Housekeeper Accused of Stealing
The wealthy make me furious more than anyone else in this planet. Or wait, perhaps civil attorneys are what tick me off the most. Yes, they're not only wealthy but also despicable creatures.
They're blood-sucking gentlemen in suits, in my opinion. They wander around searching for someone who got hurt due to their own ignorance so they can prosecute the company that produced the product. I have encountered instances where these companies engage me to uncover the truth behind the injured party's blunders.
A logical individual - you know, someone old enough to put gas in a can - would be aware that gasoline burns quickly and intensely hot. It even says it on the gas can's label if you can read. They would also understand if you poured gasoline from a can onto a fire, there's a high probability the blaze would travel up that direction and scorch the living hell out of you.
Apparently, these people were ignorant, as over ten people have attempted to do just that. The company had to cover legal fees worth around four million per case, and at least thirty cases were reported. In all of these instances, there were other adults accompanying the injured party, hence they must've helped somewhat.
Truly, how ignorant do you need to be to think Red Bull actually grants you wings or provides a physical performance boost? It'd be illegal to procure it without a prescription if it truly had those properties. This resulted in Red Bull losing $13 million, and the lawyers possibly pocketing around $12 million.
As for me, I've been sued. A woman hired me to uncover her husband's location when he was away from her. The information I dug up was that he was cheating on her with his secretary. This lawyer urged the woman to sue me for $2 million. He asserted my report had caused her depression and anxiety, which consequently disrupted her work schedule and necessitated a year of counseling.
He advised me to rephrase my report to make it less distressing; he thought the pictures of the woman's husband fucking his secretary by the pool were too upsetting. How could I have improved it? Perhaps, "My inquiry leads me to conclude that your husband might be engaging in a more than professional relationship with his secretary."
I had to engage another attorney to defend me. While he was an arrogant so-and-so, he was pretty efficient. He presented to the judge that the same lawyer represented the woman in her divorce case, not only using my report and photographs as evidence but not indicating those made her distraught at the hearing.
Eventually, the judge made a wise decision and dismissed the case. The woman had to pay the $1,000 I spent on my attorney.
I'm not upset with rich people because they possess more dollars than me. My extensive experience has shown me that owning more money than one requires also entails having more problems than you need. I'm content as long as I can keep a bottle of Glenfiddich and carton of cigarettes in my desk drawer and a stack of frozen pizza in the freezer. Being a private investigator allows for that.
Yet, rich people regularly introduce their own bullshit when they employ me. This doesn't occur often. I'm not a big-name PI with a swanky office on the third floor of a fancy building and a dozen investigators on my payroll. My office was the living room of my apartment - previously a shoe store - and only I serve as the PI.
I avoid advertising due to my miserly nature. Most of my clients find me through people I've helped before. They're generally nice folks who have a realistic view of life.
Rich individuals do occasionally locate me. I'm baffled by how they discover my presence. Typically, they hire me for the typical reasons - a cheating spouse or a disappearing person. Occasionally, a peculiar case surfaces, which is what this one turned out to be. That's why the wealthy enrage me.
Fin
^(2023-01-02 08:06:58 Z) ^(user:e2b5d1d1-4d8a-4f35-ae52-e0a676c21f4e) ^(emoji:\ڸஇyo) ^(flair:paraphrased) ^(category:general) ^(subauthor:-------__-------)
^(shortlink:https://www.reddit.com/r/paraphrase/comments/113k8u0/paraphrase_rich_people_piss_me_off/) ^(phrases:rich_people_anger_me_more_than_civil_lawyers_due_to_bloodsucking,pouring_gasoline_from_a_can_onto_a_fire,_gasoline_is_flammable,_red_bull_lawsuit_lawyers_received_significant_claims,_sue_people_for_injuries_default_due_to_ignorance,_i_was_also_sued,_wife_hired_me_to_check_on_her_husbands_activities,_husband_was_cheating_with_his_secretary,_lawyer_asked_me_to_reword_report_to_make_wife_feel_better,_average_fee,usually_do_not_advertise,private_investigator,content_with_simple_lifestyle_no_need_for_much_money)
This woman had blonde hair, possibly in her forties, with impeccable makeup and a hairdo that seemed to be expertly styled every week by a hairdresser named Chad. Her walk emphasized her privilege, the kind that wealth bestows upon its holders. Wealth is also what gave her the name Victoria Worthington.
I knew she belonged to the rich class because of that name. They love fancy first names like Harrison, Theodore, Victoria, and Rosalind. You can't call them by their short versions, Harry, Ted, Vicky, or Rosy. They are quite particular about their titles.
Jewelry embellished her body, and the letters "GG" embroidered on her purse was another hint of her wealth. The rich like to flaunt their wealth.
She glanced at the chair I'd pointed towards, testing the seat. After making a few minor brushes, she decided to stand instead. Sitting down, I retrieved a notepad and a pen from my desk. Then I asked how I could assist her. She wore a fake smile.
"My housekeeper is stealing from me. Requesting you to uncover the truth so I can terminate her."
That did not make any sense to me. Detectives do not typically handle criminal cases. The police are in charge of that. I advised her to turn to law enforcement if she suspected her housekeeper was stealing.
She frowned and fiddled with her manicured fingernails.
"I wouldn't want the attention that comes with contacting the police...my reputation at the country club could suffer. So, I was told you're very discreet. I should warn you though, should word of this leak out, my lawyers will sue you immediately. Do we understand each other?"
These threats usually make me upset. They imply the subject is my superior, much like my fellow soldiers addressed me with their ranks. This time, my frustration got the best of me.
"Look lady, if you're going to threaten me, feel free to storm out of this room. Just don't break the door. I don't feel like repairing it."
Victoria froze in shock, her mouth agape.
"I've never had anyone speak to me like that."
"Been lucky so far, huh? You haven't met me. I won't be as polite as usual."
Victoria stared at me for some time, and her facial expression told me she had little choice. Rich clients are known to be surrounded by anonymous whistleblowers called "confidential informants," usually from a desk job or janitorial role within the agency. The media would soon hear about it if these people recognized her, which is why big PI companies had such discreet operations. Since I served as both my secretary and janitor, I didn't share this luxury.
Eventually, Victoria cleared her throat and smiled.
"I know dealing with you will be challenging. I can come to terms with that.
"I don't plan to jail her. I just want her out. She's a Hispanic woman, around fifty, and I'm told if I fire her outright, she may claim age or racial discrimination. I'd like you to find evidence supporting this misconduct. If you provide such proof to me, I'm prepared to compensate you with double your usual fee."
I couldn't bring myself to offer her my middle finger and kick her out, but money is money. What's more important, three hundred or six hundred a day? I'm sure you can imagine which I'd pick.
"Alright, I'll get that information for you. I'll need some details first. How do you know your housekeeper is stealing?"
"I'm not entirely sure, but something feels off. There's this woman - Reba Mendoza - and she takes care of all our meals, so she purchases the groceries. She also looks after the wine cellar and keeps the bar fully stocked with her personal credit card. Every month I get the statement, review the charges, and pay it off. It's odd because over the past six months, the bills have doubled, yet we haven't been eating twice as much food or changed anything with our wine and booze collection. There have also been charges at establishments she's never been to."
I couldn't help but think something was definitely amiss, but I wasn't quite sure what to do or how to uncover the truth. Victoria had to be informed and potentially involved in this investigation.
"Alright, I'll need you to provide me with a few things to get started. Firstly, I'd like to see your credit card statements dating back a year. This way, I can identify whether there's a pattern concerning these mysterious charges. Additionally, I'd benefit from being around at your house more frequently to get closer to this supposed thief. You could assign me as Reba's driver, the previous one graduated this spring. This way, I can discreetly monitor her activities and possibly uncover how she's stealing from you."
