Witness Protection Trophy Wives

INTRODUCTION & DISCLAIMER - Shane is an experienced detective from Melbourne, Australia, and at the moment he is part of a team assigned to watch and protect Maria, the hot young trophy wife of a dangerous Russian mobster who has snitched on her husband, his brothers and friends, and obviously has a large price tag on her head before she testifies in court.

Bitchy Maria makes life difficult for the detectives watching her, but what will happen when this trophy wife gets horny and it is Shane's turn to watch her? Read 'Witness Protection Trophy Wives', an entry in the 2023 On The Job story series to find out and be sure to rate and comment.

All characters appearing in this story are aged 18 and older and they and the events are fictional, with any similarity to real persons living or dead coincidental and unintentional. There are some scenes involving female characters using the toilet and having their periods, but no fetish material in this regard.

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The house was one like many that filled Melbourne's sprawling outer western suburbs from Sunshine, Werribee and Hoppers Crossing down past Lara and Little River to Geelong, Victoria's second largest city. It was a house that could be purchased by investors for redevelopment, and residents who had lived in the street 10, 15 or 20 years would pause after its demolition and try in vain to remember the house that had once stood on the now vacant block.

The anonymity of the dwelling was the main appeal of it to myself, my colleagues and superiors. But this otherwise forgettable Tuesday morning on a cool and grey autumn day with a strong wind blowing in from Port Phillip Bay and the songs of the magpies audible from outside, my colleague Eddie and I were on maximum alert, urgently communicating with our colleagues Tony and Angie by mobile phone and with our hands on our guns, ready to put into place the protocols we had been extensively trained in.

"Tony, send through an image of the vehicle in question," said Eddie, his accent immediately giving away his New Zealand heritage, and his tall muscular form with Pacific Islander facial features and skin complexion showing him to be of Maori origin. Both of us stared at the screen of our tablet, while I frantically tried to run a check on the registration on the car causing us so much angst.

"That car is not travelling at that speed for nothing," I observed.

"Excuse me," came a young female voice with a strong Eastern European accent from behind us.

"In a minute Maria," said Eddie impatiently. "Tony, what is the car doing now?"

"Still going at 5 kilometers per hour going up the street that connects with yours," said Tony's voice.

"Shane, Eddie, I need your help right now," came Maria's voice again.

I was completely focused. "Maria, it will have to wait," I said dismissively.

Eddie and I looked at the image of the car creeping slowly up the nearby street on our screen, and looked at each other. It wasn't a type of car that would normally be a threat, it was a Pintara well over 20 years old. We looked at the image of the car chugging along the street struggling to get to double digits, and focused in on the driver and passenger.

"Will you stop looking at car and look at me!" came Maria's voice, even more impatient than before.

"Maria, in a minute!" Eddie and I said in unison.

I turned to Eddie, finally having obtained the car registration details. "Owner is a Mr. Alvin Grey, of Footscray, born 10th March 1917," I said. "No reports of the vehicle being lost or stolen."

Eddie and I looked at the elderly, bespectacled driver of the car, who wore an Akubra-style hat that made him look like a farmer. He continued to drive at a speed that surely could be eclipsed by a tortoise or a snail, his equally elderly wife with her hair in curlers sitting in the passenger seat knitting.

The adrenaline subsided, and Eddie and I sighed in relief. "All clear, Tony," I said.

Tony's voice was audible. "Yes, that's what we thought too. Still, better safe than sorry. Over."

"Thanks Tony, over," I said.

"Perhaps you look at me now boys?" came Maria's indignant voice.

If one wanted to find a strong contender for the most beautiful Russian woman in the world, where would one look? Russia obviously, in cities such as Moscow, Saint Petersburg or Yekaterinburg. However, one would be wrong. Possibly the most beautiful Russian woman in the world could be found in Melbourne Australia. Her name was Maria, and she stood in front of us. And the job of Eddie, myself and our colleagues was to prevent anyone else from finding her before, during or after the trial.

Maria had obviously not long gotten up given it was early in the morning, and was barefoot and attired in her nightwear, an oversized white tee-shirt. The outline of Maria's panties -- bikini briefs -- could be seen through her sleep shirt. The shirt left much of Maria's legs exposed, and she had very long legs, fitting as she stood at an impressive six feet three inches in height, even with bare feet like now. Not wearing a bra, the shape of Maria's C-cup breasts showed at the front of her tee-shirt, the outline of her nipples clear in the white fabric.

