A Great Day Lost Ch. 2

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You get an offer to remember last night.
3.6k words
4.36
34.2k
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Part 2 of the 2 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 07/26/2001
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You slip into an open space amongst the millions (and millions…) of the other mall patrons' vehicles. Oak Land is a pretty typical mall. Two floors, thousands of stores, millions of people and the god-like food court. The ad didn't say where in the mall they would be, just that they were there. You pushed your way through the masses, heading for the escalator.

You could remember when you were a kid on these things. So fun. But now, you were on them for not nearly as juvenile a reason. You got off at the top floor and look down at the mall. Typically, the big events were held somewhere in the center of the mall and drew large crowds so they stood out like a sore thumb. But, you didn't see anything out of the usual. And the large clearing in the center of the bottom floor where most mall specials were held was bare. Not a soul in sight. This is gonna take a while… You sighed, now you had to search the whole mall, inch by inch.

You walked by stores selling clothes, selling sports, selling food, selling perfume, selling movies, selling sex and numerous other stores. You headed down to the first floor and started your circular trip around the interior of the building. Only a few steps and you saw it. A large crowd gathered around the entrance of a swimsuit store. You took of running, shoving past people, darting in and out of the crowd. Lord knows how many fingers you got. There were at least one or two people you knocked on their ass. You slowed back to a walk as you pulled up to the perimeter of the crowd. You pushed your way through and just as you were about to break through the mass a large force pulled you back by the collar of your shirt. You turned around ready to knock someone out when you were faced with a shirt… A shirt containing a large chest, which held together a large man. A large, mall cop man.

"Ya think ya run the joint, mister?" the man practically snarled.

You looked up at him, trying to give him the doe-eyes so he'd let ya go.

"Why don't ya try to go get some sympathy from the cars." He turned around and grabbed you by the wrist, dragging you with him.

"But…"

"Shut up, troublemaka. We don't need none of ya kind in here." The man literally growled at you as he tossed you out of the mall on your head.

Well, I'm fucked now, aren't I? You sighed as you gathered yourself up and headed towards your car. "I guess whatever happened that night is just gonna remain a mystery. Just like they wanted it. And I would've given anything just to remember what the hell happened last night."

"Anything, sir?" You jumped as the burly voice inquired from your backside. You turned around and were faced with yet another large man. This is just not my day. You gulped and nodded slightly. You recognized this guy. You couldn't place him though.

"Sir, I've been instructed to provide you with the golden opportunity of remembrance. Are you interested, sir?" The large black man stared at you the way a dog stares at the T.V. Again, you only nodded. You didn't want to make another enemy with someone who could eat you for breakfast and still be hungry.

"Sir, if you would follow me please." The man turned around and you did as he said…you followed. He led you to a large limousine. The same large limousine that pulled into McDonald's yesterday and started your little romp with the two ladies. That's when you remembered where you recognized the guy from. He was the chauffeur. And from the looks of it, their bodyguard as well. At least one of their bodyguards, anyway. He opened the door and your heart skipped a beat. And inside…it was empty. You sighed. "Sir, before you come back into contact with Ms. Wilson and Ms. Stratus there are some…negotiations to be arranged." You nodded and slipped inside. Regardless of whether they were here or not, it was still 100x better than your piece of crap Chevette.

As the limo took off you could only wonder about the possibilities. What the hell are they gonna make me do? The stagnant smell of sex was still in the air. Whatever had happened, last night must've started before you got to the hotel. You looked outside your window to notice that you were back in the ghetto part of town. Back where you lived. What are we doin' here? The limo slowly pulled to a stop. You looked at the window. Back at the motel. You clambered out and you and chauffeur went inside. You held your nose as you entered behind him, it still stunk. You didn't know which was worse, the smell of the room or the appearance of the room. When you turned to close the door you got a gun barrel in the back of your head.

