This one is a short one. There is very little sex. I thank you for reading my story, I hope it provides some entertainment.
It's a rainy Monday afternoon. I'm sitting in my shitty little office playing solitaire on my laptop, and I'm losing. My door opens and a lady steps in. She is about 45, dyed blond, 5'5" and maybe 120 pounds. Too skinny for my taste, but still pretty nicely put together. Her designer handbag and diamond ear rings hint at money.
"Are you Jack Masters, the detective?"
"I am, and you are?"
She walks up to my crappy little desk and extends a dainty hand, "Sharon Stevens."
I stand, shake her hand and gesture to a chair, "Please have a seat Miss Stevens."
"Thank you, but it's MRS. Stevens, I'm married, at least for the time being. I believe my husband is cheating on me and I need you to find out if he really is. ... You do that sort of thing, don't you? Take photos of them together, all that kind of stuff?"
I sigh, I hate this crap. I spent 25 years on the force as a detective. I put away a lot of bad guys. It took one fucking ricochet bullet to my left knee to end my career. Now I'm a private investigator, running around peeping into motel windows, taking pictures of cheating assholes, so their spouses can sue them for divorce. I truly hate this crap, but it pays the bills.
"Yes, Mrs Stevens, I do those sorts of things. Why don't you tell me about your situation."
"James, my husband of 22 years, is a VP at Mega Insurance Co. I think he is having an affair with a women who works in his building. I think she meets him at the Crown Plaza, or one of the other downtown hotels near his office."
"Okay, why do you think he is meeting up with a women? Do you have any kind of proof that he is cheating?"
"No, not really. He has been very distant and acting strangely. We seldom ever have sex, and that's not like him. Then two weeks ago I found a receipt from a jewelry store in his shirt pocket. It was for a nice bracelet, but he hasn't given me any type of bracelet. After that, I got suspicious and checked his credit card statements. He has a hotel charge for each of the last 3 Wednesdays. Now, why would that be? He can't be seeing clients, he has a company card for that. He is home every Wednesday evening, so why the hotel charges?" "Okay, so you think he might be meeting up with some lady every Wednesday afternoon, right? And you want me to get pictures of him cheating?"
"Yes, we have a prenup and if I have proof of his cheating, I'll wipe him out, he'll be out on his ass, living on the street!"
"Alright Mrs Stevens, I will follow him this Wednesday and see what he's up to. If there is another woman, I'll get you the proof you need to nail him."
She smiles brightly at me and stands. I rise as well, our meeting completed.
"I brought $1000. cash to get you started, will that be enough to begin your investigation?"
"Sure, That's fine for today. I'll call you Thursday with a preliminary report."
She placed the cash on my desk, turned and strutted out of my office, exaggerating the sway in her hips. Hey, maybe she didn't see the gold band on my finger, or maybe she doesn't care anymore. Maybe she is just practicing for when her divorce is final. Who knows?
On Wednesday, I got to the Crown Plaza at 11:30. I picked the Crown because it was the closest hotel to his building and it was raining, again. I slipped a fifty into the counter girl's hand and asked what room my "brother," James Stevens, had booked. She eyed me hard for a moment, looked down at the fifty and sighed. She picked up a pad, wrote "room 704", tore it off and handed it to me. I smiled, tipped my head and walked across the lobby to the complimentary coffee stand.
I studied the photo that Mrs Stevens had given me, while I sipped my coffee. I had set up in the lobby with a clear view of the elevators. At 12:10 James Stevens strolled in and walked directly to the elevators. That told me his lady friend must have gotten the key earlier and was already in the room.
I watched the elevator doors close and then studied the the Floor Indicator to insure Stevens got off on the 7th floor. I waited five minutes, gathered up my small duffle bag, then rode the elevator up to the 8th floor. I got off and walked to the stairwell door and down to the 7th floor. I cautiously opened the door a few inches and peeked down the hall. Finding the hallway empty, I walked to the door of room 704.
Leaning my head to the door, I could hear muffled voices through the heavy door. As quietly as possible, I pulled out my Snake Camera and tried to feed it under the door. SHIT! it wouldn't fit under the door! I grabbed my pry bar and carefully slid it under the door. Using my knee, I applied some pressure to fractionally lift the door. Bingo! the camera slid under the door and into the room.
I studied the viewer as I snaked the camera farther into the room. It took a few moments for the auto focus to show a clear picture of the bed. I was concentrating on capturing Stevens' face in my video and once I was sure I had a clear shot of him, I focused on his companion as she rode him cowgirl.
My stomach clinched and I nearly dropped the equipment. The viewer perfectly displayed the little butterfly tattoo on her shoulder, leaving little doubt as to the identity of the cheating bitch.
Fuck! How could she do this? I have loved this woman for nearly 20 years! The betrayal was like a knife in my gut! I fought down the bile that threatened to erupt from my throat. I took several deep breaths and tried to steady my hand. Fucking Cunt!
I steeled my self, I have a fucking job to do! I knew I had to get enough video to satisfy Mrs Stevens' requirements to enforce her prenup. I forced myself to look again at the cheating cunt as she bounced up and down on Stevens' cock. She whipped her long dark hair back and forth as she arched her back and slammed up and down on Stevens.
Her gyrations allowed a quick glimpse of her face, shattering any remaining doubts about her identity and crushing my soul. I fought back the rage, the nearly overwhelming urge to stand up, kick the fucking door down and put an end to this nightmare.
I slowly pulled the Snake Camera back into the hall and lifted my knee from the pry bar. I packed all my gear and walked back to the stairwell door. I stuck a small wedge in the door to hold it open just enough for me to see down the hall.
I leaned into the door frame, too drained to hold my head up. A cascade of emotions swirled through me: the red hot, intense anger, the disabling pain, the soul crushing disgust. Then haunting unanswered questions repeated themselves in my head: Why? How could she do this? How long has this been going on? I shook my head, I'm a professional, I got a job to finish! I forced myself to concentrate on Stevens and gathering the proof Sharon needed to nail his slimy ass to the wall.
Fifteen minutes later a smiling James Stevens stepped out of room 704. He looked up and down the hall, straightened his tie and walked to the elevators. As soon as the elevator began to descend, I hustled down the hall and stopped in front of room 704. I raised my hand to knock, then thought better of it and just leaned against the wall across from the door.
A few minutes latter the adulterous slut pulled open the door. She looked up and saw me, screamed and slammed the door shut.
I pounded on the door. "Gail! Open the fucking door!"
