Jailer Jack

All characters are over 18

*

Every now and then these days I wonder, if I'd never moved away with Mom two years ago, whether my stalker would have snapped and taken me when I was sixteen. Back then, I worked at my local cafe, just a few blocks from my house. The owner, Martin, was a giant adorkable nerd, and hosted gaming nights on weekends. I was never sure what they were. Sometimes there were little metal figures, occasionally weird dice, and at Halloween they even wore costumes.

Martin was friends with most of the guys that came to the gaming nights. That's how I met Jack. He was friendly enough, but he'd stare at me when he thought nobody was looking. I never felt threatened, but it was creepy. He was twenty-seven and had no business staring at a teenager, or trying to add me on social media, or stand a bit too close whenever he was around with his gigantic frame that dwarfed most people in the vicinity, let alone me. When I told Martin how uncomfortable Jack made me, he laughed and said he was strange, but harmless. And he'd have a quiet word and tell him to back off.

Not long after that, my parents broke up, and I moved away with Mom. She'd always been the strict parent and kept me well under her thumb. When I graduated high school and turned eighteen, I called my dad and asked if I could move back in with him. I wanted to take a gap year. Not just to decompress after two years of unfiltered Mom. I wanted to spend some time with him before I went out into the big, bad world. Once I figured out what I should do with my life, anyway.

Dad still lived in the family home, though he had to work ridiculous hours to keep it, driving dangerous goods long haul all over the country for the extra cash. Mom had taken so much, and I was determined to help, even if it was just some warm meals and conversation.

He would come back on Monday mornings, exhausted and almost dead on his feet. I'd make him a cup of coffee and chat with him while he wound down, taking his bag and doing his laundry while he slept. The three nights he was home were a joy though, finally getting to know him as a person instead of my father, and I began hating Thursdays when he'd leave.

But I still had the cafe. The day after I'd come home, I waltzed in pretending to be an irate customer and demanded to speak to the manager. Martin walked out of the office and started laughing the moment he saw me. An hour later, I had my old job back. Weekend days and Sunday game nights. It wasn't a lot of money, but enough that I could coast for a while, and also meant I didn't lose any time with Dad.

My first shift felt like being a kid again. Some regulars even remembered me, and the gaming nights were still nerdy as ever.

A month flew by, and my old friendship with Martin was like I'd never left. He told me all about his nerdy girlfriend and how well we'd get along, and I told him about living with Dad and how hard he worked, and how glad I was to have something to do on the weekends. Even if it was work.

Life was great. And I wished I could keep it in a tiny perfect bubble of happiness.

Life doesn't work that way, I guess.

It was a Sunday afternoon, and the cafe had closed an hour earlier. Martin and I moved all the tables ready for game night, and I was finishing the last of the day shift clean up. The doors were shut, rattling occasionally as the guys arrived. I'd say hello and sometimes have a quick chat, but I was mostly just keen for my dinner break.

"Mel?" I heard from behind me, and I turned. Jack. The same hulking frame, gorilla-chested and staring with his pale hooded eyes. I hadn't seen him since I'd come home, assuming with relief that he'd moved out of town, and I suppressed my sigh of annoyance as he grinned broadly. "It is you! All grown up."

My smile was fake and thin when he enfolded me in a hug, pressing his body up against mine. The echoes of all the moments I caught him staring when I was younger came roaring back, and I squirmed away when it didn't seem like he would ever let go. "Hey Jack, how've you been?"

"Oh, you know, working, surviving. I just got back from sorting out my grandparent's estate. When I called Marty, I couldn't believe it when he said you were around. How long are you in town for?"

"Uh, kind of a gap year thing, without all the expensive European travel. I'm not sure what I want to do yet."

"So you'll be around? Cool. I guess we'll be seeing a lot more of each other."

"Oh. Yeah. Great."

We were apparently on hugging terms from then on. Always a little too long, and far too close. Have you ever noticed how hugs are usually just shoulders and maybe upper chest? Jack would press his whole body into mine, curving his frame around me. A couples hug. I hated it, but kept telling myself not to judge. He showed up at the gaming nights each weekend without fail and even started coming in early. And still watched my every move. I tried to shrug it off, but there was something...

