====================================================
The following piece of fiction contains strong sexual
content and is meant to be read only by adults. If you
are not at least 18 years old, or if you are offended by
this type of material, please do not read any further.
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Author's note: This is a pretty long story, so I figure I better
include a little intro, rather than expect people to dive right in.
It's a detective story, based around the formula (OK, cliche)
of the knockout who shows up in the office of the down-and-
out gumshoe. Although there is a fully-developed plot, there is
plenty of sex, and a lot of it is rather kinky. But everything
happens between consenting adults.
-- DG (dionysian1@hotmail.com)
"A Scandal in Beverly Hills"
by DG
___________
Prologue
___________
The first rays of sunlight came streaming into the second-
floor home office of William F. Link, the noted radio personality,
right-wing pundit, and odds-on favorite to become the next
governor of California. Despite the early hour, Link was fully
dressed and groomed as he sat alone looking through the stack of
mail left on his desk by his assistant.
In a few minutes he would go downstairs to have breakfast
with his advisors, and then he would begin another long, grueling
day of campaigning. Grueling for most men, that is; Link was one
of those rare who thrived on the speeches, the crowds, and the
endless handshakes. He was looking forward to another day of
spreading the word, of getting out the message about what needed
to be done to get this Godforsaken state back on track.
Near the bottom of the pile was small package with no return
address. Link looked at it cautiously before picking it up, and
it crossed his mind that it might be a bomb. He chuckled to
himself, imagining an investigating detective trying to draw up a
list of suspects. During the past few months of campaigning, and
indeed throughout his career, Link had repeatedly offended
immigrants, minorities of all types, and gays. Especially gays.
He was one of the most hated in California, but he also had
plenty of supporters, and he was planning to ride those decent, God-
fearing supporters right into the White House some day.
The package seemed too light to be dangerous, and he ripped
open the flap and shook out a videocassette. The hand-lettered
label read "Personal: To be viewed by William F. Link only."
Curious, but not particularly worried, he took the cassette over a
built-in cabinet on the wall and slid it into a VCR.
A few minutes later he shut off the VCR and sat down in a
leather armchair, looking pale and suddenly than his fifty-
six years. Then his private phone began to ring. His hand
trembling with shock and anger, he picked it up.
"You! What the hell do you want?"
The voice was insolent, teasing, and Link could barely
control his anger.
"Yes, I saw it. God is going to punish you for this, mark my
words...No, don't hang up, dammit."
He took a small note pad out of his pocket and started
writing down the demands.
____________
Chapter One
____________
The woman in the Mercedes convertible pulled into the
strip mall and parked in front of the Busy Bee dry cleaners. Both
the car and the woman herself looked out of place in this rather
seedy section of Los Angeles. After looking around for a street
address with a doubtful, slightly nervous expression on her face,
she got out of the car, straightened her short designer skirt with
a little shimmy of her hips, and went into the dry cleaners.
Just inside the entrance was a discreet sign reading
"Franklin Stern, Confidential Investigations" with an arrow
pointing to the left. She took a deep breath and then walked
along a dimly-lit hall that led toward the back of the building.
When the knock came, Frank Stern was leaning back in his
chair with his feet propped on the desk, a donut in one hand and a
mail-order catalogue for photographic equipment in the other. He
dropped his feet to the floor with a thud and called out "Come
in," quickly putting the half-eaten donut into a desk drawer and
sliding it shut.
The door opened and a stunning woman came into his
small office. She looked around at the dusty metal file cabinets
and the battered wooden desk with its untidy stacks of paper and
seemed vaguely satisfied.
"Mr Stern?"
Stern was standing behind his desk, a look of lively interest
on his face. "Yes, I'm Frank Stern - can I help you?"
"I hope so. I'm thinking of hiring a private investigator."
"Well then, you came to the right place." He slid a heavy
wooden chair out from the wall, positioned it across from the
desk, and brushed the dust off the seat with his hand. He was a
tall with long arms and legs, and he filled the room with a
flurry of motion.
"Please have a seat, Ms..."
"Link."
They both sat down, and Stern gave his prospective client a
closer look: early thirties, thin and rather athletic, judging
from the muscles in her legs, but with full, round breasts.
Perfectly made up and coifed, well-dressed in a tight designer
suit, a gold chain as as his little finger around her neck
and a large diamond sparkling on her ring finger.
She was quite a dish, and she was dressed to kill, but
something about her, maybe her wide blue eyes or the way she sat
perfectly straight in her chair, gave her an aura of childlike
innocence.
Stern composed his face into an expression of polite
interest, and said "Why don't you go ahead and tell me what sort
of investigative work you have in mind, Ms Link."
The woman was chewing nervously on her lower lip. "I had
some plastic surgery done recently. implants," she said,
looking down.
No kidding. "Go on."
"I'm worried that I might have been cheated, but I don't have
any proof. I paid a lot of money to have these new implants put
in - they don't leak or break like the ones."
"And you think maybe your doctor gave you the older, cheaper
implants and pocketed the difference?"
"Exactly!" She looked amazed, as if Stern had correctly
guessed her birthday.
He smiled modestly. "What makes you think you were cheated?
They don't feel right?" He thought about offering to give them a
squeeze, see if he could feel anything suspicious.
"No, they feel fine. It's the doctor that got me thinking -
he seemed sort of evasive and shady, especially after the surgery.
I talked to another plastic surgeon, and he said my doctor didn't
have a very good reputation. The problem is, the only way to
tell what kind of implants I got is to have more surgery."
"Ah, I see. So you want me to investigate the guy, see if
he's dealing in shoddy boo - uh, implants?"
"Right. Can you take the case?"
Stern pondered for moment. His specialty was chasing
philandering spouses, not medical malpractice. On the other hand
he was in desperate need of money, and Ms Link looked like she had
plenty of it. It wasn't really much of a decision.
He swallowed hard, and said "My normal fee is two hundred
dollars an hour, plus expenses. This initial meeting is free, but
I'll need a retainer before I start."
She didn't even blink. "That sounds fine, Mr Stern. I hope
you can start right away."
He let out his breath with a silent whoosh. "Absolutely. As
it happens, I'm not overly busy at the moment." He found a pad of
paper and a pen among the clutter on his desk and cleared a spot
in front of him.
"Could I have your full name and address?"
"My name is Amanda Link. Is my address really relevant?"
"You going to pay cash?"
"Yes."
"Then I guess it isn't relevant. Let's move on to the
doctor."
"His name is Martin Westphal." She referred to a slip of
paper. "His office is in the Rancho Prado office complex in La
Brava, and he lives at 315 Carneros Drive, in Beverly Hills."
"Beverly Hills, eh?" Stern figured it must be nice, looking
a all day and making a fortune doing it.
After a few more questions, he put his pen down and sat back
in his chair. The question he really wanted to ask was "If you
can afford two C-notes an hour, why come to me?" But that
wouldn't really show the proper self confidence.
"What I figure I'll do is follow him for a couple days, get a
feel for his routine, see if he's doing anything suspicious. If
that doesn't work out, we're going to have to infiltrate his
operations."
"Excuse me?"
"You know, send in an undercover operative. A woman
pretending she wants her - wants some surgery."
"Oh, I see. Well, the following part sounds good. I'm sure
you'll come up with something. You'll take pictures, right?"
"Of course. Why don't you give me a call in a few days, I'll
let you know how we're doing."
"Great." She gave him a wide smile, revealing two perfect
dimples, and took her wallet out of her purse. "You said you
needed a retainer?"
"Yes - should we say, uh, five hundred?"
"Certainly." She handed him five crisp notes, which he
nonchalantly folded and put in his pocket.
He walked her back to the front entrance and watched her get
into the little Mercedes, back carefully out of the lot, and
drive away.
"Mr Han!" he called to the gray-haired hanging clothes on
the big metal racks behind the counter. "Good news, Mr Han: I
can pay you last month's rent now."
"Ah, very good Mr Stern. Then perhaps we can discuss this
month's rent."
***********************
The Rancho Prado office complex was a series of sprawling
Spanish-style buildings surrounded by sago palms, that ubiquitous
symbol of southern California. Stern, who was originally from the
East coast, had always admired them, associating them with romance
and exotic Pacific islands, until his ex-wife told him that the
ones around LA were infested with large rats.
The lot was almost empty and it was starting to get dark when
he heard a throaty growl from the underground garage and a blue
Lexus with tinted windows came flying out of the exit. Stern read
the license plate and hurriedly started the ignition. By the time
he had the van pointed in the right direction, the Lexus was
almost out of sight. Swearing under his breath, he pushed the
accelerator to the floor and careened dangerously out of the lot
amid angry honking.
Watching Westphal make yet another violent, unannounced lane
change, Stern decided he was one of those who considered
driving to be a sport. Stern probably would too, if he was
driving a high-performance status symbol instead of an
underpowered van with worn brake pads and a loose suspension.
After a ten minute chase that took ten years off Stern's
life, the Lexus finally pulled off into the parking lot of the
Happy Oasis motel. With a sigh of relief, Stern followed it
around to the back of the pink two-story building and watched
Martin Westphal get out of his car and take a small duffel bag out
of the trunk. He was a good-looking with and
a deep tan; he looked to be about forty but was probably
than that, considering his profession.
Stern grabbed his Nikon and took a few pictures as the
plastic surgeon walked up the outside staircase to the second-
floor balcony and went into room 219. Now that his breathing had
returned to normal, he was intrigued. What was the doc doing at a
motel - buying cheap silicone implants off the black market?
He walked back around to the front office and rented the room
next door. From there he set up a directional amplifier and
affixed it to the wall separating his room from Westphal's.
Listening through headphones, he could hear Westphal's well
enough to follow the news broadcast, and he absorbed the news of a
sharp decline in the stock market with the cheerful fortitude of a
man with no investments whatsoever. After satisfying himself that
Westphal was alone, he turned off all the lights and took a seat
by the window with his camera.
A few minutes later a dark-haired woman wearing tight jeans
and a halter top walked up the stairs and knocked on the door of
Westphal's room. She was also carrying a small bag. Stern took
several more pictures, getting good angles from the front, side
and back, and then he opened his notebook and wrote:
October 27, Happy Oasis motel, Beverly Hills.
At approx. 6:25 pm subject entered Rm. 219 alone.
At 6:39 pm a woman knocked on door and entered.
Took pix. Mid 20's, long dark hair, olive skin -
probably Mexican or Cuban. Medium hgt. Great ass!
Stern could hear both their voices, but he couldn't
understand much of what they were saying - the television had been
switched to MTV or something and the volume had been turned up.
