Mystery Fuck

The eloquence of her words took me back. This was the most high-brow vocabulary that she had ever used, and probably the longest continuous statement since we started mating. I simply shook my head "OK," gave her a kiss, and then the Lyft driver's horn sounded and she was off.

While it appeared that I had assented to what she said, I had no intention of not investigating further. The bruises and the intimacy of our first actual love-making session made me believe that finding out about Brittany was the single most important thing in the world to me at that time.

By the morning of the next day I was meeting with the most highly regarded private investigators in the metro area, and by the time that Brittany arrived for our Monday session they were on the case.

In the month that the PIs took to finalize their report my sessions with Brittany changed. What I considered love-making – I don't know how she viewed it, but she seemed very happy with what I considered love-making as long as it was interspersed with animalistic fucking – was the new norm, followed by cuddling. While we still had roughly the same amount of foreplay, sucking, and fondling, normally we had just one love-making session instead of two vigorous fucks, and she usually was at my house for two hours instead of ninety three minutes. We talked more, although it was mostly vacuous conversation except about politics – ours seemed to be very close – and sex. She still never revealed anything personal and never asked me personal questions and seemed uncomfortable when I revealed even the slightest personal tidbit.

************

I received the PIs report during a meeting with them on a Saturday, three days before my next scheduled session with Brittany the following Tuesday. I couldn't believe that I had anticipated more than half of what it contained – that didn't make me happy because what I anticipated wasn't good, but it did make me think that I was increasing my observancy powers compared to what they were during my failed marriage.

The PIs gathered their information by following the Lyft drivers, then following her on foot once she was left off, and once they located where she lived and worked continued the observation for sometimes almost twenty hours straight. P. I. Rogers gave me a verbal summary:

"Her real name is Brenda Boyle. She is married to Jackson Boyle, her second husband, and has been for two years. Her first marriage, when she was eighteen, to William Sykes lasted three years, and she has one child – a girl – from the marriage. Mr. Sykes has sole custody, the reasons not clear from the family court records, and Brenda rarely sees or communicates with the child."

The fact that she had a child wasn't something that I had anticipated. My eyebrows rose on that one. After a pause to allow me to reposition myself in my now uncomfortable seat Rogers continued.

"Brenda Ward, her maiden name, had a shitty home life growing up. Her mother was an alcoholic and her father an abuser, although there are no records indicating that his abuse was sexual – 'only' physical and emotional. She has no contact with her father, and her mother died just before she married Boyle. She has an older sister who she never sees. Despite the fact that she tested high for intelligence..."

"How did you find that out?" I interrupted.

"Sorry – can't say; you don't want to know, and we won't tell anyway. Continuing, despite apparently innate intelligence she never really had much opportunity and didn't finish High School, although she got a GED a few years ago, and even attended Community College at night for a semester before apparently being forced to quit by Jackson. She has a misdemeanor conviction for shoplifting when she was eighteen for which she received probation, but no run-ins with the law since then."

After a pause and a sip of a soft drink, Rogers continued.

"Her husband Jackson Boyle, photo in the materials, is good-looking; however he has a long rap sheet including two violent crimes and he is still on probation from the last one. There is every indication that he is physically and emotionally abusive to Brenda when he drinks. He works on and off as a security guard – although it's difficult to believe anyone except a shady organization would hire him for that position given his record. We do believe that the company he works for is involved in illegal activities, although we would need to expend more time and money to determine the details."

"No need for more of that," I mused aloud. "Is there any news that I will find really good?"

"There is no indication that she or Jackson are regular, or even irregular, illegal drug users," Rogers replied. I liked that and smiled inwardly before I continued.

"Is Brenda employed?"

