Martin had completed all of his checkouts by 11:30am. It was a typical day at the Ramada Inn. He was preparing for his chick-ins that would arrive later in the day. As he busied himself with the computer he heard the front doors swing open and the distinctive click...click...click of a woman in high heels approach the desk. Upon hearing the sexy saunter, he raised his eyes to the petite woman that approached him. She was wearing a short pink wool skirt with matching jacket and white blouse. Her slim legs were shrouded in white stockings and her feet adorned with white leather stilettos.
Martin smiled at the attractive woman before him and asked, "Hi. How can I help you?"
The woman returned a warm smile back to Martin and replied, "Hi. Can I please get a room for the day?"
"Sure, have you stayed here before?"
"No, this is my first time here."
Martin placed a registration card on the desk and asked her to complete it.
While the woman put down her name and address, Martin finished her registration and prepared her key-card.
"How will you be paying for that?" he asked.
"Cash."
"No problem. That will be $50.40 after taxes, " he informed her, "I will also need a credit card or driver's licence for identification.
She nervously looked him in the eyes and then began searching her small compact pink leather pocket book. The woman pulled out $60 and her driver's licence and handed the money and identification to Martin.
Martin completed the registration, gave her the room key, directions to the room and her receipt.
She had left the receipt at the desk.
Martin enjoyed watching her framed ass in the form fitting skirt wiggle away from him.
He giggled to himself. To him, a "room for the day" usually meant one thing, "Afternoon Delight". Martin was even more convinced with this hot little filly because of her nervousness at check in. The fact that she gave a fake name and address on the registration card, which he compared to the photocopy he made of her licence and the fact that she left her receipt at the desk solidified his notion. He thought to himself, 'some guy's going to be very lucky.'
An hour later, Martin was checking a couple of rooms that his computer said were dirty and the housekeeper's sheets indicated were clean. The last room he checked was 145 right next to 147, the room he checked Mrs. Thomas into.
As he approached 145, he could hear the distinctive moans of pleasure coming through the door of 147. He opened 145 and walked in to inspect the room's status.
Again he could hear the sounds of a woman having a very good time. He leaned against the wall that adjoined 147 and put his ear to the wall. He could now hear the definitive squeaks of the bed springs and the rhythmic pounding of the headboard against the same wall his ear was pressed to.
On his way back to the desk, Martin imagined what Mrs. Thomas would look like naked and what positions she was getting fucked in while only a wall separated her from him.
Before leaving the motel, Martin made his own photocopy of Mrs. Thomas' driver's licence and stuffed it in his pocket. He headed out moments later. It was Friday afternoon and he unusually had the weekend off.
Martin went home and changed out of his Ramada Inn uniform. He pulled out the photocopy of her licence and grabbed a city map and got back in his car and headed to her neighbourhood.
Martin found her address and parked his Mustang on the street two doors down form the Thomas house. After waiting thirty minutes, a silver mini-van pulled into the Thomas driveway. The licence plate read "SOKRMOM". Mrs. Thomas parked the van in the driveway and got out and opened the sliding door on her side. Two young girls jumped out with book bags from school. Mrs. Thomas had changed into a dowdy powder blue sweater and khaki pants with sneakers. She grabbed a couple of grocery bags and led her two daughters through the etched glass front door of her very posh suburban house.
There was no action at the house until a white Ford Explore pulled up to the house a couple hours later. Mr. Thomas parked beside his wife's van and made his way through the front doors.
Martin decided to go get something to eat and comeback later. When he returned at about 11pm he parked his car and crept into the Thomas' backyard. He watched the two adults watch the news and then turn out the lights and head to bed.
After a couple of months of surveillance, Martin discovered that Mr. Thomas was an automotive engineer and that he worked late most nights except Friday, he had weekends off and he spent his weekends at home. Mrs. Thomas drove her two daughters to school every day at 8:30 and was back home at 9:00 am. She usually spent most of her days at home unless she went to run errands. She left home at 3 pm to pick her daughters up from school.
