Hubristic

Definition: "hubristic, adj.; of or relating to hubris; overly arrogant or self-confident;" usage: "a hubristic belief in his own self-proclaimed genius"

I've come to realize that virtually all of my stories are a female's first person narration. I thought that I'd try something different; a male first person account with a female as the protagonist.

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As I sat listening to an apparently very wealthy prospective client, with the pretentious name of Tobias Richmond von Berswordt-Wallrabe, drone on I was starting to zone out due to boredom when suddenly a two word phrase and a photo snapped me back to reality. The phrase was "substantial bonus" and the photo was of one of the most intriguing women I had ever seen in my life.

My name is Patrick Drake -- no, not Paul Drake, although I was a Perry Mason fan as a kid -- and I'm a high priced Private Investigator. I'm not one of those flea-bitten, barely-able-to-make-ends-meet, rubes you see on trashy TV shows. I wear $2,000 suits (unless incognito), get $100 haircuts, and belong to a cushy country club. I got my creds working as an NYC police detective liaison with Scotland Yard and had the best solve rate of any detective in the history of any large metropolitan police force in the US. I "retired" at the young age of 40 and started my own high-end practice. I pride myself on being the highest paid PI in the country -- at least that I know of. I have a staff of twenty but always involve myself in the most difficult cases.

Once I was awakened from my lethargy by the aforementioned phrase and photograph I cut to the chase. "I don't usually do domestic investigations," that's a euphuism for cheating spouse inquiries, "but I can tell that you're a cultured man and in a bind. Let me ask some pointed questions."

"Please proceed," Toby (that's what I'll call him except to his face) replied, crossing his legs like an ancient duke or some such royalty.

"First tell me about the woman in the photo -- I assume that is your wife," I said, staring at the photo and then looking Toby in the eye. The woman in the photo was not the most beautiful woman I had ever seen; but WOW was she alluring. She was dressed in a stylish business suit with an unnecessarily short skirt without a hair or iota of makeup out of place. Her blouse and suit jacket could not hide her seemingly massive mammaries, however. Her legs looked sculptured and her expression was confident and superior. What was most striking, however, were her eyes. They were the closest to YInMn Blue that I'd ever seen outside of an inorganic crystal -- the most intense blue color known.

"Priscilla" [of course she had to have a haughty name] "is a very intelligent and accomplished woman. She has been rich most of her life -- not as rich as I am, but very rich. She is thirty five years old, has a Masters in Economics from Oxford and a Bachelor of Science degree in Finance from MIT. Although she doesn't need to work because both she and I are so wealthy she insists on working as a consultant in a company that she is one of the principal partners of doing troubleshooting for corporations and institutions that have financial difficulties."

"Why did you marry her?" I cut to the chase.

"Because of her physical beauty, intelligence, and because she is the most prim and proper person I have ever met in my life. She never uses crude language of any type, is stoic in interpersonal relationships, never wears any clothing -- even for exercise which she endeavors at least five times a week -- that doesn't have a crease in it, and never even sweats -- she glows," Toby replied, seemingly getting starry eyed while he talked.

"What makes you suspect that she is cheating?"

"I can't really articulate it. My ancestors were known for having a keen sixth sense and I have had a number of situations in my life that lead me to believe that I inherited that sixth sense. I would say that the main reason, however, is that in the last two years she has transitioned from being a great -- although entirely proper -- lover to as hot as the best high-priced call girls I used to hire before I met her," Toby responded, turning red after his last statement.

I chuckled to myself "Most guys would accept their wife being hotter than a firecracker and not care about the origin; but I guess when you have the perceived social standing of Toby you need to be concerned." To him I said, "OK, let me have everything you know about her schedule, some more photographs of her, and a list of her friends and places that she frequents even if not on a schedule."

I have to give Toby credit; he came prepared. I got all of the information I needed, some of which surprised me. The most surprising thing -- he didn't know if she had any female friends. He named a few acquaintances including a couple of women she knew at the gym that she often worked out at -- but she never did anything with female "friends."

