Frank Vaughn, owner and manager of Bayside Realty, enjoyed beautiful women. He did his very best to surround himself with hot young women, and so long as they could do their job and make him money, he wasn't all that concerned about who they were or where they came from. The picture he had of his wife on his desk was one from many years ago, when Wanda still had her trim body and looked like she'd just stepped out of a Playboy centerfold. Unfortunately, for both Wanda and Frank, having a son wrecked her body. To make up for it, Frank had taken to searching out the best looking real estate agents on the west coast to come work for him, and he paid them well, even if most of what they did for him was in his own mind. With seven licensed real estate agents working for him, and four others doing all the financials and paperwork involved in the office, Frank had only one male employee, and he was the property inspector.
Of his seven agents, Heather McCoy was by far his most successful. She was also, in his opinion, the sexiest. Heather was of average height, and that was all that was average about her. She had bright, smiling blue eyes, long platinum blonde hair, lusciously full lips, and a figure Hugh Hefner would drool over. Frank sure did. Heather had a near-perfect 38-24-36 set of measurements, which Frank had insisted needed to be taken for publicity photos. She also tended to dress to appeal, often wearing blouses with an extra button unfastened, skirts that went just a little higher than they were designed, and stockings held in place with garters. Heather nearly always wore high heels, especially when dealing with a client or prospective purchaser on property. Having the eye of a man on her instead of on the property always worked in her favor. Heather was often able to get just a little bit more than any of the other girls might have for the same property. And that made Frank a very happy man.
Heather McCoy was born Patricia Heather Collins in Indianapolis, Indiana. Had Frank bothered with looking into her background, he'd have learned that after dropping out of high school, Heather had left Indiana to live with an aunt in Tampa. While working at Tampa Stadium with her aunt, running a concession stand during events, Heather was enticed to participate in a photo shoot by a smooth-taking professional photographer working the football game. She soon discovered that she had somehow agreed to a nude shoot on the beach, and although she had reservations, the money offered was very good. She had been joined by a pair of young Buccaneer Cheerleaders who didn't seem to mind being naked in front of the camera.
After the late evening beach shoot, Heather was encouraged to participate in another shoot, this time in a downtown studio. Joining the two cheerleaders, Heather again posed nude and partially nude, alone. It wasn't until the next shoot, two nights later, that she was encouraged to join with one of the other girls. Heather was paid after that shoot in cash, nearly $600 all totaled up until then. When asked, she readily agreed to yet another session. However, this again turned out different from what had been proposed. Heather discovered only after she had stripped down that instead of stills, this would be a video shoot. Again, the money offered was very good and she did the job. $500 for three-hours-worth of work. Inevitably, the money offered was too much to resist, and Heather was drawn deeper in. Before Christmas had arrived, she had left the concession work to her aunt and was making adult films for a living.
Heather was discovered and subsequently hired on at Vivid Video by a retired actress, who brought Heather to Hollywood, where she would spend the better part of the next two decades in "the Industry". She learned from her agency that another actress already had the rights to the name Heather Collins, and yet another to Patricia Collins. She eventually selected Heather McCoy as her stage name. McCoy had been her aunt's maiden name.
During her first years performing for the camera, Heather made very good money. this time, Heather got hooked on cocaine, became the favored center-piece at orgies, and subsequently became pregnant. She fought her addiction and cleaned herself up, while taking care of her baby son, Andrew. Who the father was, she never learned. Most likely one of the dozens of men she regularly enjoyed off-camera. She didn't pursuit the identity, nor did she care. During her pregnancy, Heather even starred in a series catering to the fetish.
After the AIDS scare in 2004 shut down the industry for more than a month, Heather left the business and moved herself and son to Regal Bay, where she took a position as a hostess at the newly opened casino. Five years later, at the age of forty, she had earned her license as a real estate agent and taken a part-time job with the small Bayside Estates firm. Two years later, she was successful enough to quit her hostess position and concentrate full-time on real estate.
