I wish I could write stories that everyone loved. Unfortunately, that's just not possible so I try to write stories that would appeal to me. It's the only thing I can do.
One of my own beliefs is that there are few people in this world that all bad or all good. I believe there is a devil in the best of mankind and an angel in the worst of us. That belief usually finds its way into most of my stories. I try to make my characters human in that no one is completely good and no one is not worthy of some redemption.
I was honored to be asked by blackrandI1958 to participate in "The Magical Mystery Tour," event. I hope you enjoy my entry.
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Copyright © 2017
Morgan lay on her back gasping while trying desperately to regain some semblance of rhythmic breathing. She heard Robert chuckle to himself like he always did after a marathon sex session and wondered what it was about him that forced her to experience such unbelievable orgasms.
"Da..." she tried to talk too soon. She needed a couple more deep breaths before she could speak. "As...as I was saying, damn you Robert, what makes sex with you so damn special? I don't get it."
"I know," he responded between a few deep breaths of his own. "I feel the same way. We...we just seem to be able to trigger each other's sexual peaks or something. If I wasn't married..."
"Hey, hey, hey--none of that," she admonished. "We're both happily married with families. I don't ever want to hear that--'if I wasn't married,' BS."
"I know, I only meant...ah, never mind, forget it."
That was fine with her. Not a day passed for the last two years that she didn't wish she was strong enough to break it off with him. Actually she wished she'd never started it.
Between high school, college, and the first couple of years on her own, she'd probably had sex with twelve to fifteen guys before she married Ian but none, not even her husband, had ever rung her bell like Robert.
"Damn, I hate this part," she thought out loud.
"Yeah, I know; me too. I wish we could get together more often but..."
"No, that's not what I mean. Every time we do this I lie here afterward and pray Ian never finds out. I worry about it constantly."
"Morgan, he hasn't a clue, I'm telling you."
"How do you know? He's a newspaper man, remember? He used to be a reporter, and a damned good one."
"Used to be, Morgan, he USED to be a reporter. Now he sits in an office eight hours a day editing what other reporters write. Jesus, Morgan, do you forget what I do for a living? I'm a PI, for God sake; probably the best in the city if I do say so myself," he boasted with a laugh.
The implications startled her. She quickly scooted up and put her back against the headboard so she could look down on her paramour. "Are you having my husband followed?"
He looked up at her angry face. "No, of course not; I do keep tabs on him from time to time though. Every couple of weeks or so I run him through the system. It's not real extensive but it'll red flag anything that would indicate he had any suspicions. For instance, I can tell you he's never locally rented a car to follow you in. He's never hired a PI." He laughed again. "If he did it would probably be me anyway. He's never spent a dime on any kind of listening devices, spyware, or surveillance gear of any kind. I'm telling you, Morgan, he suspects nothing. "Neither does Cindy—nobody does, that's why we take all the precautions we do. Hell, even if he accidentally did see you, he could walk right by you in the street and not recognize you. Relax, I'm a pro. I know what I'm doing."
She still didn't like the idea of her lover keeping tabs on her husband but after going over what he just said, she was actually a little relieved. "What would you do if he did buy some kind of surveillance gizmos?"
"We'd have to break it off immediately," he responded. "I love my family as much as you love yours. But in the meantime," he said, reaching over and pinching her nipple, "we both need a shower. I've got to get back."
The playful tweak of one of her more sensitive ergonomist zones caused a coquettish squeal as she impishly jumped from the bed and made a dash for the bathroom. Robert, watched with a smile as her tight, thirty-four year old buns flexed with each step.
"Well, coming, Robert?" she asked as she reached the doorway.
Everyone else called him Bob but Morgan liked Robert better. He considered it almost a term of endearment.
Like a shot he tossed his half of the sheet to one side and sprang to his feet. He was standing next to her before she could take another breath. Morgan looked up at his ruggedly handsome face while at the same time, reached down to fondle his flaccid cock. He could feel it twitch and try it's best to do its duty but after coming four times in three hours it simply had nothing left.
As they stepping under the hot shower he took her travel size body soap, she took his, and they took turns lathering up one another. She sighed and leaned her back into his chest as he reached around and gently caressed her breasts and nipples with his slippery hands. From there he used the lavender scented lather to glide across her smooth skin and down to her waiting pussy. Her legs almost buckled out from under her as he was able to bring her to one last mind-blowing orgasm with his fingers.
After drying each other off, Morgan reapplied her make up as Robert got dressed. He told her, as usual, it would be two or three weeks before getting together again then gave her a peck on the lips and left.
As per their precautions, she had twenty minutes before she could leave. She used the time to dry her short, blond hair and stick it under her long, dark, natural hair wig. Next, she slipped into the sexy panties and bra Robert bought her before adorning the conservative ladies business suit. Next she applied the bright red lipstick, something she wouldn't be caught dead with in her normal life. A pair of large sunglasses finished the masquerade ensemble.