Finally I gave him my fee schedule and asked about the "substantial bonus" he had indicated. The response "$100,000" was music to my ears. He signed a contract that one of my secretaries generated, gave me an advance of $40,000, gave me the phone number I should call or text to him on, and we shook hands as he exited my office.

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After Toby left I called in my most experienced male (William) and female (Cheryl) operatives and had them get to work on all of the preliminary stuff. Since I wanted to be sure to get the performance bonus I would be working with the two of them -- and anyone else we might need to bring into the investigation later -- to make sure we were successful. A tracker was immediately put on her car, to the extent possible we put small remote-controlled wireless cameras at various locations where she might go, and we started background investigations of her partners and co-workers at her office.

I guess that I was too confident the first two weeks of the investigation. Either I, or one of my experienced operatives, followed Priscilla around. She always seemed to wear very colorful -- although still entirely proper -- clothes when she went to her office or to visit clients, including often wearing a distinctive hat and sunglasses. She seemed so easy to follow that I got careless. It wasn't until the end of the second week when I followed her from her office to a client's office that I realized my mistake.

I got a good close-up look at the woman who had gone from Priscilla's office to what I assumed was a client's office. While she was virtually the same size and shape as Priscilla -- although not as well-endowed in the chest area -- and with exactly the same clothes on it wasn't Priscilla. That meant that the last two weeks' work was virtually worthless since we had followed her body double rather than her several times.

If Priscilla employed a body double that made her activities very suspicious. Although we noticed nothing untoward the first two weeks that was now meaningless -- she could have been fucking an entire football team for all that we knew.

Once we caught on to Priscilla's body double scheme we tried to penetrate her office environment. We bribed the guy who serviced the plants and bribed the woman who serviced the enormous fish tank in the reception area to wear and plant cameras; I had employees dress as messengers, and tried every other thing that we could think of.

I know, the cameras -- at least the planted ones -- aren't legal but I made sure that I had supported deniability. Actually, the cameras didn't help much, and in one way hurt.

They didn't help much because I didn't see anything going on in Priscilla's office area that was obviously suspect, although she was visited in her personal office by several men that were distinguished looking and handsome; however, they had every indication of actual clients of her company, especially the way they were treated by the staff. The plant guy was able to get a look into her personal office once, and it was just what you would expect of a high class office -- except for a solid side door that wasn't accounted for on the floor plan we received (purloined) from the workplace of the architect that designed it.

Priscilla was always prim and proper. After a while, though, it seemed that the only chance she had for shenanigans was either when she was travelling, in her personal office itself (unlikely), or at the health club on the first floor of her office building that she went to every day that her body double left the building at the same time that she went to the health club.

The bad thing that the cameras did was to give me the reaction that I had to seeing Priscilla all of the time. She may have been a prim and proper bitch -- but she had a sultriness about her that was overpowering, at least to me. It's not good when you dream about fucking (in a sexual way, not "fucking over") a target of a cheating spouse investigation.

A got a membership in the swanky health club that Priscilla went to and with what I thought was a good disguise -- it had always worked for me before -- went there to observe her about a third of the time that she patronized the health club. I also had to get memberships for my operatives Cheryl and William who worked with me on the "Priscilla Project" since even with my disguise I didn't want to go every day, and each of us observing a third of the time should allow us to witness almost everything.

Half of the time that Priscilla went to her health club she had a vigorous workout for about 45 minutes -- it was easy to see how she kept a hard body considering how hard she worked -- but then seemed to disappear for another hour and ten minutes; then, having showered, she returned to her office. Despite our best efforts all that the three of us could determine was that there likely was a private normally inaccessible area of the health club that she disappeared into.