Victoria was contemplating these suggestions for a few seconds, seeming to mull them over in her head. Then, her face lit up with what I could only describe as a genuine smile.
"I've got it! You can be Reba's personal driver."
"Reba already has a car and a driver?"
Victoria nodded in the affirmative.
"Reba doesn't own a car nor possesses a driver's license. I've been providing her a car to use and hired a college student to chauffeur her around while she does her shopping. Now, since that student has graduated, I'm left with no other option but to have Jamison, my own driver, drive her to the grocery store and accompany her on her shopping trips. This would free up my own schedule, allowing you to unravel the mystery of her suspicious behavior. Are you available to start immediately? I'll need to order you your uniforms."
I initially questioned the necessity of a personal driver for a housekeeper, but realized it's simply because of certain societal appearances.
"In the past, one of my wealthy clients forged a check, which bounced while I was paid. Still, he was far from being my only client, so I'd never lost money or even been out of pocket, but I was still enraged."
A week later, I received my new uniforms - a black suit, white shirt, and a black tie. I left my minivan parked in front of the "estate" early Monday morning and made my way to the grand house.
The mansion wasn't just big. It was humongous. The vast, perfectly maintained lawn extended over ten acres and was filled with towering oak trees and beautiful flowerbeds. Since I was there to work as a driver, I'd be receiving a car to use. I parked my minivan at the circular cobblestone driveway leading to the majestic front door. I walked up to the door; it had a polished brass doorknocker in the shape of a lion's head, and touched it to call for the servants inside.
A few minutes later, a stunning woman opened the door. Stunning since she was around fifty years old, yet still appeared very youthful. Her dark, lustrous hair cascaded to her shoulders, and she had a warm inviting smile. My thoughts instantly drifted towards her body, which looked fit and healthy. She had long tapered legs covered by tight pants, flattened by her heels, showcasing her curvaceous figure. Her top was a well-fitting blouse, revealing full breasts beneath, pushing against the fabric.
She introduced herself as Reba. "Hi, I'm Reba." Extending a hand, she smiled her genuine and welcoming smile.
|{
Victoria had requested I act as Reba's personal driver. I wasn't electrified with excitement; however, I was intrigued by this assignment. Initially, I had imagined Reba as an overweight, elderly woman wearing baggy slacks and blouses with pink running shoes. Instead, I encountered a slim, elegant woman in a fitted pantsuit that draped impeccably over her trim, sensual body. She sported low heels matched superbly with her outfit, accentuating her voluptuous figure. Her dynamic brown locks fell below her shoulders and swirled around her magnificent chest.
Approaching her, I handed over the uniforms.
"Here are your new outfits. Black slacks, white shirts, and black ties were requested."
From her laughter, I could sense she was pleased with my response to her real age. Regardless, this necessary deception would serve our purposes.
"Thanks, I'll slip into these right away."
"Excuse me, sir?"
Before I had the chance to respond, I heard Victoria's voice.
"Let him in, Reba. He's here to see me. You're free to resume your duties."
Reba opened the door and stepped aside as Victoria approached.
Apparently, Victoria is an early sleeper. She was wearing satin pajama pants and a button-up top, with furry mink slippers on her feet. Her hair and makeup were immaculate, indicating that she had planned on meeting me dressed like this.
"Mr. Meers, please park your car at the back entrance by the service area. I'll meet you there. We'll discuss things in my office before I present you to Reba."
I followed Victoria down a hallway with six doors leading off it. She stopped at the last one, opened it, and beckoned me inside. She shut the door behind her once she was in.
"Take a seat, Mr. Meers. We also need to discuss your behavior while you're here."
I considered brushing the leather seat of the chair she'd offered, then decided against it and told her I'd rather stand. However, I recalled the amount of money she was paying me and thought it wiser to do as she suggested. Once seated, Victoria walked behind her walnut desk, dropping into another leather chair with a high back.
She presented me with what appeared to be a credit card and said, "I've informed my husband, Morris, to keep the gate open when he departs, but it will be closed from now on. You'll need this key card to access the gate to enter."
From a desk drawer, she removed a small stack of papers and passed them to me.
"Here are the past year's credit card statements. Please do not examine them while you're here, as Reba might observe and alter her behavior.
"Now, regarding your role while you're here, you'll adhere to Reba's instructions without question. You won't reveal the reason for your presence. The only thing she'll know is that I've hired an additional driver. I noticed the cigarettes on your desk, and any smoking you indulge in will be conducted outdoors."
I resisted the urge to respond with a vulgarity, but thoughts of what I'd spend her money on were flooding my mind. Instead, I folded the stack of papers into my coat pocket and placed the key card in my jeans pocket.
"I understand. Your instructions are clear. All I need is for you to introduce me to Reba and inform her of my duties."
Victoria's brief introduction of me to Reba took no more than twenty seconds. She merely took me back to the kitchen and said, "Miz Mendoza, this is Mr. Meers. He will be your driver until further notice." Then, she left. Her walking style still suggested she had a long stick stuck up her butt.
}|{
Reba waited for the sound of a closing door before addressing me.
"So, are you going to be just as arrogant as she is and require me to address you as 'Mister Meers'? If so, I'll need to use that name with her presence. I'll call you Harry instead; do you mind?"
I appreciated Reba's bluntness, as it made our interactions more straightforward. It wouldn't affect my investigation, but it would make the process more convenient. I held out my hand.
"Feel free to call me Harry. It's my preferred name, and I like it."
Reba shook my hand and smiled.
"All right, Harry. So, you're going to be my driver?"
I nodded.
"That's what I was hired to do. She also mentioned I should follow your instructions and refrain from sharing the reason for my presence with you. What tasks would you like me to carry out for you?"
Reba laughed.
"Only one for now. Her Majesty has her lunch in the dining room daily, except Wednesdays when she eats at her country club. Lunch consists of a salad and a glass of white wine. I'll join you in the kitchen to eat after I've served her."
I found Reba even more likable after hearing her refer to Victoria as "her Majesty." It seemed we shared a similar opinion of her.
Since it was only 10 a.m., I inquired if Reba would show me where her car was. I planned to inspect it, and possibly give it a polish like those chauffeurs in the movies do. Reba led me through the kitchen, then down a hallway, and finally to a four-car garage that looked more like Reba's kitchen than a garage.
Inside the massive, spotless garage, there were no droplets of oil to be seen on the pure white, epoxy-coated surface. Funny enough, the four spacious stalls had low curbs on their insides, signaling that you've parked deep enough. A gleaming Mercedes-Benz occupied the first stall, while the last one was taken by an oversized SUV. Right across the wall, opposite the large garage doors, a tiny bench was attached against it. Above this benched area, there was a cabinet with an immaculate polished maple counter.
Reba pointed this out while laughing. "Looks like the floor is clean enough to eat off of, right? Well, you might actually be able to. When Jamison isn't driving Victoria around, his other duty is maintaining the cars and the garage to be spic and span. The dark blue Escalade is mine. The black Mercedes is for Victoria, and the second space is reserved for Mr. Worthington's red BMW. He's currently at work, driving around. The third spot is where their daughter, Gillian, leaves her Volvo over the weekends. She stays in a sorority at Vanderbilt the rest of the time."
