The Black Widow Case Pt. 02

By Likegoodwinecopyrighted February 2012

Here comme the second installment of 3. There is almost no sex to speak of in this one. Enjoy! Thanks to Scalia for his patient editing.

Your votes and constructive comments are appreciated, as they will help me grow.

Chapter 4

I concluded I had been bumping into Martha by total 'coincidence' too many days in a row. My training told me that it might look suspicious. So, I decided to cut back a few days before meeting her again by 'chance'. As my coffee shop routine was now well established, I managed to be there around the same time each day but letting Martha only get a glimpse of me coming out.

Four days later, I timed my arrival so I would be right behind her in line.

"Martha! How are you doing?" I asked, very upbeat.

She turned around, smiling. "Hi Allan! I'm good. It's nice to meet you again. If I didn't know better, I would say that you are stalking me."

Oh my God! She is coming on to me. This might just be easier than I thought to get close to her after all.

"Oh, but I am! It has been such a long time since I met a woman worth stalking, and there you were, splendid, classy, and wonderful. As a matter of fact, I have a GPS tracker in your car. It makes stalking so much easier." I was smiling from ear to ear, not only to appear friendly, but also laughing inwardly at my statement of the truth. "But you know what?" I asked while digging in my coat inside pocket to retrieve a fake business card. It read 'Dupuis Inc., Allan Smith, Researcher.'

I handed her my card. "My cell phone number is at the bottom, just in case my GPS tracker quits on me. So if you phone once in a while to let me know where you're at, I would greatly appreciate it."

We both started laughing. She finally dug in her purse, retrieved her own business card and gave it to me.

"Stalking is a lousy business. If you are in need of a PR professional, you will know who to call."

"PR like in 'Personal Respite' from a boring day at work?" I asked, , flirting shamelessly.

She looked straight at me. "Yeah! Something like that!"

We finally reached the counter. I pushed her a bit on the side and ordered. "Two Cappuccinos, one with one sugar and the other with two sugars." I turned toward Martha and said not very loud, "Stalking has its advantages. You ordered that the other day."

We kept silent while the coffees were made. A few minutes later, we parted. She left for her office but after a few seconds she gave me a last look over her shoulder. I was still looking at her going away. I waved at her, she smiled, and she walked away.

An hour later, I was in my van. I've followed all her moves since the death of Nelson. Work, home, work, home! She followed the same routine, day after day. She didn't have a chance to meet a lover. I am not that familiar with serial killers, but there must be a period where they have no need to kill right after a fresh kill.

I think she is ripe. I called her.

"Hello, Martha Cicerone speaking."

"Martha, it's Allan Smith. I'm bored. I am in dire need of some PR. Could we meet for lunch? Please, pretty please!"

She let out a heartfelt laugh. "Yeah, why not! Where would you like to go?"

"Well, there's a little Thai place not too far from where I work. It's simple, fast and, most importantly, tasty," I said remembering a restaurant she goes at least once a week at lunch.

"Oh the Taste of Siam. I know it. It's a date. See you there shortly after 12."

A few hours later, we were sitting at a small table in a restaurant full of office workers. We chatted mostly of our work, me of my fake job as a researcher of a pharmaceutical company, and her of her work as marketing consultant.

Towards the end, we touched more personal matters. As part of my cover, I told her I had a wife but no children, her choice, not mine. Martha told me all about her wonderful husband, Hector.

We soon shook hands before parting with a promise to do it again, soon.

For the next three weeks, this was my modus operandi. At least twice a week, I would see her at the coffee shop, and at least once a week I would invite her for lunch. Our time spent together was wonderful. We learned more about each other with each meeting, finding many common interests and tastes. Slowly, I prodded her about her youth. She could become a very effective politician by the way she deflected the questions but always without blatantly avoiding it. Often, the question was simply redirected toward me. Nevertheless, I was gaining more insight on her.

That third week, she surprised me by inviting me for lunch. That would become a pivotal moment in the investigation.

"What about lunch today?"

