Rod Strong: Dealing in adultery

No wisecracks, no smart-aleck remarks. One of my ancestors was a German, many many eons ago. His last name was Fokker. He was the only German in the history of my family, but it was he who had the son, who had the son, who had the son, and so on, so that although I'm a hybrid of English, French, Spanish, and Latin American descent, for the last three generations I'm one hundred percent North American, from the good old U.S.A. with just enough German in me to be called Fokker.

It was mother who loved the name Ira, and so stuck me with it, while father wanted to name me after William the Conqueror, so I became Ira William Fokker, or I. Will Fokker. I lived with the name through the first thirty years of my life with a bit of embarrassment, and then decided to live up to it. I don't know how or why, but women find me attractive, despite my ugly face, or perhaps because of it.

My nose was bashed in at an early age, and is twisted in six different places. My brown hair is straight, cut short, and though not sparse certainly doesn't cover my head in tremendous quantities.

With my face I belonged in the Marines, and tried to join. They rejected me. So did the Army and Navy. Flat feet. You'd think the police would've been overjoyed to accept me, but they turned me away as well. So I went into the area of private investigation, and became more than a little wealthy that way. I have only one virtue. I complete whatever assignment I accept. How I complete, whatever unorthodox methods I use, and bow long I take to complete an assignment is my own business.

I handle the sleaziest jobs, and charge according to what I think is the client's ability to pay. I've been hired to catch women being unfaithful to their husbands, and when they aren't, I step into their lives and make 'em unfaithful. Yeah, I'm that good when it comes to throwing a fuck. When women hire me to catch their husbands the same way and the husbands are supposedly faithful, I set 'em up with a broad or two and take the necessary photos.

And when the client is a good-looking dame, she pays with more than money, most of the time. Oh there are those virtuous twats who insist I keep my hands off 'em, and I'm never one to commit forcible rape, but the average, ordinary broad is usually more than willing to play, what with the way her spouse has been ignoring her.

Take Judy Roberts. All of five feet two inches tall, weighing in at about a hundred and ten. Judy had a nice face, almost pretty. Her hair was brown, short, and curled on top of her head. She had nice eyes, big, brown, and limpid, and she was always smiling, even the day she came to see me. Her measurements were a mere thirty-three, twenty-two, thirty-four, but her skin was smooth and sleek, and her flesh seemed to have a clean shimmer to it, enough to make any man want her.

She came to see me in the office I have in the Stone Building, on the Sunrise Highway in Elton, Long Island. Elton is one of those tiny, incorporated villages no one ever really hears about, which pleases the inhabitants no end. It has its fair share of mixed races and religions, but each family living in Elton can afford to own its own home, even with a hefty mortgage. I'd be lying if I said there was no discrimination in Elton, but what there is remains discreetly hidden.

It was a hot August day, and I was idling the time away playing solitaire on the shiny desk I'd bought a few months earlier. Fortunately the Stone Building is adequately wired, so I put in two air conditioners, one in the outer office and one in my own little cubby. I have no secretary at present, so the air conditioner in the outer office is for the comfort of clients who may be forced to wait while I consult with other would-be clients.

I heard the outer door open, and in came Judy Roberts. I could see her immediately because of my own office door was wide open. She was wearing a loose white blouse, very transparent, letting me see the white cotton bra underneath. Her blue slacks hugged her shapely hips tightly, and already I felt like drooling.

She saw me and came directly into my office. I motioned for her to shut the door and sit across from me. In the meantime I switched on my hidden videotape machine. It took in the entire office, including the extra-wide couch across the room. She introduced herself to me, then went on to tell me why she had come.

She had been married only four months, and already she felt her husband was two-timing her with another woman. It was more than a feeling. She had actually seen him heading for the Elton Hotel, a little trap at the end of the village where the working prostitutes hang out. She hadn't had the nerve to follow him inside, but had watched him go in with the dame, and then stay there for more than three hours. She had waited outside the entire time. But she wanted pictorial proof of his infidelity, and she didn't give a damn how I got it.

"I'm willing to pay anything," she told me. "Name your price."

"I have two prices," I replied, settling my five foot nine frame back in my swivel chair. I fit neatly between the chair armrests, weighing a mere hundred and sixty-five. "I can charge you a rate of two hundred dollars a day, with a guaranteed minimum of five days, or…"

"Or?" she asked, almost knowing what was coming.

"Or I can charge you whatever my expenses are, plus a straight hundred on top of that for every two days or part thereof."

"The second deal sounds much more attractive," she said in a quiet voice. "What's the catch?"

"You," I replied.

"Me?"

I could see she was horny as all get out. Her husband hadn't been laying her properly for quite some time, and prim though she might have been, her physical desires were getting the better of her. So I said, "I want you, with a down payment here and now."

"Are you trying to be funny?" she asked. "I came up here to hire you to take pictures of my husband in the act of infidelity, and now you want me to be unfaithful to him with you?"

"Obviously," I told her, "if your husband is unfaithful to you, and from what you've told me he is, you can't be unfaithful to him, since by committing adultery first, he destroyed your marriage vows. I'm not asking for your body out of reciprocation. I find you very attractive, and to be frank, I want you. I'm not making it a positive condition of employment. But I can cut the rates way down if you find me attractive enough."

"Mr. Fokker, you know damn well you're a very attractive man."

"Do I, Mrs. Roberts? I'm supposed to be a very ugly man, yet I don't think in terms of being ugly."

"You emit a strong sense of masculinity. Almost any woman would be happy to…"

"I'm not talking about almost any woman. I'm talking about you. Right now there are no other people in the world. Just you and me."

"I… I've never slept with any man other than my husband," she told me, nervously, and I could see by her demeanor she was about to change her sleeping habits.

"You're a delight to the eye," I said to her, getting up and walking over to where she was still sitting.

"I've only been married four months," she whispered, as I took her by the shoulders and made her stand. "You'll probably consider my performance that of a rank amateur."

"There's only one way to find out," I answered, gathering her small frame to me and pressing my lips to hers.

Her mouth opened wide to admit my searching tongue. It found her own tongue and began licking it. I reached for the roof of her mouth, then ran my tongue along her gums, and she shivered and shook, and clung to me all the more tenaciously.