"Yes; the reason that she can meet you in the early afternoons is that she works nights as a cocktail waitress at a medium end bar but can only get work for four nights a week, five or six hours a night. Our operatives on three different nights viewed her getting hit on regularly during her work, although she seems quite skillful at dissuading unwanted attention without destroying her ability to get tips. Last year her reported income was about $22,000, and Jackson's about $18,000. They live in a low rent district on the third floor of an apartment building that has no air conditioning or elevator. Her only female friends appear to be people she works with – there is every appearance that Jackson keeps her on a short leash."

"How big is Jackson?" I asked.

"A little smaller than you Kent – you're what, about six two, 200 pounds?" Rogers said and asked.

"You should work in a carnival," I chuckled, "six two and one-half, 195 pounds," I replied.

"According to his jail statistics he's about six one, 190, although he looks to have put on about fifteen pounds of fat since he got out only a few months before he married Brenda," Rogers replied.

"Thanks for the summary. I'll review the entire report in detail and call if I have any questions; I'm very impressed by the thoroughness of your work," I stated as I got up with the thick report folder in my left hand, and shook Rogers' and his female associate's right hands before handing Rogers the final check for his services.

"Glad that we could help," they retorted in unison.

I carefully reviewed the PIs' report; it had many other interesting nuggets in addition to the more detailed versions of Rogers' summary. In many ways it was depressing – in other ways enlightening. It also put me on the horns of a dilemma; what to do about Brenda?

Do I have strong enough feelings for her to whisk Brenda out of her present life and give her a new one?

Is there a real chance that we could have a long-lasting worthwhile relationship, or are our backgrounds so diverse that it would never work out?

Would it be worth re-locating to another part of the country to see if Brenda and I are compatible in life, and not just sex (my job is no problem in that regard since I can work from home anywhere in the country)?

How do I go about it if I want to take the chance of absconding with Brenda? Would she have interest in taking off with me? How do I convince her to leave?

Even though I didn't have any answers to these questions yet, I like to be prepared; so I rented an apartment in a low rent district several miles from Brenda's and made arrangements for a recently released ex-con named Bill Wilson to occupy it and "furnish" it for my purposes.

************

For a month after reading, and re-reading, the PIs' final report I cogitated about what I wanted to do, while proceeding to work with Bill Wilson.

During that month the company that I work for opened its first brick and mortar office, in a very desirable part of the country and roughly a thousand miles away from my present location. While I could still work from home, if I wanted to I could become a manager at the physical location, with an upgrade in pay and benefits. I had a month to decide about that – more time than I needed, because that was time enough for me to decide about Brenda.

Even though I now knew that Brenda was married, in view of the abusive situation with her husband I had no angst or guilt about continuing to have sex with her. While I never would have established a relationship with her had I known that she was married, at the present time it made no difference. I hoped to be her knight in shining armor rather than a low-life seducer.

Thirty three days after receiving the PIs' report, Brenda came over for one of our twice weekly sessions. After greeting her with a big smile and a passionate kiss, still hugging her I maneuvered her into the living room. Before she knew what had happened I had seated her in a new sturdy metal chair that I had purchased just for this occasion, which already had one cuff of a pair of handcuffs on its right arm, and I quickly latched the other cuff onto her right wrist.

"Say Kent – this is a little kinky, isn't it?" she smiled. "This chair isn't very comfortable for sex."

"Brenda," I started out – pausing for the desired effect my use of her real name had on her – "I need to have a real discussion with you. You probably will initially be very upset with me because I obtained a PI's report on your entire life – but I hope that you'll at least consider, if not be pleased with, the conclusion."

"You bastard," she snarled, "why did you have to ruin the good thing we had going." She tried to kick me. I was prepared.

I grabbed her right leg and handcuffed it to a leg of the chair, then her left arm to an arm, and her left leg to a leg. She started crying. I let her cry herself out – it took about five minutes. Then I knelt next to her, put a hand on her knee, and said "Please, please, listen to me, Brenda. It's now 12:16. If by 12:46 you don't want to listen to me any more I'll release you and do whatever you want to make up for restraining you. Deal?"

She had a combination defeated and intrigued look on her face as she sighed, "Deal."