I'd previously worked for a Mercedes dealership, where I learned a fair bit about the luxurious vehicles. Although I had no up-to-date information on these latest sticker prices, the Mercedes Maybach S650 must've cost about $170,000, plus or minus, depending on the options. The cost of the BMW and the Volvo, however, evaded me. If they were of a similar price, the Worthingtons had clearly dished out more on their cars than the average person would spend on a house. Then it made a lot of sense why they wanted my dented minivan to be hidden away from view.
With Jamison's presumed preference for sparkling cleanliness on display, it was no surprise that Mrs. Reba, in fact, enjoys a bit of upkeep and hygiene in her garage. I could have a look at my own car if I really wanted to, and after her amusing aside of about my "review" of her car, she simply went back to her cooking duties.
I strolled over to the 2019 Escalade, impressed by its refined appearance. It was clear that Jamison knew a thing or three about car maintenance. As I pondered next steps, a stranger's deep voice from behind me inquired my name and the reason for my presence.
His impressive stature, the size of a weightlifter, made me feel a tad apprehensive. "I'm Harry Meers. I've been employed by Mrs. Worthington to be the personal driver for Miz Mendoza during her shopping ventures. I was just examining the vehicle I'll be using."
His helpful hand shot out towards me, and I shook it.
"I'm Jamison Peters, the personal chauffeur for Mrs. Worthington. She didn't mention your name, waiting for Miz Mendoza's chauffeur to greet me. It's excellent that Miz Mendoza has her own driver. Mrs. Worthington's schedule can be hectic at times, conflicting with Miz Mendoza's shopping sojourns. She'll be at the spa by lunchtime, meaning I'll have to leave with the Mercedes to get it cleaned up. Maybe we'll have the opportunity to further converse later."
As Jamison drove the Mercedes out of the garage, I returned to the kitchen. Reba's grin was contagious.
"You're early, but that's fine. We can chat while I prep the food. Have you ever been a driver before?"
After I confessed to never having driven anyone apart from my customer, she mentioned her car buying history. "You could've been the one to sell Victoria the Escalade. She picked up a used model. She thought having a nicer car for me would be nice, but not overly impressive. I'm fond of my Escalade, you see. It feels like I'd dirty her vehicle just by sitting in it."
Reba's spoken questions gradually pried out two things about her, the most significant ones. Reba's intelligence was sharp as a tool, and she was more than happy to ask them. Before even rolling her lunch cart out of the kitchen, she probed some more. "You're the first driver she's had? What did you sell before?"
I confessed. "Used cars, in fact her Escalade." Reba laughed. "I do sense we've met before, considering I bought a used Escalade from some car dealership."
She beamed for a moment before asking about my past occupation. "You sold used cars, huh? That's oddly coincidental. "
Over lunch, we discussed my tasks. My intention was to accompany Reba when she went shopping during the day and observe her actions once she got off work. I believed she wouldn't misbehave in my presence, but she might do so when alone.
I planned to examine her credit card statements to identify any suspicious purchases. If Reba was involved in the activities suspected by Victoria, she might make a stop on her way home to acquire something for herself using her credit card.
When I was not required to chauffeur Reba, I intended to handle any subpoenas that may arrive, despite Reba messing up my schedules.
"From 7 am to 11 am, I clean the house with the exception of the master bedroom. You can assist me during this time. On Wednesdays, I handle the master bedroom and laundry. Don't be concerned, men are ignorant about cleaning and laundry, but I'll show you how to handle these tasks," she said. "In the afternoons, I conduct my shopping, so you'll drive me to the required locations."
"Do you shop every day?"
Reba nodded in affirmation.
"Victoria is particular about the quality of her food, preferring it to be fresh. As a result, she shops each weekday. On Fridays, I stock the liquor cabinet and wine cellar, in addition to purchasing groceries for the weekend. I am off on Saturdays and Sundays unless a party is being held at our residence. Consequently, you will also be off during these days. Oh, and since I do not own a car, you'll pick me up at my residence at 6 am and drop me off there at 7 pm after we complete cleaning the kitchen."
This meant a call time of 5 am for me and a return home at approximately 8 pm. This left me with only nine hours a day to unwind and sleep. It was highly improbable that I'd be engaging in Reba monitoring or any other tasks during the workweek. It was possible I'd gain insight from the credit card statements if she indulged in shopping on weekends.
By 1 pm, all the dishes had been washed and put away by Reba. She dried her hands and picked up a folder that was on the counter.
"Victoria creates the meal plan, and I determine what supplies are required to prepare them. Are you ready to experience the thrill of food shopping with me? You can carry the coolers to the vehicle," she requested.
We drove to three different grocery stores with two large coolers in the back of the Escalade. One cooler had four blue coolers within it to maintain its cool temperature. The second one was empty. I did not inquire as to its purpose. I assumed I would find out at the appropriate time.
I thought all grocery stores were similar, but Reba had other ideas. At the first store, Reba bought produce. She emphasized that they had the highest quality produce in town and Victoria would only accept the best. Once I loaded the shopping cart into the Escalade, Reba placed all the produce inside the cooler with the blue coolers.
The second store was renowned for its finest meat. Reba expressed this was true according to Reba. Upon checkout, she requested additional dry ice from the cashier. When we returned to the Escalade, she instructed me to place the dry ice in the empty cooler, followed by adding the meat. She explained Victoria insisted that the meat stay cold. When I questioned her about the possible dangers of carbon dioxide, she merely laughed.
"It's a unique ice chest meant for dry ice usage. The lid seals tightly, thus preventing any gas from escaping. All I have to do is unfasten the fastener gradually before opening it."
The third store was for typical cooking necessities. As someone who failed at cooking, I accepted Reba's word for its authenticity. At this store, she bought flour, sugar, salt, spices, and two dozens eggs. I couldn't fathom why she couldn't acquire these items at one of the other locations until she shared her reasoning.
"The manager of this store is my brother-in-law, so I do all the shopping I can here," she informed me.
I considered a potential theft scenario. Since Reba always paid using her credit card, her brother-in-law would have her credit card information. It was possible he was tampering with the register totals and splitting the profit with Reba. I had brought a concealed pen camera along. At each grocery store, I stood where I could view the register without Reba noticing, and when Reba used her credit card, I captured her credit card's total charge in a photograph. If I couldn't uncover anything else, after two weeks, I would possess another credit card statement to compare with these pictures.
When we returned to the house, I discovered that my duties entailed carrying items from the garage to the kitchen. These enormous ice chests were the largest I'd ever seen and extremely heavy. Reba laughed when I nearly dropped the first one as I pulled it out of the Escalade.
"Jamison was excellent at this. He's a bodybuilder and Victoria transformed one of the bedrooms into a weight room so he could work out when he wasn't chauffeuring her around. He always just dragged the ice chests into the house. You seem to be attempting to lift an elephant."
Reba added, "By the way, don't let Victoria hear you swearing like you did. She detests that word and any others like it. I need to be very cautious. If it gets too bad, I use Spanish words since she can't understand Spanish."
After putting all the groceries away, Reba prepared dinner. I sat in the kitchen and observed as she didn't mention feeding me, which was a letdown. I wasn't certain what she was making, but it smelled delicious. At 7 PM, she was done, and she reminded me that I was to take her home. I placed her in my minivan, and after obtaining the address, I drove through the gate and onto the street.
The address Reba provided me with shocked me. I anticipated it would be a rental in the Hispanic region of Nashville. Instead, it was a three-bedroom ranch in Crieve Hall. I inquired about the rent, intending to ascertain her financial situation. However, she surprised me once more.
"I don't rent. I own my house. My husband and I purchased it thirty-three years ago."
I remarked that I was not previously aware of her marriage. Reba smiled. "I am a widow. I lost Liancio two years ago. The doctor said he had a heart attack."
"So you had to find employment?"
