Fuck it.
It’s lucky I didn’t throw it in a tub of hot, bubbly water.
That would show it who’s boss.
*****
I took a final glance at the mirror, and stuck out my tongue at it.
The tongue-stud hole had almost healed.
That had been a huge mistake, and not just because it hurt like hell.
I never even got to use the damned thing!
I’d figured maybe I could get over Derek by getting under a new man, (not that I’ve even been under anyone, in that way).
And, I’d noted all the cute young thangs at the courthouse were getting nose rings, eyebrow piercings and one would image other kinds of jewelry in intimate places, based on the number of false alarms every time they went through security.
I mean, those metal detectors were ALWAYS going off, and after a while, certain employees just got waved through by the deputies. I guess maybe they’d had their curiosity satisfied in one manner or another.
One morning, I asked this dude, named Williams, why he’d let certain of the female clerks just keep walking after the alarm, which was a clear violation of protocol.
He just smiled, with his big golden tooth shining at me.
“Ms. Greene, I have it on good authority that the young lady in question is not a security risk, and in point of fact, merely has decided to exercise her God-given right for labial piercings,” he said. “And, may I add, that not only was the piercing tastefully done, it was in point of fact, downright tasty!”
He grinned, again, and winked.
I felt his eyes on my caboose all the way across the lobby, until I made it into my office.
That bastard…
Anyway, I tried striking up some conversations with a few of the guys around the courthouse, the ones not obviously gay or married.
I found few of them were interested in an almost thirty-year old, chubby (voluptuous!), lawyer with a tongue-stud.
So, I bid adieu to the stud, and consigned it to my junk jewelry box.
That’s the one where I put all the ostentatious crap I’ve bought over the years, in the hope that it might either lift my spirits or potentially get me laid.
None of them every worked their supposed talismanic magic, so I remain chaste and untouched by the hands of man.
Shit.
As if anything was ever going to make me lose this crazy obsession with Derek.
Yeah, right…
I grabbed my purse and checked my cell-phone for any last minute texts or emails.
The ones that were new could wait until I got to work.
I also saw that I had a call from an unknown number.
They didn’t leave a message, so I deleted it.
Fucking sales calls…
I put my shades on, took one final glance at the hall mirror, wiping a bit of lipstick from the corner of my mouth with a finger as I opened the door.
Nigel came bouncing over in that funny little way he has, looking like a pull-toy without a string.
Such a cute, silly dog!
I had never intended to get such a breed, but when I saw him, it was love at first sight.
He came to me, licking my fingers, and yapping at me in that voice of his.
I checked my watch, and quickly glanced to make sure he had food and water.
I gave him a kiss, and he panted at me, and barked again.
I walked to the front of the apartment, and he followed me dutifully.
Then, I affectionately swatted Nigel away from the door, and locked it.
I could hear his whining and panting all the way to the elevator.
Poor thing.
*****
My Beemer was parked in the garage for the complex, so I got in and started it up.
As I drove past the gate, I noticed that the guard was Wernher.
His eyes locked onto me and tracked me as I drove up to the gate.
I waited while he raised it, and decided to try a wave today.
Wernher simply nodded slightly as I drove through.
The gate arm swung down, and I felt Wernher’ s eyes follow me all the way down the street until the garage was out of sight.
We had three guards that rotated shifts that I knew by name.
There were a lot of temps, as well.
Wernher was difficult to miss.
He was about six feet six, and muscled. He was probably about seventy-five years old, and looked a lot like those old geezers you sometimes see in the documentaries about World War Two on the Discovery or History channel. He had that military air and stance.
He always watched as the cars came and went, like he was guarding nuclear missiles or UFOs or something.
He didn’t smile.
The uniform they made the guards wear was nondescript, but the few times I had seen Wernher out of the booth I noticed he wore it well.
He stood there, almost at attention, missing nothing. His sharp eyes took it all in, and he would pivot his head and follow cars like the turret of a tank.
I think he actually memorized all the numbers on the license plates for ALL the cars that came and went into our garage!
He was weird, but I oddly felt safe when he was on station.
The other two guards were Jonny and Raj.
Jonny was a meth-addict, or at least bore a close resemblance to one. His teeth were horrible, and he smiled too much.
He was thin, almost emaciated, and had a crew cut of brown hair.
He was nice enough, and always said “Hello!” when a car stopped at the gate.
Most of the other tenants liked him, despite his appearance. He always wore a clean uniform.
He was married to one of the women in the apartment complex, and rumor had it her father owned the company that supplied the guards.
Raj was originally from Guyana, born of Indian parents.
He had been a college professor before he had been fired for running a website that criticized the University where he had been employed.
The reasons were specious, and he had made the local papers with his legal case. I found it mildly interesting, because he had tried to argue that the real impetus for his losing his job was that he was openly gay.
The University was a well-known Bible college, and despite their lip-service towards allowing all manner of people to find their salvation in Jesus, in reality they had some policies that bordered on discrimination.