"First, I want you to know that I have real feelings for you. You're not just the best lover I've ever had by miles, but you seem to be a wonderful person who just has never had a break in life." The last part may have gilded the lily a little, because I wasn't sure that she was a "wonderful" person, but she could be, and she certainly hadn't had any breaks in life.

"I know that your husband abuses you, that you live a hard life, and that you have never had the opportunity for your native intelligence to shine. What I'm offering is that we take off together to a place a thousand miles away, I pay for your divorce, you enroll in a community college and if you like it take two more years at a university studying whatever interests you, and if by the time you graduate we feel we're as compatible in life as we are in sex, we have a longstanding relationship – maybe even marriage."

"My husband will track me down and kill us – you don't know him," she blurted out. A good sign, I thought, because she at least wasn't discarding the possibility without considering it in some way.

"I have that covered. Let me give you all of the details of what I propose," I continued with a smile.

For the next hour – I released her from the chair after thirty minutes, but we then sat next to each other on the couch – I continued telling her the details of my plan while she asked questions or interjected thoughts. By the time that it was 1:20 I said "OK, Brenda; we've been discussing this for more than an hour. What do you think?"

She sighed. "I will seriously think about it. When do you need my answer?"

"Within a week, so that I can finalize my plans; I'm leaving the area in a month or two at the most regardless of your decision, but I really, really, really want you along," I responded.

She nodded her head; looked pensive for a second, then got a diabolical smile on her face and asked "Can we have a quickie?"

The "quickie" turned out to be a doubleheader, the first time fucking doggy style, and the second me fucking her marvelous tits. We might have even had a third event in the shower, but she insisted that she really had to go.

As the Lyft driver honked I said "Please let your decision be 'Yes.'"

She smiled, kissed me, and exited.

************

An unfortunate incident turned out to insure that she said "yes." Three days after I revealed my plan to her, about 7:00 p. m. Brenda called me on the prepaid phone that I had given her. "Kent – I'm in the Mercy Hospital Emergency Room. Can you come and get me."

I made no inquiry about details over the phone. "I'll be there in less than twenty minutes," I said. I saved a document that I was drafting on my computer, grabbed my car keys, and took off.

Jackson was drunk that afternoon and had given her an actual beating. It was the first time that he had hit her where the damage was visible when she was clothed. She had a black eye and significant neck and arm bruising. I insisted that photos be taken and put with her medical file and that the cops be called. She didn't object. I paid her bill, we went to the police precinct for her to make a report, and then I took her to my house.

It was the first time that she and I spent the night together. Despite the extended opportunity we didn't have sex. We simply cuddled. Just before we fell asleep she kissed my cheek and mumbled "I'd really like to leave with you, Kent. Can I stay here until we go?"

I kissed her on the forehead and said "You bet," with a smile on my face and a bigger smile in my heart.

***********

Jackson was arrested at work the next day. We knew that he would be bailed out of jail quickly so while he was there we went to Brenda's apartment and removed the only material objects that she wanted to keep. They didn't even completely fill two suitcases. She took half of the paltry amount that they had in their checking account, and then we returned to my place.

As expected, Jackson was out of jail within 48 hours. The shady organization he worked for bailed him out. I needed him to be arrested for a more serious crime to insure that my plan would work, and he was hot-headed enough that I knew that I could get him to do something stupid.

I had given a shark divorce attorney a retainer even before Brenda said "yes," and she had Jackson served within hours of his release from jail. She put as Brenda's address the low-rent apartment that I had rented under Bill Wilson's name. In the service papers I had the attorney "inadvertently" include a memo from her to Bill Wilson about how he would be housing Brenda as her divorce proceeded.

The low-rent apartment had been equipped with HD video cameras, a silent alarm, and electrocuting equipment of the type that is used to kill rats in slaughterhouses, only scaled down so that it would only disable, not kill. A tape recorder also played sounds of sex on a continuous loop loud enough to be heard just outside the door to the apartment.