"Sir, take a seat on the bed. Slowly." You started taking short, quick breaths, trying to stay in control of your bodily functions. You slowly, as instructed, turned and walked to the edge of the bed and sat down, now staring into a gun barrel. "Sir, Ms. Wilson and Ms. Stratus have given me instructions on what to do with you." Hmm, wonder what instructions those might be… you thought as you stared right up the gun barrel, seemingly being able to see the bullet within. "They have said, that if you are willing to cooperate you will receive a videotape of all the…happenings of last night. Sir, are you willing to cooperate?"

Now it was your turn to talk, "On what terms?" Wow, that was bold…

The chauffeur reached beside the bed and picked up a yellow/golden envelope. The big ones used to hold important documents and whatnot. He handed you the folder as he explained, "Inside that folder you will find a birth certificate, driver's license, banking accounts, high school diploma and a library card of one 'Renold P. Fletcher.' He…"

You cut him off as you started to catch on, "You want me to kill him right? This Renold guy. Well, I won't do it."

"No, sir. In exchange for receiving the videotape you must become Renold P. Fletcher. You will sever all communication with your friends and family, 'That'll be easy' you will quit your job, move to a new location and live as Mr. Fletcher. For eight months, you will live as him. All telephone calls, bank transactions, arrests, library checkouts, everything will be monitored. If we feel that you are sending information to outside sources, you will be killed." Your mouth went wide as you heard that last phrase. You'd been only half listening as you looked through the packet, but that had gotten your attention. The guy certainly did bear some resemblance to you, but this seemed kinda odd to you.

"What happened to Mr. Fletcher? Won't he want his life?" you wondered.

"Mr. Fletcher has recently lost any reasons he previously had to want any of this information. Sir, do you accept the terms?"

You sat in silence as you slowly looked through the materials you'd been provided. You would move to Los Angeles, not bad… And it said that this Fletcher guy was worth around ½ a million. "What about a plane ticket? What about a job? What about taxes?"

"Sir, a plane ticket will be provided if you decide to accept the offer. Any job you want will be up to you getting. Your life will continue as normal, just as a different person."

"And after these eight months? I can be my old self again?"

"If you wish. That is your decision as well."

You sighed. This was gonna be something for the record books of your life. "I'll do it."

"Wise choice, sir." He reached back on the side of the bed and got another envelope, but a bit thicker, with a video cassette shape bulge in it. He handed you the envelope and headed for the door.

"Wait," he stopped and turned around, "Am I ever gonna see Trish and Torrie again?"

"Yes, Sir." He nodded and exited before you had a chance to say another word. You looked out the window as he took off, leaving you here alone…without a car and no money. How you wished you could watch that tape. But without a VCR and not one at your place either, it could be a while before you viewed the footage.

Hours passed, you were stranded. You laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling. There was no clock so you couldn't tell what time it was either. You hear a familiar screeching outside and hop up. You push down the blinds and glance out. Its your car! You couldn't remember being so happy to see that piece of crap. In fact, you couldn't remember being happy to see it period. But who brought it? You quickly found out.

The door opened and out stepped Stacey Kiebler. Your jaw hit the floor. You opened the door and when the sun in your eyes and to her back she resembled Aphrodite. She smiled and said, "Mr. Fletcher?"

You started to correct her, but stopped when you realized that was your name now. "Yea. Thanks for bringing the car." You started to walk past her to your car and she grabbed a hold of your wrist.

"You're gonna leave just like that? I came way out here and you just leave little ole' me unhappy…" She pouts.

A grin spreads across your face. She must've talked to Torrie and Trish. Which means…I must've been good last night! "Of course not." You walked back to her, putting her in a liplock, spinning the two of you into the room and closing the door behind you. All in one swift move, Very Bondish. Your hands instantly went down and grabbed two handfuls of that bodacious backside of hers. She ran her hands through your hair and down your back. You picked her up by her ass and dropped her on the bed. You tore off your shirt and she mimicked you. No bra… Probably about a 14B. They weren't wonders of the world, but they weren't to be ignored either. You stumbled out of your pants, falling over in the process, Very Bigish. You scrambled up to the bed, and she rolled over on top of you. She rode your boxer-clad cock as you groped her. After a few seconds of this, you were ready for some real action. You rolled her off you and tugged off her miniskirt, all too slowly. She rolled over on her stomach and looked up at you from over her shoulder, with one leg in the air at the knee.

