Randy's Husband and Other Problems

I needed to know where else he might go after work because I intended to follow him to see if he stopped off at either Marjorie's or the secretary's house. You can't follow another car very closely or the driver will notice that you're making every turn he does. You have to stay back and hidden in traffic. Once I knew where he might be going, all I had to do was stay close enough I could see if he changed direction. Even if I lost him, I could just drive to his probable destination and confirm he was there. If he wasn't, I'd just check the others.

That evening at about four thirty, I pulled into the parking lot of the strip mall far enough down that my car was mostly hidden by a couple others. It's a pretty nondescript car anyway, an older model sedan with faded paint and a few dents, so most people wouldn't recognize it if they saw it more than once, but you can't be too careful. I watched the door of the building, and when each person came out, I used my binoculars to track them to their car.

The first person out was a man who got into a shiny black Mercedes sedan. He wasn't Bill. As he was pulling out of the lot, a group of four came out, two women and two men. They were talking to each other and smiling and neither man matched Bill's picture, so it didn't look like anything was going on between Bill and the women. I wrote a description beside each woman's license number just in case Bill had more than two fish on his line -- 456L013, tall brunette, little tits, boy's ass, 847D201, short, black hair, fat ass, big droopy tits.

Nothing happened for the next half hour and by then I had to take a leak. That always happens when I'm watching somebody and it always happens at the wrong time. I finally give up and go somewhere to take a leak and when I get back, my target is gone. I carry a gallon jug in the back seat for such occasions, but there in a public parking lot in broad daylight, I couldn't use it. Thankfully, I usually get the first warning when there's still some capacity left. I used that extra capacity that afternoon.

The door opened and a little blonde walked out followed by Bill. He walked her to a Toyota sedan, license number 455K213, and they stopped to talk.

I can't read lips worth a shit, so I couldn't tell what they were saying. I could tell a lot by their body language though. The little blonde kept touching Bill on the arm. Some women are just natural-born touchers so that might not mean anything, but just before she got into her car, she stroked his chest. Most women wouldn't do something like that unless they knew the guy really well.

Most guys wouldn't do what Bill did either unless they wanted to get their ass in some really deep shit. He stroked her cheek once, and when she turned to get into her car, he squeezed her ass. The touch to her cheek would be enough to have a lot of women screaming sexual harassment. In today's world, a pat on the ass is a guarantee of a charge of sexual assault if the woman wants to take it that far.

The blonde just turned, grinned, and then pulled his hand off her hip. It looked to me like she enjoyed it. I checked off box number two in my notes - sex with the secretary. I couldn't prove anything yet, but it looked like they were doing the dirty deed when they got the chance.

I'd have known Bill's car even if it hadn't been the last one in the lot because of his license number. He had one of those dumb-ass vanity plates and somebody at the DMV was asleep at the switch when they issued it. It read, "8IN4TNA".

Bill got into the black Acura, backed out of the parking space, and barked the tires when he pulled out onto the street. I added a third box to my checklist and then checked it -- egotistical asshole.

He was headed north on Pleasant, and that was in the direction of Marjorie's house. I let him get a block ahead before pulling out onto Pleasant. At each stop light, I watched to see if he changed direction, but he never did. When I drove past Marjorie's house, the Acura was parked in her drive. Check box number one -- sex with Marjorie.

It wasn't any use hanging around. All I'd get would be a picture of him coming out of the house. Not only would that evidence be explained away by any reasonably competent attorney, most clients wouldn't believe it proved anything either. I figure Randy might be more believing, but she wanted something that would hold up in court. I drove home for another frozen dinner washed down with scotch and then had a double scotch and a cigarette for dessert.

The next afternoon at about four thirty again, I was parked in a different spot at the strip mall across from Bill's office building. This time, I'd brought along an oldie but a goodie -- a parabolic microphone with a cassette recorder. Yes, you can still buy brand new blank cassette tapes.