Martin joked a few times that I should date him, and I laughed. I mean, Jack wasn't bad looking, he was just strange, and way too old for me. Even if I did like him, even the idea of having a first boyfriend eleven years older than me felt weird. Not to mention, when Martin made the joke, the shuddering disgust that ran down my spine.

The days and weeks marched on, and I fell into the routine of slower life in my hometown. At Dad's insistence, I enrolled into some online courses, to keep my brain in study mode, and figure out what I wanted to do. My ancient computer struggled with the gentle usage, and I wondered if I should start saving for a laptop.

The old beast gave up the ghost one Saturday after work when I was in the middle of an assignment. The course wasn't accredited, and I'd been doing it mainly because it sounded cool, but losing my essay pissed me off nonetheless. It was only the next day, at the end of gaming night, when I realized Martin probably knew someone who could fix my computer, or at least pronounce it dead. We were packing up while the stragglers lingered, reliving the epic battles they'd just fought, keeping my body and gaze angled away from where Jack was still sitting. He was always the last to leave.

"Hey Martin, my computer died. Do you know anyone who could look at it?" I said, as we moved the tables back to their usual spots. "Maybe not too expensive. I'm still saving for college."

"Hmm, how about-" Martin started.

"I can fix it," said Jack, looking up from where he was stuffing his nerdy ephemera into his backpack. "I'm the IT guy for a bunch of places around here."

Martin grinned. "There you go," he said, and gave him a sly glance. "And Jack will totally help you out for free, right?"

"Absolutely," Jack said, an expression I couldn't decipher flashing over his face. "Or a trade. I hear you paint?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," I said. He made me uncomfortable, but Martin seemed to trust him. Maybe I was being paranoid. I gave him my address, and he promised to drop by the following afternoon to pick up my computer.

When the doorbell rang a little after five thirty the next day, I scampered downstairs and hoped it hadn't woken Dad. I opened the door, and Jack's enormous frame filled it, and he grinned as a bolt of unease flared in my guts.

"Show me the patient," he said after another of his too-long hugs. I led him upstairs to my bedroom after cautioning him to be quiet because Dad was sleeping, and pointed under my desk. My computer was a heavy desktop machine and was still very dead.

Jack ignored it, and wandered around my room first, taking in the childish decor I hadn't bothered updating since I moved back. Just as I was about to say something, he sat down at my desk and hit the computer power button, seemingly all business. He restarted it a few times, muttering to himself.

"I need to take it with me, if that's OK? It should only be a few days. I can't tell what's wrong without opening it up," Jack said, swiftly unplugging everything, and pulling the heavy tower out from under my desk. "Oh, before I forget," he said, trailing off as he rummaged in his backpack. "Marty mentioned something about an online course you were doing and I didn't want you to fall behind, so I brought this as a loaner."

"Wow, thanks," I said, as he placed a sleek laptop on my desk, and I wondered if I'd misjudged him. He showed me a couple of games and different programs he thought I might be interested in, and got ready to leave. After writing down his contact information 'for after hours IT support,' and hefting my computer in his meaty arms with apparently no effort, he turned to me just before walking back out.

"One last thing," he said, looking embarrassed. "If you could stay out of the private folder on the laptop? I'd appreciate it. I ran out of time to transfer it off, and, well..."

"Of course," I assured him with a genuine smile.

Wednesday morning, Dad hugged me and said he had to leave early this week. He'd received a call and didn't want to turn down the overtime. I told him he worked too much, and coffee in his favorite mug would be waiting for him when he got home.

Later that night, I opened a bottle of wine Dad would never miss, and wandered around the house as I sipped it. We'd planned to go to dinner and a movie, our weekly bonding tradition before he left for work. Instead, I was tipsy, and a little bored.

I plopped down at my desk and poured another glass, squinting at the light on the laptop monitor I couldn't get to turn off. It flickered intermittently, and didn't seem to be in reaction to anything I was doing, but still worried me because it looked expensive. Among the papers on my desk, I finally fished out Jack's information, carefully typing his username into the chat, and sent a message request.

Jack: Hey Mel, what's up?

Melly: Hi Jack. There's a light on the computer that turned on last night, I can't get it to turn off. I'm worried I've done something wrong?