Unfortunately the curtains were drawn in room 219, so there was
little left to do now except to take pictures of them as they left
the room. With any luck they would have switched bags, giving him
proof of some sort of transaction.
He settled in to wait, and then he suddenly saw something
that made his heart beat faster. A faint beam of light had
appeared on the walkway, projecting outwards from the window next
door. His eyes took on a predatory gleam, and he slipped a tiny
Olympus 35 mm into his pocket and quietly slipped out the
door.
Sure enough, the curtains were now open about six inches. He
leaned casually on the railing and looked around, as if enjoying
the remains of the sunset, and was gratified to see that he was
alone on the walkway and that the lot below was quiet.
He sidled over to the window. With his face a few inches
away from the glass he could see the whole room. Martin Westphal
was sitting on the bed and the dark-haired woman was sitting just
a few feet away from him with her back to the window. They were
holding what looked like stiff shots of bourbon on ice, and they
both seemed to be nervous. Stern judged the light coming from the
lamp over the bed, adjusted the camera, and took a few pictures.
The woman looked at her watch and said something to Westphal,
and then she stood up and started taking off her top. Stern
grinned, figuring the doc was doing some sort of consulting on the
side. Maybe he would learn something. His throat tightened as
the woman lifted the halter top up off her head, revealing her
smooth brown back. Just as he was thinking that her
didn't look like they needed any help, he noticed that Westphal had
taken off his pants, and he chuckled out loud. He had it all
wrong - this wasn't a secret meeting involving illegal implants,
it was a roll in the hay.
By the time he remembered to take any more pictures, the
woman was completely naked. To his annoyance, his hands were
trembling so badly he could barely focus the camera: after three
years of chasing horny couples around for a living he had seen
surprisingly little sex, although he had overheard quite a bit.
The woman helped Westphal take his socks off and then pushed
him back on the bed. The doc didn't look as good with his clothes
off, he had a bit of a paunch and coat of body hair. Stern
was bemused to see that he had only the beginnings of an erection;
he was as hard as a rock himself. The woman seemed to take notice
of this too: she put her hands on her hips and pretended to be
hurt, an exaggerated gesture that made Stern smile. She was built
to Latin specifications: broad shoulders, medium-sized breasts, a
narrow waist, and a lush, round ass.
Westphal said something to her that made her laugh, and she
climbed onto the bed between his legs and engulfed his cock in her
mouth, pushing her face down into his pubic hair. Stern
could see her throat muscles working hungrily as she tilted her
head from side to side and around in circles, her mouth never
leaving the base of Westphal's cock. He squeezed his erection
through his chinos and muttered "Christ, that must feel good."
The woman was working hard, but her mouth was still down in
Westphal's pubic hair, and after a few minutes Stern was wondering
if maybe the poor guy had some kind of an impotence problem, to
get that sort of head and not get it up. But then she slowly
lifted up her head, and inch after inch of rigid, glistening cock
meat slid out of her mouth, until finally the doc's impressive
eight-inch erection was fully revealed. She must have allowed the
cock to slide right down her throat as it expanded and hardened in
her mouth - an impressive display of muscular control. The
resulting effect was rather like the trick where a magician pulls
egg after egg out of someone's mouth, and Stern felt like
applauding.
Without wasting any time the woman straddled Westphal and
lowered herself onto his waiting tool. The doc reached up and put
his hands on her breasts, and she leaned forward, letting him
support some of her weight as she energetically ground her hips.
Stern snapped pictures until he finished the roll, and then
settled in to watch. It was straight fucking all the way - no
lovey-dovey conversation or changing positions, just clenched
jaws, glazed eyes, and plenty of effort; they might have been
training for some obscure Olympic event. Nonetheless, Stern was
understandably mesmerized, and he eventually took his cock out of
his pants and started stroking himself in time with the woman's
pelvic gyrations.
He was wondering whether he might risk spurting his load
right here against the wall when the woman suddenly turned and
looked right at him, ran her tongue lasciviously over her lips,
and gave him a broad wink. He recoiled in horror and ducked out
of the way, and then he frantically tried to unlock his door, his
dick still waving in the breeze.
He finally got the door open (he had been turning the key the
wrong way) and he quickly locked it behind him and stood in the
dark, breathing heavily. No one screamed or came running out of
the room next door, and the panic started to recede. He zipped up
and then felt around on the table for his headphones and put them
on. Underneath the sound of the television he could hear the
rhythmic squeaking of the bed and then some cries of passion that
might have been in Spanish.
Feeling foolish, he turned on the lamp over the bed and
looked out the window. Looking back at him was a tall, lanky
wearing a Hawaiian and headphones. He made a face at the
man, told him to stop losing his head, and closed the curtains.
As he should have realized immediately, the window was as good as
a mirror when the only light was coming from inside the room, and
the woman had obviously been playing with her own reflection. He
collected his surveillance equipment and went back to his van to
wait for the mattress jockeys next door to finish their workout.
____________
Chapter Two
____________
As Amanda Link sorted through the stack of pictures, Stern
watched her face closely. He figured maybe she would get
embarrassed, or even a little turned on, but she just leafed
through them calmly, giving each one a quick glance - no reaction
at all.
"Sorry they're so graphic," he offered.
She put them back into the envelope, and put the envelope in
her purse. "That's quite all right. They're excellent pictures."
"They left the curtains open, can you believe that? Anyone
walking by could have seen."
A little shrug. "I hear some people actually get off on that
- makes it more exciting for them."
"I guess so. It sure made it more exciting for me. I take
it you don't know who this woman is, then?"
"No, why would I?"
"Her name is Maria Corrida. She's a servant who works for
him. His maid, or his cook maybe."
This got a reaction - her eyes opened wider and she sat up
straight. "How do you know that?"
"I followed her back to her apartment after they came out of
the motel room. Got her name from her mail slot in the lobby and
ran a check on her. The point is, this incident doesn't have
anything to do with the case - the doc is just having a little fun
on the side. Like I told you on the phone."
She had called him late last night to ask about his progress,
and when he told her about the motel tryst she had surprised him
by insisting on meeting the next morning. Not that he minded.
She was wearing a short skirt again, and he was having a hard time
keeping his eyes away from the tantalizing little space between
her thighs.
"...them developed."
"What?"
"I said, where did you go to get these pictures developed?"
"Oh - I did it myself last night after you called. I have a
darkroom in my apartment. No one has seen them besides us."
She nodded and thought this over for a little while, chewing
on her lower lip and wrinkling her forehead. Stern tried manfully
to keep his eyes on neutral territory, and in the process noticed
that she had no hair whatsoever on her arms, which accounted for
their sleek, rubbery look.
"Let's say someone wanted to make more copies. Is there any
way to do it without someone else seeing them? I'm sorry, I don't
know much about photography."
"Sure. The negatives are in the envelope - you could use an
automatic machine to make more copies. All the big stores
have them. You just slide the negative into a slot and follow the
instructions on the screen and it spits out a print."
She brightened at this, and said "Oh, how cool."
Stern thought they were getting a little off track here. "I
think we need to consider concentrating our efforts on Dr Westphal's
office. I was thinking of maybe trying to bribe someone who works
for him, someone who might know if he was doing something shady.
I think that would be more useful than just following him around."
"Oh." She was looking away, not meeting his eyes.
"Actually, I've changed my mind, I'm afraid. I don't think I'm
going to pursue this any further."
"Dammit, who did you talk to? Was it Stevens?"
"What? No, I haven't talked to anyone - "
"I can handle this case, Ms Link, no matter what they said
about me. Please...all I'm asking for is a chance here."
"Really Mr Stern, it isn't like that. I've just changed my
mind."
He took a deep breath, and let it back out. There didn't
seem to be anything else to say.
After a short silence, she said "How much do I owe you?"
Stern opened his notebook and gloomily added up the bill.
Having worked on the case for less than twenty-four hours, and
having had very little time to dream up unusual expenses, the
total was distressingly low, especially considering what he might
have racked up given, say, a week or two. He tore out the sheet
and handed it to her, and she gave it a cursory glance and counted
the money out onto his desk.
"I'm sorry about this," she said, sounding like she meant it.
"I hope you have some other cases to work on."
"Oh, sure, sure, I've got plenty of cases. This just seemed
like an interesting situation, that's all. Something different
from my usual stuff. So if you change your mind, give me a call -
you have my card."
"Absolutely." They shook hands and she left, leaving a faint
swirl of Chanel No. 5 in the air.
Stern slumped behind his desk, feeling completely deflated.
He had no other cases to work on, no prospective clients to call,
no foreseeable income whatsoever. It was cruel, the way this case
had materialized out of the blue, promising financial salvation
(or at least financial relief), and then disappeared.
The thought of sitting in his quiet, airless office all day
waiting for the phone to ring was suddenly intolerable, and he
decided to stop feeling sorry for himself. There was more than
one way to earn a fee, after all. He opened a drawer and took out
another stack of pictures. The top one showed the Mexican servant
about to impale herself on her employer's glistening cock. He
slipped them into his pocket, and then he took out a map and
located the Beverly Hills address of Martin Westphal. Whistling
tunelessly, he locked his office and slipped out the back
entrance, avoiding a humiliating encounter with Mr Han.
***********************
Half an hour later he was in Beverly Hills, driving slowly
along Carneros Drive, a quiet residential street which wound its
way through a wealthy neighborhood of large, lushly-landscaped
houses set well back from the street. Number 315 was a modern
single-story house with a two-car garage; it was a large,
sprawling home by most standards but somewhat on the small side
for this neck of the woods. As if to make up for its modest size,
it was surrounded by a six-foot high white stucco wall.
He parked across from the wrought-iron gate that blocked the
driveway and took a good look at the house and grounds through his
binoculars. The blinds were all closed, and there was no sign of
activity. He was mulling it over, trying to decide how to
proceed, when a familiar-looking Mercedes convertible turned into
the driveway. Amanda Link reached out and punched a code into the
little panel next the left-hand gatepost, and the metal gate
clanked open. Stern closed his mouth with an effort and tried to
process this new information. Why would she try to visit Westphal
now, when he was obviously at work? And how did she get the code
for the gate?
She pulled into the left hand side of the garage and the door
closed down behind her, leaving everything as quiet as it was
before. Stern wasn't an amazingly perceptive or intuitive man,
but alarm bells were ringing in the back of his head. He made a
quick decision.
After parking two blocks further down the street, he grabbed
his Nikon and started walking back, glancing around to see if he
was being watched. As far as he could tell, everyone who was home
was behind locked doors - the only sign of life was a two-man
landscaping crew taking a siesta under a tree a few houses down.