If Priscilla was having a sexual liaison during the unaccounted for hour plus it was difficult to determine who it was with. There were lots of guys at the health club who subtly ogled Priscilla -- she stood out in her creased exercise clothes, and her big tits (there were other hard-body females in the club but not with creased high end exercise outfits or tits anywhere near as big as hers). However, there was no obvious time that she disappeared with any particular guy even though there was one guy who Cheryl thought might be a prospect.

The guy Cheryl identified we investigated. His name was Alan Voorhees. He is tall, strong, good-looking, and rich, especially for someone so young -- our investigation revealed eight years younger than Priscilla. He and Priscilla never really interacted, but often they disappeared within five minutes of each other and Alan stood out as about the only man anywhere near Priscilla who didn't at least subtly ogle her -- and while other women ogled Alan, Priscilla never did.

After about six weeks monitoring Priscilla in the health club one day I thought that I had hit paydirt. I surreptitiously moved into an area of the club that was hard to find, and where normal members didn't go, shortly after Priscilla -- and Alan -- pulled a disappearing act. I heard grunts and moans coming from what turned out to be a room behind a secret panel that was actually a door. I carefully opened it with my disguised camera filming. I did film about ten seconds of some major rutting going on, however it wasn't Priscilla or Alan but another man and woman who I had seen in the health club before -- although never together.

I called the phone number Toby had given me once a week and reported everything that I observed, although I concluded each conversation by honestly reporting we had no evidence whatsoever that she was cheating -- or was anything aside from prim and proper all of the time.

I did travel to Pittsburgh when Priscilla went there on business after the first couple of week's monitoring her in the health club. In Pittsburgh it was likely that she hooked up with a well-heeled man at the same hotel. However, both were very sly and subtle and despite my best efforts and even staking out her room most of the night, I could never get real proof.

Several weeks after I ran across another man and woman rutting at the health club Priscilla again went out of town on business, this time to Boston. By this point I had been investigating for months and despite my self-confidence (maybe overconfidence) still had zip.

I travelled to Boston too, on a different flight and again in disguise, and got a room in the same hotel as Priscilla. I was a little surprised when at check-in the desk clerk said "We have a special room for you Mr. Drake." I didn't arrange for the travel myself but my travel specialist doesn't normally make special requests, I was about to ask about it when there was some sort of mix-up that was being dealt with by another receptionist at the reception desk and my clerk went over to help out for about a minute. By the time that she returned it slipped my mind to ask what "special room" had been arranged.

That night I carefully surreptitiously followed Priscilla; that is I thought that I did. In view of what happened I guess that I didn't really.

While Priscilla engaged in some suspicious behavior eventually I saw her get in a hotel elevator alone and it stopped at the floor that her room was on. I did as much investigation as I could once I went to the same floor and checked the small wireless camera I had concealed on her floor, and viewing the camera feed I saw her enter her room. When I slowly walked past her room I heard the television on in the room.

Since the camera had eight more hours of battery life it would tell me if she went out of her room during the night, so I went to my room to shower, get some sleep, then get up and change my clothes.

My room was the last one at the end of the hall one floor below Priscilla's and the stairwell was right next to it and a maintenance closet across from it. As I swiped my key over the reader for my room's door I felt a pin prick, someone pushed me, and before I could respond I was out like a light.

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I woke up in my hotel room bed. The lights were on low -- but it was bright enough to see that my arms and legs were tied to what appeared to be a very sturdy bed frame. I also noticed that my cock was about three-quarters hard, and I had a mild headache.

Once I got my bearings and was fully awake a naked woman walked up to me with a smile on her face. A very sexy naked woman! It didn't take me long to figure out that it was Priscilla and her big tear-drop tits, sculptured thighs, slim waist, and shaved crotch caused my strangely already three-quarters hard cock to inflate to full size so quickly that it hurt.

Priscilla mouthed words with her lips -- but didn't speak. I thought that strange -- not that being tied to a bed without any recollection of how I got there and having a hot naked woman approach me wasn't strange enough. She ran her hands over my testicles and cock, and it almost caused me to spontaneously ejaculate. Then she straddled me so that her pussy was just above my mouth.

