Blackmail Is Such An Ugly Word. I Prefer Extortion.

Andreas tended to have his moods go up and down, as wild and intense as his behaviour, the kind that nearly got him disowned every single day. At the same time as sporting an uncaring, fuck-the-world attitude, he had a fondness for intensity, and never felt more alive than when he was putting his life - or someone else's, or both - in danger.

For the last week, though, he'd only had two moods - bored, and horny.

His latest girl had decided that she didn't like the kind of sex he preferred, which normally wouldn't be a problem for Andreas - prince among men as he was - but she'd gone into hiding and he couldn't find her no matter how hard he looked. And when he was spending all his time hard as a fuckin' rock and wondering when he'd get to shoot off in another screaming slut, he couldn't focus on riding his motorbike at midnight with the lights off.

He'd gone to a strip club the night before - a lapdance might get some of his brain back, especially if she didn't complain when he touched - and ended up leaving early... but who cared, when he'd gotten such a good view? And such a good plan? He was glad he'd brought the digital camera.

So, he waited in the school cafeteria, for the person he had an appointment with. Sure, he was 21, shouldn't still be around, but he'd repeated the twelfth grade a bunch of times by then. If he didn't pass this time, they'd kick him out; so, hell, he'd just have to pass. He'd only been failing so far because his parents wouldn't pay for his education any more if he wasn't in school.

He drummed his fingers eagerly on the table, hand clutching a bunch of folded printouts. Yes, she was a hot little thing, and any moment now he'd be able to see just how hot she could get...