"Sure!" I replied.

"Kyoto, corner of Lance and Duvall, at 11." she replied back.

"Shit!" I thought. "Raw fish again.."

"See you there!" I answered back.

I arrived at Kyoto right at 11. A petite Asian woman came to greet me, a smile showing all the creases of her advanced age. "Welcome Sir! Welcome to Kyoto's Restaurant. Place for one? Only one?" she asked with a very heavy Asian accent.

"No!" I answered. "As a matter of fact, I am meeting a friend here. A lady friend."

If possible, her smile widened.

"Oh, you must be guest of Ms. Citrone. This way please!" On that, she turned around and led me toward the back of the restaurant, away from the main floor. In a hallway, four open curtains were revealing tables that ensured complete discretion.

"Here, sit! Ms Citrone will be here shortly." The lady said, then she left.

It was a small round table surrounded by a curved seat covered with plush cushions. I sat and surmised that it was really intimate. I guess the food would be awful but I kept this place as a reference for future meeting with cautious clients.

Martha soon appeared with the small lady. I stood up and we exchanged a peck on the cheek. She turned toward the Asian lady and said: "Thank you Asuka! You can start to serve us now."

Asuka bowed, closed the curtain, and left.

I sat on one extremities of the curved seat and Martha sat on the other but moved further down till she was almost next to me.

"I am glad that you could make it. I don't know what came over me," said Martha. Her voice lowered a bit, became husky. Her hand touched mine. "I had to see you. I keep thinking about you." That was what I call a direct approach! Before I had time to found my voice back, I heard the clattering of silverware in the hallway. Soon, an old Asian cook was parting the curtain and started to put a few covered dishes on the table. He was gone in a matter of seconds, without uttering a single word.

"I hope you like Japanese cuisine," she asked while removing the cover on each dish, revealing food that I had never seen before.

"Well, I've never eaten Japanese food before, but as soon as you uncover the Japanese burger, I'll be fine."

Martha let out a nice throaty laugh. She grabbed a pair of chopsticks and looked me straight in the eyes.

"It's alright! I'll be your geisha today. I will feed you."

On that, she picked something that looked like some fried vegetables. She said the name but I couldn't repeat it even if my life depended on it. She put the morsel to my mouth and I took it. I cautiously chewed on it and I must admit that it wasn't bad at all, and I said so. As soon as she finished her own bite, she took another morsel, dipped it in a little bowl of sauce and put it to my mouth. I wasn't quick enough and a bit of sauce dripped on the side of my mouth and down to my chin. I feared for a second that it might be a very spicy sauce, but was surprised by the sweet taste of it that mixed very well with the other vegetable, something a bit spongy, like a mushroom.

As I was grabbing a napkin to clean my chin, Martha put her hand on my hand holding the napkin. "How clumsy of me! You have sauce all over your face. Let me clean it," she said. She came closer to me. I barely noticed that one of her breasts was now touching my arm because her magnificent face was now inches from mine. Her eyes never leaving mine, her lips parted and she licked the sauce from my chin to the side of my lips. She finished with her tongue licking my lips slightly and her own lips brushing mine.

In the process, she had moved right beside me, and she continued to feed us both. Towards the end of the meal, it was with trepidation that I felt again some sauce dripping on my chin. Sure enough, she glued herself to me and licked it clean, her lips searching mine, and our tongues meeting for the first time. We kept kissing and I sensed her hand going up my thighs and coming to rest on my raging hard-on.

She broke the kiss as her hand started to stroke my cock through the fabric of my pants.

"I can see that your personal geisha did a good job today," she said. She then proceeded to unzip my pants and got a firm hold of my erection. "Do you mind if I leave the normal reserve of a geisha and become the assertive American woman?"

Not knowing exactly where she was heading but hoping that she would not leave me with a bad case of blue balls, I simply nodded and croaked "Go ahead!"

She went down on me and engulfed my cock. I looked toward the curtain. Martha was looking up at me and stopped her sucking for a second. "Don't worry! They will not bother us." And on that she resumed her blowjob.

