Her Private Eye

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Marsh, I would learn, was a product of tragedy and survival. His father's side of the family was dragged to America in the slave trade, but escaped into Indian territory. His mother's side fled from the black trains of Germany to Mexico, then over generations bled across the border into the southwestern U.S. He had mocha skin, a proud European nose, the jawline of a 1950's movie star, and the black eyes of a shark.

"Listen," he said to me by way of introduction, "I was born able to solve a Rubix cube in thirty seconds flat, but I don't deal well with people. I can hit bullseye with a revolver blindfolded, but I can't promise to be nice or kind or even really very human. I'll forget your name, but I'll pay you on time. My name is Marshal Saint-Claud. Do you want the job?"

There was one more thing I didn't mention. Marshal was stunning. Cold, leonine, handsome, though he didn't seem to put any effort into it- no product in his hair, no labels on his clothes. He had an odd felt hat, what I'd later learn was an old English cricket hat, cocked at an odd angle on his short-cropped curly black hair. His fingernails were chewed down to the quick. And yet his absolute beauty could not be denied.

I nodded, and put out a hand that wasn't shaken. "I'm May. I brought my camera and my car."

I decided to not mention my virginity.

"Okay, Molly," Marshal replied. I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Those black eyes bore into me. No wonder he was a detective, he looked like he could take me apart like a puzzle and put me together behind his back. "You drive, I'll navigate. We have a job tonight."

Marshal grabbed a trenchcoat from the wall and led me out the door. I pointed out my truck. He stared at it for a while. "Not very nondescript," he muttered, but he got in the passenger seat anyways.

I started the truck, wincing at every groan, and Marshal began navigating through unlit back streets. He filled me in on the job.

"I've been hired by a local real-estate agent who thinks his wife's cheating on him. He's noticed that his keys to the houses on market go missing at night, when the wife's supposed to be attending AA meetings."

We drove around the sleepy suburbs. Each time we came to a house for sale, we'd slow down. Marsh knew which ones were his targets. If the lights weren't on, Marsh would sneak out of the car and peek through the windows. I admired his athleticism. He'd leap over a hedge or climb over a high iron fence without hesitation.

Finally, we found the right house. It was at the end of a cul-de-sac of identical cookie-cutter homes. Half of them were for sale; two others had Uhaul trucks parked in the driveway. A few houses had their lights on, but only one had a For Sale sign still stuck in the manicured lawn. Marshal had me park a few houses away. We sat in the back of the pickup truck in the dark of the night. Above, a few clouds caught the silver light of the moon. There were frogs seeking answers in the bushes. A cool wind caught at my hands as I adjusted my camera.

"Can you get a shot?" Marshal asked.

I trained the camera on the lit window on the bottom floor of the house. The curtains were open. I zoomed in, and I could see a woman sitting on a couch.

"I see her!"

"Shh! This is a private investigation. We don't need the neighbors to start poking into our business. Just keep your eye on Cassidy and tell me what she's doing"

I watched the man through my camera lense. He was well-built, with broad shoulders and the shadow of a beard on his square jaw. He looked like he'd played football, or maybe rugby, in college.

I watched the woman through my camera lense. She was one of those middle-aged women who still look twenty, every ounce of fat burned away, every wrinkle smoothed down through pure effort, and a neckline like a swan. She wore a white tank-top and black yoga pants, clothes that should have made her look like someone grocery shopping at three in the morning. However, the tank-top clung to her round, perky breasts and I assumed that when she stood the yoga pants would stick to her ass like fuzz on a peach. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, completing the look of someone who could pass for a college student sleeping with the professor, or a soccer mom fucking the young coach.

"I think she's just watching TV," I whispered.

Marshal nodded. "I shadowed Cassidy at some AA meetings. I believe she's got a date with a young guy she met there. Someone your age, actually." He looked at me in the darkness. The moonlight gleamed on his skin, but his eyes were all in shadow.

I searched for a reply. "I think it's something in my generation. I know of a bunch of college guys dating older women. I heard the sex is great." I tried to keep a sardonic look on my face, and hoped Marshal couldn't see me blush.

Marshal laughed. "Makes it tough for you, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess," I chuckled nervously.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"What?"

Marshal shook his head. "Sorry, I told you I'm no good at social skills. I guess that was an inappropriate question."