A Russian doll-maker wanting to make a doll of a perfect woman could have no better model than the stunning 25-year-old who stood in front of us. Her face was absolutely to die for, her complexion perfect, her big eyes sapphire blue and her long blonde hair cascaded down over her shoulders. Even when annoyed and angry Maria was beautiful. This was most definitely the case right now. One she was beautiful, and two she was angry.

"So what's the problem, Maria?" Eddie asked her.

Marie glowered at us with her big blue eyes. "My problem is that instead of getting proper policemen to look after me, I get Keystone who are obsessed with watching silly old fool driving car too slow, and not pay attention to me when I have very real problem."

"Maria, we have to take any possible threat to your safety seriously," I said. "That car there could have been sent by your husband or his brothers to search for you."

"What, stupid old man close to 100 who should not be allowed out on road in first place?" Maria scoffed arrogantly. "I don't think so. While all this silly shit is going on, I desperate to go to toilet but I cannot go because there is no toilet paper."

"There's none in the bathroom?" Eddie asked.

Maria glared at him. "No, if there was I would be sitting on toilet right now instead of wasting my time standing here talking to you while urgently needing to go to bathroom."

"Wasn't there any toilet paper under the bathroom sink?" I asked.

"Of course there is not, it is first place I look. What you think I am, stupid?" The glare from Maria's blue eyes got stronger.

"If you had a toilet emergency, you could have used some tissues," Eddie pointed out to Maria, indicating a full box of facial tissues that sat on a nearby table.

"And there's plenty of serviettes in the kitchen," I said. "You could have used them."

Maria's expression showed venom more toxic than that of a taipan. "I am very important to police and prosecutors, and you cannot even supply me with toilet paper to wipe my bottom when I need to have a shit, and expect me to go around looking for things to use as my toilet paper. I am in situation where it is when you got to go, you got to go. You are useless, totally incompetent."

In a further display of petulance, Maria folded her arms and stomped one of her bare feet on the floor, her murderous glance shifting from Eddie to me, and then back to Eddie again.

"I'm pretty sure there's some toilet paper in the hallway closet, I'll get some for you Maria," I said.

I led the peeved young woman to the closet, Eddie behind us. Even though I was six feet tall and wearing shoes, the barefoot Maria towered over me, and even eclipsed Eddie in height.

"It had better not be cheap, rough, flimsy toilet paper like they put in girls bathroom in my high school back in Russia," commented Maria.

"Relax Maria, it's just the same as the toilet paper in there before, see?" I said, opening the closet to reveal the large packet of toilet paper, which promised it was double-ply, soft and super-absorbent toilet tissue.

Taking two toilet rolls, I handed them to Maria, the indignant woman snatching them from my hand without a word of thanks and making haste for the toilet on her bare feet. I could see by the way she was walking that she wasn't exaggerating about urgently needing to use the toilet, and her mood definitely hadn't improved. She walked to the lavatory grumbling and muttering in Russian, knowing full well that neither Eddie nor I could understand a word she was saying.

Maria did this speaking Russian thing often, which was understandable as she was from Russia, but she could speak English perfectly well. The reason she did so was to say nasty things and bitch about whatever was pissing her off that day, and the list of things capable of making Maria pissed was pretty long.

On her way to the toilet, Maria dropped one of the toilet rolls and the frustrated young woman had to bend over and pick it up from near her bare feet. As she did so, her sleep-shirt rode up, exposing her panty-covered bottom and displaying to Eddie and I that Maria was wearing white bikini-style panties with blue flowers this morning.

Getting her toilet tissue, Maria straightened up and Eddie and I looked at the floor and ceiling respectively lest Maria should turn around and accuse us of perving on her knickers. However, Maria was clearly so desperate to go to the toilet that she didn't notice or didn't care that Eddie and I had seen her panties.

She strode into the toilet, which was visible from Eddie and my position and I could see that there was indeed an empty cardboard tube on the toilet roll holder and that the toilet seat was left up, Maria's pretty face showing her frustration as she slammed it down to allow her to sit on it, the young woman putting one toilet roll on the cistern as she turned around and slammed the toilet door closed, the sound of Maria pressing the button to lock it clear.

