Message-ID: <41734asstr$1049922605@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Vulgar Argot" <VulgarArgotREMOVEALL@CAPSinsidejoke.tv>
Subject: {ASSM} Marigold, Part 9
Date: Wed,  9 Apr 2003 17:10:05 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Marigold, Part 9
by Vulgar Argot
(rom, semi-NC, anal, voy)

Author's note: There's been a minor name change from previous versions. As
the story plays out, I've decided that I don't want to drag a well-known
family name through fictitious mud.

Leaving Marigold dozing, curled up on the bed, Thule went into the bathroom
to splash some cold water on his face. Gazing into the mirror over the sink,
he took a personal inventory. He was starting to show stubble and, in two or
three days, would need to shave again. He was starting to develop dark
circles under his eyes again, but they did not look so bad on his tanned
face as they had as when they were the only color he had. Still, he was
getting deep into sleep debt and would have to catch up soon.

He ran a hand through his mass of hair, easing out a few tangles that he'd
accumulated while making love to Marigold. He would get it cut tomorrow or
the next day. He'd been debating a shearing before Jonas suggested it. The
hair had given him a certain social credibility among the stoners and
burnouts at school, but it was a nuisance, taking up far too much of his
time on maintenance. Shorter hair meant more sleep, more code, more time for
sex.

Glancing in the medicine cabinet mirror, he could see the image of Marigold
sprawled, face-down on the bed. The form she'd worked so hard to hide
throughout high school was so openly on display. It made Thule want to run
back to bed, touch her, trace kisses down her spine. He'd always known she
was pretty, through tantalizing glances at unguarded moments, suspected that
she was beautiful, but never expected it to be like this. From the first
time she'd submitted to his attentions, his plans and self-control had taken
a serious blow. A part of him, most of him, in fact, just wanted to give up
his plans of revenge on Brianne and Randy Vandevoort. But, revenge had been
on his mind too long. He no longer felt any connection to Maya. He'd come
home to a long, tearful e-mail from her, apologizing in detail for all of
her transgressions, real and imagined. He hadn't answered. There had been
another long, ranty message when he got home today. He would have to deal
with Maya at some point, but that could wait a few days.

Thule had thought he was done with crazy women. But Marigold was as bugfuck
bonkers as Maya in her own, special way. His complete incapability in
finding a revenge strategy for Marigold made him feel like he was completely
over his head with Brianne and Randy. Marigold was supposed to have been the
easy one. The plan had been poetically brilliant. Turn each person's crime
back on themself. He'd succeeded in making Marigold feel like a whore, but
it didn't seem much like revenge now.

That reminded him. He'd collected an extraordinary amount of blackmail
material on Marigold. It had been his original plan to make it publicly
available after she left for Harvard. It probably wouldn't have ruined her
academic career, but it would have guaranteed a few miserable years. Now,
the thought repelled him. Actually, the thought had always repelled him, but
he'd lost the certainty that he would be right in doing so.

Crossing the room, he started up his DVD-ROM burning software and started to
burn everything he'd collected to a disc, encrypting and password protecting
it so that, even if someone else found the DVD, they couldn't see its
contents. He really wanted to just delete the files, but this was safer.
Marigold stirred and looked up.

"I should get home," she said. Thule could hear the remorse in her voice. He
checked the clock and saw she was right. He said, "Call your stepfather.
Tell him you'll be home soon. I just need to finish this."

Marigold walked over to the desk, still blinking sleep from her eyes. As she
reached for the receiver, she asked casually, "What are you doing?"

Thule put an arm around Marigold's belly, drawing her to him, and kissed the
top of her head. Immediately, he began to harden. Even this casual gesture
of affection was getting him worked up. Focusing on the question, he said,
"I'm moving all of the incriminating files I have of you to DVD so that
there's no chance they will fall into the wrong hands. Then, I'll delete
them off of the hard drive and run a special utility to make sure that they
can't be recovered.

Marigold's eyes widened a little, "So, this is all the blackmail material
you have on me?"

Thule nodded, "Yup."

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on top of the desk, pressing her
bottom against Thule's groin. Thule almost didn't hear her ask, "So, what
would happen if I were to turn this computer off while you were moving files
from the hard drive to DVD?"