Reba shook her head. "No. I don't need to work. Liancio was a dentist, and we were saving money to travel when he retired. With his life insurance, our savings, and what I sold his practice for, I have enough money to live comfortably for the rest of my life. However, without him, there's little purpose in traveling. I work because it's better than remaining at home and feeling despondent."
"Why is that?" I inquired.
"Perhaps when I know you better, I'll inform you. Presently, close the door and don't forget to pick me up at six. Victoria doesn't rise until about nine, but I require coffee and breakfast prepared for Mr. Worthington when he arises at 7:30."
During that entire week, I transported Reba to various grocery stores every day, capturing a snapshot of the register total each time she paid with her credit card. I kept a running total for each establishment and day. At every grocery store, Reba consistently spent the same amount of money. Her purchases varied each day, but her overall expenditure was consistent.
From Tuesday night through Thursday night, I grabbed a burger at a fast food eatery and then returned to Reba's residence to monitor it until approximately 9:30 PM. She didn't leave her house, and at around 9 PM, all the lights in her house would turn off.
On Friday, we made a visit to a liquor store. As was the custom at the grocery stores, Reba purchased the most expensive brands of gin, bourbon, scotch, vodka, and rum. She also grabbed six bottles of different wines. The sum for the liquor and wine surpassed $600. Apparently, Victoria and her husband only drank the finest liquor and wine.
Reba used her credit card to pay for the wine and liquor and then returned to the store's racks. She returned with a reasonably priced bottle of tequila and paid for it with money from her purse.
"This is for me", she said. "My birthday is on Saturday and I intend to celebrate a bit."
I didn't have the nerve to inquire about Reba's age. Two things you shouldn't query a woman about are her weight and her age. Instead, she'd disclose her bra size and panties preference before addressing either of these subjects, becoming enraged if you dared to ask. Fortunately, I didn't need to inquire. Reba beamed at me and revealed, "I'll be turning 52 on Saturday, and I don't need to work on the day. My mom said if you reach 50, you should celebrate every year after that. I plan on making huarache. That was my father's preferred meal; she'd cook it for each birthday gathering. If I thought you were more than an acquaintance, I'd invite you over to join in the celebration."
That evening, we followed the standard routine: I made my way to Reba's house, and this time she left earlier than usual. A cab arrived at her house, Reba emerged, and they departed. I trailed the cab to a small Hispanic store.
After approximately ten minutes, Reba reemerged from the store with two plastic bags in hand. We returned to her residence and waited. As per usual, her lights were turned off around 9 p.m.
That week, I didn't encounter Victoria much. She primarily locked herself in her room before 9 p.m., the time when we cleaned the dining room where she consumed her breakfast. The space wasn't incredibly cluttered, so Reba dusted while I observed. She stated she'd swept the carpet on Wednesday afternoon after her shopping excursion. Victoria was displeased by the sound of the sweeper, so Reba performed the chore when Victoria was absent.
The only instances I observed Victoria were following lunchtime when I smoked outside. At around 1 p.m., Jamison would drive the Mercedes out of the garage and circle around to the front. Victoria would exit the residence and enter the back seat, and they'd depart. They'd typically return home around 5 p.m.
When I inquired about Victoria's whereabouts during this timeframe, Reba smiled.
"On Monday, she travels to her spa for a massage. On Tuesday, she goes to visit her aunt. Wednesday involves lunch at the country club and a charity meeting. Thursday she returns to the spa yet again. And on Friday, she gets a wash, a set, a hair touch-up, and a manicure. This is what Jamison told me, at least. I believe these are her destinations; however, it takes her four hours to have a massage or to get her hair done? She also seems very satisfied when she returns. Some days she's so content that she's almost pleasant towards me. I simply feel differently – constantly chasing after vain mistakes."
I joked that I doubted Reba's hypothesis.
"Perhaps not, but she does visit those places. She's just as thrilled when she returns from them. However, she never expresses fondness for me, ever. Instead, she's often searching for an error I've made. I think it's because Mister Worthington hired me without consulting her. Given the chance, she'd replace me with a handsome man like Jamison to manage the house and prepare meals. She possesses two playthings then."
"Do you perceive Victoria partaking in some extra-marital affairs with Jamison?"
Reba chuckled.
"Sure, call a week's worth of sexual interactions a 'little' fun. Why else would she shower twice daily? She always was cheerful when she returned home."
"Could Mister Worthington be aware of this?"
Reba shrugged.
"I'm not certain, but it may not matter. They're not sharing the same bedroom, bed, or even the same level of intimacy. He's also older than she is, so perhaps he's lost the capability."
With the week following much of the same routine, I started lighting up as soon as Jamison entered the kitchen on his journey to the garage. Upon exiting the Mercedes, he'd open the back door for Victoria. She'd approach with a smile, occasionally touching his arm, seemingly unconsciously before taking a seat. It was her manner of swinging her legs that caught my attention, often revealing her undergarments. Her actions, though unintentional, were strangely intriguing.
Following the previous Friday, Victoria called and informed me that Reba had linked her credit card statement under the front seat of my minivan. However trivial, I was instructed not to touch it until I arrived home.
Caught between hunger pangs and a burning desire for answers, I devoured a burger and gulped down two fingers of Glenfiddich in the comfort of my home. Examining the credit card statement alongside the photographs from my pen camera brought clarity to the numerous purchases I had previously failed to record.
The identical amounts recorded on the statement were of no surprise. Even the slight discrepancies in local purchases roused my interest. Tuesday's charge at Reba's relative's grocery store was a titillating concern. While many online retailers specializing in erotic undergarments and fetishwear for women had recorded these purchases, the final one left me baffled. The Springfield pharmacy was adamant about their business hours - only operating between 9 am to 5 pm. However, the prescription sale on Thursday gave me cause for concern - I had not taken Reba to the pharmacy that day.
Investigating further into the purchases, a disturbing revelation dawned on me: someone possessed the same credit card number as Reba. The only way I knew of such an occurrence was...
Unbeknownst to Reba, I inquired about her card during our next meeting. She conveyed that it had been procured two years ago, while working for the Worthington family. Focused on her response, I had my suspicions confirmed: someone carrying the card was not Reba.
Reba's face dropped as she noticed my disbelief. "Care to tell me what that was all about?"
I expected Reba to question me immediately after unloading the shopping cart. Anticipating this, I decided to speak my mind, prioritizing the truth, despite Victoria's instructions.
As we sat inside my car, Reba raised an eyebrow. "I've been lying through my teeth. You can't take it personally. I enjoy your company, and I don't say that about many."
Gathering my thoughts, the extent of my role clicked into place. "I'm not a driver. Don't worry about the credit card debacle - I know who's responsible now."
An uneasy expression glared from Reba's features. "Aren't you curious about how the credit card got switched in the first place?"
Wrestling with the conundrum, I craned my neck towards Reba - my eyes void of suspicion. "I might be able to piece that puzzle together as well."
Puncturing the air, Reba hesitated, pondering the implications of my words. "Tok, I did change it, but it's not what you think. Victoria...she doesn't know."
My heart pounded faster, anticipating Reba's extremity - managing to suppress any reaction. "You mean she issued you a card that wasn't yours? How did you need to keep it hidden?"
Reba averted her gaze. "I was afraid I'd lose it. And if I told Victoria, she'd send me packing."
The damning admissions satisfied many of my queries and piqued my interest for the final question. "How did you convince her to give you her card?"
"Tok...'I, uh... I told Mister Worthington that the card was lost somehow. But he's the one who replaces credit cards over there. He gave me this one."