When he reached the wrought-iron gate he swung himself up and over
in one smooth motion, landing on the driveway in a crouch and then
quickly taking cover behind a large bush growing near the inside
of the stucco wall.
After waiting a full five minutes, listening carefully for
any indication that he had been seen, he worked his way along the
inside of the wall, taking advantage of the lush vegetation to
keep himself hidden. The wall actually worked to his advantage:
now that he was inside the grounds he only had to worry about
being seen from the house. He made a mental note to himself to
skip the wall when he finally got around to designing his dream
home.
The windows on the side of the house away from the garage
were also covered, and he continued around to the back, where
there was a kidney-shaped pool surrounded by a stone patio. He
settled down behind a little tool shed that probably contained the
pump and drain access for the pool and considered his options.
Before he could decide on a course of action, the sliding door to
the patio opened and Amanda Link walked out wearing nothing but
the bottom half of a lime-green bikini.
"Holy shit," he muttered, ducking back farther behind the
shed. Her breasts, now completely exposed, were magnificent
globes that jutted out from her chest, defying both nature and
gravity; they were obviously, aggressively fake, but this somehow
made them more attractive. It was like she was wearing a sign
that said "Please fuck me - it's what I'm here for."
She set the white envelope that contained the pictures Stern
had just given her on the glass-topped table and sat down on a
chaise lounge, holding a bottle of suntan lotion. Stern watched
her shamelessly through his telephoto lens as she applied the
lotion.
She was actually rather petite, except for her breasts: maybe
5-5 and 120 pounds, with thin, well-muscled arms and legs and
narrow hips. B-cup would have looked generous on her
frame; Stern estimated her at about a D-cup. He moaned under his
breath as she put a glob of lotion in the palm of her hand and
rubbed it into a firm, resilient breast.
The patio door opened again and the Mexican woman from the
motel came hurrying out, carrying a couple of tall drinks on a
tray. She was wearing a short pink dress that Stern recognized as
the standard California maid's uniform.
"Here's you drink. Now you haff to tell me how it go
yesterday! I awake all last night - I wonder what happen." She
had a sing-song Mexican accent that Stern found rather endearing.
"It went fine, no problems at all. I'm sorry you had to have
sex with that odious man, Maria. It was very painful to watch."
"Well, he don't smell too bad. So you take pictures?"
"Yes, I have them right here - they came out fine."
"You haff the pictures already? But you supposed to bring me
film only - and my friend give us the pictures. How you get
pictures develop?"
"Don't worry about it, Maria. I used an automatic machine
to get the pictures - this way no one sees them but us. It's much
better this way."
"A machine? I don't know about no machine, but we agree-"
"All the big stores have them - you just slide the
film into a slot and follow the instructions on the screen and out
comes the print. Go ahead and take a look."
Maria sat down next to Amanda on the chaise and started
looking at the pictures, and soon the two women were passing them
back and forth and giggling.
"Mr Westphal gonna shit when he see these."
"Going to shit, Maria - going."
"He going to shit."
"Yes, I think you're right. He'll have to agree to a fifty-
fifty of assets when I show him these."
"Mr Westphal, he got a lot of money. You gonna be a rich
girl, Amanda."
"We're going to be rich girls, Maria."
Now things were becoming a little more clear. Amanda Link
was Martin Westphal's wife, and the implant had been a ruse.
But not a loving wife: Martin Westphal was being set up for a
major fall in divorce court. It was a neat scheme, especially for
the maid. Stern wondered what her cut was.
"All my life I wanna be a rich girl, Amanda. You so nice to
me - I hope it no bother you too much to watch."
"I didn't mind it at the time - I was too busy with the
camera. But it was kind of a shock seeing the pictures this
morning. Oh babe...I hate to think of that all over
you...inside you."
"You very sweet to say that. The whole time I think about
you, I promise."
Stern was just absorbing the full import of this when Amanda
took Maria's head in her hands and kissed her full on the lips.
"It's so sweet of you to say that, Maria."
"Nobody gonna be inside me from now on except you."
"Inside you... yes, I want to be inside you, Maria."
Stern swallowed hard as he saw Amanda's hand disappear up
Maria's pink skirt. The final piece of the puzzle was fitting
into place, as it were.
"Right now...out here? Mmmmm...Amanda! What if someone see?
Mmmm...Oh God."
"No one can see us here, silly. Take off your clothes."
Amid much giggling and grabbing, Maria shed the pink uniform
dress. She wasn't wearing anything under it, and with a pleasant
feeling of deja vu, Stern unzipped his pants and fumbled with his
camera. Maria was leaning over Amanda on the chaise, one of her
tan in the woman's mouth, and Stern started
snapping pictures.
Amanda stopped nuzzling the and looked up at her maid
with an odd, pleading expression.
"Maria sweetie...are you going to make me? You know what I
like."
"I donno why you like me to do that."
"Please, sweetie... it's a game."
Maria stood up with a resigned expression and slapped Amanda
across the face, not hard, but not soft either. Stern shook his
head in confusion. "What the fuck..."
Amanda looked up at Maria, rubbing her cheek. "That hurt."
"Shut up." She slapped Amanda across the other cheek.
Amanda closed her eyes and made no attempt to move out of the way.
"Get on you hands and knees. Come here."
Amanda crawled over to her naked maid on all fours.
"You look like a cow you know that? A cow that need to be
milked."
"Yes, I know."
Maria prodded Amanda's heavy with her bare foot,
making them swing back and forth. Stern could see her narrow back
moving back in forth under the influence of all that heavy mammary
flesh and silicone. Once in a while the would swing out
of unison and crash into each other with a wet slapping sound.
"Oh babe...I want to eat your pussy." Amanda's voice was
childlike, pleading.
"Say please."
"Please...oh please, please, please."
"OK, cow. Follow me." Maria walked slowly around in a
circle, and Amanda crawled along eagerly behind her.
After being stunned by their initial kiss and then shocked by
the face slapping, Stern was now enjoying the spectacle, and he
continued to take pictures and pleasure himself as Maria led her
charge around the patio. Eventually they ended up next to the
glass-topped table, and the maid sat down on the edge of a chair
with her knees apart, her at the level of Amanda's face.
"You wanna lick it, cow?
"Yes."
"You gonna make me come?"
"Yes."
"You better. OK, cow, go ahead. Make Maria feel good."
Amanda shuffled forward and buried her face in her maid's
crotch. Stern couldn't see exactly what she was doing, but from
the expression on Maria's face, which alternated between enjoyment
and surprise, he surmised that Amanda was more enthusiastic than
skilled at eating pussy.
"How many time I tell you, cow: no tooth!"
"Teeth."
"Shut up and jus use you tongue. Oh shit...thas better.
Keep doin that right there...Don stop."
Maria lifted her feet up and placed them on Amanda's
shoulders and leaned her head back, her face contorted with
pleasure and concentration.
"Thas it... keep going....Don't you fucking stop, cow...."
"Madre de Dios! Oh Shit! OH SHIT!" She put her hands on
the back of Amanda's head as she came, and Stern could see her
relentlessly grinding her against the woman's face.
Finally she relaxed her grip and collapsed back in the chair.
"That wasn't too bad, cow. You getting better."
"Practice, practice," said Amanda with a smile. Her face was
glistening with a coating of her maid's juices.
"You wanna come, too?"
"Yes, please."
"You wan me to fuck you with my hand?"
"Yes, please."
"Say it. Tell me what you want."
"I want you to fuck me with your hand. Please!"
"OK, cow. Take off you suit and turn around."
Amanda stood up and took off her bikini bottom, and then got
back on her hands and knees facing away from Maria. Stern wasn't
surprised to see that her was as hairless as the rest of her
body, but the sight of those plump, pink lips completely exposed
between her legs made him stroke himself harder.
"Les see how wet you are," said Maria, leaning forward and
inserting a finger into Amanda's pussy. "Oh yesss, you very wet -
you ready for Maria."
She folded her hand so that her four fingers made a single
stiff instrument and then she slowly pressed it into Amanda's
pussy. Zooming in tight, Stern could see Amanda's lips
stretched and contorted around the intruding hand, and he muttered
"Christ, these chicks are unbelievable." He took a few more
pictures and then set the down; he had been playing with
himself for a while now and he needed to get off.
As Maria vigorously finger-fucked Amanda Westphal from
behind, making a loud squelching sound like someone walking in wet
sneakers, Stern started working his cock over in earnest. Within
a minute he came, spraying sticky globs of semen onto the ground
and into the ornamental bush in front of him, his low moans
accompanied by high-pitched, girlish shrieks from Amanda as she
reached her own orgasm.
Stern cleaned himself up as best he could and zipped up.
Amanda was obediently licking her own juices off Maria's hand like
a cleaning a dinner plate, and Stern was suddenly filled with
a mild distaste for the whole spectacle and, for the first time
since he jumped over the gate, nervous about being caught
trespassing.
"OK Amanda, thas enough," said Maria softly. She with drew
her fingers from Amanda's mouth and kissed her on the lips.
"Thanks, babe - I needed that. Lets go for a quick swim."
Side-by-side, the two women walked down the underwater steps into
the chest-deep water.
"Oh sweetie, I can't wait until we can be together all the
time," said Amanda. She ducked under the surface to wet her hair
and Stern could see her ballooning up in front of her, too
buoyant to stay submerged for long.
"I know, but we gotta be careful. Remember what you lawyer
tell you - if Doctor Westphal find out you not faithful to him,
then you no get half his money."
"I know, Maria. I just can't wait to get out of Beverly
Hills and start a new life. We could go to Paris for a while;
have you ever been to Paris?"
"No."
"It's a beautiful city, filled with culture."
"Sound very nice."
They stretched out in the water for a while, resting their
heads on the pool gutter and letting their legs float up to the
surface; two shapely glistening forms, one honey colored and the
other a dusky olive. Stern was wondering if they had fallen
asleep when Amanda opened her eyes and poked herself in various
places with her fingertip.
"I'm starting to get some color, sweetie. Run inside and get
me a towel, will you?"
As Maria obediently climbed out of the pool and walked into
the house, her round buttocks swaying enticingly, Stern backed
carefully away from the shed towards the wall. A few minutes
later he was in his van, heading out of Beverly Hills and
wondering if it had been a wet dream.
_______________
Chapter Three
_______________
Stern picked the print out of the finishing solution with a
pair of plastic tongs and hung it on the line to dry with the
others. This one was his favorite: Amanda Westphal on her hands
and knees with her head between the maid's legs, her huge,
perfectly symmetric hanging down like ripe cantaloupes.
