of their own home, right under their noses.
They’re in for a scare alright. The most haunted house a parent can imagine. One where a man is defenseless to protect his daughter, and all he can do is sit there and take it. Just like I took the last three years in the joint, unable to do anything about it.
Doesn’t matter that old man Brooksy owns half of L.A., thanks to his investments in both the movie industry and various sports franchises and the lucrative licensing and royalty opportunities that go along with it.
Won’t be worth a single cent when he offers me the world to stop the sound of his daughter’s screams this Halloween night.
He’ll be begging for me to unfist my hand from her golden blonde hair. To pry my dark eyes from her perfect body…not to put my tongue there…and there…and there.
And finally, my cock, as I take her wherever and whenever I choose.
Yeah, Jenson Brooksby is going to learn a lesson about what happens when you fuck over your best friend, especially when that friend is me, Jack Jenson.
I shake my head in disbelief, remembering when Jenson and I started out with nothing. Two kids in first grade who sat next to each other because the teacher alphabetized by first name, not last. What a coincidence. Just like the coincidence of his first name being my last.
Well, last night will be the final time he ever got a good night’s sleep in his life because he’s about to be tormented for the rest of his days, learning what it feels like, firsthand, to be a man who’s unable to protect his family. And more specifically his young daughter.
The one that has no clue I’m coming for her.
The girl who attracts me like a wolf to a piece of raw meat, and dressed the way she is, she might as well be.
My balls cinch up tighter than the sphincters on each and every one of the assholes that live in this preppy as fuck, holier than though enclave of Bel-Air.