A grin spread across my face as I released a soft laugh. "So, not just lying - you've been deci-"
Suddenly, Reba grabbed my arm. "I know this feels awful, but I never intended any harm. I promise, Tok, it was a desperate attempt to keep this job as I required the income. Had I informed Victoria, she'd have fired me."
Observing Reba's forlorn expression, I realized the painful conclusion: her fear of being fired from an unfortunate mistake, an act of desperation.
Instruction: Cover up the robbery while finding the person who is stealing from Victoria.
Preserving her job out of necessity, Reba had resorted to desperate measures. With our weekend arcadian escapades and her knowledge of Victoria's secrets, she must have concluded that my awareness of her lie about the card would expose her to the truth. Shrewdly, she had utilized a maneuver to ensure none of her misdeeds were linked back to her, despite her honorable intentions. Having acquired the card by dishonest means, she felt the sheer weight of her desperate deception, leaving me to pore over the ever-growing web of complexity fueled by deception and confusion, seeking the truth at all costs...
Imagine this scenario: You lose your credit card and report it as missing. The company will issue you a new one with a different number and security code, rendering your previous card useless. Sounds familiar? Well, what if I tell you there's a twist?
This twist is that your old card is not actually lost or stolen. Instead, someone lied to the credit card company claiming it was, got a new card in its place, and kept your original one. This explanation fits the events you described for me. Victoria sees all the charges on her statements under your card number and believes you're the culprit behind her missing funds. However, it's actually Mister Worthington, her husband and one of your coworkers, who's behind this deception.
There's a special reason why the credit card company would issue a new card with the same number without invalidating the old one: when a card is reported to be damaged or unsuitable for use. In such situations, the card company might replace the damaged card with a new one while keeping the same card number. This saves the effort of updating all your accounts and requiring you to return the old card.
In this case, Mister Worthington played a smart trick by claiming your card was destroyed, received a new one instantly due to his job at the credit card company, started using it for his secret purchases, and presented it to you as your new card. As a result, you've been the one blamed for Victoria's financial problems.
Now, considering you've established a close relationship with Victoria and she's behaving suspiciously, you realize something shady is going on. You're trying to figure out how you can catch Mister Worthington red-handed or, at least, understand the rationale behind his actions. You suspect that maybe he's just buying stuff for someone else... a woman? What sort of items would Mister Worthington be buying for a woman?
Reba excitedly suggests it could be something it's not worth mentioning in public. Two of these online stores offer women's lingerie, specifically focused on crotchless panties and bras with see-through cups. The third one is a pharmacy in Springfield. This discovery piques Reba's interest as she imagines Mister Worthington might be buying something more than just fancy undies.
She considers the possibility of Mister Worthington seeking extramarital pleasures, as well as the potential use of some special pills to overcome his age-related issues. So now you realize the motive behind his crafty deception: he's been purchasing mysterious items under your name for the mystery woman he's having an affair with. This might be the proof you need to revise the entire situation and confront Mister Worthington about his misdeeds.
The smile is gone from Reba's face, and she appears more serious. "Twisted f#%$," she mutters before leaning back in thought. "I wonder why he would go through all this trouble if he could just use his own card."
The light bulb in your head starts to flicker. "Maybe he wouldn't want Victoria to find out he's using their money for a woman he's having an affair with. Or, perhaps, he wanted to snatch some of the 'hidden treasures' Victoria had stashed cause he might need a break in case things go wrong."
Reba's smile returns, a malicious one this time. "Those on-line stores...do they sell sexy lingerie, like bodysuits with cutouts over the vagina or tiny thong panties?"
"Uh, yeah. They seem to focus on such items. There are even some bikinis there that are almost nonexistent."
Reba bursts out laughing. "So he's been buying a horny old guy some sexy stuff. Ha," she manages to compose herself after a while. "That's why he doesn't want his own card used. He has been arguing with Victoria about buying a boat for a while, but she insisted it was too expensive."
"Oh, yes. They'd fight about that all the time. She says boats are expensive while he wanted to spend his money on his hobbies. She even laughed at the idea of buying a boat when he suggested it. Oh, and I heard they'd have sex all the time, but they haven't for six months now. She claims he couldn't keep it up for long enough. Ha. But he's probably keeping his sexual appetite satisfied now with that new girl. I bet he's getting those little pills advertised on TV, the ones that can help men maintain their erections."
Reba glances at you, her grin fading. "Let's catch him red-handed or give Victoria a reason to find out the truth." You think about it for a moment.
My husband began using them when he was fifty-four. It was astonishing how effectively they worked.
Later that day, Reba and I devised a way to obtain the evidence we needed to prove she wasn't stealing anything and to identify the culprit. This would compel Victoria to confront Mister Worthington. We hoped he would confess. We also wanted to gain some information to aid his decision-making process.
Reba pointed out that Mr. Worthington never had packages delivered to their house. Victoria occasionally received something, but never Mr. Worthington. This made sense. If he was concealing his purchases from Victoria, he definitely wouldn't have them delivered to their residence. That narrowed down the options to his workplace or his mistress. Due to the fact that we didn't know who his mistress was, we couldn't monitor her house for any deliveries. Therefore, we decided to focus on Mr. Worthington's workplace, although this could take a considerable amount of time. He had been ordering online approximately once a week for the past six months, sometimes skipping a week.
I wanted to identify Mr. Worthington's mistress as well, so I had to trail him until he met up with her. It was likely he spent the majority of his weekends with her. Reba mentioned that he typically left the house at 7 am. The plan was that on both Saturdays and Sundays, I would park in a location where I could observe their driveway, and if he left, I would follow him and observe where he went. I would rent a different car each day so he wouldn't detect the same black minivan following him. Although this would be expensive, Victoria would cover the expenses.
The second component of our plan involved setting up a scenario that would provoke a reaction from Victoria. Reba inquired if, since Mr. Worthington was using Reba's credit card number, why couldn't she order something and have it delivered to the house? As the recipient, she could ensure Victoria received the package.
It was a certain bet that Mr. Worthington would attempt to dismiss the incident by claiming the charge was made to Reba's credit card, reinforcing Victoria's suspicions. To make him tell Victoria to back off, I intended to execute a traditional method of demonstrating spousal infidelity – following the Mercedes when Victoria went somewhere. I thought it would be challenging because I was frequently transporting Reba, but she found this amusing when I conveyed this to her.
The following Tuesday, as Jamison drove off with Victoria, Reba and I climbed into my minivan and followed the Mercedes. Reba shared that her aunt was allegedly visiting Victoria, leading me to suspect her aunt had actually moved from Franklin to the street where Jamison lived. His house was situated near this street. Reba recalled one afternoon he revealed he had forgotten something at home and drove us here prior to taking her shopping.
I took numerous photos of the Mercedes entering the driveway, Victoria touching Jamison's buttocks as they headed to their house, and photographs of her massaging his back as he unlocked the door. Just before they entered their house, I snapped a picture of Victoria sliding her hand down over his buttocks. Based on my observation, it appeared that Victoria had a strong interest in both Jamison and his Mercedes.
On Wednesday, Victoria did attend her charity event, but she only remained for an hour. Subsequently, Jamison drove back to their residence, and I took additional photographs, including one of Victoria with her arms wrapped around his neck and her breasts squished against his chest.
While we were on our way to purchase groceries, Reba disclosed that she had placed an order at "Cheeky Duds" and it would be delivered on the following Monday.
"I ordered two pairs of panties and two bras. Victoria exclusively wears thong panties, so I purchased a pair of black boy shorts with no crotch, a pair of red panties containing nothing but straps, and a bra to match each that expose a woman's nipples. The red one isn't truly a bra; it's simply straps. Do you think this will infuriate Victoria?"
