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.