Jack: Just above the monitor? Don't worry about it, it does that sometimes. Faulty, even for an IT god :)

Melly: Phew.

Jack: What are you up to?

Melly: Um, gonna crash soon. Kind of bored.

Jack: There's movies on there if you want. Under the 'private' folder on the desktop. TV shows too.

Melly: Oh cool, thanks.

Jack: Also, I'm finishing up your computer tonight. Now, actually. How about I drop it off after work? I finish at five, so some time after that.

Melly: That would be great, thank you.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but the private folder I'd successfully ignored for two days beckoned. I shrugged and clicked it. There was no way he'd ever know, right?

I'd never seen so much porn before. Or any, for that matter. Creamy Teen gets Railed, Gloryhole Babes Three, My First Gangbang. The titles were confusing. What on earth was a gloryhole? Or dogging? Or a creampie?! I clicked on random videos, watching with morbid fascination as girls were groped, sucked, licked, and fucked.

Sex looked... weird. I still wanted to try it at some point, but I'd always imagined it as something like in the movies, with dim lighting and candles and slow, soft touches. The porn made it seem animalistic and raw.

By the time I finished the wine, I was beyond hot and bothered. The guilt I felt for violating Jack's privacy vanished quickly and I ended up on my bed with my hands buried between my legs and the laptop angled so I could watch it from where I lay writhing, and I fell asleep with a mixture of satisfaction and shame hanging over me like a cloud.

The next morning I regretted everything, but mostly the wine. I slept late, showered after an equally late lunch, and lay round dozing in my pajamas while the painkillers took away the last of the headache. It wasn't until the doorbell rang

I remembered Jack and the computer.

"Oh, crap." Grabbing my giant fluffy robe and knotting it tightly, I scampered down the stairs. "Coming!"

When I opened the door, Jack walked straight in with my computer in his arms. He turned and looked quizzically at me. "Nice bathrobe. Did I interrupt something?"

"I had a bit of a hangover. It's been kind of a lazy day," I said, shrugging and gesturing at the robe. "Sorry, I forgot."

"Hangover? All grown up, but you're not old enough to drink, Mel. Naughty," he said, the ghost of his creepy grin on his face. "So I just finished my work week, and I'm exhausted. Do you mind if we chill for a second before I sort this thing out?"

"Uh, sure, I guess," I said, showing him into the kitchen. He put the computer down on the bench, dumped his backpack, and immediately caught me up in one of his uncomfortable hugs, only this time I was half-trapped against the counter. And after a night of porn, I was very aware of what was pressing softly into my belly. When he finally let go, I gave him a nervous smile and wandered to the fridge. "Did you want a drink? I've got soda water, juice, coffee-"

"How about one of those beers?" he said, standing so close I felt his body heat on the back of my neck.

"I guess Dad wouldn't mind?" I stiffened as Jack pressed up against my butt as he leaned around and grabbed a bottle. Grabbing a can of soda for myself, I turned, expecting Jack to step back. My skin crawled when he twisted the top off of the beer and took a long drink before moving out of my way. I gave him a thin smile, sitting at the table and pulling my robe a little tighter.

Jack grabbed his backpack and sat across from me, smiling as he looked around. "This is a nice place," he said. "So why the hangover? You said you were going to bed when you messaged me."

"Oh, you know, I got kinda carried away," I said with a nervous giggle, watching as he rummaged in his bag. He pulled out a plastic container and opened it, a sweet scent wafting in the air made my stomach growl as he held chunky chocolate cookies out to me.

"This is why I was late. I picked these up on the way over. A friend of mine has a bakery, he makes them with real Belgian chocolate, they're incredible. Go ahead, try one," he said, grinning broadly when I chose a bigger cookie. "Guaranteed to blow your mind."

"Thanks," I said, giving him a wan smile. As I chewed, I noticed a strange earthy taste I wasn't sure I liked, and washed it down with my soda. The cookie was not mind-blowing. "So, what was wrong with my computer?"

"A RAM stick went bad. Easy job," he said, leaning over to stash the cookies back in his bag, pulling a laptop out.

"How much do I owe you?" I asked as he opened it. Jack huffed with laughter and ignored my question, drinking his beer and typing intensely for a few moments before looking up at me.

