Ron Taylor: Wife on the prowl

She flipped past the comic page, into the Want Ads. And there, glaring in bold print three-quarters down a column of advertisements, she saw it.

Concerned? Anxious? Do you have to know what someone is doing? Qualified, discreet investigation services are available for your peace of mind. D. Hammett Agency. Call 892-1713 for appointment.

"A sign from heaven," Melinda said hoarsely.

She finished her coffee and went to the telephone. Her fingers trembled so nervously she had to dial it with a pencil, and then, holding her breath, she waited for an answer at 892-1713.

"Are you sure you want to see these?" Dave Hammett asked.

"Why? I paid for them, didn't I?"

"Well, the money hasn't changed hands yet. Mrs. Stillman. But this is pretty graphic tape footage. I mean, it's hardcore. You might not want to see it…"

Melinda sighed. She sipped at the coffee the detective had poured for her, but it was such a strong bitter brew she didn't think she could drink it. "I have to know," she said. "Everything."

Two days ago at this time she'd been blissfully unaware, unsuspecting. Innocent? Innocent. And today, not thirty hours after she'd first talked to Dave Hammett, she was in his office and brutally enlightened.

Neil was indeed having an affair. He had not been working late nights at the office. He'd been lying to her, and his sexual torpor at home? Chalk that up to one Kathy McDonald.

Hammett had shown Melinda a picture of Kathy and a sample of her handwriting. She was definitely the "K" of Neil's pocketed note. Nosing around the company's offices, Hammett had learned that Mr. Stillman seemed to make a lot of specific requests for Miss McDonald when he rang up the typing pool. Perhaps it was only her speed and accuracy on the Electric?

The photograph was then from a distance, with telephoto lens. It showed Neil and a young girl, no more than nineteen or twenty, Melinda guessed. Kathy. She had a perfect heart-shaped face, and it was achingly beautiful. Her figure appeared to be neat, not overstuffed, and she looked up at Neil with something more than a typist's regard for her employer.

But that wasn't all. Hammett was a competent, thorough investigator. He'd managed to bug Miss McDonald's apartment and now, set up and ready, were the videotapes he had made. Did Melinda want to see them? Of course she did. Graphic footage, he'd said. She supposed that he meant the tapes showed her husband fucking Kathy. Weil, she had to know. She had to know it all. Down to the last detail. No matter how much it hurt. "GO ahead," she told Dave Hammett. "I'm paying for them. I want to see the evidence."

"Okay," he said. "So. I got into her place yesterday, while she was at work. I figured the bedroom would be the best bet, and I fixed up a circuit which activated the camera when the bedroom door was opened, then shut. This is silent footage, but I don't think it really needs a soundtrack. It can't be introduced into court as evidence in a divorce case, but with it as leverage, your lawyer can get whatever you want out of court." He pointed to a medium-sized television set. "Just watch there."

Melinda settled in her chair, heart pumping at the base of her throat. She heard clicks and then a color picture appeared on the TV. There was no sound, but Hammett was right. Sound wasn't necessary.

Kathy McDonald, bright blonde, rosy-cheeked, fresh as the cover of a teenage girls' magazine, stood in the center of the screen. She was wearing a clinging halter top which molded the apple-sized perfection of her small round tits. Her flat stomach was bare and creamy-skinned, all the way down to a pair of low-riding denim cutoffs. She had legs to her ears, or so it looked, and they were sleek, shapely legs. They must look quite fetching to a junior executive thrusting from beneath the hem of a short, sexy miniskirt.

Kathy said something and then a hand came into the picture. It touched her bare shoulder, fingers walking across the rounded flesh, and then more of Neil appeared. Oh, it was Neil all right. He looked very attractive on color television, Melinda decided. Of course he looked very nice in the flesh, too, and she felt a pang in her guts to see him onscreen with another woman, to see the way he touched Kathy, the way he stared at her, his eyes devouring her young lovely body.

His hand moved behind her neck. Kathy laughed, and then the top of her halter dropped, revealing bare breasts. Melinda winced. Perfect breasts. Round, coming to delicate pink points. Very good color adjustment, she thought. The pink of Kathy's nipples was so Goddamned natural, yet somehow more than natural, too. Small B-cups, Melinda decided. No sag. No droop. They must look very sweet, braless under a tight sweater or a silk shirt. Who could blame Neil for getting ga-ga over them?

They melted together in a kiss, and Kathy rubbed her bare titties all over Neil's chest. She was short and so Neil had to lift her against him, his hands possessive as hell clutching the denim covered moons of her ass. Short-cut denims, Melinda noticed. Half of Kathy's pink ass showed beneath the frayed shorts. Neil seemed to notice too. At least his flagon did. As he pawed the young girl's butt, his fingertips slid around the exposed buttock flesh, slipping inside. Must have been ticklish, for Kathy began to squirm and wiggle against Neil, her crotch moving up and down his front. When she finally settled onto her feet, there was a large noticeable lump in the front of Neil's pants. Kathy touched it, her lips pursing into an obvious "Ooooohhh" of delight.

Neil's mouth opened. He was speaking. Melinda couldn't read lips, but somehow it didn't seem necessary. Kathy cupped her hands over the bulge and she fondled it, smiling, and her eyes large and limpid-blue. She tiptoed and kissed the tip of Neil's nose. Her nipples were very stiff now, sticking out a mile. Their pink had deepened to a rosy reddish color as they engorged, and Melinda saw her husband's fingers affix themselves to those stiff swollen rosebuds. He rolled his fingers on them, and Kathy's body swayed in a dance like manner.

"They seem to be very good friends," she told Dave Hammett. The detective didn't say anything. There was an angry bite in Melinda's voice. If he'd answered at all, she'd have flown at him in amp, expressing her bitterness toward Neil. And if Neil had been here, she'd have killed him. My God, she thought. The movie's just beginning! How will I foci before it's over?

Neil undressed Kathy. Apparently she wasn't fond of underwear, for she had nothing beneath the halter and cutoffs. Nothing except creamy, peachy skin, and a little puff of golden hair between her legs. Her beaver was small, and her pussy appeared to be a tiny one as well. There wasn't enough hair to mask her slit, but it was only a slit, very neat, very tight-looking. Pale sleek thighs flanked that puff of gold and its slashed contents, and Melinda's groin ached when she saw her husband's hand stroke time and again across that blonde crotch. Damn him, she thought. Damn him.

Undressing Kathy was a slow, sensuous process. Neil spent a long time mouthing and nuzzling hers breasts and even from, the camera's distance Melinda could see tooth marks on Kathy's skin, bubbles of frothy spit decorating the stiff pink nipples. And there was something horrible about the way Kathy ran her fingers through Neil's hair as he licked and kissed and sucked his way down her body. Melinda's hands clenched into fists and she rapped softly but sharply on the arm of her chair.

Neil unbuttoned the cutoffs and pulled them down Kathy's long, undulating thighs as his tongue raced toward the freshly exposed area. He speared into her navel, rimming it while Kathy laughed above him, her fingers curling through his hair. The camera's angle was such that Melinda couldn't really see what Neil was doing when he put his face into the girl's crotch, but she didn't have to see. Kathy's smile broadened, her blue eyes closed, and she eased her head back with an expression of nirvana taking over her face. Neil's head stayed in place a long time indeed, and Melinda crossed her legs, painfully aware of how sweetly her husband could use his lips and tongue on a hot, juicy pussy.