"Well?" You were stunned. You had imagined that backside so many times you couldn't even begin to count them. But, never. Never had you witnessed anything so…what word fits…perfect. Never in your wildest dreams could you have pictured the perfection of her rotund rear-end. You literally ripped off your boxers, probably not the wisest move, but fitting for the moment and pounced on her. You made sure to land on your knees as not to crush her. You pulled her up at her waist. Now the decision. "Don't fuck my ass." She stated coldly. You could protest, but seeing as how you didn't want to ruin your future chances with her you obliged and slowly slid into her dripping mound. This forced a moan out of the both of you. You slowly withdrew again and re-inserted. You reached your left hand around to play with her tit for both leverage and the sensation. She reached her hand underneath to stroke your cock and play with her clit at the same time. This girl knew her stuff. Not that you were an amateur by any means. You knew neither of you were going for stamina in this escapade, so you decided to get down to business and get the hell out of this stinky motel as fast as you could. You picked up the pace a bit. And you started to spank her ass with your other hand on each thrust. She didn't complain to this, so you kept it up. She picked up on your new found speed and matched you, stroke for stroke. The momentum was so high that everything became a blur. You could swear there was enough friction in your nether regions to start a fire. And you can't forget about the noise. Between her screams, as if she was being tore in two (which she probably was), and your caveman grunts, it sounds like a murder was taking place.

You could feel it building, you could even kind of feel hers building. Then it was there. You were in, she was stationary, and you were both unloading. From the speed to the standstill. The loud to the quiet. And then it was over. You slid out as you collapsed beside her and let loose a sigh of exhaustion. "You better go clean up." You said to her as you pulled yourself up. She nodded and headed for the bathroom. You picked up the shreds of what was left of your boxers and threw them away. You slid on your jeans and your shirt, picked up the envelope of your new life and walked out to the car. Inside was your wallet and a plane ticket.

Wednesday night, 8:00; Arrival at 11:00. But it would be 9:00 with the time difference. Stacey walked out, fully clothed, taking the passenger seat. "I needed that." She grinned as she talked. You nodded in agreement. You left the rundown motel and were going to leave your rundown life. "I need you to drop me off at the airport." You nodded, still exhausted and headed for the airport.

You pulled to a stop outside one of terminals. She leaned over and gave you a long, long kiss. "Remember. Quit your job and sever all outside contacts. You can begin anew when you get to L.A."

"Yea, yea. I know. Don't you have any luggage or anything?" You asked, looking around.

"Nah, the girls already got it." Before you could verify who "the girls" were, she closed the door and headed inside. You flashed a big grin to yourself in the rearview mirror, "Life is good." You headed for your work, unable to lose the grin. You were unable to lose it as you went back home to your crappy apartment. You couldn't lose it as you fell asleep that night. You woke up with it in the morning. You couldn't lose it as you packed your stuff Wednesday morning. You kept it as you turned in your key and headed for the airport. You were grinning ear to ear as you sat in the terminal waiting for the plane to take you away.

You switched all the information in your wallet with the information about Renold P. Fletcher. Wonder what the P stands for? This didn't stay in your mind for long. It was nearly as exciting as what lay before you. You sat on the plane. You listened to some music. You watched the clouds go by. You ate your Cordon Bleu Hubby Kit. You made your single-serving friend. And you got off.

This is when you first thought about transportation and lodging… You weren't without money, but if you had to buy a car and a house, that money was going away fast. You walked to the front desk and asked the lady there, "Excuse me, where can you go to see about renting a car?"

"Mr. Fletcher?" She asked out of the blue.

"Uh, Yea. How did you know?" You wondered.