Photography was a serious hobby of his: he spent more money than
he could afford on darkroom equipment and chemicals, making up the
difference by avoiding unnecessary expenses like new clothes and
brake pads. Now it was finally going to pay off.
Martin Westphal was going to love these. Stern had decided
just how he was going to play it: first show him the pictures of
him and his maid at the motel, and tell him he was going to get
skinned alive in divorce court. Get him all worried. Then show
him these - the perfect antidote, but expensive. He chuckled to
himself, imagining the look on the plastic surgeon's face when he
realized his was two-timing him with the maid. And that the
maid was two-timing him with his wife.
He went out of the darkroom to get a beer, and on his way
back he noticed his answering machine light blinking and he
stopped to play the message:
"Hey Frank, it's Phil. I checked out that plastic
surgeon for ya - it didn't take long because he's got
legal and financial problems like you wouldn't believe.
You better collect your fees from this guy up front!
Martin Westphal is being sued for malpractice by three
patients who aren't happy with their nose jobs.
Apparently he developed a new technique for rerouting a
septum or something, but one good sneeze and the whole
thing blows apart. He settled the first few cases out
of court and that just about wiped him out financially.
Now with these new lawsuits he's looking at bankruptcy
and possibly losing his license. Hope that helps,
buddy! Gimme a call sometime and we'll go out for a
few drinks."
Stern swore violently and slapped the answering machine off
the shelf and onto the floor. It sprung open, sending the little
tape skittering across the floor and under the couch. Once again
his luck had turned sour. He paced around the apartment for a
while, and slowly calmed down and started to think. It wasn't
over yet. He just had to be flexible.
***********************
"I got some good news and I got some bad news," said Maria,
closing the door to her apartment behind Martin Westphal.
"I could use some good news, Maria. God knows I didn't get
any at work today." The plastic surgeon went straight into the
efficiency kitchen and started assembling bottles on the
countertop. Maria padded along behind him in her bare feet.
"Somebody else don't like their new nose?"
"Yeah, something like that. What's the good news?"
"We got the pictures, and you is all set to divorce you.
She know she got to be quiet about her and me until after the
divorce."
"That is good news!" Westphal looked up from the blender and
smiled at her, his bright white teeth gleaming out of his tan.
"Yeah, she all excited to get half of you money so we can go
to Paris. Why the fuck I want to go to Paris?"
"Hah," snorted Westphal, and said something else that was cut
off by the sound of the blender. He poured out two margaritas and
knocked off half of his with one sip. "Ahhh. Jesus, I needed
that. OK, what's the bad news?"
Maria took a dainty sip of her drink and shook her head.
"She develop the pictures all ready, even though I tole her a
hundred times to jus give me the film."
"Shit - what did the airhead do, drop it off at Moto Photo?"
"Uh-uh. This is the really bad thing. She say she use a
machine at the store to do it." She paused for another
sip, letting Westphal figure it out for himself. He was supposed
to be the brains behind this operation.
"But those machines don't develop film, they just make prints
from negatives."
"Thas right." She could see the wheels turning now.
"Dammit! I bet she didn't take the goddamn pictures in the
first place."
Maria nodded. "I think you right. I think she was very
nervous, afraid she would make mistake with camera."
Westphal poured himself another drink and thought it over.
"I guess it doesn't matter, as long as she's planning to keep
quiet about her wonderful new lifestyle until the divorce is
settled. But it's to think that someone else was watching
us."
"You wan me to try to find out who took the pictures?"
"Yeah, do that."
Maria walked over to Westphal and kissed him, raising up on
her toes to reach his mouth. Her short black dress rode up high
on her thighs as she pressed herself against him.
"Tell me baby - how it go with the plan?"
Westphal set his drink down and put his arms around her, his
hands sliding down to cup her buttocks. "Everything is going
fine." He didn't sound too convincing.
"I thought we suppose to have the diamonds by now."
"Now that we can guarantee that nothing will come out before
the election, we should collect in a few days."
"Mmmm. How many diamonds in two millions, Martin?"
"Depends on the size and the quality, obviously." He had
worked the hem of her dress up over her ass with his fingers, and
now he slid his hands under her panties. "I told him to buy good
quality stones between one and two carats, worth about ten
thousand each. So figure about two hundred diamonds."
"Two hundred! Thas amazing." She felt his erection growing
and pressing against her stomach, and she rubbed herself against
it.
"You wan us fuck now or after we eat?"
"Don't be so crude, Maria. How about both?"
"That sound good. You gonna stay late tonight?"
"Yeah, why not. My is divorcing me anyway."
"You know what she say to me today? She say why don't you
come over to the house in the evening because Doctor Westphal
always come home late anyway. I tell her thas no good - we have
to be careful."
Westphal laughed as he squeezed and kneaded her ass. "Does
she still get off on being humiliated?"
"Oh yeah. She like to be called a cow, and yesterday I have
to pretend I am milking her. You is one fucked up lady."
"Don't I know it. I spent the first three years of our
marriage spanking her and leading her around on a leash. I
finally had to tell the kinky bitch I was sick of it."
"I'm starving. Les do it quick an then eat."
"OK, let me slide it right in here then." He moved his hand
down and pressed a fingertip against her anus. "You know how fast
that gets me off."
She smiled and poked him playfully in the ribs. "And you
call you kinky?"
Westphal slid her white down to the floor. "There's
nothing kinky about liking anal sex, Maria. Unless every in
the world is kinky."
"You jus lucky I like it too. Lemme get my lubricant."
When she came back to the living room he was lying naked on
the floor, his cock pointing up at the ceiling.
"Thas what I like to see," she laughed. She stood over his
face, letting him see up her short dress to her neatly-trimmed
pussy. "After dinner this is going to be you dessert, got it?"
"Whatever you say."
She squirted lubricant on his cock and worked it in with her
fingers, and then she reached between her legs and put a dollop on
her ass.
"Come to Papa," said Westphal, and he gripped his cock firmly
to make a steady target. Maria squatted down and carefully
aligned herself by feel, her heart pounding. She loved the
feeling of having a filling up her ass, but the initial
entry was always painful and a little scary.
"Come on sugar, two inches of pain and six inches of pleasure
- come and get it."
"Fuck you. Why you have such a anyway?" She slowly
lowered herself, steeling herself against the painful stretching.
Just when it really started to and she wondered what the hell
she was doing, the pain went away and there was just a long,
smooth, delicious slide to the bottom.
"Shit Martin, how you ever get me to do that the first time?"
"You did six or seven tequila shots and then asked for it.
Now raise up a little, will you?" She was literally sitting on
his tool, pinning him down to the carpeted floor of the living
room.
"Oh yeah, I remember. That wasn't nice, fucking Maria up the
ass when she drunk." She slowly peeled off her dress, letting him
squirm helplessly beneath her for a few moments, and then she
leaned back on her hands and lifted herself up a few inches,
giving him room to thrust up into her.
Looking down, Westphal had a gorgeous view of her fully-
exposed and his cock moving in and out of her tight
ass. True to his word, he blew his load into her in less than a
minute.
***********************
Stern polished off his fourth beer, picked up the phone, and
dialed the number for Martin Westphal's residence.
"Hello?" He recognized Amanda Link's high, breathy voice.
"Hello Ms Link, this is Frank Stern. Or should I say Mrs
Westphal?"
Silence. "How..."
"I know I'm not working your case any more, but I have some
more pictures I think you'll be interested in buying. Can you
talk now?"
"How did you know...?"
"I went to Dr Westphal's house after you left my office this
morning. Imagine my surprise when you showed up. I hopped the
gate and snuck around back, and got quite an eyeful."
More silence. "I guess I underestimated you. You were
supposed to be the worst private investigator in LA."
"Not even close. But you might be the worst blackmailer in
LA."
"So you know about that."
"Yep. Now let's talk business. The pictures I took today
would be worth a fortune to your husband. But I'm not a total
scumbag - I feel some loyalty to you as a client, even if you did
use me. So I'm giving you the chance to buy them, and to buy my
silence about what you and your Mexican sweetie are doing."
"Damn you," she said, without much emotion. "How much?"
Stern had spent a long time trying to decide on the amount.
If he asked for too much she might have to go digging into her
husband's finances, and then she would discover he wasn't the gold
mine she thought he was.
"Shall we say five thousand?" Five grand would keep his head
above water for a while.
"Well, all right." Stern could hear the thinly-veiled relief
in her voice, and he wished he had asked for more. She could
probably find that much under her couch cushions.
"Bring it by my office the day after tomorrow at five." He
hung up.
***********************
Martin Westphal had been dreaming that he was suffocating,
which wasn't surprising considering the intense pressure he was
under, but now he was sure he was awake and there was still
something squeezing down on him in the pitch-dark room.
Frightened and disoriented, he tried to lift up his head, and his
nose hit something warm and furry.
"Thas it baby - time to wake up and make you girlfriend
happy!" The voice came from somewhere directly above him.
"Maria! Jesus Christ, you scared the hell out of me." His
voice sounded oddly muffled to his own ears; his head was cradled
firmly between her thighs. Now he remembered that he had decided
to take a nap on her bed after dinner.
"You say you wanna wake up in one hour, so I wake you up."
"What ever happened to a gentle tap on the shoulder, maybe a
nice hot towel and... mmmmmph." Her clamped down on his
mouth, her crinkly pubic hair tickling his upper lip and nose.
"Whas better than a nice when you wake up?"
At the moment he could think of a few things, but, resigning
himself to his fate, he opened his mouth and probed his tongue
upward into her moist folds. Her salty, musky taste filled his
mouth as he ran his tongue between her lips, and suddenly he was
enjoying himself.
"Mmmm, thas more like it."
He lapped at her until he sensed that she was ready to come,
and then he stuck his tongue up into her as far as he could and
held on for dear life as she ground her down onto his mouth
and nose.
"Oh SHIT...Oh my DIOS...unh...unh....UNHHHHHH"
She rolled over onto the bed next to him and he breathed in
deeply, enjoying the sudden flow of oxygen.
"My turn," said Westphal. Maria turned on a lamp and saw his
erection.
"I suppose you wan Maria to suck that nasty lookin thing."
"Damn right."
"OK, but I wanna ask you something first. What if you
tells everybody she a after the election? The guy won't
haff any reason not to you then, because the tape won't mean
nothing."
"The tapes aren't the only thing the safe-deposit box, babe.
There's also proof that he had to pay two million dollars to keep
it quiet."
"Oh. I didn't know that was no legal."
"It's perfectly legal to pay out blackmail money. But you
can't use campaign contributions to do it."