She had to chuckle as she looked in the mirror. Robert was right, she could walk right by her husband in that get-up and he'd never know it was her. A devilish little smile stretched across her face at the comforting thought. She grabbed both body washes from the shower, stuck them in her bag and looked around the room one last time to make sure they left nothing behind before leaving.
***
"You're back."
"Angie, I can't figure out why I haven't made you an investigator yet. Your powers of observation and deduction are incredible."
The slightly overweight, red-headed secretary slash office manager smirked, knowing he was joking and didn't mean it with any animosity. "Yeah, well maybe you should. You and Troy don't seem to be doing much in that respect. Mrs. Bracken called twice already today wondering if anyone was on her case yet."
The name sounded familiar. "Bracken...isn't that the one who's married to the real estate guy? That's Troy's case. He's been on it for several days already."
"Yeah-well I haven't seen a report or even a single notation. I also haven't seen any expenses involved with the case yet; nothing--nada. Mrs. Bracken called two days ago looking for Troy. I gave him the message and he promised he'd call her. Evidently he didn't and she's getting pissed, Bob."
He wondered what was going on with his partner. They'd been together for ten years and for the most part it was a good partnership. Robert was a little older and had more experience but Troy was reliable, trustworthy, and a real bulldog. Once he got on someone's trail he didn't let up until he got his man...or woman. Lately; however, Troy had been falling down on the job.
Halfheartedly, he wondered if his partner finally had a girlfriend. A nasty divorce had soured him on any real relationships but hell that was years ago. Of course the job didn't do anything to encourage him either but man wasn't meant to live as a monk; it wasn't healthy as far as Bob was concerned.
"When's he due in, do you know?"
"Not really. I tried texting him earlier and told him about Mrs. Bracken but I haven't heard back from him."
"Okay, Ang. I'll try texting him myself," he said while pouring himself a cup of coffee. "He better answer me, damn it." Robert disappeared into his office, closing the door behind him.
I need you to come into the office. We need to talk.
He put his phone down and took a sip of coffee before pulling out a case file to review. The state would be calling him to testify against Joseph Pioli in a few days. Pioli ran a chop-shop for most of the car thieves in the city.
A wealthy client, who usually used Robert's services for prospective employee background checks, didn't like the response he got from the Chicago PD regarding his stolen Mercedes; so, he hired Robert to track it down. The investigation led him to the chop-shop and half the stolen cars in Cook County. His testimony would put Pioli away for a long time.
He had just started to go through the file when his phone buzzed with a text. It was from Troy.
ETA—4:30
Almost immediately afterward his other phone buzzed.
Sec H, row 5, # 14
***
It was almost three when Morgan pulled into the parking lot of the Woodland mall. Sometimes she felt a little silly going through the cloak and dagger routine Robert had worked out for them, but then again, he was a professional and if it meant that they'd never get caught it was worth all the mumbo-jumbo. She started the same procedure she had performed earlier in the day, only in reverse.
She took the burner phone from her Carson's shopping bag and texted the section, row, and number of her parking space to Robert so he knew where the car was; then locked it up and headed inside, dropping the set of keys into the bag.
Robert's agency owned four older, nondescript cars that they used for surveillance. Nobody ever really kept track of them because they were always using one then switching it for another. Robert had given Morgan a set of keys for all four cars. Before their get-togethers he'd drive one of them to the mall and text her as to its parking location before walking the six blocks back to his office. Later that night he'd flip-flop the process.
She had less than an hour to get home before the school bus dropped her kids off so she made a beeline for the lady's room. Hurriedly, she locked herself in a stall and started undressing. She removed the wig, sunglasses, business suit, and lace underwear in exchange for her normal attire. She stuffed everything in the shopping bag and exited the stall.
The metamorphosis was almost complete but she still had to remove the flamboyant shade of lipstick and replaced it with her usual pink lip-gloss. As she finished she lingered in front of the mirror. She couldn't believe the person looking back at her had just been in the arms of another man. Morgan took a deep breath then let it out with a sigh of disappointment; disappointment in herself and disappointment with her weakness when it came to Robert.
She glanced at her phone. Time was getting short. She hastily left the washroom to find an unoccupied locker in the hall. The lockers were there for the convenience of shoppers who didn't want to carry a bunch of packages around the mall with them all day.
At first she was worried that the maintenance staff or security would notice one locker was missing a key for weeks at a time and break it open but Robert assured her that would never happen. As usual, he was right. She dropped her fifty cents in the slot, turned the key and opened it to stow away the bag containing her alter ego then dropped the key in her purse.
It was always at this point in the routine that Morgan felt she could let out of sigh of relief. With the evidence of their illicit encounter safely stashed away it was almost as if it had never happened. A small smile stretched across her face as she acknowledged the end of another clandestine interlude. She had to admit, it was kind of exciting.
Once in the safety of her own car, she stuck the locker key and her burner phone into the secret compartment Robert had installed in her car and took off for home.
***
"Well, the prodigal son returns."
Troy couldn't help but smile at the snide remark. "I love you too, Angie," he countered.