I had seen her give a few blowjob to Thomas Nelson. But it was an entirely different experience to be at the receiving end of it. I was ecstatic. Her tongue was playing around the rim of my penis while she sucked lightly on it. Then she proceeded to take me deeper, creating enough friction to drive me crazy. While her warm mouth was around my cock, I knew that she could probably grab a knife and plunge it in my heart, and I would still die with a smile on my face. She was that good.

As the pressure was mounting in my balls, I took a hold of her head and followed her up and down motion. Suddenly I erupted. She took it all, swallowing everything.

"Hum! I like the dessert in this restaurant," she playfully said.

"And the service is four stars," I replied in kind.

She pushed herself a bit deeper on the seat, away from me and lifted her dress to reveal her bare pussy. I don't know if she doesn't wear panties at work or if she lost it on the way here, but when she spread her legs, it was obvious what I had to do.

Eagerly, I dove between her legs to have my first taste of her welcoming pussy. She was already wet. With my tongue, I prodded the folds of her pussy, found her clit and started to gently suck on it. Her hands grabbed my head and pushed me harder on her pussy. I started to lick in earnest, my fingers finding the opening of her pussy. In a matter of minutes, I had repaid her for her nice service and she had a quiet but strong orgasm. I kept kissing her pussy for a few more seconds, losing myself in her scent.

We straightened up on the seat, staying close to each other and kissed with abandon.

She left a trace of kisses all the way from my mouth, up to my cheek and ended near my ear. "Wait till we have supper together. I promise even more services."

"When would that be?" I asked.

"Not his week , but maybe next week. I'll see and let you know. What about you? Will you be available for a late supper?"

"I am always available," I said. Then I remembered my lie about having a wife. "Or I would work very hard to be free for you."

We parted soon after, with Asuka winking knowingly at Martha and saying: "Good for you. He nice and young!"

Before leaving, I had a quick look inside the ground floor part of the restaurant. I thought that I faintly recognized somebody but it took me a while to place the person. It was Bill Braden, Martha's supervisor, sitting alone at a table, his back toward the entrance. It's his reflection in the window that I glimpsed.

Chapter 5

Jealousy is a pretty strong feeling to get rid of. I learned a lot about Martha over the course of the next month and I started to have a weird sensation each time I knew she was meeting another man. Call me stupid if you want, but I was feeling jealous. The only one that did not evoke these feelings was her husband. Towards him, my most noticeable feeling was guilt. I was screwing his wife. Yes, at least once a week we were able to find some time to fuck.

How could a working professional woman get away with so many late lunches? The easiest way: by fucking her boss. I have it in my logs of her sexual bouts. They were fucking at least twice a week and this is without knowing if they had sex at work. Good for him as he was divorced, but bad for all other lovers, including yours truly.

I have to say that my little writing pad wasn't enough to keep track of all the sexual encounters of Martha. I really needed to start a log on my laptop. As I never saw her look at an electronic scheduler, it was a wonder to observe her mind abilities to keep track of all her dates. Some were following just a few minutes after the last one on her most hectic days. The list of her lovers included her boss, a work colleague, a client, her husband and me.

The problem was that I wasn't making any headway in trying to decipher her, to know more about her previous deceased lovers or her past life. As open as she was in bed, she was closed when it came to more personal matters. Anyway, I was taking it slow. I didn't want to scare her.

One Friday, Martha offered me a nice surprise when she asked me what my plans were for Saturday morning. I had none and told her so. She invited me to meet her at a very nice little Inn of the Interstate about 20 miles out of town. A room would be booked under her maiden name.

After one hour and a half of nice and slow fucking, we ended up chatting lazily on the bed. At that point, I decided to go for it and hoped for the best.

"Martha, how many lovers do you have?" I asked.

She looked at me with a baffle look on her face. I felt her insecure for the first time. She bent toward me and gave me a gentle kiss.

"Just you handsome, just you," she finally said.