"So if people fine out about the blackmail thing, he gonna
lose the job?"
"Absolutely. Not only that, but he would go to jail. It's a
perfect plan, sweetie."
"Is no perfect until we haff the diamonds."
"I guess you're right."
"Martin, don give me that look."
"Look? What look?"
"You know what look! You stare at my nose."
"I'm sorry, babe. It's just that I could take that little
bump out and straighten the tip, and it would look much better."
"I like my nose jus the way it is! Same for my ears and my
chin and my boobs. Specially my boobs! You no going to turn me
into a cow like you wife."
"All right, all right. I'm sorry."
"I'm jus sorry you don think Maria is pretty."
"You know I think you're beautiful. And damn sexy."
"You very nice to say that. Now get over here an come in my
mouth."
"That's my girl." He kneeled over her with his cock dangling
in her face. She licked around the head for a while with firm,
confidant flicks of her tongue. When he was fully hard she
effortlessly engulfed his eight inches into her throat. Westphal
had been off by countless women, but he had never literally
fucked a woman's mouth and throat until he met Maria. He held her
head in his hands and thrust in and out of her, marveling at the
incredible muscular smoothness of her throat and tongue.
"Oh god, baby, how the hell do you do that?"
She made a wet, muffled gagging sound and winked up at him.
When she sensed he was getting close she constricted her throat
muscles and gently squeezed his balls in her hand.
"Arrghhh!" Westphal arched his back and stared unseeing up
at the ceiling as she expertly drained every last drop of semen
out of him.
He caught his breath for a few seconds and then said "You
give the best goddamn head I've ever had. But I guess I've told
you that before."
She just nodded and smiled.
"I should take a shower and get going, I guess. It's late."
"Give me kiss first." Her voice sounded a little odd.
He leaned over and kissed her, and suddenly his mouth was
filled with salty, slimy fluid.
"What the fuck?" He spit it out, making a face. "That's
disgusting, Maria. What's so damn funny?"
"Sorry. Some like to taste they own juice, you know."
"Well, I don't," he said sourly. He could still hear her
giggling as he went into the bathroom.
***********************
On his way home Westphal stopped at a gas station and went
into a phone booth with a pocket full of change.
Some asshole put him on hold, and he was running low on both
change and patience when Link finally came to the phone.
"You are out of time, dammit." he hissed. "No more excuses.
You have 24 hours, and not a minute more."
In contrast, Link's voice was cool and controlled. "That's
what you said two days ago. I'm starting to think you might not
go through with it at all."
"Just wait another day and you'll find out. I've been doing
a little editing, making a version of the tape they can show on
the nightly news."
Link ignored this. "Like I keep telling you, it isn't easy
to put my hands on that kind of money without arousing suspicion,
not to mention converting it to diamonds. I'm going to need more
time. The arrangements are in place, but it's going to be three
more days."
"You better not be jerking me around, Link." He slammed down
the phone.
He got back in his car and thought it over, running his hands
absently through his hair, and finally he banged the
steering wheel in frustration. He lost credibility every time the
deadline was pushed back, and he could feel the whole scheme
falling apart.
Time to go to Plan B. It was risky, and it meant spreading
the wealth around, but he didn't see any other way.
______________
Chapter Four
______________
When business was slow, which was all the time, Stern spent
one day a week moving furniture to keep himself solvent, and today
had been that day. The work was backbreaking, but the money was
good. Going by his tax return, one would have to assume that he
was a furniture mover by trade who dabbled in investigative work.
Today had been particularly exhausting, but at least the work
had kept his mind occupied. Now, as he parked the van and dragged
himself towards the dry cleaners, he was haunted by the growing
conviction that Amanda wasn't going to show up at five with the
money. He quietly opened the door and tried to shuffle
inconspicuously towards his office, where he had a cold six pack
waiting for him.
"Mr Stern!" Stern stopped in his tracks and looked around
angrily. He was hot, sweaty, and thirsty, and he was in no mood
to discuss his late rent payments.
"I'm very busy at the moment, Mr Han. Can it wait?"
For once Mr Han seemed ill at ease. "There is someone in
your office waiting for you. She came by about two hours ago
looking for you. She was very upset. Crying," he added in a
softer voice, as if this was an embarrassing faux pas.
"So you let her into my office?"
"Yes. Perhaps that was presumptuous of me...I'm sorry."
Mr Han looked worried, and Stern briefly considered pressing
his moral advantage by pretending to be upset, but it wasn't
really in his nature.
"Blond hair, big hooters?"
"That's correct," said the man, his eyes narrowing with
disapproval.
"OK. Thanks for warning me." He wasn't sure if this was a
good sign or a bad sign.
She was sitting in his chair, leafing through a catalogue of
camera and surveillance equipment, and she jumped to her feet when
he came in, obviously flustered.
"Mr Stern! I'm glad you're finally back. I need to talk to
you."
"Sorry you had to wait so long, Mrs Westphal." Stern
almost didn't recognize her: she was wearing a simple top and
shorts, no makeup, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail.
Her eyes were and a little puffy, but he liked the casual
look.
He collapsed into his just-vacated chair and opened the
little refrigerator by his feet.
"Want a cold beer? I'm parched, myself." He sensed that she
was nervous, and he was glad when she accepted a beer. After a
few long pulls, he smiled at her and said "Whew - that hits the
spot."
"Tough case?"
"Yep. A piano and a staircase with a ninety-degree turn.
Don't make me relive it."
She looked a little confused, and took a sip of beer.
"I thought I said to come by at five."
"You did. But I wanted to see you as soon as possible." She
put a shoebox on his desk. "Take a look at this."
What was this, five grand in singles? He took the top off
the box. Inside was a small videocamera, held in position with
duct tape. It was positioned to film through a small in the
side of the box.
"I found it this morning in my husband's closet, aimed at the
bed," she said. "He must have found out about me and Maria
somehow. I bet he made copies for all his friends, too, the
bastard."
"What about the five grand?" This was just to make
conversation while he thought about the camera. It had some
very interesting implications.
"It's in my purse. But before I give it to you I want you to
tell me what you think about this camera."
There was an unspoken plea for help in her big blue eyes, and
Stern felt a little queasy shift in his gut. He had been
attracted to her in a purely physical way from the beginning of
course, but now that she was coming to him in this pitiful
condition his male instinct to protect and comfort was fully
engaged.
"All right. I don't think your husband is on you just
for fun. And I don't think you do either."
"Then what?"
Stern thought it over. He knew what was going on, he could
see the whole thing as plain as day. But he couldn't decide if he
should get involved any further. It might be smart to just take
the five grand and run.
"Let's say he was showing the tapes to people. Is there
anyone you know who would be particularly upset, or embarrassed?
Besides you, of course."
She thought about it, and then her eyes got very wide. "Oh
my God...my father!"
"I see," said Stern, gratified. "So your is in a
position to be embarrassed by the tapes."
"Embarrassed...destroyed is more like it. My is
William Link. Amanda Link is my maiden name."
Stern whistled a long, low tone. "Well, that would explain
it, all right."
"Explain what?"
"Your husband is blackmailing your with the tapes," he
said patiently.
"But that doesn't make any sense. We don't need my fathers
money."
Stern mentally kissed the five grand good-bye. "This is
going to come as a shock to you, I'm afraid. Your husband is
being sued for malpractice, and he's nearly bankrupt. He also may
lose his medical license."
"Bankrupt?" She took a few seconds to absorb this. "This
hasn't been my day. I guess it serves me right for being
greedy."
"You don't seem too upset on your fathers account," he
observed. "This could ruin his campaign, you know."
"My and I don't get along. We haven't spoken in six
years." She gave a sudden laugh. "Can you imagine? He runs for
governor on an anti-gay, anti-immigration platform, Mr
Values and all that, and then a couple of weeks before the
election of his having kinky sex with her illegal-
alien maid come out."
"I'm glad you can laugh about it." His admiration for Amanda
Westphal was growing. "Why haven't you spoken to your in
six years, if you don't mind my asking?"
She took a sip of beer, and said "Well, things were never
very good between us, from as far back as I can remember. But the
real break came when I met Martin and started having
plastic surgery. My hated Martin's guts on sight."
"That must have been tough."
"Well, part of the reason I Martin was to off my
father. Nice basis for a marriage, right? So anyway, Martin
talked me into having a whole lot of surgery - what amounted to
basically a facial reconstruction. Along with some liposuction
here and there, and the of course."
"Oh, so you really do have implants?"
"Very funny. After the bandages came off we went to Daddy's
house for a big Christmas party. He didn't know about the
surgery, and when he saw me he didn't recognize me."
"That must have been awkward," said Stern, fascinated despite
himself. "So you had to convince him it was you?"
"I went up to him and gave him a hug and a cheerful hello,
and he grabbed my ass and started hitting on me. He had been
drinking, I guess - God knows who he thought I was. His
reputation for values is a joke: he's actually a real
womanizer. Instead of telling him right away, I led him on for a
little while. It turned into kind of an ugly scene. We haven't
spoken since."
Several comments occurred to Stern, but he ended up just
saying "So I take it that you wouldn't be upset if your had
to pay out blackmail money, then."
She snorted. "No way, it would serve him right. I can't
believe that narrowminded bigot might become the goddamn governor
next month. But the thought of Martin and Maria getting the money
makes me sick to my stomach."
"I don't blame you." He gave her a long look. "You hungry?"
"Am I hungry? Yes, I'm starving actually."
"Let's go get some dinner. We have a lot to talk about. But
first we need to stop back at your place so you can put the
back where you found it."
***********************
"Would you like to touch them?"
"Just to see what they feel like, you mean?"
"Right. Now that I've described the whole procedure to you,
you must be curious."
"Curious," laughed Stern. "Yes, I'm very curious. But I'm
not sure I could maintain the appropriate professional
detachment."
Amanda squirmed a little closer to him on the couch. "That's
OK, I don't mind if you enjoy it." She took his right hand and
placed it on her left breast. He squeezed it gently.
"Mmmm. It's softer than I expected. And warmer."
"The best money can buy."
"Did they give you a volume discount?"
"Hey! That's mean."
Still holding her breast, he leaned over and kissed her.
"Sorry."
She giggled. "Don't be sorry - I get off on people being
mean to me, remember?"
They had covered a wide range of topics over dinner: Stern
now knew quite a bit about elective surgery, and Amanda knew more
than she had ever thought she would about photography and
surveillance. Over coffee Stern had offered to show her his
darkroom, and she had accepted gladly with a shy smile that
indicated that she knew a euphemism when she heard one.