Thule knew what would happen. One file of the several dozen he had might get
corrupted. He'd also have to start the burn over. He didn't say that,
though. Instead, he laid a hand on the small of Marigold's back and said, "I
don't know. It could delete everything." Then, he watched her carefully.

Marigold spread her legs slightly and began to rub herself against Thule.
Unbelievably, he stiffened immediately. Marigold lowered her head further,
staring intently at the power button on the computer.

Thule laid his free hand on Marigold's shoulder and said, "Little flower, if
you don't stop that, you're going to get home awfully late."

Marigold stood up straight, pulling away from Thule a little so that she
could turn around and face him. Her eyes widened in what Thule presumed to
be feigned surprise, "You're right," she said, "I should get dressed. It's
too bad I can't stay all night. Thule, don't you think it will be nice once
we get to Boston and we can be together all night?"

Thule smiled evilly, "Actually, I've got to wait at least another," he
glanced at the screen, "six minutes before I can take you home." Then, he
took Marigold's shoulder, turned her around and bent her over the desk
again.

"Six minutes isn't..." Marigold started to say, but Thule was already
pressing himself against her tight little ass. She only had time to gasp
before he was inside of her. Already lubricated and aroused, it didn't take
Marigold long to start moaning and mewling, her body trembling under his
onslaught.

Six minutes into sodomizing her, Thule slowed down. Marigold looked up at
him, disbelief in her eyes, "Please, don't stop," she begged.

"I'm not," said Thule, "hold still." Then, he reached over, grabbed his
keyboard and balanced it on her shoulders, pounding away at her the whole
time. Marigold could hear him typing. She made a little squeal of protest,
but held still. Less than a minute later, Thule put the keyboard back on the
desk and focused his attention back on jackhammering Marigold relentlessly.
It didn't take long for him to finish after that, but Marigold's whole body
was trembling as if with fever by the time he came inside of her. He pulled
her backwards onto his lap in the desk chair where she sat panting as he
shrank out of her.

Marigold leaned back to kiss Thule on the neck. Thule said shakily, "Now,
you'd really better go get cleaned up. Then call your stepfather."

"Okay," said Marigold. She skipped off.

Thule sat back and sighed. If he survived to make it to Boston, Marigold
would probably be the death of him. After a few seconds of relaxing, he
began gathering his clothes and putting them back on. He would need a shower
after he got back from dropping Marigold off. At this rate, it was going to
be another long night.

Once dressed, he sat down at his desk again, ejected the DVD, labelled it
"MARIGOLD," and put it in the free-standing safe under his desk. With the
evidence he'd collected from the coach, the DVD, and the video tape he'd
retrieved from Paul in New York, it was starting to get very full. Only he
and Maya had the combination. He'd spent an extra two hundred dollars on the
safe so that he'd know that no one else could open it.

He'd had doubts about Maya's suitability as a partner in crime all along,
but this weekend had really put things in perspective. He was going to need
another confederate he could trust. Marigold seemed an obvious choice, but
she really hadn't proven herself to have a mind sufficiently twisted to deal
with the safe's contents. If it wasn't going to be her, there was something
he needed to do.

Marigold came out of the bathroom mostly dressed just as Thule was powering
up the mass eraser. The heavy electromagnet, which had its own table in a
corner of the room, off away from the computers, hummed ominously.

"What's that?" asked Marigold.

"Mass magnetic media eraser," Thule said, "one of the few ways to reliably
reset floppies and such."

Marigold crouched down to stare at the device, "Are you destroying the DVD
you just made."

"DVDs aren't magnetic," said Thule. He held up a videotape, "I'm destroying
this. It's the tape Paul made of us."

Marigold's eyes widened, "How did you get it?"

Thule laid the tape on the magnetic surface, "I told him to give it to me."
He closed the cover and flipped a switch. The humming increased in volume
and pitch. Taking the tape out, he placed it on a lower work bench and
strapped on a pair of goggles, "Stand back."

Marigold stepped back, "Why?"

Thule reached into a drawer under the workbench and drew out a claw hammer.
He indicated it.

"I mean," asked Marigold, "why did you take the tape from Paul? You've got
plenty of blackmail material and an endless supply of new content if you
want it."

Thule shrugged, "This is my first blackmail. I thought that having a
monopoly on your prurient ouevre would be advantageous." He brought the
hammer down on the tape, a model of efficient violence, crushing and
breaking the plastic until it was a small pile of plastic chips. He gathered
the chips into a small bag, "Put on your shirt and let's go."