The quiet in the house, with only the noise of the breeze and magpies outside allowed us to hear Maria changing the toilet roll over. All was quiet for a few seconds, presumably as Maria pulled her knickers down and sat on the toilet, then came a new sound, a splashing tinkling sound as Maria began to urinate, her pee cascading into the toilet.

Eddie grinned at me. "Hey Shane, I think it's raining outside," he said.

I also grinned as the sound of Maria urinating on the toilet continued. "No wonder she was so pissed off this morning."

Eddie and I both laughed. "She might slash us if she hears us talking about her," Eddie commented.

"Did she drink a carton of beer?" I asked, as the sound of Maria pissing showed no signs of letting up.

"Let's just hope she didn't get hold of any asparagus," Eddie quipped, as the sound of Maria taking a piss finally came to an end.

The sound of Maria unwinding toilet paper to wipe her wet pussy was audible, then Eddie and I stood amazed as new sounds came from the lavatory, those of Maria farting on the toilet, the sound of her wind echoing in the toilet bowl audible.

"I thought pretty girls didn't fart," Eddie commented.

"Maria must be an exception to the rule," I said, Eddie and I unable to keep straight faces as Maria's anus released a fart so loud I think her husband and his brothers would have been able to hear her passing wind from the prison where they languished on remand.

The sounds of Maria's flatulence problems while she was sitting on the loo was like a scene from a gross-out comedy of the 1990s or early 2000s, but of course her wind issues were only a sign of things to come. She farted again, this sound turning into a squelching noise followed what sounded like an avalanche of Maria's feces going everywhere in the toilet, finishing with another massive fart from her bum.

Eddie and I could not stop ourselves from laughing, as Maria unwound some toilet paper to wipe her bottom, followed by another mass evacuation of her bowels, Maria's shit going everywhere in the toilet again with more farting, this making Eddie and I feel like we were 15 years younger and watching a gross comedy film. And we stopped acting like responsible and sensible 35-year-old Australian Federal Police detectives, and more like we watching one of those films in the cinema back when we went to high school.

"I think Maria has diarrhea," I laughed, as the sound of her pooing again then advancing the toilet roll was evident.

"It explains why she was in a shitty mood this morning," Eddie laughed.

"I think you gave her the shits, Eddie," I said.

Eddie laughed. "No Shane, you gave Maria the shits."

I couldn't stop my own laughter as the sounds of Maria defecating were heard again followed by her getting more toilet tissue. "Yeah, she's full of crap."

"Maybe the real reason she dumped Dmitry was after he left the toilet seat up one too many times?" Eddie mused, making the 'inverted comments' symbol with his fingers as he said the word 'dumped' the sounds of Maria farting ahead having another poo and getting more toilet paper audible again.

"Yeah, she really got her husband and his brothers deep in the poo," I conferred.

"I think the toilet must feel pooped, having to deal with all Maria's throwing its way," said Eddie.

Both Eddie and I could not stop laughing, but we had a lot of administrative work to do so had to become professional detectives, go into one of the bedrooms we were using as an office and get on with it, rather than standing in the hallway listening to Maria's private toilet noises coming out of her bottom and making jokes about this. We went and did just this, leaving Maria sitting on the loo in privacy, although the sound of her unwinding toilet paper from the roll was heard intermittently.

Close to 15 minutes had gone by when we heard Maria, now having finished having her poo and wiped herself clean, flushing the toilet, then open the door, washing her hands and make her way to her bedroom on her bare feet. As she passed by I could see her adjusting her knickers through her oversized tee-shirt, and her long bare legs coupled with her bare feet looked so hot. I had to be professional.

The door to Maria's bedroom slammed shut -- evidently having a shit hadn't improved the young Russian woman's bad humor -- and Eddie and I just looked at each other, shook our heads and went back to work. We continued to work for another five minutes before we decided to go to the kitchen and get a drink.

Maria hadn't come out of her bedroom yet, presumably she was sulking and if she was it definitely wasn't the first time. However, as soon as Eddie and I stepped out of the office we stopped short, and recoiled. It was like both of us had stepped into an open sewer, the smell of excrement having drifted out of the toilet where the door was half open and filled the hallway.

"What the fuck?" Eddie gasped.