"As long as you brought it up...what the hell was that all
about with you and Maria, anyway?"
"It's hard to explain. I've always had this need to be
dominated and humiliated. Martin liked it at first, but then
after a few years...Anyway, Maria fills that need for me, now - or
at least she did."
He shook his head. "Pretty strange, I must say."
"It goes with the neighborhood. In Beverly Hills all the
women are bi and everyone has sex with the help."
"You're exaggerating."
"Only a little. I have a friend who does threesomes with her
married Guatemalan servants."
"Yikes. There's a case I wouldn't mind working on."
They kissed some more, and then by unspoken mutual consent
they moved into the bedroom. Stern sat on the bed to remove his
shoes, and when he looked up she was already naked, smiling at him
without a trace of self-consciousness.
"So how does one become an 'electrolysis junkie' anyway?"
asked Stern, gazing hungrily at her sleek, hairless form.
She walked over and stood in front of him, and he leaned
forward and kissed her smooth, warm stomach. Her skin smelled
faintly of honey.
"It's like penance for your sins. Anything that hurts as
much as electrolysis must be good for the soul."
Stern laughed. "Is that what the priests in Beverly Hills
assign for confession? Four Hail Marys, and a couple of hours
getting your forearm hair removed?"
"More of a self-inflicted thing, silly." She helped him pull
off his shirt, and then he reached up and cupped her in
his hands and took one pink nipple in his mouth. While he was
busy kissing his way though her abundant cleavage, he felt her
hand slide into his shorts and delicately extricate his erection.
He looked up at her. "You want me to start calling you
names? Stupid Cow, or whatever?"
"Not tonight."
After a few minutes of nuzzling and stroking she playfully
pushed him back on the bed and sprawled on top of him.
"I was getting tired of standing."
"Sorry. I would have been happy to do that all night."
"Well there are some other places that need some attention,
you know."
He rolled them over so that he was on top and began licking
his way downward.
"Do I win a prize if I find a hair?"
"Only if you can pull it out with your teeth."
Her was already open and moist, and he spent a few
seconds just admiring it - he had never seen a hairless at
such close range.
"Are you teasing me, Frank?" She squirmed her hips with
frustration.
"Sorry, just admiring the sights." He lowered his face
between her legs, and she lifted herself up to meet him, letting
out a little high-pitched sigh as his mouth closed on her sex. He
took his time, working her over with long strokes of his tongue,
reveling in the smooth, silky folds of flesh. With no pubic hair
or stubble to get in the way he was able to come at her from
any angle he wanted, and he experimented playfully with his
technique, driving her crazy. Finally he concentrated his
attention on the little nub of her clit, swirling at it with the
tip of his tongue until she stiffened and gasped.
"Now come up here and fuck me, please."
He smiled, there was something delightfully incongruous about
dirty language spoken in such a high-pitched, innocent voice. He
moved upwards over her until his erection was pressing between her
legs. Looking into each others eyes, they moved their hips until
they found the familiar alignment and angle, and then he slowly
sank into her warmth until he was resting on top of her. She
wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him into her even
farther, compressing her pliant against his chest.
"Like lying on a waterbed," said Stern.
She giggled. "Um, thanks, I think."
"I keep saying the wrong thing, don't I? Let me make it
clear: you're the most desirable woman I've ever been with. And
not just because of... well, you know."
"Oh, Frank."
They moved languidly against each other, taking their time
and building up the intensity slowly. Stern was nervous about his
technique and terrified of finishing too soon, but after a little
while he knew it was going to be all right, and he settled in to
enjoy it.
"Oh!" said Amanda, sounding surprised, and then she came,
shutting her eyes tight and making little hyperventilating sounds.
Her orgasm seemed to go on and on, and when it was finally over
she opened her eyes and said "Wow, that was awesome," and that
was when he lost all his willpower.
He buried his face in her neck and fucked her as hard as he
could while she whispered encouragement in her ear, and when the
familiar tingling rush of sensation began he heard himself moaning
as if it was someone else.
______________
Chapter Five
______________
"Two people are here to see you, sir."
William F. Link was sprawled on his office couch, watching a
videotape of the speech he had delivered earlier that day to the
California Orange Growers Association. He looked at his watch in
annoyance.
"It's after eleven o'clock. Who is it?"
"One of them says she's your daughter, sir." The aide kept
his voice carefully neutral.
Link sat up and stopped the tape, cutting himself off in the
middle of a well-received tirade against the evil tactics of the
Florida Orange Growers Association.
"All right. Show them up, and then make sure no one else
comes upstairs."
"Yes, sir."
When Stern and Amanda came in, Link was sitting behind his
desk. The aide seated them on the leather couch and left,
shutting the door behind him. There were no smiles or hugs.
Amanda spoke first. "Daddy, I know that Martin is
blackmailing you. I found a in his closet. I
want you to know that I don't have anything to do with it. I'm
getting a divorce."
He gave her a long, considering look, and then he motioned at
Stern. "Who's this?"
"This is Frank Stern. He's a private detective. He helped me
figure out what was going on."
"So why are you here?"
"Are you going to pay the money?"
Link fiddled with a paperweight for a few seconds, and then
said "I haven't decided yet. The way I see it, I'm likely to be
screwed either way. I'm leaning against it at the moment."
"But if you don't pay, won't your campaign be ruined?"
"Despite the disgusting, sleazy, and sinful nature of the
videotapes," he said, giving his a cold stare, "my
people tell me I may be able to squeak by, especially if I can
delay Westphal for a while longer. On the other hand, if it ever
comes out that I paid two million dollars, I'm finished for good."
Stern cleared his throat and spoke for the first time. "In
that case, we have a proposal for you."
"I'm listening."
"The way we see it, you have two problems if you pay. First,
you have no assurance that something damaging won't come out about
your anyway, and second, you then have to worry about the
fact that you used campaign contributions illegally."
"That's a fair assessment, yes."
"Daddy, I'm not a lesbian. And that stupid thing with the
maid is over. I won't embarrass you any further. In fact, if any
rumours do come out, I'll deny everything."
Link didn't say anything, but Stern saw relief in his eyes.
He wondered if it was for his political career or for his
daughter.
"And as for the other problem," said Stern, "you won't get in
any trouble if you get the money right back, correct?"
"Don't you think I've thought of that? There's no point in
stealing the money back from him, he'll know I did it, even if I
make it look like a random robbery."
"Not if I steal it," said Amanda.
Link was quiet for a few seconds, and Stern knew he was going
to go for it.
***********************
Martin Westphal was sifting morosely through a pile of
financial statements and legal correspondence when a nurse leaned
her head into his office and said "Doctor Westphal, there is a
here for a consultation who insists on seeing you personally."
Normally the plastic surgeons didn't talk to prospective
patients until they had been pre-screened by the staff, but
Westphal hadn't had a single new patient since his medical rating
had been downgraded two weeks ago, and he was perfectly happy to
make an exception.
He made a show of frowning and flipping through his day
planner. "Well, I suppose I could see him now. Show him into
room three."
After keeping the waiting for the requisite ten minutes,
he put on his lab coat and went into the examining room.
"I'm Doctor Martin Westphal," he said with a wide smile. A
bulky middle-aged in a dark suit was sitting on the padded
table. His nose had obviously been flattened and broken numerous
times over the years.
"Close the door," said the brusquely. "This is private."
Westphal's smile faded, but he closed the door. "Let me see
what we have here," he said, approaching the man. "Hmmm.
Significant cartilage buildup and reshaping due to previous
trauma....about a twenty-degree deviation from the main axis...
Yes, I'm not surprised you're looking to have some work done,
Mr..."
"Go fuck yourself." The got up from the table and stood
between Westphal and the door.
"I'm not some rich faggot trying to look like an English
lord. I got a message for you from Mr Link."
The unbuckled his belt and undid his slacks. Westphal
noticed an unnaturally large bulge in his boxer shorts, and he
swallowed and opened his mouth to say something, but then thought
better of it. The reached into his shorts, grimaced, and then
with a tearing sound he pulled out a leather sack about the size
of a softball. Westphal's eyes widened and he started breathing
again.
The closed up his pants and said "Here's the message:
anybody from the press finds out that Amanda Westphal and her
wetback maid are cleaning out each others muffs, and you're gonna
have an unfortunate accident involving a lotta broken kneecaps and
elbows. Got it?"
"Got it."
The tossed the sack at the plastic surgeon with a sudden
flick of his wrist, hitting him just under his ribcage and
knocking the breath out of him. Westphal made a spastic grab for
the sack and managed to corral it before it hit the ground. When
he looked up, the was gone. Rubbing his stomach, he locked
the door and then undid the knot at the top of the sack.
"My God... I don't believe it." He poked his finger into the
diamonds and stirred them around, enjoying their cool, slippery
smoothness and the dazzling flashes of light.
"I don't believe it," he repeated. "I did it."
***********************
Stern punched the code into the keypad and walked through the
gate as it clanked open, and Amanda Westphal opened the big front
door as he came up the front steps. The cool, dry air in the
foyer made a welcome contrast to the sticky afternoon heat
outside.
She was wearing high heels, tight shorts, and a bra top, and
he gave her an appreciative look up and down. "You look like a
hooker," he said, setting a big duffel bag on the tiled floor.
"Nice to see you too, Detective."
"Everything look OK here?"
"Yep. He's all packed and ready to go."
"What about Maria?"
"When Martin sent me off to the spa I gave her a couple days
off. She sounded kind of disappointed. Now that I think about
it, she doesn't exactly work like a around here."
"From what I've seen, you've got a bit of a discipline
problem with your servants."
She gave him a broad wink. "Depends on how you like to be
served. You want a tour of Casa Westphal?"
"Sure."
They started upstairs. Martin Westphal was obviously
planning to take a long trip: there were two huge suitcases in the
master bedroom, filled with clothes, toiletries, and valuables.
"What time do you think he will be home?" she asked.
Stern looked at his watch. "He's getting the loot at five,
so he should be here soon after that. We have plenty of time to
set up." He looked in the closet across from the bed and spotted
the shoebox with the in it on an upper shelf; it was pretty
easy to see if you were looking for it. He took it down and took
out the camera.
"Nice equipment. Two grand for a low-light digital
like this."
"Why don't you keep it. Every time I see it, I think about
how humiliating it was to be videotaped doing all that stuff with
Maria."
Stern noticed a slight emphasis on the word 'humiliated', and
he smiled to himself. He aimed the at her and started
filming, zooming in on her smooth, tan cleavage. An internal
display told him there was seventy-two minutes of tape available.