True to form within two days of being served Jackson and two thugs that he worked with, all armed with guns (a no-no since they were all convicted felons), broke down the apartment door. I was viewing the camera feeds from the apartment next door. They were caught on camera, the silent alarm was activated, and when all three were on the electrified plate I remotely turned off all but one camera and I energized the plate, causing all three to convulse.

Once that happened, I quickly entered the apartment from the one next door, injected each of the miscreants with a knock out drug that would keep them inactive for about twenty minutes – enough time for the cops to arrive – dragged them off the plate, and covered the plate with a rug.

Then I called Bill Wilson – he was only a few blocks away – and had him greet the police.

All three guys were arrested for home invasion, probation violations, trespassing, destruction of property, and I'm sure a couple of other things that a creative D. A. could come up with. Bill provided them with the DVD from the cameras – all except the one that I used to view them while I activated the electrifying plate.

After the cops left, Bill and I removed the electrifying plate and cameras, I paid him $1,000, and I had a foreign LLC that I had set up (so that Bill never knew who I was) advance him the rent on the apartment for the next year so that he could live there and hopefully get a straight job.

*************

Things eventually worked out for Brenda and me. Her divorce was no problem with Jackson in jail, and then prison for ten years – he wasn't able to be bailed out this time in view of the probation violation – and was final within six months after Jackson was served. Brenda never even had to make a court appearance; our attorney handled everything.

Because of our diverse backgrounds and cultures, there were a number of rocky periods in our relationship, however unlike my three previous love/sex interests who thought me being a nice guy was a detriment, Brenda really appreciated it. We worked through all of the problems with mutual respect – and continued other-worldly fucking and love-making.

Only a month after we relocated – and I accepted the job as manager at my company's brick and mortar office – Brenda had her name legally changed to "Brittany Walters" (apparently she liked the fake name that she gave me so much that she adopted it for real) so that she would be harder to track down if Jackson ever got out of jail and looked for her. Because of threats toward Brenda/Brittany that Jackson made to the police, we also talked Social Security into issuing her a new SS number. She started Community College using her new name, and loved it.

About four months after we moved, as we laughingly left an amusement park roller coaster ride, I suddenly had an epiphany. I moved Brittany next to a popcorn stand and said "I love you," for the first time. She smiled widely. "Great – because I love you too, Kent." We kissed briefly, and then went hand-in-hand looking for the next thrill ride.

Brittany really blossomed in an academic setting. Also, she wanted to contribute economically and insure that she had no idle time so in addition to taking courses she worked part time for my company doing clerical work and learning the business. She was so proud when she got an associate's degree in business from the Community College that I thought that she would burst, and I was as proud of her as she was of herself.

We got married the week after she graduated, and went on a two week honeymoon to Aruba. She had never been out of the country before. It was heavenly; including the sex, but just as important the companionship. We did everything together, and when we copulated it was with passion and love in addition to animalistic lust.

One of the electives that Brittany had taken at Community College was a course in drama and literature. One night after a true love-making session as the ocean breeze blew through our open Aruba hotel balcony door she stared into my eyes and said "You're Henry Higgins, and I'm Eliza Doolittle, from My Fair Lady – except that we're both smart enough to know that we belong together."

I chuckled.

Then she continued: "The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain; and I need your cock to stay always in my cooch. I know that my addition to the My Fair Lady verse doesn't rhyme, but it's true nevertheless."

We both laughed, and then fucked our brains out doggy style.

************

While I never asked Brittany about her daughter from her first marriage she had volunteered some information about her, including the fact that she phoned her daughter – who lived two thousand miles away – every week and had been since she left Jackson (Jackson never allowed her to). Two months after we got back from our honeymoon, when Brittany was drafting her admissions applications for the two universities in our area, she got a call from her first husband's mother. Her first husband had died in an auto accident, and pursuant to the custody agreement after their divorce Brittany was to get full custody.