Trixsters Anonymous

He leans in to kiss her again right when it happens. His stomach gurgles loudly, and he doubles over in pain, holding his side.

“Robert!” she cries, bending to help him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he chokes out, clutching himself. “Stomach cramp.”

“Let me help you sit.”

Once she gets him to the small sofa, she rushes to get him a bottle of water. While he’s not watching, she bumps her computer, bringing it to life. I type a few things into my phone then wait.

“Here, drink this.”

He takes the water, chugging the bottle. “Thank you.”

His stomach rumbles again violently, and his face pales. “I need to use your restroom.”

Concern fills her face as she helps him to the vast bathroom across the suite. “Let me know if I can do anything,” she tells him before shutting the door.

It takes only a few seconds before the most grotesque sounds come from behind the door. Then she’s on the move, yanking his keys and phone from his pants on the floor. In a flash, she has his phone connected to her computer, and my phone starts blinking with incoming messages. I do exactly as she taught me, and in under six minutes, we have everything we need: the videos, the false identity profiles, and his passwords. She snaps in the air, signaling for me to send the virus to her, which she uploads from her TA phone to his online dating profile.

To any unsuspecting person, it looks like an incoming email, but it’s deadly to his oper

ating system. I find it almost scary how smart Maren is.

The toilet flushes over and over with a few moans in between. She runs to the edge of the closet with her eyes trained on the bathroom door.

“Got it?”

“I’ve got it,” I whisper.

Then she hurries back to the computer, unplugging his phone and placing it back in his pants. I’m surprised to see her unlatch something from his keys until I realize it’s a thumb drive. She skillfully uploads all its contents and replaces that as well.

Calmly, she walks to the door and knocks. “Robert, are you okay?”

“Not really, something didn’t agree with me at dinner. I need a few more minutes. Then I’ll be out, baby.”

Baby? Is he truly that arrogant to think someone would have sex with him after hearing this?

“Of course, there’s some medicine under the cabinet if you need it.”

He mumbles thanks right before the god-awful sounds start up again.

Maren uses this time to search through his wallet and takes out his ID and a few credit cards, laying them on the desk and taking pictures. When everything is back in place, she fluffs her jet-black wig and starts pacing.

Another five minutes passes before he emerges from the bathroom, white as a sheet and glistening with sweat.

“Oh, Robert, you look awful.” She rushes to him, placing a hand to his forehead. “And you’re so clammy.”

“I’ll feel better in a bit. Let’s lie down. I bet you know a few ways to help heal me.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

Maren gives a nervous laugh, stepping away and reaching for his pants. “Maybe we should postpone our night. You’re sick, and I really don’t want to catch a bug.”

Right as she speaks, his stomach gurgles again. He rips his pants from her and races back to the bathroom. We’re forced to sit through another torturous listening experience until Maren finally turns on the TV to drown out what’s happening.

When he emerges again, he hobbles to the bed and takes his shirt she laid there a few minutes ago. “I think you’re right. I may need to go home.”

“It’s for the best. Maybe you’ll feel better by tomorrow.” Her voice drips with sincerity.

Halfway through buttoning his shirt, his head flies up, and he pins Maren with laser focus. “Why aren’t you sick?”