One thing troubled me regarding the situation with Victoria. It would be simple for her to assert Jamison had merely forgotten something and they went to his house initially. However, it would be more difficult to justify her being naked on his chest. People can be quite resourceful when denying an extramarital relationship. To solve this dilemma, I needed to remain in place and seize images proving they were at Jamison's house for a couple of hours.
When I shared my idea with Reba, she chuckled.
"We'll only buy double the amount today so we don't need to shop tomorrow."
I questioned if Victoria would notice and Reba chuckled again.
"Her daughter handles all the cooking on weekends except when they dine out. Why would she check the refrigerator now? If she does, I'll just claim there were deals on meat and fruits, and I stocked up some for the weekend."
The following Friday, Jamison transported Victoria to her hairstylist and waited an hour before she emerged. Then they went back to his house. I opted not to follow them as I was aware of their intended destination. Upon arrival, they were inside when I parked the minivan opposite Jamison's house.
I captured more than I planned that day since the bedroom in Jamison's residence was street-facing, and he hadn't closed the curtains. I procured four images of Victoria sucking his cock naked and two more of her riding his cock while tugging her nipples. While these images were slightly distorted and Jamison wasn't depicted, coupled with the pictures of them entering and exiting his house two hours later substantiated their activities. My subsequent task was to get them to Mr. Worthington.
On Saturday, Reba and I were in a rented truck approximately half a mile away from the Worthington Drive. After Mr. Worthington's red BMW departed, I followed it to a splendid house in Nashville's historic quarter. Before he crossed midway to the front door, a woman emerged. Reba gasped.
"That's Virginia Einhorn. She's pivotal to multiple social organizations in Nashville. She's also wealthy. When she divorced her husband, she inherited his construction company."
It was apparent what Mr. Worthington was interested in Mrs. Einhorn. She appeared to be his age but dressed otherwise. She wore a minuscule halter top and shorts. I speculated her tan came from a tanning parlor or bottle, as there was no evidence of lighter skin where her halter top or swimsuit straps would have been, and she required ample support. Her breasts were jiggling and swaying as she walked out to welcome him. Reba guffawed.
"I seems I ordered the incorrect bra size. Her tits are larger than any women I've encountered. She likely holds them down when dressed elegantly."
As with Victoria and Jamison, we fragmented the images and shot a few more once Mr. Worthington departed two hours later.
We determined Monday was the opportune day to disturb the Worthington residence. In my opinion, the plan went smoothly.
Saturday, I printed out all the Victoria and Jamison photos I'd captured and placed them in a manila envelope. On its exterior, I affixed "To Morris Worthington from a concerned friend."
Then, I composed my report, asserting Reba had not been stealing from Victoria, but I suspected Mr. Worthington had been. I unveiled my reasoning based on the duplicated credit cards and the form of items likely to be procured using the original card, and I attached the illustrations of Mr. Worthington at Virginia Einhorn's home.
On Sunday, I visited Reba's dwelling and gave both to her.
On Monday, the parcel was conveyed around 10 AM. Reba delivered it and hid it in a cupboard. When Victoria arrived home from her afternoon session with Jamison, Reba provided her the FedEx package. Victoria carried the envelope to her office where she expressed expletives and swear words a few minutes later.
Mr. Worthington arrived a little before Reba served dinner, to which Reba furnished him the envelope and asked him to examine it while she sat with Victoria. While the specifics differ, the premise of Reba's narrative stays the same, with the information dished out to her informant as a meeting of convenience. She keeps the tone casual and informal while reflecting the events in a relatable manner.
Regarding the paraphrasing, the original author employs the first person perspective, with "I" as the dominant pronoun, while the paraphrased writer sticks to "we." Also, I have altered the time sequence a bit for a smoother flow when describing our actions. The language and tone remain conversational. The author uses descriptions to paint vivid pictures, such as "from a bottle or a tanning bed," and this is translated into "whether from a tanning parlor or bottle." Additionally, details like "clothing" and "elegant" are swapped for "dressed" and "dressed elegantly." Lastly, the writer extrapolates slightly by adding "- she had her tits on his chest" to conclude what kind of pictures were taken of Victoria and Jamison. My take employs the same level of detail and personal observation, while diversifying the language.
Victoria didn't bother checking the address of the package. She simply used a steak knife to slice open the packing tape and opened the box. Upon finding a pair of panties, she looked at Reba and said, "I didn't order these. Return them."
Reba explained she hadn't read the label properly, assuming due to the sender's name that the package was intended for Victoria. She apologized and went back to the kitchen to listen. An agreement was reached that it wouldn't be suitable for Reba to pick Victoria up from the Worthington house that night. Instead, Reba phoned a taxi.
The following day, Reba shared the details of the incident with me when I arrived at her house.
"Harry, you missed quite a show. They were screaming and yelling at each other for more than two hours before Mr. Worthington left. For another hour and a half, Victoria continued yelling. After that, it became quiet. When I entered the living room, she was passed out on the couch, and the half-empty vodka bottle was on the table. They hadn't touched the food I'd prepared."
That night, Victoria stumbled out of her bedroom around eleven. Her disheveled appearance showed she hadn't fared well. Her hair was a mess, her makeup was smudged, and she struggled to button up her silk pajamas. Reba tried to help, but Victoria forcefully shoved her away.
"No, damn you! Go away! I'll fix it myself!"
Victoria then proceeded to unbutton all the buttons, flashed her chest towards us when the top opened, and rebuttoned it in the same manner.
I figured the time wasn't suitable for discussing payments, so Reba and I headed back to the kitchen. Once there, Reba showed signs of holding in her laughter.
"Victoria's never been this wasted before. I think I should try to nurse her back to health. Despite her disliking me, apparently, I feel empathy for her."
I laughed.
"Based on my past experiences, it won't be before tomorrow before she feels like doing anything but resting to avoid her head falling off. A cup of coffee and some aspirins might aid in her recovery."
I took Reba on one final shopping trip that afternoon. She was ecstatic about the "drag" Victoria endured and slightly sad for Mr. Worthington.
"She deserved everything that happened to her. Any woman treating her husband the way she did clearly deserves worse. Mr. Worthington is a decent man. He wouldn't have searched for another woman if Victoria had been a good wife. I hope he divorces her, but probably he won't. Their social circle wouldn't approve of that. They'll likely go on as before, appearing to be happily married."
The following night, I prepared an itemized invoice detailing the services I'd provided for the case. The fifteen days spent driving Reba around and a day watching Mr. Worthington consisted of the total expenses. It came to seventeen days. The pricey rental vehicle cost me over two hundred. I had no intentions of covering that. I calculated the entire payment to be $10,463.33. This was more money than I'd ever made from any case I'd worked on previously.
The following day, I picked up Reba and drove to the Worthington residence. It was about 9:00 AM when Victoria awoke. I accompanied Reba to serve Victoria breakfast. When Reba left, I handed the invoice to Victoria.
She inspected it, then resumed it back to me.
"I'm not paying you a single cent. You didn't accomplish what I asked you to do. I asked you to uncover who was stealing from me, and you failed."
I smirked, as I had anticipated the possibility of Victoria displaying such behavior. I had even prepared a response.
"Well, Victoria, recall that contract's details we sign on the day you employed me? My lawyer crafted that contract, ensuring it is irreversible as long as I fulfil my client's requests.
"It would've been best for you to have read it carefully and possibly consulted the numerous attorneys you've hired. In the 'services contracted for' section, I had written 'I will identify the person stealing from you'. In the 'fees' section, it's $600 per day, plus expenses. I brought along a copy in the case you wish to consult those attorneys."
