Adventures of Daddy's Girl 02

David is in. I bound into his office, wearing a cute, short baby blue skirt, white thigh-high socks, and a white button-up shirt.

"Hi, David!"

"Hello, Lolly." David nods behind me. "Mr. Bear." He directs his gaze back to me. I absently scratch at an itch on my thigh, pushing the short skirt up a couple more inches.

David clears his throat. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Actually, yes. We're on a case, and we have reason to believe that our client has counter-surveillance being run on him. We figured that if you happen to be working for the other party, we could both resolve our clients' issues easier if we share a bit of information."

"What kind of information are you looking for?"

"We just need to know if you're currently working on a domestic case."

"You're going to have to get more specific than that. You know how common requests for domestic surveillance are. What's the suspicion?"

"Well, that's where things get tricky. Do you have any clients you suspect may not be being fully honest with you?"

David's eyes narrow. "I don't typically bitch about my clients. It's bad business. And if they aren't being honest, I figure it out soon enough."

I turn to Mr. Bear. "Maybe I'm not wording this correctly. Let me think." While I'm thinking, I bend over to tie my sneaker laces, which have come loose. My skirt is pretty short, and it feels like I could be revealing my lack of underwear and the cute fuzz underneath, but David and I are friends, so I'm sure he doesn't mind.

I hear him swallow behind me. As I'm tying my laces, I look up at Mr. Bear, who has his arms crossed over his chest and a stony look on his face. He's so cute.

When I stand and turn back around, David is looking up at the ceiling. "All done," I say, straightening my skirt.

He looks at me again.

"So, David, as colleagues, let's do a little 'I reveal mine' and 'you reveal yours'." He clears his throat and looks helplessly to Mr. Bear.

I continue speaking. "Our client suspects his wife of infidelity. He hired us to tail her and the suspected lover. But something is off, and the suspects seem to be aware of our presence.

Sound at all familiar to you?"

"Lolly, I can honestly say no. None of my current cases fit that description. Now if you don't mind, I need to get back to work."

#

"David is always trying to cut our meetings short. I don't believe he's really that busy," I say to

Mr. Bear after we leave. "Do you think he doesn't like me?"

Mr. Bear chuckles. "I think he likes you just fine. Who wouldn't?" And then he picks me up in his arms and carries me down the sidewalk. I squeal and giggle, and ignore the staring passersby.

We make a stop by the office of the other local snoop, Summer Hart, but she's not in, so I convince Mr. Bear to take me by the park to push me on the swings before we head back to the office. And then I leave a message on Hart's voicemail for her to get back with me about a potential conflicting case.

In the interim, I review the security footage we've taken at Mr. Smock's residence. Mr. Greenwood is certainly over there often enough. And not having cameras in the master bedroom really didn't hinder any evidence collection. Greenwood and Ms. Smock seemed to have no qualms about joining their bodies in various configurations in several rooms in the house, including the kitchen, the laundry room, and interestingly enough, the storage room where the dog's food is kept. The dog was present to watch that particular scenario. Awkward.

At this point, I definitely have enough information to tell the client with confidence that his wife is having an affair with Mr. Greenwood. There's no mistaking the two of them on the videos. But I don't feel right about just closing the case. There's still more to this, and I'm going to figure it out.

But first, I rewatch the surveillance footage of the laundry room. In that video, Ms. Smock sits on top of the washing machine. She leans back, and the camera reveals a jeweled plug tucked into her back hole. The washing machine is on, visibly vibrating, and she sits forward again. I can't see it, but in that position, it's clear that the plug would be touching the machine, vibrating away in her asshole. He is standing in front of her, stroking his cock. His lips move, saying something to her, though again, we don't have any audio with the footage.

Ms. Smock spreads her legs in the video. I spread mine at my desk. Dion Greenwood gets down on his knees, pressing his mouth against her pussy. I hike up my skirt and slip my hand down to feel slick wetness. I rub my clit with my fingers as he licks her clit on the video.

And then the door to the surveillance room opens, and I startle, jumping up in my chair. One look at my face and Daddy knows exactly what I was up to. He comes around to the side of the desk I'm sitting on and looks at the video.

"Is that what you want, little girl?"

"Yes," I say.

"Okay."

Daddy drops to his knees and buries his face into my pussy, quickly finding my clit and flicking his tongue against it rapidly.

"Oh yes, Daddy, like that!"

He hums while he sucks on my clit, the humming making vibrations that feel so good.

Then, just as abruptly as he started, he stops. He lifts his head to look at me, pussy juices glistening in his beard. He stands, grabs me up out of the chair, and sits down. He bends me over his lap. He slaps my pussy. It stings, and I squeal, pressing into his lap.

"Stay still," he growls.

He slaps my pussy again. Again. And again. I can feel wetness on myself and on his hand as he slaps me.

