February Sucks for Walter Mitty - Sex Stories

February Sucks for Walter Mitty

... tip of the iceberg. Blackmail, extortion, human trafficking, suicide capsules, and at least one playoff game that was probably fixed."

"That'll get them more than a five-yard penalty," I growled. "What can we do?"

"Well, there's this camp out west. I can send you there to be safe--"

*

When I woke up, I was muttering something about not wanting a steak. It took me a minute to realize that I was still in the hospital, that Linda--for all her cruelty--was probably not an assassin sent to put me in a cock cage, and that I was craving a cup of coffee.

By the time Bailey and my parents got to the hospital, the nightmare had faded and I was feeling a lot better. I waited until everyone was there--I only wanted to tell the story once.

Mom and Dad had a hard time believing me, but the social media didn't leave much room for doubt. For that matter, neither did my medical chart. Say what you want about hospitals, but they do a great job of resolving the question of whether or not someone has kicked the shit out of you.

"It's too bad we don't have any footage of them beating you up, JC," Bailey said.

"Sorry for not filming it, man." I coughed. "Maybe if I'd had a little more advance notice." Dad gave me a rueful smile, but mom looked pretty shaken. I remembered the blinking red light in the back hallway. "Hey, is there any way we could get security footage from inside the club?"

"Not without a court order," Bailey said. "But if we can make a case that there ...

... was a crime committed--"

"Well, I sure as shit didn't do this to myself," I said. "You know, the cops came by earlier, but I was still out. Can I file a police report? It'll get my allegations about LaValliere, Moizoos and Smith on the record."

"It's a good place to start," he said. "I'll give them a call. If you're up to it, we can talk to them tomorrow."

"That works. And, you know, if we need evidence, there's always my face. I'm pretty sure LaValliere's bare knuckles didn't tear open my cheek. He was probably wearing a ring."

"Like maybe a Superbowl ring?" Bailey mused. "LaValliere's got one--he was with Kansas City before he got traded. That could be something..."

"That's what I was thinking." I remembered my dream. "What if there was a conspiracy, Bailey?" He gave me a funny look. "Look, I'd bet anything this wasn't the only time LaValliere has done this. First, you've got him signaling to the bandleader. Second, Moizoos had his camera on me even before LaValliere came to the table, which suggests that he knew what was going down. Third, there's how well they knew the place. How did LaValliere know about the back exit? How did he know to grab Linda coming out of the bathroom? Why were the other football players back there? Shit, man, if I hadn't been watching from the bar, they would have gotten away clean."

"So you're figuring--what?--LaValliere goes to this place regularly, snags some poor bastard's wife--" He saw my expression. "Sorry, dude. Anyway, he ...