Raj had won a partial victory, though, because there was a loophole in his contract that was in effect a morality pledge. He’d glossed it over at the time, because, when he was hired he had been in an arranged marriage with an Indian woman. He discovered he was gay about the time he’d discovered she’d been seeing another professor on the side.
Their divorce was cordial, but firm.
He had spent a few months figuring out some things, and one of those things ended up in his bed, and was named Arturo.
Raj had put up a fight and tried to force the University to admit it was behind the times, but they countered by simultaneously bringing up his oath and the website. A judge had sided with the University, and Raj found himself parking cars.
Arturo and Raj were married a few months later, and by all accounts, they seemed happy.
I didn’t really care about all this; it was just some of the gossip that got slung around when doing a load of laundry, or if you got stuck in an elevator with one of the nosy-Nancy’s that occupied the building.
But, I admit that I did fantasize that Wernher was some kind of deep-cover Nazi spy, or maybe an East German Cold-war leftover who’d been burned by his agency.
All of this was just silly speculation, but it did keep my mind off of the problem of me and Derek.
But only for a little while…
Chapter 5
Robert King wiped his flaccid penis across the face of his paramour.
Peg opened her mouth, and her pink tongue lolled out and licked the worm-like thing. She feigned pleasure, moaning a
nd gurgling, sounding like the cheap whore she felt she was. She sucked on the sour thing, and smiled at him, her eyes cold and lifeless. She hated sucking a cock, but King had been quite the catch, and his largess had to be rewarded some time. She saw a white pearl form at the tip, and made a show of licking it off and swallowing it. In the back of her mind, she wanted to spit it right into his stupid face, but her consummate acting skills convinced King that she loved to eat come more than anything in the world.
The house where they had just finished their mutual act of masturbatory pleasure was worth almost fifteen million dollars, and sat on a spit of land that jutted into the Intracoastal Waterway.
Outside, a large yacht was moored along the dock, next to three smaller craft, including a wave runner. There were times when there would be a seaplane there as well. The house was one of many just like it - castles built by recently acquired wealth. They had all been carved from the sides of the water’s edge by callous dredges, the secret flow of campaign contributions and graft greasing the process that allowed the devastation of protected species.
The owners cared nothing for the welfare of a pelican or some near-extinct species of fish. The occasional manatee found floating outside their dock-houses was quickly removed and put on less-hallowed ground. They had earned the right to be masters of nature, and of their lesser humans.
Four cars decorated the huge, arcing driveway, and another four sat inside the air-conditioned garage on an immaculate parquet wood floor. The cars were worth more than the garage and house combined.
“Baby, you’re the greatest!” opined King.
Peg’s head bobbed silently up and down on his limp shaft for another few minutes.
She almost gagged, because it tasted so bad. Had the man never heard of soap? She held her breath, imagining she was blowing an inert and tasty salami. It was difficult to keep up the charade, so she finally raised her face from King’s crotch, and smiled, so that he could see she had eaten all his issue.
He bent over her ass, and licked it.
Then, he gave it a hard smack, leaving a hand-print as her flesh wobbled.
Peg was proud of her physique.
She was often mistaken for a much-younger woman, usually by almost twenty-five or even thirty years. She had been blessed with a tight ass and good genes. She took care of herself, not drinking nor smoking too much. She stayed away from the sun unless she had at least SPF 50 sun block available.
She kept her pubic hair well-trimmed, and applied a nice coconut oil lineament to the folds of her labia and her rectum every night before going to bed. She loved getting fucked in the ass, and even would sometimes suck on her lover’s cock after he’d ejaculated in her. It was the only time she felt any enjoyment when she gave head, and she shrugged mentally as to why that was. No matter…
Robert King slid off the satin sheets of the bed, which was adjustable and very expensive. He stood above her, as she lay face-up. He gave her lips one last pass with his shrinking dick, and Peg lapped at it and laughed as though she’d been given the tastiest treat in existence.
King chuckled and went to shower off the sweat and sex smell from their frantic coupling. As he did, he thought that all of their couplings were frantic. He didn’t know why. It was his house, and he’d fucked so many women here he’d lost count. He’d fucked young ones, old ones, black, yellow and white, and every variation he’d been able to come up with. He’d fucked as many as five at once, and even had one or two young men once or twice. He didn’t consider himself gay, but a couple of hot women liked being double-teamed, and he saw no harm in participating, just so it was made clear there’d be no ball-to-ball contact.
He actually surprised himself one night when he realized he was sucking some dude’s cock. Luckily, everyone was so stoned and drunk that the event was ephemeral. Since that time, he’d only strayed once or twice more. Certainly didn’t make him gay…not like his attorney, Floori.