"Martha, I wish it was so, but I have to admit that I did stalked you last week. Well, I wanted only to say Hi or at least wave at you from afar. You were having lunch at the Hilton with an old guy and you never saw me. I saw you leave the restaurant and go up with him toward the rooms. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to invade your privacy, but I had an urge to know what you were doing. I was still nursing a drink when you came down one hour later."

I did pile up a lot of horseshit in that statement but it had the expected result. A lot of emotions crossed her face among which were a slight annoyance, some bewilderment, and -- most surprisingly -- a trace of guilt. She finally cuddled to me, avoiding looking at me in the process.

"Don't be like that Allan. I feel real cozy with you and I don't want you to start being jealous or something. I love when I am around you, when I am with you, having sex with you. It has to be enough. Anyway, why would you be jealous? You also have another lover, your wife. And I don't feel bad about that. Why should you?"

Damn she's good! Maybe I could be better.

"I can't help it. This is the first time that I have been unfaithful. I am head over heels with you. No other woman can compare to what I feel for you. I accept that you still love your husband, always will. But it kind of crushed me when I saw you with another man. Thinking 'how many there are?' How many guys out there are just waiting for a call from you? Don't you feel a little something about me?"

She kissed me again, more forcefully this time.

"I have many lovers Allan! I told you before, 'not one man can satisfy my sexual needs'. But it goes beyond my sexual needs. I also need to be loved, to be cherished, and to be coveted. One thing is sure: I also feel the same way toward you as you feel toward me. It is more than simple sex appeal or lust. I also feel as if you know me better than I know myself. I wish that we could meet more often, to be together longer. That's why I asked you the first chance I had to be away from home or work for more than a couple of hours. You also grew on me, Silly. Can't you just love me? Without the drama?"

I almost felt guilty lying to her. I often had to remind myself that I was on a job worth $360 grand. I decided to change tracks in my questioning.

"Sure I can. I already feel silly, and I can't wait for the next kiss."

She kissed me, lovingly, tenderly. In that kiss, I felt loved, cherished, desired. With that kiss, I fell in love with her all over again.

"I love you Mrs. Cicerone. And I don't say it to get in your pants as I am already there."

We kissed again. It was getting late. I knew she would be soon taking a shower and head back home. I had to work harder to get more information. She started to play with my penis, which was coming back to life.

"Tell me about your childhood, your youth, your first years as an adult. I want to understand you better. Why so insatiable about sex? There must be other men and women like you, but you are the first I've ever met," I asked Martha.

"Or I am the first one that you notice. I don't think I am that much different from a bunch of people. Hey I often went to swing clubs. I can tell you I am not the only one. I am lucky and cursed to have a husband like Hector. If he loved me less, he would be going to these clubs with me. He would have as many pussies as I would have cocks, I would be satisfied - I think -- and there would be no need to lie. But I am cursed to always lie to him. And lucky to have such a husband," she said.

"Are you sure that nothing in your childhood can explain that?"

"No, nothing. I had a normal childhood with very regular parents that are still together. I don't follow the same pattern it seems."

"No traumatic event when your were a teenager?"

"My goodness! Aren't you the shrink today! But to answer your question, nothing! I was 17 when I first had sex -- it wasn't that great -- no fond memories of my first time as it is often the case. After that I had regular sex, always protected, always willing, very willing as a matter of fact. Well, there was that college guy when I was in my last year in High school. That's when I started to get wilder."

"Did he rape you?"

"No! He revealed to me how good sex can be. He was very experienced. Before that, I had been mostly with first timers, beginners with no skills. He gave me my first orgasm. After that, I became unstoppable. If a guy had no skills, I took time to show him how to do it." She giggled. "I believe there are many women that could thank me if their boyfriend or husband is so good at love making. I made them."

She looked at the alarm clock and suddenly jumped out of bed. She looked at my now very erect cock that she had been handling for the last few minutes. "Sorry if I leave you in that state. I have to get a shower." And she darted toward the washroom.

To be continued