"Yeah, Jesus that's bad," I said. "Fucking hell Maria."

"Maria did flush the toilet, didn't she?" Eddie asked.

I thought for a second. "Yeah, she did. I remember hearing it. I was beginning to think she'd fallen in."

"Yeah, I heard it too," Eddie said. "I thought my sisters back home in Christchurch used to take too long in the loo, but Maria sets a world record for Russia I think."

"Something's gone wrong, I hope the toilet hasn't backed up or something," I said, trying to breathe through my mouth and avoid smelling Maria's shit.

"Oh shit no," complained Eddie, also trying to breathe through his mouth. Calling a plumber to deal with a blocked toilet was a problem at the best of the times, but in a house where one of Australia's most protected witnesses was being hidden from the world? Not ideal, to put it mildly.

Eddie and I headed for the toilet to try and ascertain just how bad the plumbing situation we had to deal with was, and it was a case of following our noses to the source of the problem, Maria's toilet smells getting stronger the closer we got to the lavatory.

Entering the small water closet, we noticed that Maria had put the lid of the toilet down when she flushed it. Eddie and I braced ourselves for the horrors that awaited us as I lifted the lid, and while a worse smell did hit our nostrils, we stood back amazed at what the inside of the toilet looked like.

It was clean, absolutely pristine, sparkling white porcelain and clean water awaiting the next time it would be used. There was no sewage backing up from the pipe, none of Maria's feces had failed to go down when she flushed, there wasn't even brown poo stains on the bowl nor any of Maria's dirty toilet paper that she had absolutely shit all over when she wiped her arse.

"Fucking hell Shane, that was Maria on her own?" Eddie asked, both of us staring into the very smelly but clean toilet bowl.

"Yeah, although for fuck's sake how?" I asked. "No more cabbages for Maria when it's next time to feed her. And no tuna fish, broccoli or Brussel sprouts."

"Yeah," Eddie laughed. "No Indian or Thai food either."

"And definitely no Mexican," I said, Eddie and I both laughing.

"I think Maria's bum should be declared a lethal weapon," laughed Eddie.

"Yeah, Maria doesn't need witness protection," I said. "All she needs to do is sit on the toilet and take a shit or even just fart and no bad guys are going to go anywhere near her."

"I don't like Dmitry because he's a criminal who has killed people," said Eddie. "But if Maria farted in bed just once while they were married then he has my full sympathy."

"I feel sorry for the toilet," I said, still finding it hard to believe that the terrible smells in the lavatory had come out of the bottom of a young woman as beautiful as Maria.

"I feel even sorrier for the toilet paper," said Eddie, waving his hand under his nose to try and stop the lingering stench from Maria's bowels going up there even more.

Both of us laughed, until we were interrupted by an indignant female voice with an unmistakable European accent. "Excuse me."

Eddie and I turned away from the toilet and looked at the young lady -- the term 'lady' which could only be used very loosely with a woman like Maria -- who was responsible for stinking it out. Maria was still barefoot but had changed out of her oversized tee-shirt and into a skimpy top that showed her flat tummy and naval as well as plenty of her bra and ample breasts. On her bottom half Maria wore a pair of tight blue denim hipster jeans that showed the top of her white floral panties and which would have pushed the rest of her underwear into her pussy and her ass.

Maria glared at us. "I want to speak to both of you in lounge room, get in there now." She pointed in the direction, fury flashing through her blue eyes before flouncing out of the laundry.

Given the situation -- Maria was a witness whose life was in grave danger if elements of Australia's underworld found out where she was -- we should have been giving Maria orders and her following them, but the young Russian was so forceful that Eddie and I meekly and without thinking complied with her directions.

I looked at Maria's bottom on the way to the lounge for two reasons. One, I was worried she might have some sort of encore to her lengthy and smelly session on the loo and fart during the journey, and second because her arse looked pretty damn fine in tight denim jeans.

It was also clear that Maria didn't feel the cold as much as we did. The gloomy morning was not warming up, and Maria was wearing clothes more appropriate to summer, but the reason was pretty obvious. My city of birth was Melbourne and Eddie's was Christchurch both of which got pretty cold in winters, but Maria's early years were spent in Russia, where the cold snowy winters made even the coldest parts of Australia and New Zealand in the dead of winter seem like glorious summer.