I took a moment to look at this man who had hired me. I'd assumed he was much older than me, but in the moonlight it was difficult to tell his exact age. His face was expressionless, mask-like, and yet fine-boned, so that I had to search it to tell his meaning. And the more I gazed at Marsh's face, the more I suspected he was both younger, and less invincible, than I had first thought. He wore a trenchcoat over an unbuttoned shirt and brown chinos. An odd combination.

We waited on the back of the truck for over an hour. I kept glancing through my camera at our target, and updated Marsh. Other than that, there was no effort at small talk.

"She's checking his phone."

"She's watching TV again."

"Oh! She just got up! To... use the bathroom."

"She's watching TV again."

"She's texting. She looks disappointed."

Marshal swore. "I'm guessing the date was canceled. He's probably at a frat party instead."

I asked, "Should we do this again another night?"

Marsh took some time to answer. His eyes scanned the darkness, as if looking over his options. "No," he said. "I want to end this now."

Marsh took out his phone. "I've been following Cassidy on Tinder, too," he said. "If she's riled up for a date, she's not going to leave until she gets what she wants."

He began swiping. I tried not to stare, but I was curious about who was popping up on his account. It seemed to be women like Cassidy, approaching middle-age but still fit. A lot of them were holding surfboards or standing on top of boulders. Finally he found his target. He swiped right.

"It's a match," he said with a grim smile. As he texted, he read aloud to me. "I can be there in... twenty minutes. See you soon, baby."

I was aghast. "Wait, you're going in there?"

Marshal nodded. "That's why you're here. I can't be the lady's date and take pictures." He thought for a minute. "Well, I guess I could, but that would be pretty suspicious."

"Is this legal? Is it allowed? Aren't you, technically, the one forcing her to cheat?" I noticed my voice was high, and my heart was beating fast. I couldn't believe what I'd gotten myself into.

Marshal shook his head. "Cassidy's a philanderer. If she's not fucking a freshman boy, she's fucking someone else. Just take pictures and don't make any noise."

He stood up from the tailgate and stretched, rolling his broad shoulders. "I'm going to change in the cab. Don't look."

I kept my eye instead on the camera, and on Cassidy. She was pacing excitedly now, checking her phone for new messages. I'll admit, I felt a little bad for the woman. She looked like a puppy about to go for a walk. She didn't realize that the man holding the leash was also going to sell her to the pound.

I glanced back for a moment, forgetting what Marshal told me. I saw his silhouette in the truck cab. He took off his black cap. The moonlight glinted from bare skin beneath. I looked away, ashamed of myself. Marshal having a bald spot was none of my business. But it did add to the mystery of his age. Was he a young man acting like an aged detective, or an older man in a young man's trade? Finally, I heard the car door opened. Marshal walked out.

He wasn't wearing the trenchcoat or loose shirt anymore. Instead, he was dressed in a dark blue suit, slim and well-fit. The blazer was buttoned over an orange v-neck pullover, with a white button-down shirt beneath cinched by a bright blue tie. He had a matching blue pocket-square, and black framed glasses. On his head he wore a tight-brimmed gray fedora. Furthermore he had applied a fake beard, dark and trimmed nearly into a five-o'clock shadow. He looked unrecognizable: professional, collected, and, I'll admit, handsome as the devil.

"Don't stare too long," he said in his humorless voice. "And don't get any ideas."

It was too late. My heart was racing, and the excitement of being out late with a handsome, powerful man, spying on a woman fucking around with college boys was having an effect on me. I hoped Marsh couldn't see my nipples poking out against my thin college sweatshirt. I took some deep breaths.

Marsh told me to wait until he was inside, then take pictures through any exposed window. "We want pictures of anything that shows obvious cheating. The more salacious, the better." Finally he took from the car a small blue gym bag.

I had to only wonder at what lengths this detective would go. I would soon find out.

Marshal strutted down the block. Even his walk was different, a confident runway march that showed off his strong frame and tight ass. He knocked at the door at the end of the cul-de-sac, which opened immediately. He stepped inside.

I trained my camera through the distant window. Marshal held Cassidy's hand in his. He kissed the back of it. I took pictures. Cassidy laughed wryly, and Marsh's face broke into a sloppy, schoolboy grin, more emotion than I'd seen all night. He looked at Cassidy coyly, then purposefully turned to look at whatever Walmart portraits were framed on the walls. He seemed to be ignoring her purposefully.