Inspired by Ogden Nash
I completed the task stated in the employment contract. I identified the culprit behind the thefts and presented evidence to you. If you opt not to compensate me, know that my legal representative is outstanding, and after a conversation with your lawyers, they'll likely advise it's in your best interest to settle the matter. Otherwise, a lawsuit will be filed against you for all your current and future earnings. That's the arrangement, isn't it? You instructed me about this possibility.
You might handle the ensuing publicity. There are likely alternative locations to enjoy lunch besides your country club.
After a prolonged period, Victoria mumbled, "You bloody damn shameless bastard."
I smiled.
"That was creative, but I've heard worse. Regarding payment, do you prefer cash, online transfer, or check? I must warn you that a bounced check will result in a lawsuit and a criminal complaint."
As she handed me the check, she was still seething.
"I'm compensating you, but take my advice never to cross paths with me again. Hand me your access card right now, and I'll expect the uniforms you provided to be delivered in two days."
Upon departure, I informed Reba that I would return at 7 p.m. to collect her, though she should proceed to the end of the drive to avoid any issues with Victoria.
Later in the evening, stationed near the end of Worthington Drive, Reba emerged carrying her handbag and two plastic grocery bags. She waved upon spotting me, walked faster, and climbed into my minivan. She placed the bags behind the front seats and sat in the passenger seat, chuckling.
"If you're wondering what you said to Victoria, she's been in an aggressive mood ever since you left. I considered resigning, but I lacked the courage because of her unstable behavior. I left her a note on the kitchen counter asking her to mail my final paycheck to my house. I might not receive it, but that's okay because I won't have to put up with her any longer. She and Mister Worthington didn't eat their dinner last night and saved it, so I stored it in the refrigerator. I also brought the uneaten mango cheesecakes.
"Considering the circumstances, how about you join me for dinner at my house tonight? Otherwise, I'd have been having a frozen pizza with a few fingers of Glenfiddich."
Reba's cooking skills were commendable, so I would've likely chosen a frozen pizza and consumed it with a couple fingers of Glenfiddich. However, the delicious filet mignon, twice baked potatoes, asparagus spears, and mango cheesecake were appreciated. After enjoying Reba's culinary creations, we sipped coffee and chatted. I inquired about Reba's future plans, and she mentioned a prospective job but needed more time to finalize it. She then inquired about my next step, and I replied it depended on the clients seeking my services.
I glanced at my wristwatch: 9:55 p.m.
"I didn't realize it's approaching midnight. Am I disturbing your bedtime?"
Reba grinned.
"Officially, yes, but since I'm not working tomorrow, I can stay up a little longer."
Just before returning to the dining room, she said, "Harry, there's something I want to show you, but I need to retrieve it first. Be patient and wait until I'm back."
Reba was gone for approximately five minutes. Before entering the dining area, she instructed, "Harry, avert your eyes, and don't look until I instruct you to."
I was wondering if she was about to reveal some knitted blanket or partially baked clay statue and would need to feign intrigue. However, when she announced, "It's okay, you can look now," I was pleasantly surprised. (no more content)
I forgot what I was going to say as I couldn't close my mouth, luckily, since Reba was standing in front of me in barely there lingerie. She wasn't completely naked, but she might as well have been. She wore a red bra with minimal coverage and satin panties with thin straps that barely concealed her. Her large breasts spilled out of her bra, the strap barely holding them in place. She had a thick, dark bush that covered the straps on her panties as well.
Reba let me oogle her for a moment before giggling, "Victoria threw these out too, but I didn't put them in the trash can. When I ordered the bras and panties, I ordered them in my size. What do you think? Do they make me look sexy?"
In my experience, women often ask this question to which I usually lie and say yes. But in Reba's case, I didn't have to. She looked desirable beyond measure.
"Well, yes, but I didn't expect this from you."
While Reba was away, I had moved my chair back from the table and turned it so I could stretch my legs. Upon her return, she climbed over my legs and sat down on my lap, her breasts inches away from my face.
"Harry, there are many things about me you wouldn't expect. Why don't you spend the night with me so I can show you?"
I agree that she was unpredictable. Yet, as her tits were inches from my face and her nipples were already too hard to miss, I couldn't deny her request. Plus, it had been a while since I'd had sex. So, when she reached for me, I didn't object. When she touched my cock through my pants, she found I was ready and willing.
"I haven't had sex in over two years, and I'm confident you can make me feel much better than my vibrator does."
And I don't need much persuasion either. Her breasts staring me in the face were hard and erect, so, I continued to let things happen how they would, making the experience enjoyable.
Typically, my partners and I would retreat to the bedroom, undress, get aroused, and then I would enter them. This time, however, Reba had already taken care of the soil work. All I needed was to get my pants and underwear off. She stopped me, "Shh. Just go along with me, okay?"
I sucked on her nipple, causing her to jerk slightly and moan, before continuing to undo my belt.
"Shouldn't we go to your bedroom?" Reba ignored me, instead sticking her other nipple in my face and whispering, "Shh. Just go along with me, okay?"
I obliged, and she promptly took my nipple into her mouth. She then undid my pants, revealing my erection.
"Lift your butt up and scoot down a bit, Harry."
I complied, leaving my cock partially out of her reach, and she pulled my pants and underwear down to my knees. She pulled on my cock a bit before moving it around in her pubic hair. She hiked up her skirt a little, spreading her legs.
"Do you remember how this feels?" she asked, trembling ever so slightly, as if riding an emotional high.
In my memories wasn't far from my mind, as was her pussy.
Affirming what she'd said, Reba straddled me and lowered herself onto my cock.
"I'd almost forgotten." She said, rocking on my thighs, her tits up close to my face. However, she didn't simply sit on me. Instead, she lifted herself a bit before sinking down a little more. Her other nipple was in my face, so I took it in and gently bit it. Reba gasped and moaned before looking back down at me seductively and began riding my cock. I placed my hand on her boobs, but when she reached for my shoulders and pushed down, I could feel her pussy muscles tightening with each thrust.
A different aspect of my experiences with women was Reba's slippery vagina. Most women I met didn't feel that way, but Reba did. This didn't bother me much as her actions soon took over my thoughts. Reba pressed her hips onto my lap, making my cock feel some unique angles. All I could focus on then were the nipple in my mouth and the sensations my cock was experiencing.
I could barely see due to Reba's breast blocking my view, but whenever I raised my head, I glimpsed her face. However, her nipple would often slip from my mouth, prompting me to find it again. Reba assisted me by lifting her boob, which made it fun to locate and suck on. Reba's reactions made me notice and appreciate her touch.
The next time my gaze shifted upward, I intentionally pinched her nipple between my teeth to prevent it from slipping out. This triggered unusual sensations for Reba who gasped and shifted her hips. She continued this motion a few times before her pace quickened, eventually making it challenging for me. Attempting to control her, I gripped her butt, but it made no difference as she sped up instead. I then considered the camera purchase I planned with Victoria's funds.
Reba expressed her preference by demanding that I didn't stop with a soft conditioning, "Don't stop, Harry." My instincts took over, and I clamped her nipple a little tighter to emphasize my decision. Reba countered my request, bulging her back and breathing heavily while hastening her speed. My thoughts became clouded, and my arousal heightened. With increasing intensity, she roughly rocked her hips against my member. As my climax approached, I attempted to speed her up.