Before the days of "bugs" and intercepting cell phone calls, both of which require getting into someplace or tapping a target's phone and both of which require a search warrant we couldn't get, PI's used parabolic microphones to listen in on conversations. Now, anything I recorded wouldn't be legally admissible in court. You have to have at least one party's consent for that to happen. I wasn't after that. I just wanted to see what Bill and the secretary talked about if they stopped to talk again.

Just like the afternoon before, Bill and the secretary were the last two to leave the building, and just like the afternoon before, they stopped at the secretary's car to talk. I'd chosen a parking spot that had my passenger window facing Bill's office building so all I had to do was roll down that widow and point the parabolic dish at Bill and his secretary. What I heard was interesting to say the least.

Bill -- "Are we still on for Saturday?"

Secretary -- "Yes, if you can still make it."

Bill -- "Great. I'll have the blanket on the beach and wine in the cooler. Is one-thirty still OK?"

Secretary -- "I'll be there."

Bill -- "You'll wear that little suit I like won't you? I love seeing you on the beach in that."

Secretary -- "I don't know. The last time I did, I got sunburned."

Bill -- laughing, "I'll keep you rubbed down with suntan lotion."

Secretary -- giggling, "The last time you did that, you got carried away."

Bill -- "Well, what did you expect?"

Secretary -- "I expected a little foreplay first."

Bill -- "OK, if the lady wants foreplay, she'll get foreplay. We'll have lots of time anyway. The bitch is going to see her mother on Saturday."

Secretary -- "I'll be glad when this is all over and we don't have to hide anymore. The beach is OK, but in your office...I'm so scared somebody will see us. How much longer will it take?"

Bill -- "Well, you know how lawyers are. They have to dot every 'I' and cross every 'T' three times. They tell me about another month and they'll be ready."

Secretary -- "God, I hope so. We've already waited six months."

There was some more conversation about people in the office, but I had enough to make a start. I rolled up the window and drove home, then called Randy's cell phone. When she answered, I asked if she was in a place where we could talk. She said she was, so I asked her if Bill had told her about going someplace on Saturday.

"Yeah, he said he's going fishing, but I'd bet he's going to be fucking his secretary instead."

"Where would he go to fish?"

"We own some property on the lake, well not really on the lake. It's back up a creek that feeds into the lake. Bill wanted it because he said fish like to stay in places like that. That's where he always goes."

"What's around it?"

"Not much of anything except farms on both sides. We had to put up a fence to keep one of the farmer's cows out."

"Is there a cabin?"

"No. The only thing there is a fireplace and a beach Bill made by having sand hauled in. He never stays out there overnight so he said we didn't need a cabin."

"How would I get there?"

"Just take 46 west out of town and turn onto County 4. It's a drive with a gate about eight miles further. Why?"

"Just checking on something. I'll let you know if it turns out to be anything. Are you going anywhere on Saturday, just in case I need to get in contact with you?"

"Yes, I'm going to see my mother."

"Will your cell phone work there?"

"What do you mean? Of course it'll fucking work."

"OK, like I said, I'll be in touch if this turns out to be anything."

Her voice got that harsh sound then.

"I suppose you'll want to be paid for the three days between now and Saturday too."

I did expect that since I'd already told her my fee schedule, but if I didn't find out anything, it was going to be difficult to convince her she should pay. I was going to keep following Bill every night, but I still had the subpoenas and summons to serve, so they'd pay for my time even if she didn't.

"Missus Lake, tell you what. If I don't find anything, I won't charge you. If I do, you pay. Fair enough?"

"Do I get to decide if you found anything?"

"Yes, you get to decide, but I won't give you anything less than positive proof."

"Fair enough then."

I parked at the same strip mall every afternoon for the next three days and listened in on Bill and the secretary talking, but heard nothing really new. She promised to wear his favorite suit and he promised to keep her oiled up. If what I thought was going to happen did happen, he was going to oil up more than just her outside.

I did follow her home one afternoon and it was easy to see why Bill didn't just go to her house like he did Marjorie's. Bill was an asshole, but he wasn't dumb. The secretary lived in an apartment and there were security cameras in the parking lot and on all four corners of the building. Any divorce attorney worth a shit would check the blonde's apartment complex for security cameras and subopena all the recordings as evidence. All it would take was for Bill to be seen walking the secretary to her apartment and his ass would be toast.