For Heather, however, the lure of exciting sex, either in front of the camera or not, was an itch that needed scratching often. Over the first few years in Regal Bay, Heather had developed a network of relationships with men and women, some she could call close friends while others were acquaintances. Eventually, she developed a group of lovers that she could call on from time to time. One of these female lovers of hers was Dr. Cynthia Price, a Professor of Sociology at the university and a member of the Regal Bay Matrons Club. After a wonderful night spent together with Cynthia and her son David, she was invited to join as an associate member.
One of the men she bedded on a regular basis James Stevens. James was someone she often hired to spruce up vacant properties she was showing to potential clients. He was a good, hard-working, middle-aged married man. He was slightly older than Heather, and despite carrying a few too many pounds due to a habit of eating steak and drinking beer nearly every night, James was still a ruggedly handsome man. It wasn't hard at all for Heather, once a porn starlet and still a well-built and sexually active middle-aged woman, to convince James that maybe a little side action here and there would do him some good, in exchange for a few discounts for his own services.
So it was that Heather would provide a little oral relief for James on afternoons when he'd take care of a property for her. And, on the rare occasion a property was needing more than just a once over or trimming, Heather was not averse to raising her skirt and giving him a quick and sloppy ride. Hell, she reasoned she was getting something in the deal as well, as James was a fairly competent cocksman. Heather had never met James' wife, but by the way James often described her as something of a lazy, frumpy type who had long ago grown tired of servicing her husband's needs, Heather was more than willing to let him take out his sexual frustrations on her once a month or so. It wasn't as if Heather was hard up for lovers, but James did do something for her.
Heather had planned for James to visit a newly acquired property of hers, to give the backyard a good once over, as well as clean up the seldom used in-ground pool. The property once belonged to an older, retired couple, who were now living the good life in a Ft. Myers retirement community. Bayside Realty had bought the property outright and was looking to turn a hefty profit on it. A new-to-the-area Indian couple was showing an interest and Heather saw a very nice commission for herself in the deal.
The afternoon was warm and the sun bright on her face as she drove out to the big house, situated on a cul-de-sac among a thick wooded hillside in the Van Winkle Heights neighborhood. The Heights were Regal Bay's most exclusive neighborhood, situated in the rolling foothills east of the Regal Bay Golf Club, with homes running well into the millions. This home was on the lower end of the scale for the neighborhood, however, with a listing at only $600,000. It was situated at the far back border of the neighborhood, with the backyard running along the highway into town.
Heather parked her year-old champagne-gold BMW 3-series in the angled driveway, alongside the familiar Stevens' Bros. Lawn and Garden Service blue-over-green panel van. She left the top down, expecting to only stay long enough to check about the vacant house as well as checking on James' work. Depending on whether he was nearly finished or not would determine whether Heather would be spending any time on her knees. She suspected she would be, either way. After all, Heather just loved to suck cock, and the belly-full of warm semen she'd sucked out of a potential client a few hours earlier had long since faded away. That quick blow job, with the man's wife checking out the basement washroom while she serviced him in the third-floor bedroom, had probably made her about $3,500 in added commission on that sale. Heather grinned naughtily as she entered the front door of the big house.
Heather made her way through the house towards the back, her high heels clicking across the kitchen linoleum as she went along. She tugged open the sliding door to the patio and went out. Her heels clicked as she strutted along the curved flag-stone walk toward the pool area. The sun was warm and bright, and Heather made out the figure of her gardener near the poolside, using a long pole with a net attached to clear leaves from the crystal-clear water. The last time she'd been on sight, the water had been something of a murky blue-green. It was obvious that James had been putting in a great deal of time here, she thought. Quite deserving of a little something extra in his pay check, she thought.
Heather was about to say something to that effect when she caught sight of the much younger man standing in front of her. This was not James Stevens, she realized, but one of his young employees. Heather made herself known, and the young man, not much older than her own son Andy, turned with a start. He had been wearing ear-phones, listening to music, and hadn't heard her approach. As it was, he very nearly fell into the pool when she tapped him on the shoulder.
"And just who are you?" Heather asked.
