Below is a series of e-mail we've written as Remy and Claire.

Hope you like it. It kept me horny as hell at work for most of the day.

[The following two letters sent by Remy on the day of their appt. The last time they met, Claire was already at the cabin when he showed up.]

Claire,

I'll be waiting for you this time. Wear something you don't care for much.

Remy

[This one sent not too long after the first.]

I don't know what it is about you that drives me so crazy.

The closer the time gets, the harder I start counting minutes. The more steam I get under my collar. I got steam enough in my life already.

I've had sexy women before. Plenty. It's not that.

Shit. I don't know what I'm trying to say.

Just be on time. Your brother has racked up a big debt this month, and I intend to collect.

Remy

[The following exchange sent on the Monday after the appt.]

I don't know what you are trying to say, either. You know this arrangement makes me...I don't even know what the word is. Embarrassed? Humiliated? Sick to my stomach? I try to think about it as little as possible. Yet you say things that imply that you care for me, somehow, in your own way. So why would you put me through this?

And if you are a decent human being as you claim to be on occasion, why wouldn't you help my brother out of the decency in your heart? You know he's a mess, you know why, and you know he doesn't deserve prison, much less death. He'll get it together eventually, I know he will. He just needs some time and space to grow up some.

And dammit, Remy, how did you get my email address?

And if I knew you had email there (hell, if I knew they had it in Louisiana) I'd have been able to tell you I was running late Friday. I don't suppose you have a cell phone you could take to that cabin?

I certainly don't want a repeat of this month's experience.

C.

Didn't you ever want something so bad you thought about stealing it? I've had to take a lot of things in my life, Claire, whether I went through the proper channels to get it or not. It's one of the reasons I'm not one of the lowlifes I lock up on a regular basis.

Your brother needs a full-time babysitter right now, and if there's one thing I've learned, it's don't do anything for free. I saw a way to get what I want. And I see something in you, Claire. Something that makes my fingers itch to take it.

I got your e-mail through a little simple investigation. And believe it or not, the Sheriff's Dept. has its very own computer. With keys and a screen and everything. And I do know how to use it. You're probably surprised I know how to read and write but were just too polite and kind to say anything.

I won't take a cell phone to the cabin. The world won't stop turning if somebody can't reach me for a few hours on Saturdays. I guess a repeat of our last time together is just a risk you're going to have to live with, considering you have a life and a job and all. Personally, I wouldn't mind it a bit. In fact, I've relived it a few times already. I'd find it hard to believe if you claimed you haven't. Maybe just the good parts, Claire?

R.

In my book, taking what you want whether through proper channels or not qualifies one as a lowlife. Not the getting locked up part.

> I'd find it hard to believe if you claimed you haven't.
> Maybe just the good parts, Claire?

As I've said, I have a job and a life. I don't have time to sit around mooning over what was supposed to be a simple business transaction.

What good parts?

c.

Drop the disgusted act, Claire. The good parts? Would you like me to remind you? There were lots. Do you really need me to point them out for you? Because if that's the game you'd like to play now, I'll be happy to oblige.

How about every time your eyes rolled back in your head in ecstasy? Every time your body curled up in the throes of orgasm while my fingers were buried inside you? When your cunt gripped my cock like a vise? Am I getting too crude again? Sorry. How about when you told me you'd thought you didn't like sex? Oh, yeah, and let's not forget when you asked me to fuck you one more time before I left.

Is your memory coming back now? Maybe you're working too hard.

The lowlife you fucked so well this weekend,
or as it rolled off your tongue so sweetly with just a little encouragement,
Daddy

R

Subject: And one more thing

> As I've said, I have a job and a life. I don't have
time to sit around mooning over what was supposed to
> be a simple business transaction.

It's a pleasure doing business with you, Claire.

Remy

Sara tells me that she's sent a really antagonizing response. I can't wait to read it. It's like really elongated foreplay.