Friday morning, I drove over to Bill's office to make sure he was there and then drove out of town on 46. When I got to County 4, I turned off and followed it until I came to a gate. I looked at the map on my cell phone and smiled.

The place was off the road quite a way upstream on a creek like Randy said, but it looked like at least the beach would be visible from the lake. I drove back to the closest marina and rented a small boat for the day.

When I motored up the creek to the place, I knew I had Bill if he did what I thought he was going to do. The beach was just like Randy said, sand dumped on top of the clay bank and it was quite a way up the little creek that fed into the lake. I motored around the entrance to the creek and found a place where I could see the beach but still be far enough out in the lake to not look like I was watching. The telephoto lens on my Nikon would get me close enough to grab pictures of anything going on.

If he'd been smarter, Bill would have built a cabin so he'd have someplace to take the secretary. The reason is because of the law concerning photographing people. The key phrase is "a reasonable expectation of privacy".

If you're inside, even in a tent or your car, you have a reasonable expectation of privacy and any pictures I might get wouldn't be admissible as evidence. If you're out in plain view of anyone, even if you're on private property and that view is a ways off, you don't have that expectation and I can take as many pictures of you as I want. I can't trespass on that private property to get them, but I'd be on public property on the lake.

On Saturday about noon, I rented a boat again and motored over to a spot outside the creek where I could use my binoculars to see where they'd probably park and most of the beach through the trees, and the trees would keep Bill and the secretary from seeing me. I needed for them to get comfortable before I anchored and started taking pictures where they might see me.

About twenty after, Bill drove up and parked on the grass beside the rock lane that led back to County 4. He carried a big blanket down to the beach and spread it out, then went back to his car and carried a cooler and a couple of towels to the blanket.

About five minutes later, the secretary drove in and parked beside Bill's car. When she got out and took off her T-shirt and little shorts, I could see why Bill wanted her to wear his favorite suit. It was a white bikini that almost wasn't there. Her tits weren't all that big but since she was a pretty small woman, they looked big on her and the bikini top didn't cover much besides her nipples. She had side tit, bottom tit and a whole bunch of top tit and cleavage. My binoculars let me get a good look at the bikini bottom and the camel toe she was sporting too. She grinned as she walked up, and then stood on her tiptoes to kiss Bill.

I waited while they sat down and Bill poured them both a glass of wine. They talked for a few minutes before Bill started rubbing sun tan lotion all over the secretary. When he took off her bra, I used the oars on the boat to move to my spot and then dropped the anchor. I hung a fishing rod over the side but there was no line in the water.

If they looked up they could see me, but as far away as I was, all they'd see at that distance was a man in a boat who was fishing just like at least a dozen others around the lake. I didn't have that problem. The thirteen hundred millimeter lens on the Nikon is the same type of lens wildlife photographers use so they won't scare the animals and through the viewfinder of the Nikon, Bill and the blonde looked only a few feet away. That big lens cost me a ton of money, but the first case I used it on paid for it and then some.

It captures really good detail at up to about six blocks and on that case I was only two blocks away on a hill above the Andrews' back yard. Her husband suspected she was up to something. He was going to be away on business for a week and asked if I'd watch their house to see if anything went on. Well, like he thought, something was going on. He just didn't know how much until I showed him the pictures. Apparently Mrs. Andrews liked men other than her husband, and more than one at a time to be exact.

What went on was three guys fucking Mrs. Andrews everywhere she could fit a cock. Usually it was one fucking her while she sucked one or jacked the other two cocks, but I did get a dozen shots of her riding one guy with another fucking her in the ass and the third with his cock in her mouth. Mr. Andrews was grateful, grateful enough his check let me pay for the lens and have enough left over for about a month's worth of scotch, cigarettes, and a couple week's worth of frozen dinners.

Anyway, that lens did another great job with Bill and his secretary. I got several pictures of Bill squeezing the secretary's tits as he spread lotion on her. I didn't expect to see the little rose tattoo just above her right nipple when she untied the strings and pulled the bra part off, but it was there and would be more proof that it was her and not some other blonde.

