text: CW: adult content, strong language Disappointedly, yet quite predictably, she was leaving the Head Director’s office. All eyes were on her, adding to her unbearable embbarrasment, as she was passing through the aisle of that clinically cold open-space she hated so sincerely. They all know, oh, how clearly, she thought bitterly, as she felt that salty aftertaste still lingering in her mouth. Well, life can be a tough pill to swallow. And sometimes even swallowing doesn’t help. Nevermind, lesson learned . She straightened her posture in a poor attempt to preserve what’s left of her infamous dignity and stormed out of the office. As soon as the door behind her banged shut, she felt a tide of relief surge in, like all those Tinder dates who had blitzkrieged her bedroom. When all of a sudden, a dull sound of something heavy stomping against the floor made her spin on her heel. "Hey, Elena, keep this,“ he said and rather inconspiciously passed her a small, match-box size object in a bubble wrap - at least something to release a stress on , snapped through her mind, as her fingers touched the surface. "Oh, Ron, what’s in it?” she asked bewildered, maybe too loudly, given his attempts not to attract attention. Of course, Ron might not be the most subtle fellow in the hood, but God knows he tried, she thought, eyeing the edifice of his beefy body. Simply brawn scarcly seasoned with bra in, she observed, as her scrutiny met his plain gaze . And in his case, one does not have to be Gordon Ramsay to complain about lack of seasoning. "You’ll see,” resounded from within the long corridor, as his security shirt was vanishing in the flicker of artificial lighting. She hesitated no longer. Quickly, sparing little thought what devil might hide within, she tucked the bubbly bit in her purse and rushed out of the building. Maybe she doesn’t quite have a clue, but she remembers, oh, too well. * In her early 30s, working as a senior marketing manager in a bank, knowing nothing about financial stuff, but being paid decent money for knowing a lot about how to make people succumb to well-crafted advertising, one could say she was doing fine. Well, until this day. I got in the same way I got out , she thought with an undertone of dark humour. She saw it so clearly, a clueless young lady looking for a job in a field where every such position was meant only for those of long-term experience. But that time, the aftertaste was manageable . Life was so sweet back then, so full of promise of bloom, she pondered aimlessly, as she ran her palm against her lover’s chest. It was a fine chest, defined and muscular. She liked her men sinewy. Like Peter, not that brainless bulk of muscles Ron. "I wanted to blow the whistle, you know,“ she responded to Peter’s earlier question,“ but it turned out I ended up blowing something else. Fruitlessly.“ Sourly she added in sore self-reflection. "I thought that fruitlessness is welcome in such activities,“ he joked, still worn out after the admirable performance he just gave. Always jokey, non-judgmental easy-goer, who knew his business getting laid - that’s why she kept on getting together with him regularly. No strings attached, but having a fuckbuddy like him in dire times like these helps. "Wait a sec, I just remembered...“ she left her comfy curl around his body and shakily got to her feet. First of all, walking completely naked in front of each other, even after sex was over, was a spell they broke quite some time ago. But this was different. They were never personal; they haven’t let each other into their lives yet. And that was good. REMEMBER, NO STRINGS ATTACHED, ELENA, NEVER, echoed noisily in her head, as she grabbed her purse and fished out that small something she was given earlier today. "Look,“ she said, carefully unwrapping it, as if the contents the wrap concealed had a pontential to bite. "Oh, gimme that shit,“ Peter came to life, reaching for the bubble-wrap, suddenly ignorant of his recent exhaustion,“ I could do this all day long.“ He announced, crushing a bubble after bubble, content as a toddler with idiotic grin all over his sweaty face. Elena rested her eyes on him and all concerns were suddenly gone, dissolved like sugar in hot milk. Maybe I’m just getting a bit too old, and maybe there’s something to my slumbering naïve, romantic side . But one thing is certain, seeing him carelessly toying with a piece of bubble-wrap without losing a bit of charisma, she felt so warm and so safe. He certainly wasn’t the one to judge. She almost let herself lapse into feeling something toward him. "It’s a flash drive!” she exclaimed. "Marvelous,“ Peter said pointedly. "Come on, Pete, this is it,“ she said, eyes widening, “that bloody little thing that security guy handed me.“ "Well, let’s check it out, then,“ he mumbled, unwillignly crawling out of the bed. Soon he was back to the still warm spot with a laptop, inserting the flash drive into a slot. When a single file popped up on the screen, Elena froze. Subconsciouly she was sure this file has sharp, serrated jaws. "What in the fucking hell is this, tell me,“ Peter gasped, as what seemed like countless loads of documents showed up. The jaws slightly opened. "I know what it is,“ Elena whispered,“ It’s the reason why I lost my job.” "They sacked you for insider trading?“ Peter mused horrified, as he skimmed through the first few documents, betraying confidential information of bank clients. Well-off clients, indeed. "For my vain efforts to report this,“ she hissed, pretending offense,“ do you ever listen to me!?