"I was given a description of you and I was told to give you this locker key for locker 291." She reached under her little desk and pulled it out and handed it to you. You thanked her and she pointed you in the right direction. You found the lockers and opened your locker, trying to shield the contents from the other people nearby. You found…another envelope. It contained a map of the L.A. metro area, a set of keys on a key ring and a slip of paper which read, "Lot R. License Plate 472RQP. 403 Jefferson St." You grinned. I guess a car and a house won't be a problem. You trashed the envelope and headed for a map of the airport to find Lot R. You made your way through the streams of cars, basking in the late night L.A. heat. You found Lot R and walked up and down each row, looking at every car. You got some weird looks, but they didn't just get reborn so screw them.

Then you found it. You slowly looked up at the car itself. A Brand New 2002 Silver Mustang. It wasn't just awe-inspiring, but it certainly was 50x better than what you expected and 1000x better than your piece of shit Chevette. You took out your keys and opened the door. You sat inside, looking over your map, finding out where 403 Jefferson was.

You found its location and took off in your new Mustang. After some driving around you found it. You found your house. You found your 3 storied house. You found your 3 storied house with the white picket fence and the lavish garden. You opened the garage and pulled your Mustang into your house. You were in awe. The garage was the size of your apartment. You got out and entered your house for the first time. As soon as you walked in the door you saw what you'd been looking for. A big screen T.V. with surround system and…a VCR. I can check out the house later. You almost ran to the VCR. You put in the tape and took a seat on the couch as it all started to come back as you watched it happen…

You stumbled out of the limo, woozy from the alcohol. Trish was holding a camcorder as Torrie led you to a door. You looked around, you didn't recognize where you were, but it looked sleazy. She pushed open the door and pushed you inside. You stumbled onto the bed, and laid there face down. Torrie came up behind you and rolled you over. Trish stood at the edge of the bed with the camera, watching. Torrie slipped off her pants slowly, revealing she'd left her panties in the limo. You were drunk, but you weren't so drunk that you didn't know what was going on. You pulled your shirt off and tossed it. Trish had also slipped off her top and had also left her undergarments in the car. As Torrie kissed her way up your leg, to the knee, up your thigh, kissing your cock through your jeans. She undid your jeans and unzipped them with just her teeth, god was that sexy. Trish played with her tits as she watched, holding the camera. Torrie kissed her way back up your other leg as she slid the jeans off. Then you pulled her up, and the two of you did a little deep mouth discovery with your tongues. You swiftly slid off your boxers, eager to get busy. Trish now had her hand deep down her pants and Torrie was slipping off her shirt. They both must've had at least D Cups. You pulled Torrie back to you, and sucked and played with her nipple. She rubbed your cock with her knee while she played with your nipples. You slid one hand down south, and slipped in two fingers to get her ready for you, but you could tell she already was.

Trish set the camera down, now going all out on her pussy as she slithered out of her pants. If you didn't have Torrie all over you, you would've loved to just have watched her. But you did, so you couldn't except out of the corner of your eye. Torrie was done with the foreplay and shoved you down and jumped on your cock. You let her have control and just played with her tits and stomach. She was obviously horny as hell because she didn't take any time building up to fucking fast. She was going at you like a bobcat, not that that was a bad thing. She was moaning like…a woman having sex. You couldn't keep up with her pace and quickly shot deep inside of her. Luckily for you, she couldn't keep up with her pace either and let forth her womanly secretions al over your cock. You heard another loud moan and looked over just as Trish came all over her hand. You laid on the bed as Torrie got up and walked over to Trish…

The tape stopped. "Crap! The power went out!" You tried to remember, you wanted to remember. You had to remember… But you couldn't. You sighed and got up and walked around the house. It really was something. On your bed you found a note, "Dear Renold, If you're reading this it means its Wednesday night. We'll see you Friday. Love, Trish Stratus and Torrie Wilson." You almost fainted on the spot, they were coming to you? You couldn't believe your luck over the past four days. With the grin returning, you fell asleep in your king-sized bed, hoping the power would be back when you woke up in the morning.

To Be Continued...

Author's Note: Sorry for the time between Ch. 1 and Ch. 2. But there will be a Ch. 3 and it won't be 7 months from now. I guarantee it.

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A Great Day Lost Previous Part

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