Cassidy took the bait.

She approached Marsh from behind, and wrapped her arms around his chest. She kissed the side of his neck, and continued to kiss him as he turned around. She took a step forward and pressed Marshal against the wall. Her kisses were deep and aggressive. Her hands roamed over his body, unbuttoning his blazer and reaching down to touch between his legs.

Click. Click. Click click click. I took pictures.

Marshal, meanwhile, was not playing the innocent. He too was aggressively grabbing at Cassidy's body. Through my lense, I saw him reach down and undo her belt. He unzipped her pants and slipped a hand through the open zipper. She felt for his cock, straining against his pant leg, and teased it through the fabric.

Suddenly Cassidy took a step back. She looked around the room suspiciously, then looked right at me! "Oh, shit!" I scrambled down into the truck bed.

Cassidy approached the living-room window. She grabbed the curtains at either side and pulled them shut.

I realized quickly that, despite my racing heart, I was in no danger. I was sitting in the dark an entire block away from Cassidy. Furthermore, the darkness outside must have turned the window into a mirror. Still, I'd have to find another window to take pictures through.

I leapt down from the truck and ran as quietly as I could towards the house. A narrow path led through a gate to the tiny backyard. I slowly opened the gate and crept into the backyard. It was mostly a concrete patio with a brick barbecue and three square feet of grass. There was a sliding glass door (blinds pulled shut) and a small kitchen window. However, the height of the window would keep me from seeing anything but Cassidy and Marshal's heads.

I climbed up onto the brick barbecue, thankful that no motion-sensing lights were turned on. From this height, I could see through the small window into the kitchen and the living room beyond. I brought up my camera and adjusted the zoom.

Marshal sat in a loveseat I hadn't seen from my previous angle. He had taken off his blazer and pullover, and the bottom buttons of his white shirt were loose, so that beneath his dark glistening abs were exposed. His belt and fly were opened. I could see bright orange briefs underneath.

Cassidy stood a small distance from him. Though unbuttoned, unbelted, and unzipped, he was obviously in command. He motioned for her to stay where she was, then reached down and unzipped his gym bag.

As he bent over, I saw Marshal glance briefly towards the kitchen window. I took a quick picture, knowing a small green light would shine for a moment. He winked. I realized then that Marshal had moved to the loveseat once the curtains had been closed in order to set up this shot. I really had the perfect angle, from the kitchen through a short hallway. And with my camera zoom, it was like I was standing in the room with Cassidy and Marsh.

From the bag, Marshal pulled a large black dildo. It was realistically shaped, if proportionally bigger than any cock I'd seen. It was capped by a large head and even had veins molded into the sides. He crooked a finger, and bid Cassidy towards his lap.

As Cassidy stepped forward, she lifted her tank-top over her head. Her breasts stood out from her thin frame, round with huge dark nipples. She hooked her thumbs into the band of her yoga pants and in two steps was completely naked. She turned towards the back of the house and I got a look at her long, narrow body, the grooves of her muscles, her taut belly like an 18-year-old's, a dark triangle of hair above her tight pussy. She sat down on Marsh's lap, her legs straddling his thigh.

Marshal wrapped one arm around her chest, reaching up and taking one round breast in a firm hand. With the other hand, he started teasing her with the tip of the black dildo. First he ran the head of the dildo from her knee, slowly, up her thigh. As soon as he reached an inch of her pussy, he pulled away. He repeated this move on her other leg, but again circumvented her crotch, and instead traced the dildo up her belly towards her breasts.

Cassidy started bucking her hips against Marshal's thigh. Her nipples stood out from her breasts, and a blush had spread over her chest and up her neck. I could almost see her pulse leaping at her severe jawline.

Marshal pulled Cassidy so that her back rested flush with his chest. I could imagine his erection pressing through his briefs against her tight ass. With his free hand Marshal reached down and spread her legs apart. Her pussy lips glistened, winking open. I stared at her pussy, not believing what was just before my eyes. I then glanced at Marshal, who was staring with urgency at the window. I realized with a shock that I hadn't been taking pictures. I started clicking away.

Marshal teased Cassidy's nipples with the head of the dildo. He circled her luscious breasts with it, then ran it between her breasts. Cassidy grabbed her breasts and pressed them against the dildo as he ran it up and down through them. She was panting wildly.