"You shouldn't feel humiliated - you photograph very well."
"Oh, but the things I did...recorded for anyone to see..."
She sounded a little breathless.
Stern felt his cock twitch and start firming up. "So what's
next on the tour?"
"Hmmm...lets skip ahead to the playroom in the basement."
"I didn't know you had children."
She laughed and sauntered down the stairs in front of him,
swinging her shapely ass back and forth, and he held the little
camera to his face and watched her through the viewfinder as he
followed her.
The front of the basement was a dark, wood-paneled room with
a pool table and a wet bar; it looked like a place for gentlemen
to retire after dinner for brandy and a cigar. She opened an
unobtrusive door on the other side and led him into a larger
carpeted room with bright overhead lights.
"Wow," he said, slowly panning the around. The walls
were hung with strange leather costumes and equipment whose
purpose he could only guess at, and the tall cabinets promised
much more. There was a large steel cage in the corner, and a
little curtained area near the door, presumably for changing.
He zoomed in on her face, and saw that she was flushed and
breathing heavily. He had an erection like steel bar, himself -
he could see his pants bulging outwards in the large mirror behind
her. "Nice room. Should be a real selling point if you ever put
the house on the market. Could you explain what some of this
stuff is?"
"You mean while you film me?" The concern in her voice
wouldn't have fooled a five year old.
"That's right," he said firmly. "And be sure you explain
exactly what turns you on about each one."
"Oh no...well, if you insist." She moved along the row of
costumes, taking each one down and pointing out its particular
features and the scenarios it was used for. costumes were
a big theme, with dogs and well represented,
including the infamous cow. There were also men's uniforms, with
special accommodations for her figure, and a few costumes that
were too bizarre to describe. She finally got to the one Stern
had his eye on.
"This is my Catwoman outfit." She took down a sleek, black
leather suit with a matching hood and boots. "It was custom made
to fit me."
"That's a great outfit, Amanda" said Stern, talking like he
was conducting an interview. "Looks very tight. I seem to notice
that it has some cutouts."
"Yes, it's crotchless, and shows my nipples, which is very
embarrassing."
Stern took the hint. "Not to mention slutty and perverted.
But I think our viewers would really like to see it on you. Would
you mind?"
"I guess I could just put it on for a minute, so you can get
the idea." She disappeared into the changing area, and came out a
few minutes later wearing the costume, covering her and
her crotch with her hands.
"Meow," said Stern, lifting the camera. "Come on, hands in
the air. Don't be shy."
She put her hands out to her sides and twirled around, moving
nicely in the spike-heeled boots. The leather clung to her like a
second skin, pushing her out into proud cones tipped with
the soft pink of her exposed nipples. This was nicely echoed by
the moist crescent of pink between her legs and by her mouth;
everything else was a shiny, menacing jet-black.
"Very nice...Beautiful...This is going to look great in my
documentary." He was so horny now, he hardly knew what he was
saying.
"Glad you like it, Mr Stern." Her voice was throaty and
seductive, as if she was playing a part.
"Come over here."
She walked over next to him, and he reached out and fondled
one taught, leather breast, prodding at the nipple with his thumb.
Still filming, he slid his hand down the cool, smooth leather
until he felt the sudden warmth of her bare pussy. He cupped it
in his hand, and slipped a finger into her. She gasped, but
didn't say anything.
"You're obviously very turned on, Amanda. Describe for us
how this costume makes you feel."
"Like a whole different person. Or creature. Very exposed,
of course. And very sexy." There was that funny voice again. He
realized it was what a might sound like.
He undid his fly and worked his cock out. "I think our
viewers would like you to demonstrate just how sexy you feel."
She dropped gracefully to her knees and started licking at
his shaft with little darting flicks of her tongue. He aimed the
camera straight down and focused on her mouth as it moved
restlessly around his cock and balls, finding it incredibly erotic
to watch what was happening through the viewfinder.
After a while the dainty licking and tongue-prodding started
to tickle, and he impatiently tried to push his cock past her lips
into the warm confines of her mouth. But she wouldn't accept it,
turning her head to the side and letting his stiff member bounce
off to one side or the other.
"Come on now," he urged. "Suck it."
"Meeeiiiiow!" She continued to lick him, writhing her body
sensuously.
"Jesus, you're really in character, aren't you?"
She made a vibrating, purring sound deep in her throat, and
pushed her ass up into the air, giving him an enticing come-hither
look.
"I see, you must be in heat," he said, getting into the
spirit of it. The whole scenario was taking on a bizarrely
realistic aura, and he was suddenly anxious to take her from
behind, like a horny tomcat servicing one of his harem.
He set the down on a folding chair and quickly took
off his clothes, while she pranced and wiggled around the room on
all fours, doing a pretty decent imitation of a horny feline. The
hood had a mask which covered the upper part of her face, and he
was unable to make real eye contact with her or read her
expression, which heightened the illusion.
He dropped to his knees and crawled towards her, but she
moved away with a disdainful toss of her head, giving him a little
flash of pink from between her legs. Remembering that female cats
were notorious for playing hard-to-get, he followed her around the
room, his erection bobbing painfully between his legs, and
eventually managed to corner her. She hissed and went into a
slinky position, low to the ground, and he lunged up on top of her
and grabbed her shoulders.
She twisted and struggled, making angry screeching sounds,
and easily kept him from entering her by moving her hips whenever
she felt his cock poking at her. After a few aggravating minutes
he leaned forward and bit the back of her neck through the skin-
tight leather, hard enough to hurt. She immediately stiffened and
made little sounds of acquiescence. What the hell had inspired
him to do that?
Keeping his teeth on her neck, he reached back and guided
himself into her hot channel. As soon as he took his mouth off
her neck she started twisting and screeching again, but now he was
able to hold her shoulders and easily keep himself inside her.
After a while she seemed to realize that he was in control, and
she lay almost flat on her stomach and tilted her hips up to let
him thrust at her.
He moved forward over her, supporting himself on his elbows
and knees, and made noises in her ear as he humped her.
She turned her head and bared her teeth, a look of pure lust on
her face, and he started fucking her even harder with long strokes
that ended with an emphatic slap against her tight, leather-clad
ass. She drove herself back against him, and they quickly
synchronized their movements so that they were moving in
counterpoint. The pace slowly but surely increased, until Stern
found himself slamming himself wildly into her as fast as he
could, amazed that her ass was moving up to meet him each time.
He felt the stirring in his balls, and then the semen quickly
moved down along his cock, burning like lava, and spilled into her
in a long, intensely pleasurable climax.
He rolled off her onto the carpet, gasping for breath, and
then he felt her tongue again, licking his cock as it shrank,
probing around his balls, cleaning up their combined juices.
"That has to be the strangest sex I've ever had," he said
when she was done, wondering if she was still in character.
"You really got into the spirit of it - biting my neck was a
nice touch." She sat up and peeled off the hood, shook her head
to untangle her hair, and gave him an appreciative smile.
Stern noticed that she had maneuvered them so that they had
been performing for the camera.
"And all recorded for posterity."
He stood up and wandered aimlessly around the room, examining
the strange contents more closely. In one cabinet there was a
shelf devoted to supplies: collar, leash, food, water bowls,
and the like. The collar had tags that read "Fluffy". There
were even doggie treats, which, on closer inspection, turned out
to be designed for human consumption. He sniffed one - it smelled
like a regular biscuit.
Amanda had taken off the suit and was sitting naked on
the floor, watching him. He tossed a biscuit at her.
"Here you go, Fluffy."
She raised up and caught it effortlessly in her mouth and
crunched it down.
"Good girl!" said Stern, impressed. His cock twitched. It
was too soon for him to reload, but this whole role-playing thing
was definitely fun.
"I do a great dog," she said. "Don't get me started."
By now Stern was easily able to interpret this as 'Let's get
started,' and he came over to her holding the collar and leash.
"Could I just see this on you?"
He put the collar around her neck and buckled it, and then
snapped on the nylon leash.
"The collar suits you."
She made a little growling sound and crawled along on all
fours, her big swinging freely below her now that they
weren't supported by the leather suit. Stern picked up the
and started filming again, and she looked up at him.
"Don't you want me to put on a costume?"
"Look at that folks, a talking dog!"
"Very funny." She stood up and selected a costume of made of
white fur with several leather straps and fasteners.
"Here's my Fluffy costume - help me put it on."
With Stern's assistance, she was soon transformed into a big,
white dog. The suit bound her legs so that she couldn't stand up,
and had paw mittens that kept her from using her hands. It even
had a little tail.
"Unbelievable," said Stern, buckling the collar back on.
"Who dreams up a costume like this?"
"Woof."
"OK, Fluffy, this way." He led her over to the steel cage in
the corner.
"In you go."
She whimpered and held back, but Stern gave her furry bottom
a firm swat, making her yelp and jump into the cage, and then he
latched it behind her. He figured she could unlatch it if she
took off the mittens with her teeth, but he was confident nothing
short of a fire would cause her to break character.
He put his pants back on and then he went over to the cabinet
and poured her a big bowl of dry food and filled up her water
bowl.
"Here you go, Fluffy. I'll be back soon."
He slid the bowls into the cage and went back upstairs to
make the final arrangements, padding quietly though the empty
house in his bare feet. He found the thought of her waiting down
there for him, ready to do anything he wanted, incredibly
distracting, and ten minutes later he found himself heading back
down to the playroom with another erection.
She barked and yelped enthusiastically when he opened the
door.
"I missed you too, Fluffy." He picked up the camera. " I
see you ate most of your food. Let me see you drink some water."
She lowered her face into the water bowl and lapped and
slurped for him. Then she looked up at him and started whining
and pawing at the door to the cage. Something in her movements
told Stern that she had a full bladder.
"Uh oh...Does Fluffy need a little break so Amanda can take a
leak?"
"Woof!"
Stern had a wicked thought. He opened the cage door and
snapped on the leash.
"Let's go upstairs and take care of that little problem." He
followed her as she went up the stairs on all fours, but when she
started to turn towards the bathroom he gave the leash a sharp
tug.
"Dogs don't use the bathroom, Fluffy. We're going outside."
She gave him a surprised glance, and quickly caught his
drift. He slid open the door to the patio and she pranced
anxiously ahead of him towards a flower bed.
"Bad dog! No on the flowers."
He led her across the grass to a palm tree. "Now you can do
your business."
She awkwardly lifted her leg to the tree trunk, and Stern
moved around to where he could get a good view. Nothing happened
at first; she was obviously having problems getting started, maybe
because of the camera.
"Come on, we don't have all day," he said helpfully.