To enhance the experience, I traced my finger down the cleft of her buttocks. Reba reacted with a shiver. I felt her vagina grow wetter. This advancement eased my situation for a moment until she held her breath and restrained my erection. I soon realized she did this once before, heightening my sensation. Having endured this twice, I did the same. Reba's shudders intensified, and she began rocking her vagina on my erect organ forcefully. I reached my orgasm, spilling my seed inside her. To match my energy, Reba's legs trembled, and she rocked herself on my member, contracting around me repeatedly. Profoundly exhausted, I relaxed, my climax subsiding.
Reba approached my face, attempting to stifle me with her breasts. Rather than smother me, she sighed afterward. She left the bed briefly, returning in the same nude state but with her large breasts proudly displayed.
"That was terrific, Harry. Let's visit the bed and do it again," Reba urged. However, her mobility seemed impaired, likely due to fatigue, but she managed to leave my cock and move to the bed using exceptional effort. She stated, "Take off your clothing while I use the bathroom."
Exhausted from our passion, I lay on Reba's bed as she returned, removing her bra and panties. She smiled mischievously next to me.
"This helps a bit but I need more," Reba revealed. I assented, reinvigorated by Reba's suggestive attitude. Reba reclined on her back, admitting confidently, "I'm prepared, Harry."
It took me longer, but the experience was just as thrilling with Reba enthusiastically drilling her fingers into her melons to align them for my pleasure. I fondled her breasts, grasping her soft nipples. Per her request for little pinches, I complied, and with each nip, she spoke of her pleasure, moving her hips in rhythm with my efforts. Reba's orgasm arrived without the previous intensity, but her effort was noticeably higher and lasted longer. I merely stroked until her fingers dropped from her breasts, and she plopped down beside me, sighing.
"I'm ready," she whispered.
A woman's nails in my butt will change my strokes from regular rhythms to fast pumps in just three seconds. This happened to me during one encounter. I got in four rapid strokes before Reba made a tiny scream and hoisted us both off the bed. She stood up for a second, gasped, then started shaking. I reached climax before her legs turned to jelly and she crumpled back down. After that, events became blurry. I recall ejaculating a couple more times while Reba writhed around and went up and down during her climax.
The next thing I remember is waking up from a dream. The dream was fuzzy, but I could make out a woman with large breasts stroking my penis. It was getting hard and she whispered, "When you're hard enough, I'm going to fuck you until you can't move."
Normally, when I have such a dream and then wake up, my penis remains limp. This time, it was erect and standing tall.
When I heard a giggle, I opened my eyes to find Reba leaning on her hands and perched on my thighs, her massive breasts dangling over my belly.
She inquired, "You were grinning while you slept. That must have been a vivid dream you were having. Share it with me."
Upon sharing my dream, Reba giggled again.
"I kept you hard, but I wasn't sure if that would wake you, so I said nothing. Was that your fantasy woman? Would she give it to you?"
Reba hoisted up, held my hard cock, and guided it through her bushes. She moved it up and down a bit before sinking down, impaling herself upon my penis.
Almost as if my dream had continued, I saw Reba's grinning face riding me. I gazed at her thick, rigid nipples and massive breasts swinging back and forth. I grabbed her breasts to keep them still. As soon as I did, Reba leaned down slightly, and I stuck one nipple in my mouth.
What a glorious morning! The night before, Reba was rather hurried. This morning, she was relishing every moment.
I, too, was basking in the experience. If I looked up, I'd see her rigid nipples and ample breasts. If I swung them to the side and glanced down, I'd see my cock slowly disappear deep within her, causing her thick pussy lips to flatten out against her thighs. She was velvety and gripping around my cock head and shaft, a sensation which felt so good I wished it could go on for hours.
I knew the moment wouldn't last, though. Reba was remaining patient but starting to breathe more rapidly. From time to time, her belly would tighten up, and she'd moan.
At the conclusion, I had to support Reba. She was rocking her body back and forth while riding me. I found myself gripping Reba's shoulders.
She impaled herself on my penis several more times before letting out a shriek, arching her back, and convulsing. That sent me over the edge. I felt like I shot load after load, but I don't think I had much reserves left.
When Reba stopped shaking, I allowed her to lie down. She pressed her breasts against my chest, positioned her face next to mine, and we laid there with my penis still in her as she made minor contractions.
When my penis finally slipped out, Reba laughed.
"You're probably not going to become hard again for a while, correct?"
I chuckled in return.
"Probably not until late tonight."
Reba rose up.
"I'll make us some coffee and breakfast. Would you like your eggs sunny side up or over easy?"
}|{
We completed our meal and were just sitting there when Reba looked at me and beamed.
"We make a good pair, don't we?"
I grinned.
"Yes, both times last night and this morning were fantastic."
Reba shook her head.
"No, I'm referring to how we caught Mr. Worthington and Victoria cheating on each other."
"Hey, I wasn't considering you hiring me. I was simply considering that I'd assist you when you needed a hand. I honestly don't need another job, nor do I have to work - but I need something to fill my time. Assisting you sounds enjoyable, and I can perform tasks that you can't. You can't enter women's restrooms, and frankly, you don't have the know-how to converse with women to get them to disclose what you yearn for. As a woman, that's something I'm capable of. Additionally, you don't speak Spanish, right?"
Reba grinned once more.
"The benefits would be quite enticing too."
After hour ten, I made my way back to my office. Reba urged me to stay another night, but given her actions this afternoon and then again after dinner, I was managing to stay upright long enough to get to my minivan. That woman could make the pens of a marble statue stand to attention. By the time she'd climaxed thrice that day, my pens was beyond standing - it was down for at least a couple of days.
After a cigarette and two fingers of scotch, I felt fit to retire for the night. As I lay in bed, pondering how to drift to slumber, I was considering what Reba had mentioned about helping me. She had a point about women's restrooms. There have been countless occasions when a cheating wife has spotted me and decided to...er...watch in the women's restroom until I grew tired and left.
There's also the subpoenas that need serving. I can handle the men who get angry at me. I just ensure I maintain enough distance to outrun them. Women, however, are sly. They'll start crying and act like they need a hug, only to swing their purse at me or attempt a kick to the crotch when they think I'm safe. A few of those purses should've been classified as lethal weapons. Speaking of the groin region, I've been on the receiving end of a handful of kicks, and it's tough to assess if a woman is on the verge of striking, so they often succeed. I end up doubled over while she exits with a grin.
Clearly, my issue is that I don't know how to handle women, and Reba might be able to aid me. She wouldn't be clobbered in the crotch because I'm certain she doesn't possess any balls for that purpose.
I'll discover the extent of her assistance. I received a case yesterday from an insurance company that admires my finesse and the fact that I'm occasionally lenient with the rules. Nonetheless, they keep utilizing me, so I don't care about their opinion.
Now that things are returning to normalcy and people are resuming their work routine, that implies that fraudulent insurance claims are resurfacing again. This case entails a guy who claims he worked from home for a year, and upon being forced back to his office, sitting in the chair at his desk all day caused him to develop severe back pain. Per the insurance company's correspondence with me, he'd been working in bed at home and now wants them to fork out three million for pain and suffering, as well as a reclining chair.
Lower back pain is a favored scam, as doctors are obligated to believe you if you express discomfort, even if they can't identify the issue. Typically, I must trail behind some jerk all over the South forty to catch him behaving in a manner that's inconsistent with back pain. This time, I'll have Reba test if he'll perform any such deceit.
No, I won't require her to sleep with the guy. That wouldn't be morally upright and it would infuriate me if another man was shtupping her. I'll merely instruct her to put him in scenarios where he has to bend over to complete something. With her voluminous breasts and captivating arse, that shouldn't be an insurmountable feat for her. I'll be perched with my camera, prepared for Reba and my...encounter that night.
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