“ "How come, Elena! Just recently the government established the office for protection of whistleblowers! This shouldn’t be happening anymore,” he burst out, briming over with professional indignation of a lawyer well-versed in theory of administrative law. "Oh, Pete, how sweet of you. But as a lawyer you should know how our public administration works,“ she cuddled closely to him. She made herself vulnerable; clutching tightly onto his wrist, forcing tears into her eyes. "Eastern Europe, baby,“ he purred, and to her relief, left the subject be. "Central, Pete,“ she corrected him. After a few moments in the warm embrace she spoke again: “Let’s have a coffee.” "Black and bitter for me,“ said Peter, as her figure vanished from the bedroom. "Like life itself?“ "Indeed, like life itself,“ he repeated, as he mindlessly closed the jaws of his laptop and put it aside. * It was dark when she left Peter’s apartment. Who could tell whether it’s her arrogance or ignorance, but she never felt in danger, going alone after the dark, almost cat walking in her neat skirt and high heels. And surely, she was the one to easily become a prey - her long, auburn hair, cutely freckled face and body to die for. Maybe her lack of heed had something to do with her belief in the notion of Central Europe; the place not that well-off, but culturally apt. However, in the blink of an eye things turned dramatically eastern. She rounded a corner as a hand clutched her elbow and a hard object jabbed into her ribs. Shocked, she glanced down, and saw the muzzle of a gun pressed against her. “Hello, sweetheart, so glad you could join us. The car is just ahead... and please don’t think of making a scene. It would hurt. A lot.” She panicked. Her screams drowned in the sea of terror. Her view got blurred. "Don’t you dare screamin’,” a deep manly voice reminded her once again, guiding her into adjacent car. "I...,“ she trailed off, completely surredered. After few horrifying moments she dared having a brief look around. There was a man driving, confidently steering the car through the abandoned narrow streets. Her attacker was sat right next to her, handing her a blindfold. "If you would be so sweet, my dear...“ She obeyed. Then, she collected herself. Having free hands, she reached for her purse. "Stop it,“ he ordered threateningly, in authority others could only envy. She stopped. They drove. They arrived. * She was sat into a chair. A comfy one. Notably luxurious at first sit; being into slight extravagance herself, she could tell. Then her blindfold was taken off, softly, with utmost care for her comfort. "Welcome,“ said Martin, her former Head Director, holding a piece of cloth from around her eyes,“ I’m deeply sorry for rather inconvenient way of transport, certainly not the first class you’re presumably used to...” "Kidnapping you mean?“ she snapped. "...however, let’s say I’m into adrenaline sports,“ he continued, disregarding her completely,“ I am absolutely sure you know why you’re here.“ She was quiet. As the fear for her own safety dissolved, another seemed to fill it‘s place. "We had a deal,“ he said. Her silence deepened. She avoided looking at him. Eyeing the room around her, she was somewhere in historical mansion or even palace, adding to her unease. "The flash drive?“ he asked sternly. "Yes.“ "Suspects anything?“ "I think...,“ she gulped. This is the hardest part. After her last visit, things turned a bit too romantic; despite her best efforts, some strings got attached nonetheless. Am I really too old for this? Or am I just a coward, after all? "Did he?“ the poignant question ringed in the aether and bloated like gathering clouds before the storm. Elena was quiet, though it was a bit too late to back-off. "Well, Elena, our company gave you access to all the precious data. I gave you access to our company,“ he sighed,“ do you really think you can fuck with me, as if I was that stupid fuck-boy of yours? How can I trust you, when you deny my share? So once again, does that legal-bealge Peter suspect something?“ "I think,“ words got stuck in her throat,“ I think he does.“ "Well, not for long,“ Martin said and produced a smartphone from his pocket,“ Come over and have a look.“ Hesitantly she stood up and took a few steps toward Martin. "Oh, perfect," he smiled, showing her the screen, "Isn't it wonderful how all things are connected these days? He's connected his phone..., "he trailed off, then chuckled, " and his fridge, and his smart lights, and his smart TV.... and even his car!“ Elena was terrified. "Actually,“ he brightened up,“ it looks like he’s driving right now! Do you wnat to have a peek at him?“ He asked, relishing her horror. "Please, Martin,...“ her pleading eyes were begging for remosre. "Look,“ he forced the screen before her,“ where do you think he’s driving to, this late hour?“ Her heart melted as she heard his lovely voice, even though it was just a senseless cursing at the traffic. She missed him already. Surprisingly, all her concerns apmlified, wondering what devilish spyware was her phone infected with. Subconsciously she reached for her purse. "Oh, don’t worry,” Martin laughed,” your phone is safe. Let’s say that amiable gentleman who escorted you here is paid for knowing things.” "Well, and now what?“ Elena didn’t even try to hide her confusion. "Oh, my dear,“ she hated so much when her betters, especially male, called her my dear, sweetheart, darling etc., “now that introductory pleasantries are done, it’s time to set things straight.” "How so? You fired me, you tricked me into deceiving my partner...“ "My partner suddenly,“ Martin cackled, “I wouldn’t go as far. We both know you’re just a cock-hungry, dirty ‘lil slut, darling .“ "You fired me!