After trying a few different positions she braced her knee
against the tree and remained motionless, a look of concentration
on her face. Finally her twitched and a stream of liquid
hissed out and splattered against the base of the tree.
Stern watched in fascination, rubbing himself through his
pants, as the stream slowly diminished and then turned into a
series of little squirts. He was afraid to analyze why watching
her on the tree was such a turn-on, so he didn't.
Apparently it was a turn-on for her too, because when she
finished she immediately came over and started rubbing seductively
against his leg. Then again, everything was a turn on for her.
He led her over to a chair by the pool, the same one Maria had
been sitting in during the cow encounter. He took a seat and had
Amanda face away from him with her furry behind between his legs.
"Stay! I need to make a call."
She whined pitifully and wiggled her rump. Stern could see
the pink folds of her fully engorged peeking out from under
the perky little tail; she was so wet that the surrounding fur was
matted down.
He dialed a number on his cell phone, and listened with a
look of satisfaction on his face.
"Fluffy's going to be a rich doggie soon."
He slid his pants down around his ankles and sat on the edge
of the chair.
"Now come here, that's a good girl."
He lifted her tail as she backed towards him and his rigid
member slid easily into her fragrant pussy. He fucked her slowly
this time, savoring the moment and enjoying the feeling of being
outside in the beautifully landscaped yard. Amanda did a lot of
the work, rocking her hips and clenching her around his cock
with an undulating grip that felt like someone stroking him with a
velvet glove. She made a growling sound deep in her throat, and
he looked down at her and had the sudden unsettling feeling that
he really was fucking a - all he could see from this angle was
fur.
He felt the sap rising again, but this time he forced himself
to go slow, reveling in the sensation. Fluffy's growling was
starting to sound suspiciously like moaning, and then she froze in
position, panting and screaming as a powerful orgasm flooded
through her body. Did dogs have orgasms?
He slid off the chair onto his knees and started fucking her
harder, his climax approaching slowly but inevitably, like a train
in the distance. Amanda was having a series of small but delicious
orgasms, and she was finally breaking character, moaning "Yes,
yes...oh yeah...fuck me..."
He did, and finally he came, grabbing her furry hips and
sinking himself into her as deeply as he could until he had given
her every drop.
***********************
They had gotten themselves cleaned up and in position, and
the tension had slowly built up as they went over their lines and
paced around the cool, dim house. But nothing happened, and now
the tension was dropping again, to be replaced with nagging worry.
Stern looked at his watch and went over the mental
calculations one more time.
"Shit. He definitely should be here by now."
Amanda didn't look as worried, in fact she looked bored.
"He probably stopped for a couple of drinks somewhere, to
settle his nerves. He's not exactly what you would call a cool
customer, you know."
She was sitting in a little antique side chair nursing a
glass of white wine, her slim legs elegantly crossed. After they
had finished by the pool, she had disappeared to take a shower,
and had come down the stairs a short time later dressed in a
clingy, expensive-looking dress, with her hair up and her face
nicely put together, looking every inch the upper class lady.
Stern thought it was as impressive a transformation as the earlier
ones.
He looked out the window again at the front gate. "I just
hope he doesn't try to use a diamond to buy a round for the house
or something."
"Not Martin. He doesn't have a generous bone in his body."
Stern thought that was a little cynical, considering the
lavishly furnished house she was living in, but he didn't say
anything. It would be too easy to start bickering, and they
needed to stay focused.
"I was wondering, were you really going to run away with
Maria after your divorce?" he asked, changing the subject.
She thought about it, biting her lower lip and swishing the
wine around in the glass.
"No, I guess not. That was her idea. The whole thing was
her idea, actually."
"The whole thing? What do you mean?"
"I mean she was the one who seduced me. And when I told her
I wanted to divorce Martin she suggested we blackmail him and
split whatever extra money I got in the settlement."
Stern frowned. This wasn't how he had envisioned it
happening. "So she was pretty confident she could get Westphal to
have sex with her at the motel that night?"
Amanda nodded. "I wondered about that too, actually. You
don't think...?"
"I don't know what to think, dammit. I just think it's a
little odd that your Mexican maid would suddenly come up with a
complex blackmail scheme out of the blue." He had a sinking
feeling that he had missed something important.
"I guess you've got a point. I remember being kind of
surprised when she brought it up."
Great, now she tells me, he thought. "I think we better get
over to her apartment."
They walked down the street to Stern's van, not talking.
Maria's apartment complex was only ten minutes away, and Stern
pulled into the big parking lot and drove up and down the aisles.
"There it is!" said Amanda. Stern's heart jumped. Westphal's
blue Lexus was in the back of the lot, out of sight of the street.
"So they're here. Now what?"
Stern thought it over. "You know, this really doesn't change
much. We just do it here instead of there."
"All right. I'm scared, though." She had her arms wrapped
around herself like she was cold.
"Me too. But we'll be fine."
He opened the duffel bag and took out his gun. After
chambering a round he tucked it into the waistband of his pants,
under his jacket.
"Let's go." He didn't want to think about it any more at
this point. It was time for action.
They walked into the lobby, and after making sure they were
alone, Stern jimmied the lock on the inner security door and they
trudged slowly up seven flights of stairs, tired from all the sex.
Number 733 was at the end of a long hall, the last in a row
of identical dark green doors. Stern pressed his ear against the
cold metal for a full minute, and then shook his head.
"Nothing. You listen while I pick the lock. Warn me if you
hear anything."
He had the door open inside five minutes, and they went in
quietly, Stern with his gun drawn. The living/dining area of the
small apartment was a mess: drawers were hanging open, and stuff
was strewn all over the floor.
Amanda picked her way gingerly through the debris in her high
heels and turned on a light. "You think it was a burglary?"
Stern was almost too dispirited to reply. He put the gun
away, rubbed his hands wearily across his face, and said "No, I
think we're too late."
He checked out the bathroom and then reached into the dark
bedroom and switched on the light. Martin Westphal looked up from
the bed, squinting his eyes against the glare. His wrists were
handcuffed to the bedposts, and his mouth was gagged. He was
naked, and there was a crusty residue of dried semen around his
crotch.
"Well, well," said Stern, after he recovered from the initial
shock. "Looks like we're not the only ones who's plans didn't
work out."
Amanda came up behind him and let out a little shriek.
"Martin! What on earth...?" Comprehension dawned. "Oh
shit...that little Mexican whore screwed everybody over, didn't
she."
Westphal made a sound behind his gag and looked at them
pleadingly.
Stern forced a smile. "I'm kind of sorry I never got to meet
Maria, she must be quite a gal." He noticed something unusual on
the other side of the room and he stepped around the bed to get a
closer look. A length of thin nylon cord looped down from the
ceiling and then back up to a high shelf on the wall, where it
disappeared into a partially melted block of ice. Inside the ice,
he could see that the cord was tied to a small key.
"What's that, ice?" asked Amanda.
"Yep. It's the key to the handcuffs. When the ice melts
enough, it'll dangle down to where he can reach it. Still got
quite a ways to go though," he added for Westphal's benefit.
"Look, she left a note." She was holding a pink sheet of
paper. Westphal made an angry sound in his throat and jerked his
hands against the cuffs, his first real sign of life since Stern
turned on the light. He read the note over her shoulder, slowly
deciphering the childlike scrawl:
Martin,
I am sorry. Like I tell you before, all my life I want
too be a rich girl.
Today I send the tapes to the and to the newspapers.
I dont want that Link to be governer after what he say
about Mexicans. I hope you no get in bad trouble for
that. Dont look for me. I go back to Mexico and use
different name.
Maria
Amanda shook her head. "She sent the tapes to the
press...that's just great. I can't wait to see myself on Hard
Copy." She sat on the edge of the bed and put her face in her
hands. "I feel so stupid."
"Me too." He swallowed the familiar bile of disappointment.
"I think I must be cursed or something."
"I can't go back and face my again after this."
"I'll tell him."
She looked up. "Would you? Thanks."
"In fact, I better go tell him now, so he can start the
damage control. You want me to give you a ride somewhere?"
She thought about it, and then shook her head. "I know it
sounds stupid, but I'm going to stay here with Martin. He's not
worth divorcing at the moment."
Stern nodded. He hadn't exactly envisioned a future with
Amanda Westphal anyway.
Amanda listened to his steps receding down the hall, and then
she watched from the window as he slowly walked out to his beat-up
van and drove away. Then she took off Westphal's gag.
He coughed and spit and said "Shit, you could have taken this
damn gag off before now."
"Sorry. But you know you can't act worth a damn."
He smiled at her. "I guess your right. Nice work, babe. I
knew you would come through."
"Thanks. The packed suitcases were a nice touch. You got
the diamonds?"
"Yep. Unlock these will you? My bladder is killing me. The
other key is under the lamp."
She found the key and unlocked the cuffs. Westphal got
painfully to his feet and walked into the bathroom. After
for at least a minute, he flushed the toilet, took the top of the
reservoir, and fished around inside.
Amanda's eyes lit up when came out of the bathroom holding a
ziplock bag that gave off flashes of blue and yellow fire.
"Are they all there?"
"Yep. Minus Maria's share. She should be halfway to Mexico
by now."
"I'm going to miss her."
"Yeah, me too. But it's probably for the best. For her and
for us."
She tilted the ziplock bag back and forth in her hands,
enjoying the little sparkling waterfall. "You used me, Martin.
That hurts. If you wanted to fuck the maid, I would have let you.
I even would have enjoyed watching. But what really hurts is the
way you tricked me."
He sat down next to her, massaging the welts on his
wrists, still naked. "I didn't see any other way, babe. I'm
going bankrupt. We would have lost everything. I just didn't know
whether you would really help blackmail your father."
"Well, now you know."
"Right. I guess maybe I thought it would be better if you
didn't know what I was doing." He looked into her eyes, his
handsome face showing real concern. "Are you going to forgive
me?"
She smiled. "Oh, I suppose. There's one more videotape you
need to watch, though. I wasn't feeling so forgiving a few hours
ago."
"Not the detective?"
"He wasn't half bad, either. He showed some real
imagination, once he loosened up."
Westphal chuckled. "Well, I guess it serves me right. We'll
watch it together when we get home." His cock was already getting
hard.
The End, "A Scandal in Beverly Hills"
©1997 by DG. All rights reserved.
1) As always, I'd enjoy hearing what you thought of the
story - my email is dionysian1@hotmail.com.
2) Thanks to Baird Allen, I have a nice web page with all my
stories on it. Please drop by and check it out some time:
http://baird.pair.com/dg.htm
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