Outside, in the car, Marigold asked, "What would you have done if he hadn't
wanted to give up the tape?"

Thule drove silently in the darkness, not answering for a long time.
Marigold started to repeat the question.

"I suppose," said Thule, "I would have hit him and taken it. He was a couple
of inches taller than me, but a little soft around the middle and I probably
could have taken him by surprise. Still, the Australians are known for their
brawling." He had a faraway look in his eyes.

Marigold wrapped her arms around one of Thule's, "You would have fought him
for me?"

Thule chuckled. That would be Marigold's interpretation of the statement. It
was close enough to the truth that he didn't correct her, "I would have
fought him. I'm glad I didn't have to."

"Why did you destroy the tape?" Marigold asked.

Thule debated giving an evasive answer, but decided against it, "I copied it
to digital media first. There's a copy of it on the DVD if I ever need to
retrieve it."

"Ah," said Marigold, "so, you can still watch it if you want to."

"I doubt," said Thule emphatically, "that I will want to watch it."

"So, why keep a copy?"

Thule reached over with his free hand to pet her head and kiss her, "I just
like to cover all of my bases. It's in my nature to be thorough. This
conversation reminds me, there's a present for you on the back seat."

Marigold climbed over the seat and came back with a small gift-wrapped box.
Her eyes glowed with pleasure, "Can I open it now?"

Thule nodded, smiling at her childlike joy.

Marigold tore off the wrapping, revealing a PC camera. She looked up
quizzically.

"With that," said Thule, "you'll be able to call me at home and see me. It
won't tie up your phone line, so you don't have to worry about someone
accidentally picking up another extension. Plus, I can watch you sleep."

Marigold asked, "You would do that?"

Thule smiled, "I would like that."

They were in front of Marigold's house now. She hugged the box, then slid it
into her backpack, "Can I call you later if I have trouble setting it up?"

"Of course," said Thule, getting out of the car to come around to her side.
He opened her door for her.

"Thule," asked Marigold, "you're not going to keep up the good boyfriend
routine, are you?"

"Actually," said Thule, "I need to talk to Jonas."

Marigold frowned, "I think I liked it better when you and my stepfather were
on opposite sides. You two being all chummy makes me nervous."

Thule smiled, "If that were still the case, I would have had you home two
hours ago. And think of all the fun that we would have missed."

Marigold's smile just missed demure, "Oh, all right. How much does he know
anyway?"

Thule laughed, heading up the path, "More than I would like him to."
Marigold was forced to follow and, before she could formulate the first
question, Thule was standing at the front door, about to knock. Before he
could, the door opened.

"Hey, you two," said Jonas, "Am I interrupting anything?"

"No, sir," said Thule, "We were just about to say good night. But, if you
had a minute, I would like to talk to you about something."

Jonas nodded, "I'll get my jacket."

While he was gone, Thule kissed Marigold good night. Marigold started to
melt into the kiss, but Thule pulled back. As he expected, Jonas appeared
shortly thereafter. He bade Marigold good night and she headed up the
stairs.

"Walk with me," said Jonas as he crossed the porch.

Thule trotted a few steps to catch up. Jonas shrugged on his jacket. Neither
spoke until they were on the sidewalk, away from the house, and in front of
a wooded area.

"So," Jonas asked, "What did you want to talk to me about?"

Thule said, "I came up with something you can do to help me. I need someone
I can trust in case things go wrong."

"How wrong could they go?" Jonas asked. It was not a dismissive question,
but an ernest one.

Thule sighed, "If I should wind up in jail or dead, there's a safe in my
room. Inside of it is everything I've collected about all of the dirty
dealings going on in this town. I need you to get it to Officer Richard
Tulley in Perth Amboy."

"Perth Amboy is a long way away," said Jonas, "Why there?"

"Officer Tulley has a vested interest in seeing that the information in
there is used, although he doesn't know it yet. If you do this, I recommend
you make a copy of everything for yourself. There's a tech in your company's
 IT department named John Xiu who also has a vested interest in this case
who can copy the computer media for you if you need help."

Jonas pulled a small pad and pen from his pockets. Thule laid a warning hand
on this, "Don't write any of this down. I'll repeat it as many times as you
need. As far as I cant tell, I've worked for three years without anyone
involved getting a whiff of this. I'd hate for some scrap of paper to fall
into the wrong hands and blow the whole thing."