Marshal reached down and started rubbing Cassidy's pussy lips, getting his fingers wet with her juices. They opened to his touch like a morning flower. He slipped a finger in and started slowly fucking her with it.

At the same time, he raised the big black dildo to her neck, drawing a line from her collarbone to her open lips. Eagerly she wrapped her lips around the head of the dildo, sucking on it. Her hands massaged her breasts and her belly convulsed with pleasure.

Marshal began furiously rubbing at Cassidy's clit while he moved the dildo in and out of her mouth. Cassidy's legs were shaking. She gripped both arms of the loveseat with vice-like hands. She was going crazy.

Nevermind the effects on me!

If seeing Marsh dressed to the nines had warmed my loins, seeing him fuck Cassidy's face with a dildo and her pussy with his fingers was almost causing my nipples to bore two holes in my sweater. In my crouched position, the crotch of my jeans was pressed directly against my pussy. I started spreading my knees a little more, tightening the jeans fabric against my once-again soaked panties. I was honestly worried I would have a stain on my jeans by the end of the night. I wanted nothing more than to undo my jeans and beat my clit into submission, to fuck my fingers until I climaxed. But I kept my hands on my camera and kept taking pictures.

Through my lense I saw Marshal lift Cassidy from his lap. He circled around her and bent her over so that her face was pressed into the back of the chair. Her ass was level with my camera, the two perky cheeks blushed red. Marshal got down on his knees and grabbed her ass in his hands. He leaned forward and started licking her pussy from behind, digging his face between her thighs. With one hand, Cassidy reached back wildly and grasped his head, pressing him deeper into her pussy.

Marshal squeezed Cassidy's ass cheeks as he buried his face deeper. Cassidy looked over her shoulder with a wild gleam in her eye, her mouth opened in pure pleasure. Click! Click! I took more pictures.

Marsh stood, wiped his face with his shirtsleeve, and picked up the black dildo again. With one hand he grabbed Cassidy's ponytail and forced her face into the back of the loveseat. With the other hand, he pressed the big black head of the dildo against her pussy lips. He started moving the dildo slowly, just the bare tip of it, into and out of her pussy. With the other, he kept her head firmly pressed down. Through the lense, I could see Marsh's own cock straining against his underwear.

Marshal kept moving the dildo back and forth, still putting barely any of it into Cassidy's pussy. Each time he pushed the dildo forward, just another quarter inch or so entered. But as more of the dildo went in, he increased the pace. Soon the entire giant head of the dildo was vanishing into Cassidy's pussy, then getting pulled back out. It glistened with her pussy juices. Cassidy's legs and pert ass shook in pleasure and desire for more. Faster now, he pushed and pulled the head of the pussy in and out, in and out, and again another quarter inch, another inch, another three inches of the huge dildo vanished into Cassidy's pussy.

Even from outside in the backyard I could hear Cassidy's cries of fierce pleasure.

Cassidy reached back with a hand, groped the air wildly for a moment, and then found the waistband of Marshal's briefs. She yanked it down and wrapped her fingers around his swollen cock. As Marshal fucked her pussy with the dildo- now a full half of the monster pumping in and out- Cassidy pumped his cock. Her face was still pressed into the sofa, her full breasts swinging beneath her bent body.

Finally Cassidy could take no more. Her legs shuddered as she let out a primal scream and climaxed. Marshal pulled the big wet dildo from her soaked, loose pussy. As he did so, Cassidy flipped around on the loveseat, leaned forward, and absolutely swallowed Marshal's cock. The entire length of it vanished down her pale throat. Marshal let out his own cry and grabbed the back of Cassidy's head. He kept her face pressed against his crotch, his cock buried deep, for a moment more, and I could only imagine him cumming, releasing down Cassidy's throat. Then Cassidy sat back on the loveseat, exhausted. A little white cum had dribbled down her chin. She scooped it up with a finger and sucked it into her mouth, her eyes on Marsh the whole time. Grinning lasciviously, she wiped her lips with the back of a sweaty palm.

Marshal pulled his cock, now limp, back into his briefs. He zipped his pants and buckled his belt. Buttoning his shirt as well, he walked towards the kitchen. I continued to watch him through my camera lense though I was done taking pictures. There was a confidence, a swagger to him, like a pirate done raiding a queen's pleasure boat.