Stakeout : an early release story

So this was the job. Sit there and take pictures of a cheating wife. On TV shows and in fiction this is what Private Eyes do, at least until we get embroiled in a deeper conspiracy and have to take on a corrupt police force, solve a murder and possibly save the President. The truth was more of what I did was dealing with trade secrets and corporate espionage. Making sure that employees weren’t calling in sick and then taking documents to a competitor, that sort of thing.

Neither were particularly savory but at least my corporate gigs paid well. Though this job would pay well. In the middle of a nasty divorce if I could nail the wife with photo evidence of infidelity my boss, her husband, would walk away with the entire fortune rather than just the half. Apparently the pre-nup had a clause that whomever cheated, lost it all.

“That’s a dumb pre-nup,” I had said to him as he signed the check for the first half of my fee. The rest was due on me providing the evidence.

“Well since she is cheating on me, you can see how clever it actually was,” he said.

A figure moved in front of the window, it was the wife. Topless she was kissing a man. I raised my camera, snapped a photo. Snapping another one as his hand groped her breast. Another as she turned towards the window, the man pulling at her skirt. Then at his…

“Wow,” I said. I had not expected to get this much of a show. With each photo I took I assumed that nothing more incriminating could possibly happen and then something much worse did. With my telephoto lens it was as if I was sitting feet away, rather than across the street in my car. I even got a photo of the man’s cum hitting her in the face.

That’s a keeper for the family album.

I picked up my phone and called the client, “Get that other half of my fee ready. I’ve got your prenup clause on film.”

He offered me brandy, which I took. His office was big, mostly made of wood. Lots of books. The kind of office that rich people in movies have. He was a good looking man, older by about twenty years, maybe thirty. So late forties, early fifties. He flipped through the photos on my iPad and then handed it back to me. 

“They’re all in the Dropbox folder I sent,” I said.

“You’ll delete your copies, I assume,” he said.

I nodded, “Upon the check clearing, yup. I don’t really need photos of your wife to get off.”

He slid a check across his desk towards me, “I added a little bit extra, for your next job.”

“Sorry, I don’t want to do more of this. I’ve got clients lined up for next week,” I said.

“Just deliver copies of the photos to the apartment in the pictures. Do that and I’ll sign another check, for twice your fee,” he said.

That was, odd. But a lot of money doubled was even more money so I agreed.

I parked my car where I had taken the photos and headed upstairs, Figuring out the exact apartment number from how the windows faced the street I knocked on the door. I had printed the photos out, as I’d been instructed.

The door opened and the man in the photos was there. I handed him the envelope, “I’m supposed to show you these.”

He nodded, stepping aside and gesturing for me to enter. I did, watching his reaction as he looked through them.

“You’re a good photographer. You have a good eye,” he said.

“Thanks,” I replied, not exactly expecting a critique of my photography skills.

“You must be good at your job, pity,” he said.

“I don’t quite know what’s going on,” I said, confused now. I had expected him to be upset at being caught cheating with a married woman, or to feel violated for being spied on.

“Renewal,” he said, setting the photos down on the table.

“All right,” I said shaking my head.

He smiled, “It’s not important for you to understand. You have nice eyes though, really nice eyes. I like how deep they are, brown and inviting. Warm eyes, like you’d be a good woman to relax with, to trust and tell stories before bed. Before we slip off to sleep, heavy and tired.”

“Look I should go,” I said, but didn’t look away. He was staring intently into my eyes, and so I was into his. His were icy blue, frosty almost. Like a sea, cold but compelling. They seemed to sparkle as the light from the window reflected off of them. 

“Such warm deep eyes, so nice to stay and relax. Answer me a question, warm eyes, as you watched us fuck did you feel wet? Did you feel yourself respond to watching me fuck her, use her. She was just a toy, a tool to fuck,” he said.

He stepped closer, his eyes growing larger. 

“You look confused,” he said, “that’s okay, just think about nothing. Just sink my Warm Eyes, so nice and heavy now. Aroused knowing what happened here, and heavy, as you relax with me.”

He put his hands on my shoulders. I felt like I should panic, but instead it felt good. Then he pulled me forwards, towards him as he said something loudly. It sounded like, “Sleep.”

I was back in my client’s office. Naked now. Holding my camera. He was signing another check, but this one wasn’t for me. It was for the man in the pictures.

“Same triggers as my last wife?” he asked.

“Indeed. She’s all yours now, just like your last one. And your last wife will take the settlement, the photos will convince any family she has that suing you isn’t worth it. She’s out of your life and your new model is all ready to go,” he said, “And she’s very good photographer.”

My client… my new fiance my mind corrected me, grunted, “It’s the tits I like, but whatever.”