Jonas raised an eyebrow, but put pen and pad away. Reaching into his jacket
pocket, he came out with a half-full pack of Marlboro reds and a lighter. He
offered them to Thule. Thule waved them away, "Thanks, but I quit a year
ago."

Jonas lit himself a cigarette, "I quit six years ago. Took it up again
today. The more I started thinking about what you're involved in, the more I
needed one."

Thule nodded, "If you want a secure place to keep all of the information I'm
going to give you, I can help you configure a PDA to encrypt and secure it,
but it's still important to keep it in your head, in case something happens
to the PDA."

Jonas took out the pad and pen again, "Is it all right if I write down what
sort of PDA to get?"

Thule snorted, then told him. Jonas took quick, efficient notes. Then,
putting away the pad, he pulled out his wallet. Searching through, he came
out with a business card, "If you need him, this is a criminal defense
attorney. I used him to get my record sealed after I cleaned up. I'll let
him know that he's to help you in whatever way he can."

Thule nodded gratefully, "Thank you."

"I thought of something else I can do to help you, but I need you to take me
into your confidences first," said Jonas.

"If I can," said Thule.

Jonas stopped walking. They were still alongside the road, but forest
stretched from horizon to horizon. He face Thule, took a long draw from his
cigarette, its tip burning incandescent in the darkness, then asked, "Is
Ivan Vandevoort one of your big sharks?"

Thule didn't answer. He walked a yard up the road, then back past Jonas,
then back again. Jonas offered him a cigarette again. This time, he took it,
lit it, and took a long draw before speaking. Finally, he said, "You, Ivan
Vandevoort, and Gregory Tompkins, Marigold's father, were known as the
Unholy Trinity in high school. You were inseparable. Greg and Ivan were
known for their womanizing, you for your drug habit. Greg went to Harvard;
you and Ivan stayed in town and went to Stryker University. You two were
crown princes to your respective family fortunes. You dated a girl named
Holly Wentsworth, who is Marigold's mother, your current wife and later
Greg's sister, Abigail. After you left Holly for Abigail, Ivan dated Holly.
The first time you were caught with heroin, it was Ivan who bailed you out.
You used his lawyer on your two subsequent arrests."

Thule took another drag. It seemed clear that he wasn't done and Jonas did
not interrupt. He went on, "When Greg got into his accident, he asked you to
take care of Holly and Marigold. Eighteen months later, you were married.
Six months after that, you became a born-again Christian and began to take
your job seriously. After Ivan, you are probably the second wealthiest man
in this town. You and Ivan have gone into partnership on three ventures. You
have been approached for partnerships in at least three other ventures,
which you have declined. At least two of those ventures were subsequently
investigated for some degree of malfeasance." He took a deep breath, then a
drag on the cigarette.

Jonas let out a low whistle, "That's pretty damned close to accurate and
displays a disturbing lack of data security on my end. But, I'm not sure
that it answers my question."

"It doesn't," admitted Thule, "It asks why I should answer that question to
someone who seems to have a history of friendship and cooperation with Ivan
Vandevoort."

Jonas dropped his cigarette and ground it out violently, "This is a very
strange town," he said, "Why did you tell me as much as you did if you don't
trust me?"

"I do trust you," said Thule, "but, I'm curious."

"If it's just idle curiosity..."

"It's not idle," said Thule, "I want to know if you're involved in anything
that would come out in an investigation of the Vandevoort family."

Jonas shrugged, "My conscience is clean. Ivan's offered me eleven business
deals in total. I've turned down eight of them because they smelled funny."

"Are you still friends?"

Jonas shook his head, "Not in a long time. After Greg chose me to watch over
his family instead of Ivan, Ivan did everything he could to undermine that.
He didn't really have any interest in Holly, but he hated losing. Once he
took over his father's company, I started to see a lot of the ugliness he
kept hidden. We do business because that's business. How in the hell did you
get all of that information anyway? Some of it should never have left my
office."

Thule chuckled, "For your high school internship program, add the  question
"Do you have a big mouth?" to the application."

"Damn," said Jonas lighting another cigarette. Then, he was deadly serious,
"I want to see Ivan go down. Between what he's done and what he's covered up
for his son, he deserves to go down hard."

