-- "I'm sorry, but the card still says it is declined, sir."

"Damn, not again!" With an impatient look at his watch, the young man stepped back from the checkout counter. "Look, I'm sorry about this, I'll go call my bank and be right back. Can you hang onto those groceries for a few minutes or something?"

The clerk nodded, setting the already-bagged food back into the basket before moving the basket to the floor behind her till. Muttering his thanks, Redmond strode out the automatic doors leading to the parking lot, cell phone in hand before he even reached his car. As he slid behind the wheel and settled himself he was already navigating the automated system, familiar enough with the options to push the necessary numbers before the recorded voice got more than a few words into each set of menu choices. A few minutes of this and he was greeted by a friendly female voice.

"America's Choice Credit Union, my name is Cindy, how can I help you today?"

"Hey there, Cindy. I need to check my bank balance, I don't have my account number handy but I've got my debit card here, what information do you need to look up my account?"

"I can certainly do that for you! Let's start with your name and birthdate, please."

"Redmond Quirivane, October 12th, '78."

"Just a moment while I look that up... ok, can you give me the last four digits of your social security number, sir?" Her overly-perky tone setting his teeth on edge, Redmond recited digits, gave his mother's maiden name, then repeated it all after spelling his name. Three times. Finally he managed to convince Cindy that yes, he did know how to spell his own name, and there was in fact no 'p', one 'q', and a distinct lack of 'w' in his last name. With a high-pitched giggle, she announced proudly that she had Found Him.

"Your current account balance is... just a sec..."

He started tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

"...um..."

And his foot on the floor.

"...oh, there it is! Sorry, I'm just a temp, I'm not used to this program yet."

"That's ok, Cindy. I just want to know my balance now, please," he replied patiently.

"Sure thing, sir! Your available balance is three dollars and sixty-five cents."

"It... ok. Great. Can you tell me what the last transaction is?"

"...um..."

"...scroll down. It should show a list of things, withdrawals and deposits, somewhere on there. I want to know what the last with-draw-al was, honey. It should say a place name, and a city, and how much was taken out. Do you see it there?" By now, both feet were alternating tapping and he was desperately wishing he still smoked.

"Oh! Yep, I can see that right here."

When nothing more was forthcoming, he prodded, "And where was it, for how much?"

"...um... it was for $550, in Portland, at a... um..." As she hesitated, he interrupted quickly.

"That's all I needed to know, Cindy. You've been very helpful, thanks."

Before her train of thought managed to get itself onto this new track, a task he was quite sure would take a good 30 seconds, Redmond hung up and tossed the phone angrily into the empty passenger seat. Even more frustrated now, he slouched forward, forehead coming to rest on the steering wheel, muttering to himself.

"Three dollars, three lousy dollars, what the hell does she think I can do with three dollars? This is ridiculous, she can't keep doing this. How the hell does she expect me to eat, or pay bills? Fuck, and the electric's overdue already... if they try to cash that check and it bounces, I am so screwed."

Redmond landed a few more thumps of his head against the steering wheel, then pulled himself upright, sighing. The drive from the grocery store to his apartment took only a few minutes. Once in the complex parking lot, he hesitated for a moment.

"Screw it, it's not like I have anything else to do right now."

With a sigh he spun the wheel, pulling back out of the parking lot and onto the street, headed for the other side of town. He flipped on the radio, a familiar song getting him humming along, stealing a few quick glances in the rear-view mirror as he drove.

The image his looks revealed was, as he told himself, not at all bad-looking. His hair was styled in a high 'n tight buzz, the blond strands touched with a hint of copper. He had a strong jawline, meltingly-beautiful blue eyes, skin slightly tan, body wiry but hinting at strength. Years of martial arts had kept him fit, and military training kept him well-groomed and alert. In short, he was a pleasure to look at... and he knew it. He'd never had a problem getting girls, usually one-night stands who he'd screw, leave, and never call afterward, occasionally a longer relationship just for the convenience of sex without having to go looking for it. Most of these ended with a few weeks of drama and a very angry woman when the current girlfriend found out that yes, he was still sleeping around, and no, he didn't care if it bothered her.

And then there was Rowan.

She got jealous occasionally, usually during those drama-filled times when she could see that his latest fucktoy had managed to win a bit of his affection and was using it to hurt him. She cock-blocked him a few times, making sure that he wouldn't get laid that night, and made it clear that she knew what she was doing. She insulted him, teased him, sometimes ignored him for days, and she used him... she used him a lot.

He'd seen a few of her files, the ones she kept backups of online and on several different computers. She had everything saved somewhere, birthdate, social security number, credit card information, bank account number, information on his family, his friends, even a few of his ex-girlfriends. She had the chat logs too, most of them taken from instant messenger or from the online game they both played, a few actual sound clips from the voice chat he hung out in, even an email or two. She kept it all, all the perverse things she'd lured him into discussing, the confessions of his lust, his violence, proof of every slight misdeed and every kinky thought. Sometimes she would show him snippets, bits of something he'd managed to forget, just to remind him of her hold.

It had started out purely as play, an introduction engineered by a mutual friend and a conversation that began rather innocently. Looking back, he could see how she'd stalked him, hunted him, and how easily he'd fallen, but at the time he was too infatuated and too horny to pay enough attention... and now, now whenever he tried to back away she'd find him, draw him back, fog his head and sink her fingers just that much deeper into his soul.

He loved her for it. She saw him, saw everything he tried to hide frim the rest of the world, and she didn't turn away. She knew so many of his secrets, the perversions he was so afraid to admit to, and she reveled in them. She owned him in a way no other woman had ever managed. Sometimes it even frightened him a bit, but most of the time he could feel not just her control, but her affection, her care for him. She was there when no one else was. She took care of him when he didn't dare show weakness to anyone else. In her own strange way she respected him.

And she used him. Time, money, occasionally his body, whatever she wanted she would find a way to take from him. The few times he fought, she pointed out how thoroughly she could take away this comfortable life he lived, destroy his pride, shatter his ties with family and friends, ruin him financially and socially, leave him nothing. It was blackmail, pure and simple, but she cloaked it with lust and love, left him breathless with arousal each time she took something, turned it into something close to sex. He'd known before he met her that the idea of a confidant, powerful woman strong enough to keep him bound was... enticing. He hadn't realized just how complicated it could get. --