I didn't know what the fuck was going on, but her cunt looked delicious; however, I didn't try to eat it. Instead I tried to figure out what the hell was going on. Despite the fact that neither my lips nor tongue had touched any part of her pussy, she started moaning and grabbing her tits and moving around. After she did that for a couple of minutes I lost the battle and moved my head up and periodically flicked her clit with my tongue. That caused here to moan and gyrate even more.

After what appeared to be an orgasm on her part, she backed off a little and then straddled my chest. She moved one of her hard nipples toward my mouth. Again I tried not to react, but after she stroked the nipple over my lips a few times I sucked it. It really was erotic to suck her pencil-eraser hard nipple. After a couple of minutes of that she pulled her body up, got off the bed, mouthed some more words -- without any sound -- and then with another smile straddled me so that her pussy was above my cock, which by then was standing up as high and proud as a flagpole.

As Priscilla lowered her pussy onto my cock I was overcome with ecstasy. Once I was buried in her tight vagina she started bouncing up and down and her tits started flapping. Again she was mouthing words, but no sound. I longed to free my hands and maul her flopping tits but my restraints were tight.

I'm not exactly sure what the bitch/siren/succubus/seductress --whatever the hell she was -- was doing but it seemed like I was getting a handjob, blowjob, and fuck all at the same time. It wasn't long before I blew my wad -- definitely one of the most powerful ejaculations of my life, and Pricilla screamed, spasmed, went limp for a few seconds so that her tits smashed into my chest, and then she ultimately regained alertness.

After resting for a minute or so -- while I uncontrollably groaned -- she slowly dismounted causing me to experience a sexual aftershock as her pussy walls moved along my cock until my cock popped out of her treasure-chamber.

Priscilla then walked around me, smiling and mouthing words -- again no sounds -- as she untied first my legs and then my arms, kissing me on the lips after each restraint was removed. I was about to ask her "What just happened?" as I was rubbing my wrists when suddenly she produced a hypodermic needle (probably hidden under the mattress) and poked me in the arm. I tried to grab her, but whatever she injected me with worked almost instantaneously because I blacked out.

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I awoke with my head spinning an indeterminate amount of time after being injected, naked on top of my hotel room bed. After about a minute I was able to sit up. I looked at the digital clock next to my bed. It was 9:28 a. m.; I hoped that it was just the day after I entered my hotel room and not several days later, because considering how my head felt I had no way of knowing.

I probably would have concluded that I had gotten drunk and passed out and just imagined the fuck of my life if not for some ligature marks on my wrists and ankles; the fact that cloth ties were still attached to the headboard and footboard of my hotel room bed; and that my cock was red and slimy and still more than half hard.

I took a shower to wake me up -- including standing under completely cold water for the last minute or so. I did feel more with it after the water beat on me, but I still had a fuzzy feeling in my head.

I got dressed, got my phone out and confirmed -- thankfully -- that it was now 10:17 a. m. on the day after I had entered my hotel room and not a few days later. I went to retrieve the camera that I had planted in the hallway near Priscilla's room but it was gone. I went down to the lobby, asked for Priscilla, and was told that she had checked out early that morning.

I ate breakfast, got the next plane out of town, and ruminated the entire time, more confused than a blind lesbian in a fish market.

I got back to my office about three o'clock that afternoon. I had a phone message from Tobias Richmond von Berswordt-Wallrabe. I called him back; not surprisingly he wanted to know how my trip to Boston had gone. Obviously I didn't tell Toby what had happened in my hotel room, but gave him a general description of my activities, observation of Priscilla, and unsubstantiated suspicion -- in other words, nothing new. I could tell that Toby was getting frustrated -- as I would have been in his place.

I talked to my employees who were helping me on the case and told them that we needed to try even harder. Cheryl was in her car following Priscilla home from her office -- and wondering why I didn't tell her what flight Priscilla had been on so that Cheryl missed Priscilla at the airport leaving her unobserved for hours.