Then, he starts rubbing my clit, pressing the flats of three fingers over it, rubbing them in circles.

"Are you supposed to touch yourself in the office?"

"No."

"No, what?"

He slaps my pussy again.

"No, Sir!"

He continues rubbing my clit in circles. When I start grinding back against him and moaning, he stops. I whine.

And then he tears into my ass with his palm, spanking each cheek several times in succession. I cry out and lean into him.

Now he speaks, and each word is emphasized with another slap on my ass. "If you need to come while you are at work, you will get me."

He stops spanking me. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good."

"May I come now?"

"No."

I pout.

"While you were in here playing, we got a call from Summer Hart. She doesn't have any clients that match with either of our suspects."

"Okay, so they're working alone."

"Either that, or they know a P.I. willing to travel long distances for minor surveillance."

"That seems unlikely."

"I agree."

"In which case, we need to do a bug sweep."

It's not unheard of for people to plant recording devices. Nanny cams and things like that. Unfortunately, a lot of people don't know the laws against recording private conversations without consent from the other party. In most states, at least one person being recorded has to be aware that the recording is taking place. (In some states, like here, both parties have to know and consent to being recorded.)

After sweeping our vehicle, our office, and Mr. Smock's residence, however, we come up with nothing. We have not sent any information to the client electronically. No texts. No emails. And we certainly don't leave private information in voicemails.

"Okay," I say, slumping into the chair behind my main desk. "I guess it was all just coincidence."

"I'm sorry," he says. "Sometimes hunches are wrong. It's still good to investigate. That's what we do."

"Let's go for a walk, Mr. Bear."

As we walk down the street, my small hand in Mr. Bear's big hand, I feel tired. I'm glad that the case is pretty much solved, but it feels anticlimactic after thinking that there was more to it than there first appeared. It feels a little like we wasted time, though I know that being thorough is never a waste of time.

"You wanna go get some burgers?" Mr. Bear asks.

I nod dejectedly.

We walk up to a local place called The Fatty Burger that sells burgers, fries, and shakes. Mr. Bear orders me one of each. I dunk one of the fries into my chocolate shake, and he doesn't even tell me not to make a mess.

And then beside me, at the next table, I hear a conversation. I can't help listening in. I'm a naturally curious eavesdropper. It's one of the reasons I went into investigatory work.

"What do you mean you recorded videos of us?"

"Tammy, the stuff we do is hot. I can make good money off that."

My ears perk up at the name. I pick up my cell phone from the table and turn away from Daddy to feign checking messages. Click. I hit the video recording button and make sure the audio is on.

"You can't make money off that. I'm married. Someone will recognize me."

"Come on, you know I don't have a job right now. I can only survive on unemployment for so long. This could be a good business for me."

"Are you kidding? Donovan could find out."

"Oh come on. He'd probably be the first one to pay to see it."

I turn and give Mr. Bear an amused look, as if to say, I would have thought so too. Mr. Bear is trying to look inconspicuous and turn his body away from them. He's giving me the abort signal. But I want to make sure we get plenty of the conversation. I lean in so it looks like I'm kissing him on the cheek and whisper, "Go ahead and get the car started, Mr. Bear. I'll be right there."

The conversation next to me continues.

"Take down those cameras, now. I don't want any more videos of me."

"I already took them down."

"Good."

"Had to. Donnie's snoops were planning to come look for them."

"What?"

"Yeah, Donnie hired a couple private investigators to check out what we'd been up to." A big grin spread across Dion Greenwood's face. "Like I said, I bet he's our first fan."

"Are you insane? You're telling me my husband knows about us?"

"Oh, absolutely he knows."

"I'm not doing any more videos with you, and I'm not meeting up with you anymore."

"Okay, I'll get videos with someone else then."

"You're an ass."

"Look who's suddenly high and mighty after screwin' around on her husband for weeks."

The recording ends with the screeching of Ms. Smock's chair legs as she gets up to storm away.

#

Well, the case is finally closed. I reported to Mr. Smock that we had ample evidence of an affair between his wife — Tammy Smock — and Dion Greenwood, including a public confession from the two of them. What he now chooses to do with that information is in his hands.

I walk around in front of Mr. Bear's desk at the office and bend over in my short skirt to tie my sneaker. He doesn't say anything, but I know he's looking. Then the bell on the door rings, and I stand up abruptly.

A chubby, sweet-looking man stands in front of me. We stare at each other for a couple beats. His face looks like he is in emotional agony. His mouth is turned downward, and his eyes are worried. And then he exclaims, "Someone has been following me!"

I motion to the desks. "Please come tell us what is going on, Mr...?"

"Jameson. Craig Jameson."

I walk around to the business side of my desk and hop into the chair.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Jameson. I'm Lolly, licensed private investigator, and this is my partner, Mr. Bear."