King washed his balls and under his ass as he contemplated the problem he now found himself facing. Peg’s stepdaughter was close to discovering a major flaw in his well-crafted defense. It was one thing to have won in court with that old fuck Turner. That was merely a matter of some well-placed cash and the threat of uncovering the old bastard’s habit for black poontang. His wife certainly would not be pleased to know old Ike had been fucking the maid in their marital bed.
King was amazed at the ability for old men to fuck like that until he remembered that Viagra and other dick-enhancers had been invented to allow old geezers to do just that.
He thought again about Megan, and went down a mental checklist of how he could solve that problem.
Most of the solutions were certainly illegal, and many were too complicated to actually put into play.
He came time and again to the most obvious and simple conclusion.
He never liked having to choose that particular method, but it was foolproof and final.
Once he came to the realization that Megan was a real and valid threat to his empire, he’d made up his mind.
Now, it was just a matter of finding the right time and the best way to cover it up.
He thought of a few names of associates he felt he could trust to make his problem vanish. As he thought, he rinsed off some more soap, and then decided to wash himself one more time. He knew he sweat profusely, and found it irritating that, despite his best efforts at hygiene, he always had a whiff of uncleanliness to him. He’d consulted doctors, changed his diet and drinking habits, and gave up smoking cigars. All to no avail. His body odor, like a few of his elderly women lovers, just wouldn’t go away.
He chuckled again, and felt a slight swell in his groin as he thought back to his latest sexual encounter, and of Peg eating his dick. He knew she thought she was fooling him, but he’d gotten first-class blowjobs from older and younger than her, and he could tell when a gal just didn’t like a penis in her mouth. And, despite her protestations to the contrary, he knew Peg hated sucking cock.
That made it all the sweeter when he shot his hot load into her throat.
He imagined grabbing her by the hair just behind her ears, and thrusting his dick into her mouth until he would give a final lunge, filling her from her stomach to her full mouth, the jizz cascading down her cheeks and shooting out of her nostrils, while she gagged and choked it all down, the tears from her bulging eyes mixing with his sticky come.
He saw that he had become aroused again.
“Peg! Get that sweet ass of yours in here!” he yelled out to her. “I think I can go one more time, babe! Time for another protein shake!”
In the other room, Peg rolled over, and knelt on all fours, her neck and jaw tired from the previous cocksucking action.
“Shit!” she mumbled under her breath.
She still tasted the sour, salty juices from King’s last climax.
She hoped she wouldn’t puke…
“Coming, sweety! Just give me a minute to get ready!” she yelled back.
Peg gathered herself together, and pinched her nipples to get them erect.
She walked into the steamy bathroom.
She knew the fixtures in this bath were worth more than the most expensive car in the driveway, and counted her blessings that she would likely never have to live or sleep in an ordinary house ever again.
She stepped into the shower, and smiled at King.
The warm water felt delicious, and she opened her mouth to rinse out the foul taste that still remained.
Then, giggling and acting as though she were about to receive manna from heaven, she genuflected in front of King’s rising penis.
She took hold of the shaft, caressing his soapy balls, which still stank in her nostrils.
Her lips parted, and she was startled to discover that she was wet and aroused, her clit burning and needing attention.
She rubbed it with a finger, sneaking the tip around to her ass.
She gently inserted it, then quickly sucked it clean.
Sh
e smiled inwardly at the sharp, forbidden taste.
Then, Peg bent to her task, earning her keep.
King laughed, the hot water washing the soap and stains from his body, but not his soul, as his cock shoved, again and again, in and out of the mouth of his latest conquest.
Chapter 6
DEREK
I stood on the bow of my speedboat, peering across at the marina.
I could see my quarry through the military binoculars I clutched tightly.
I knew that I only had a short time to perform the delicate maneuver, and I judged the rapidly closing gap between the other boat and my own.
I guessed that I could maybe lean over and put the tracking device onto the other boat as it slipped past, in the dark.
The yacht was named “Disco Inferno”, and it belonged to a man named George Tanner.
My mission was to place a tracking device on its hull, in an inconspicuous place. I’d been trying to figure out a way to do that for five days.
There were armed guards on-board, and sonar equipment. That meant that approaching the boat with scuba or snorkel were out.
I had finally decided a frontal assault was the approach most likely to succeed, but it would take some balls and luck to pull it off.
I’d done it before, and I knew it could work.
But, that was in a calm harbor, and the target was a freighter, about six times larger than the “Inferno”.
And, the current conditions would complicate matters.
There was a moderate chop, and it caused my boat to bounce a few feet every now and then, despite my slowing it down.
The best way to deal with it would be to lean over the rail, with the tracker in my hand, and then slap it to the other craft as the two boats passed each other in a trough.
Navigating and timing it perfectly would be very difficult, indeed, given the current conditions.
Lowering the binoculars, I watched the surface of the water.
The stern flags on the yacht blew south, and west, and I noted the direction and intensity of their motion.
I than came up with a brilliant idea.
Fraud: A Stepbrother Romance Page 4