Things got really interesting when Bill started rubbing lotion on the secretary's belly. He kept sliding his hand under the bikini bottom and down between her legs. It didn't take long before the secretary stretched out on her back and rolled the bottom down and off her feet.

I always thought suntan lotion tasted like shit, but evidently Bill didn't. The secretary had no sooner spread her legs than he was on his belly with his face pushed into her shaved pussy. I got some good shots of that too, and a couple more when he worked his hands up her sides and started pulling her nipples.

She didn't last much longer. Bill was munching away and rolling her nipples when the secretary opened her mouth and lifted up her hips. My Nikon caught that as well.

After staying arched up like that for a while, she fell back down and pushed Bill's head away. He grinned, stood up and stripped off his shorts, then knelt down between her spread thighs. His cock bobbed in the air as he moved closer on his knees and I saw her mouth open again when his cock went home.

I kept taking pictures every few seconds until the secretary arched up again. Bill started pumping away like crazy, and rammed his cock in her hard several times before she eased back down on the blanket. I could tell he was panting just as hard as she was. He finally pulled out, and I got a couple shots of his wet cock before he put his shorts back on.

I already had enough to make Randy's case about the secretary, but I went back to my first spot just to see what was going to happen next.

The secretary stuck one of the towels in her crotch and then laid on her stomach while Bill oiled her up some more. He seemed to like oiling her ass cheeks the best. After about ten minutes, he'd pulled the towel away and all he was oiling up was her pussy. I know that because she spread her legs so he could reach it easier. It wasn't long before he lifted her up on her knees, opened the fly on his shorts, and shoved his cock in her again.

I didn't stay for the finale. I had enough already and besides, I was starting to get pissed at Bill. I mean, it seemed like the only way I was gonna get myself fucked was to pay for it and I'm not about to do that. For about the street price of a handjob in my car I can get a bottle of really good scotch and the scotch will last longer. Bill had just fucked his little blonde twice and he didn't have to pay anything, well, not yet anyway. I figured he was going to pay dearly once Randy saw the pictures.

I turned in the boat and then drove back to my office. After confirming the pictures showed their faces and the three I took of their cars would verify it was Bill and his secretary, I called Randy.

"Mrs. Lake, I think I have what you need."

"You saw them fucking?"

"Better than that. I have pictures. When can you come to see them?"

"I'll be there in an hour."

It was actually two hours and fifteen minutes, and Randy apologized.

"Some goddamned fucking idiot decided to cut over two lanes on the interstate and caused a wreck. I sat there in fucking traffic for almost an hour before they got it cleared, and by that time I had to pee so I had to stop at a truck stop. Let's see what you have."

I'd transferred the pictures to my laptop so I started paging through them. When I got to the pictures of the secretary without her bikini bra, Randy laughed.

"Her boobs look hard as rocks. I bet she had a boob job. That's probably why Bill likes her. He likes big boobs. Mine used to be sit high like hers, but then they got bigger and started to sag."

Randy frowned when she saw the picture of the secretary just before Bill went down on her.

"I'll be damned. She's shaved her coochy. I don't know why any woman does that. She looks like a little girl, not a woman. Maybe Bill likes that, but I don't. I keep mine trimmed, but I'm never gonna shave there again. Had to do that when I was stripping, and it itches like hell when it starts growing out again."

The rest of the viewing went about the same way. Randy kept getting madder and madder, and by my rough count called Bill a "fucking bastard" six times, a "goddamned fucking asshole" at least three, and twice said she'd like to cut off his fucking dick and ram it up his fucking ass. I figured Bill was going to regret even having a secretary before Randy was through with him.

When I'd clicked through all the pictures, Randy lit a cigarette, blew a stream of smoke in my face, and said, "I guess you do deserve to get paid for this. Now, what about that woman he's selling a house for?"

"Well, you really don't need anything else. With what you now have, his lawyer won't want to risk having a court decide the settlement. He'll want to negotiate and if your lawyer is worth a damn, you'll probably get better than half of the assets.