“ "I had to,“ Martin feigned sympathy, as he cupped her hand in his palms, “things were turning too obvious. And how could I trust you anymore, when you were operating behind my back, keeping all the profit to yourself. Trust, Elena, trust and loyalty, that’s substantial in this business.” “Trust and loyalty,” she retorted, as she freed her hand from Matrin’s. “Indeed, that’s why you are here. To prove to me. To show me, that I can still trust you.” “Try then.” “To show you my good will, I do the first step,” he said and produced his phone again,” this app, is end-to-end encrypted communication channel, hard to be broken into.” “As if it was 100% safe.” “It’s not,” he smiled,” have I mentioned my affinity toward adrenaline sports?” “You certainly did,” Elena gulped down the flashback of her earlier encounter with adrenaline sports, ”But I still don’t quite get it.” “You will. When your smart head’s intelligent enough to embezzle, defraud, and corrupt, while getting legal advice after night-time banging, this will be trivial. I just want you to contact someone.” Her unease skyrocketed when Martin handed her the phone and austere-looking interface of that devilish app showed up; like some formidable creature, fished out of the deepest trenches of the dark web... “Ready to type?” Martin eyed her with knowing smile, penetrating her eyes, far beyond her conscious mind. She suspected what’s going to follow and this suspicion was so clear - probability bordering on certainty, as Peter would say in his comely legalise. Her heart sank, as her worst premonition came true. "Name.“ "Address.“ "30 grand.“ "I...,“ Elena was one step from collapsing. Of course, sometimes one gets redundant and needs to be reduced, but this was the first time she was not ready to throw away someone’s life like this. Jan, master economist, passed away in car accident - that was easy enough, but his cock was good. Daniel, corrupt prosecutor, commited suicide by painkiller overdose - I don’t miss him at all, his cum always tasted rancid. Lukas, a police officer, shot in the police action - I particularly liked his strong arms, that’s about it. Richard, a chairman of city council, jumped under the train - I found him funny. And now... Peter, a lawyer, TBA - I love him from the bottom of my blighted heart. “Is his life really worth so little?” she burst into tears, her shaky fingers typing lamely. “His life? No, it’s worth even less. His death, that’s what matches the price of fancy watches,” he said calmly, always having a joke or two up his sleeve. “Why?” she said in despair, teardrops rushing down her cheeks. “He knows too much, like they did. Is it so hard to understand? You were never hesitant like this before. What’s wrong?” Martin sounded worried for her. Does he really feel any compassion for me? “But why did you make me give him that flash drive, why did you let him see the data?” “You might not remember, because you were having fun ,” he said in slow, patient manner, as if talking to a child, “but he did tell you, that he started his legal practice as prosecutor’s assistant.” He paused for a moment, and he smiled the way a shark might: "And their network is real tasty.“ "Type!“ the predator ordered. “I can’t do it.” He said nothing, just pointed his voracious eyes at her. You can do it, you MUST do it, they read. All the detail was already typed, but her thumb was powerlessly circling around send button. And Martin kept on watching her, feeding on her inner struggle. “If you can’t, then you can’t,” his manner changed into that of an amiable banker, as he took his phone back. “Do you want to have another peek at him?” he asked. She was devoid of words, but her eyes glowed with yearning. “Let’s have a peek then,” the screen resolved itself into interior of a car. Within there were two men sitting, talking quietly, looking at the familiar laptop. Peter and another man, stereotypical police officer by his looks, were focused on whatever it was going on the screen. "What do you think they’re talking about?” Martin asked, his manly jaws growing more prominent, ”It’s funny these modern cars. Did you know that lithium is somewhat reactive, like... I mean, really reactive. It really likes to reduce .” “How about we take a listen?” he handed her the phone and a button with obvious function showed up. They listened. And to her terror, all the talking was about her. Or rather about her grievous misconduct; it even looks like this beagle managed to sniff out more than he was ever supposed to. She stood paralyzed, betrayed and scared. They all know, oh, how clearly. “Elena,” unlike her, Martin didn’t seem scared at all,” have you ever fired someone?” She gritted her teeth. “I know, it can be a traumatic experience, being on the receiving end..." he shrugged apologetically, "but it can be quite cathartic from the opposite side. Look," he reached out and scrolled in the menu of the app. He pulled up a Battery section, "it is just so easy. Just a little tap right here." Shakily she took the phone. She was trembling feverishly, muscles all across her body were spasming. Her face was red and tear-drenched, her eyes vacant. She pushed the button. Martin relaxed and grinned a proud smile of a father whose child just got admitted to prestigious college. “Congratulations!” she couldn’t decipher his delight, "welcome back. You might even get a promotion.” He hugged her dearly and handed her a velvet handkerchief to wash her tears away like Peter and all those before him. “You earned it.” Martin said. She stared blankly, as if she glimpsed the Death itself. She stood still. Peter, a lawyer, fired - I still love him from the bottom of my blighted heart, she updated her diary.