As for her motel activity, every other Friday she met a man who drove a black Escalade with the licence plates "2TH DOC". They usually went to a Days Inn but a couple of times went to different hotels, maybe for variety or if the Days Inn didn't have rooms available. Martin managed to collect several photos of Mrs. Thomas in compromising positions. He had them hugging and kissing outside in motel parking lots and holding hands entering the Days Inn, but his trump card photos were surreptitiously gathered one day when he realised the lovers had not completely shut the curtains on the patio doors one day at the Days Inn.
Martin approached the room cautiously and peeked through the 2 inch gap in the drapes. Mrs. Thomas was on all fours being stuffed from behind. Martin turned the flash off of his digital camera and excitedly seized the moment. That day he managed to get photos of the two in doggy style, reverse cowgirl, small package, 69 and a messy facial. Martin was never so happy for buying the best zoom camera on the market than he was that day.
Several more months followed as Martin prepared his evidence and solidified his scheme. So that he would not be recognised and remembered from the Ramada Inn, he shaved his beard and moustache and allowed his hair to grow longer. Some blonde highlights completed his transformation.
Martin decided to put his plan in action on a sunny and warm April morning. It was a Monday and he had just started a two week vacation. He parked his car on the road one block away from Mrs. Thomas' house. He grabbed his briefcase and approached the Thomas' house dressed in a navy blue suit and tie. He rang the doorbell and waited for his plan to unfold.
After a few moments he heard a female voice ask, "Who is it?"
"Hello Mam," he replied in a voice loud enough to be heard through the door, "My name is Dick Long and I'm from Ontario Energy Marketing Corporation."
"What do you want?"
"I would like to give you the opportunity to save yourself some money."
"I'm not interested, thank you."
Can I just leave our brochure with you Mam?"
Martin heard the deadbolt of the door unlock and the security chain being placed on. The door then opened with the security chain on. He quickly put his briefcase on the chair to the right of the door, unsnapped the latches and pulled out a manila envelope. He grabbed one of his incriminating photos form the envelope placed it on top of the envelope and passed it through the space between the door and the door frame. He stepped back and waited a few seconds. He heard the door close, the chain be unfastened and then the door open again.
"Who are you really? And what do you want?", she quipped in an angry tone.
"I'm a Private Investigator, Tanya," he answered, "And I've been hired by your husband to follow you."
"My husband, what?"
"Tim has hired me to follow you Tanya. He feels you have changed over the past year and suspects you may be cheating on him."
"YOU BASTARD! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"
"Wait, wait, wait. I haven't told him anything yet."
"Yeah but you will, I mean that's how you get paid isn't it, you snake," she hissed.
"To avoid a public disturbance, will you let me in so that I can explain?" he asked.
She stepped back, opened the door wider and allowed him to enter her home. 'Thank God she never recognised me,' he thought. With the door shut, he made his way to the living room. As he walked, he began to explain to her that he had not yet indicated to Tim any inappropriate behaviour. He told her he had copies of the photos stored safely. As he sat on the soft white leather sofa and Tanya sat across from him on the matching love seat, Martin explained to her that Tim didn't have to find out.
"What are you getting at?" she enquired.
"Well, it's obvious that you have broken your vows and you're not the Saint that your husband and the moms of the P.T.A. and soccer team think your are."
"Uh huh, what do you want?"
"Well, I give you my word to destroy theses photos as long as we can become friends, so to speak," he said.
He then changed his tone to let her know who was in control.
"If you don't want all those moms, your husband and two daughters Danielle and Andrea to know what a slut you are," he firmly stated, "You better get over here and show me how appreciative you are that I will keep this information to myself."
She put her head in her hands and sat motionless for a few seconds.
The silence in the house was deafening.
Tanya stood and flicked her long blonde tresses behind her. Slowly she paced towards him when she was in front of him, she stopped. With a subservient, slightly cracked voice she asked, "What now?"
"Well you can start by unbuttoning your blouse and taking off that skirt, nice and slow." he commanded.
She hesitantly began to unbutton her navy blouse after she pulled it from her knee length flowery skirt. She started at the bottom of the blouse and worked her way to the top. As the blouse delicately hung from her slight frame, Martin grabbed the left side and pulled it to the ground. At the same time, she unbuttoned her light cotton skirt and unwrapped it from her waist.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, "Small , but firm."