"Did you enjoy the porn?"

It was like Jack's mask had dropped. The one he wore in public, the one he used to convince people he was harmless. The casual, friendly demeanor was gone, and had left the cold, calm creature sitting opposite me instead. The same one who'd been watching the whole time.

Horror flooded through me, and I fought to keep a straight face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I don't like it when you lie to me, Mel," he said, and turned the laptop around. On the screen, a video played. I was lying on my bed with one breast visible and my pajama shorts pushed down to mid-thigh, hands buried in my crotch and moaning, while the wet sounds of porn were clearly audible in the background.

"Jack... what the hell? What is that?" My voice was high, alarmed, as he leaned back with a creepy smile.

"The loaner's webcam was streaming to my personal server, so I recorded it. I thought maybe I'd get to see you change clothes a few times, but I never expected anything like this," he said, a lewd grin spreading over his face. "You had to open the private folder, didn't you?"

"Delete it."

"No, I don't think I will."

The silence stretched out between us. Jack sat with his beer and strange smile, while a klaxon of alarms sounded inside my head.

"Why did you record me, Jack?"

He took another drink, placed the bottle down carefully and looked at me dead on. "I have a series of clips from this video, edited and uploaded on several huge porn sites. They have your real name and location in the descriptions. They're not live though, not yet. Also a bunch of draft emails, ready to be sent to your parents, Martin, your old friends from high school, and pretty much anyone I could find in your address book," he said, his eyes dropping to my robe as his grin widened. "I wrote some code that means all I need is a text message, and the emails will send, and the clips will go live."

My jaw dropped, and my head spun. "Are you trying to blackmail me or something, Jack? Why?"

"Because I want you. I've wanted you for years. Martin told me what you said about me before you moved away, that you thought I was creepy. That was rude, Mel," he said, not breaking eye contact as he took a long drink of his beer. "So yeah, maybe it's blackmail, but the internet never forgets. And neither will your parents, your fr-"

"What do you want?" I asked, desperately hoping he didn't mean what I suspected.

Jack raised his eyebrow. "Come on Mel, you're not dumb. I was always so guilty for having a crush on you. It wasn't something I felt on purpose. I was disgusted with myself when Martin told me you were only sixteen," he said. "But now, you're all grown up and legal, so I don't have to feel bad anymore. And what I want is for you to take off the robe."

My eyes widened. "My Dad will be home soon," I said, wrapping my arms around myself.

Frowning, Jack turned closed the laptop and folded his hands on the table. "Yeah, Martin let that one slip too. How nervous you are to be alone for so much of the week when your dad is working. Every week. Your dad won't be back until Monday," he said. "I told you I don't like liars, Mel. Don't do it again."

The unspoken 'or else' hung in the air as my stomach dropped. "Please don't make me do this, Jack."

"What we're gonna do is have a real nice weekend. We'll watch some movies, order in, it'll be fun. But you'll do everything I say, exactly as I say it, or you know what will happen," he said. "I'm starting easy with you, all things considered. Take off your robe."

My finger trembled as I worked at the knot, cursing my stupidity. The robe opened way too easily and I slipped it off my shoulders, very aware I was only wearing a very thin cami top and equally thin sleeping shorts. And realized as I looked at Jack, it wouldn't have mattered what I'd been wearing. He would have still told me to take it off.

"Good girl. Now I think it would be nice if you took me on a little tour, being such an excellent hostess and all," he said, gesturing for me to stand. When I hesitated, he held up his phone. "One text, Mel."

I nodded, and stood, feeling horribly exposed as I showed him through the house. He stayed behind me, his hands on my shoulders the whole time, his thumbs rubbing circles on the back of my neck.

Dad's place wasn't a mansion, but it was quite large. Jack didn't speak until we reached the basement. He stared at the mirrors Dad had built into the long wall with perspex and mirror film, slightly warped so the reflections looked like a carnival funhouse. I'd done ballet as a kid, and he'd made the space so I could practice. What was until now an echo of Dad's love for me in an instant had become scary, and I stared at myself and the hulking monster behind me in the distorted mirror image.

"This might be interesting later," he muttered to himself as our eyes met in the reflection.