Thule flicked his own cigarette out onto the macadam of the road, "Randy
Vandevoort and Brianne Orlean are my primary targets. But, most of what I
have on Randy indicts his father as well."

 said Jonas. "Listen, if you're interested, I have an idea how I can help
you, if you want it."

"I'm listening," said Thule.

Jonas outlined his plan. Thule listened. It was brilliant and overwhelming
in its simplicity. He whistled in admiration and awe, "That's far more than
I ever would have asked for. If you're willing to do it, it could easily
make the difference between success and failure."

"Answer me one question," said Jonas, "Why are you doing all of this? Plenty
of people have suffered in this town. Why you?"

"When I was fifteen," Thule said, "Randy Vandevoort raped my girlfriend.
Brianne set the whole thing up. I promised to protect her and I couldn't.
When you fail as a protector, the only sort of redemption you get is through
vengeance."

Jonas started walking slowly back towards the house. When it was clear that
Thule was following him, he said, "That's a hell of a responsibility to take
on at fifteen."

Behind him, Thule said, "I can't think of any time in my life I would be
more qualified. I've had three and a half years to plan and gather
information. I've had unrestricted access to my targets six hours a day,
five days a week. Come September, I'll be in college or working full time.
If not now, when?"

It was a rhetorical question and Jonas did not bother to answer it. Instead,
as they came up on Thule's car, he asked, "Is there anything else you can
think of that I can do?"

Thule looked at him, his eyes serious and intense, and tinged with pain, "I
could use another cigarette."

                       -=-

Driving towards home, Thule realized that he had never explained his
justification for vengeance to anyone, even himself before tonight. Doing so
had brought back memories of feeling like a total failure because he had
been unable to protect Maya from Randy Vandevoort. He pushed the feelings
down again.

The clock on his dashboard said 10:22 pm. He sighed as he decided with
important tasks to let slide one more day and which to take care of. Making
a decision, he skipped the turn that would lead to his house and kept
driving until he found one of those big 24-hour drug stores that are really
more like supermarkets. After making his purchase, he drove home. Checking
his e-mail, he saw one from Marigold near the top. She had gotten her PC
camera to work and needed to know how to set it up so Thule could watch her.
He e-mailed instructions back, assuming she had already gone to bed. But, a
few minutes later, an indicator popped up indicating that
TetheredLittleFlower wanted to establish a videoconference. Placing a soda
bottle cap over his camera's lense, he accepted. A jerky picture of
Marigold, dressed for bed, appeared.

He typed, "Hello, Marigold. Don't tell me you miss me already."

It took Marigold a few seconds to figure out how to respond, but then she
typed, "Of course. I can't see you, though. Did I do something wrong?"

Thule typed, "No. I want to watch you sleep tonight. When we converse, I
will uncover the camera so that you can see me." He thought about it, then
added, "if the mood strikes me."

It seemed to take her a moment to digest this. Then, she typed, "Yes, Thule.
This is good night, then?"

"Yes," Thule typed, "I have one last thing I have to do tonight, but then
I'm going to sleep."

"If I'd known," typed Marigold, "I wouldn't have worn my schlumpy old sweat
pants."

"Take them off," typed Thule, "Take everything off. Few things make me
happier than watching you sleep naked."

Marigold nodded at the camera, then stripped down, doing the same sort of
bump and grind she'd done for Peter. When she was completely naked, she came
back and typed, "Good night, Thule. Dream of me."

Thule typed, "Good night, Little Flower. Close the chat client before you go
to bed. It wouldn't do for someone to accidentally glance at this
conversation in the morning."

Marigold nodded again and Thule got a message "*** USER TetheredLittleFlower
has exited the chat room. ***." Then, Marigold got up from her desk, turned
the camera to face her bed, walked off camera for a moment, then came back
and laid down on top of the covers, turned off the light, and seemed to fall
asleep quickly.

Once she seemed to be sleeping, Thule laid a few pieces of newspaper on the
floor near the mass eraser, then rolled his desk chair over on top of the
newspaper. Watching Marigold's prone form on the monitor, he stripped out of
his clothes, plugged in the shaver he'd bought tonight and began to give
himself the only haircut he could with any reasonable degree of
professionalism. As he felt his long locks falling down his body and onto
the paper below, it was like he was putting on warpaint and getting ready
for war. As he watched Marigold on screen, he knew what he was going to war
for.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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