ManyWriters

During my commute to work, I spotted tiny beads of fluid sticking to the car's windows. Upon inspection, I found them to be slightly tacky and emitting a subtle fruity aroma.
Puzzled, as I never use such products, I phoned my spouse. "Have you spritzed some sort of air freshener in the Porsche? There's an odd fruit-like smell."
He paused briefly before responding with a seemingly honest explanation. "You know that class reunion I attended? Well, one of my pals had too much to drink and got sick in the vehicle. I didn't want to upset you, so I used some fragrance to mask the odor."
After ending the call, I grabbed a rag and cleaned the car windows thoroughly.
On the seat next to me, I noticed two golden, curly strands of hair caught in the sticky substance.
I sighed and shook my head. Hmph. His "friend" appeared to be more attractive than myself.

Lipstick Stains and Blonde Lies

Miguel entered the room, discarding his suit jacket on the ground and unfastening his shirt as he moved.


At the same time, I directed the hotel to display the feed from his room on the conference hall's monitor and simultaneously initiated an online broadcast.


"Miguel, if you desire fame, I'll ensure it's for all the wrong reasons!" I whispered to myself.


Suddenly, the vast conference hall was filled with the sound of labored breathing. The screen displayed two intertwined figures in full view.


Medical professionals who hadn't yet departed the venue looked up, their expressions frozen in astonishment. Shocked exclamations and cries rippled through the audience.


In the midst of their passionate encounter, Miguel retrieved that repulsive bottle of lubricant once more.


Tricia halted him with a bashful grin, her face flushed. "Dr. Richardson, regarding Chloe's operation..."


"We'll perform it as soon as we return! Behave, do well, and I'll go back tonight to ensure it's scheduled for tomorrow..." he replied gruffly.


Viewers of the live broadcast swiftly identified Miguel and Tricia.


The chat erupted with outraged remarks.


[It's no wonder my child's surgery keeps getting delayed—apparently it's because I'm not a woman who can offer my body!]


[What sort of degenerates are permitted in hospitals these days? Does surgery scheduling now depend on spreading your legs?!]


[Can anyone provide the hotel address? My daughter hasn't even had a consultation yet. I'm going there today to 'express my gratitude' to this doctor personally!]


Noticing that last comment, I helpfully activated the hotel's location tag and pinned the room number for good measure.


Within three minutes, furious local patients' relatives appeared at the hotel. Armed with paint cans and baseball bats, they rushed into the elevator, seething with rage.


Meanwhile, the footage continued. Miguel and Tricia were now enjoying post-intimate tenderness. It took less than three minutes for their performance to become a national joke.


Just then, I received a message from my contact at the prison.


Moments later, the hotel lobby echoed with the enraged bellow of a man.


"Where the hell is that whore Tricia? Daring to be unfaithful to me—I'll shatter her legs!"


It was Tricia's newly released spouse, Brandon.


I guided him to their room and, out of courtesy, knocked on the door.


Inside, Miguel's annoyed voice barked, clearly displeased about being disturbed. "Who is it? Go away!"


The door was forcefully kicked open with a loud crash. Brandon burst in, extracting a kitchen knife from his waistband.


Chapter 5