The Relationship Tester

"Well Cheryl quit, and ever since our bitch former operative set up a competitor she calls 'Stray, Pay' six months ago my revenue is down. She also copied my advertisements, and if I had the money I'd sue her for copyright infringement and unfair trade practices," he angrily announced. He was getting red in the face and took several deep breathes to calm down.

"However, we have a potential whale; if this job is a win we'll get triple our normal fee," he continued, wringing his hands in nervousness.

"How so?" I inquired.

"The mark is a suspected cheating boyfriend of a filthy rich anonymous socialite; she needs to find out if he's a gold digger; his name is Roger Ward," Swanson answered, as beads of sweat started to form on his forehead.

"Why tell me, Swanson?" I asked, genuinely puzzled.

"I...I...well...I really need your help," he stammered. "You were my best female operative and I can't afford to blow this job. My present top-tier female operative was in a car accident and is out of commission for a couple of weeks, and anyway you're better than she is. Can you do just this one job; please?"

"When is it?" I asked, suddenly feeling -- and remembering from the old days -- a rush of adrenaline.

"It's likely this Friday night -- possibly Saturday."

Since Bryce wouldn't be back for ten days and I could wiggle out of commitments I had on Friday night, and had none on Saturday except a visit with my mother in the afternoon, I cogitated for a minute. "Where?" was my next question.

"It probably can be set up to be anywhere you want," he shrugged.

"How's that?" I puzzled because that scenario was unique in my experience.

"I'm not sure -- but our whale says that she can arrange it," he replied.

"Ok -- sure -- why not?" I grinned, making Swanson's day, if not year. He reached over the table and squeezed me, knocking over a water glass with his belly but fortunately not doing any real damage.

"I was hoping that you'd say yes, so I brought Roger Ward's dossier with me," he chuckled, reaching into the small satchel lying at his feet. "Where should I tell the client, and what night is best?"

"Tell her Friday at The Airplane Hangar club," I replied as I took the dossier from his sweaty palm.

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

I was surprised at how giddy I felt. For many reasons, I decided that I should tell Bryce that I was going to The Airplane Hangar on Friday night, although not tell him that I was working for Deception; it would unnecessarily antagonize him, and of course nothing was going to happen aside from me helping Swanson out. I called up my friend Julie and asked her and her husband Bill to accompany me -- and leave after a little while -- for cover when I talked to Bryce. Julie was up for it especially since I was paying their cover charge.

When I talked to Bryce on the phone that night he exhibited no apprehension or angst whatsoever about me going to The Airplane Hangar bar and dance club with Julie and Bill. "Maybe he is finally snapping out of his jealous phase for good," I speculated when I hung up after a pleasant half hour talk with him.

After work on Tuesday I started to find out everything possible about the potential gold digger, Roger Ward. "He sounds stuffy, like a trust fund brat more than a gold digger," I mumbled to myself as I reviewed his dossier.

"Nice photo, though," I thought as I gazed on his chiseled features, deep blue eyes, and wavy blond locks. "Looks like his college frat picture. He's handsome and confident; why are all pharmaceutical sales reps so good looking?" I internally snickered. "I wonder what his rich bitch anonymous socialite girlfriend looks like?"

Before going to The Airplane Hangar on Friday night I took a cab to Deception, Inc. for any last minute instructions, and to pick up my gadget-filled purse. "Okay Swanson," I announced as I entered Gathers' office, "I know everything about him that is publicly available information and what his anonymous girlfriend was willing to reveal in his dossier. Are there any updates or specific instructions?"

"Wow. You're a knockout, honey; he doesn't stand a chance!" Swanson whistled.

"You like, huh?" I rhetorically asked as I twirled around showing off my classy outfit.

After another wolf whistle from Swanson I continued "Well you got the right operative for Roger Ward, Swannie. Where's the equipment?"

"Got it right here in your new purse, sweet cheeks. Two micro video cameras, one" he said, demonstrating, "shooting through an end of the bag, the other a side, and a battery pack; and an audio recorder hidden in the false bottom of the purse. Also a mini stun gun; this time don't discharge the stunner if you can help it will you, I don't want a lawsuit," he grinned, calling up our memories of the time that I had to use the stun gun on a mark who was way too aggressive.

"As long as he knows what 'No' means, no worries," I laughed.

"He's supposed to go to The Airplane Hangar right after work tonight with a bunch of co-workers. You all set?"

"Gotcha; I'm gone," I chuckled, as I picked up the purse and exited.

On the cab ride to the club I started to ask myself for the first time "Since I use to hang out all the time at The Airplane Hangar, I wonder whether I ever saw this dude there? I didn't recognize his photo but maybe he looks different in person?" I made a quick review of my notes, and then threw them in a trashcan once I exited the cab and made my way to the club; Julie and Bill were waiting for me outside. I paid their cover charge, we all walked in, and I talked with Julie and Bill until I thought that it might be time for Roger to arrive.

When Roger hadn't arrived for a while, and Julie and Bill were getting antsy, I set them off on their own to dance and ambled up to the bar.

"Hi Chessie," I smiled at the bartender.

"Well if it isn't my favorite girl, Amy; long time no see. What will it be?" he responded.

"You don't know me tonight Chessie," I winked, "and my name is Susan. Just a Reuben and some club soda; no alcohol yet."

"You got it," he grinned.

A guy in a bright blue shirt almost immediately came up to me and started hitting on me with a horrible line.

"Hi there Red," he virtually giggled, apparently commenting on the color of my classy gown.

In as condescending a manner as I could muster I replied "Oh I get it; you called me Red because you don't know my name and I have a red dress, huh."

"Uh, yeah," he responded, a little starch taken out of him.

"Sorry, Blue," I winced, "I'm waiting for someone big, mean and ugly; can't talk."

As he dejectedly walked away he mumbled "Your loss."

"I don't think so," I laughed to myself.

Chessie served me my club soda and Rueben, and shortly after I took my last bite of my sandwich in the mirror I saw Roger make a grand entrance, still in his business suit and carrying his small sample case with "Mentor Pharmaceuticals" conspicuously visible on it. He was alone; not a co-worker in sight. I had carefully positioned myself in his line of vision with the thigh of my long right leg deliciously protruding through the slit in my designer dress. From my peeks in the mirror it was easy to see that Roger quickly noticed my lure and confidently approached me. His line was better than Mr. blue-shirt's.

"Hi. I couldn't help but notice your dress. I'm in women's fashion, but I am embarrassed to admit that I don't recognize the manufacturer or designer. I sure would like to know who they are."

When he said this it was all that I could do to stifle a laugh and ask "Then why do you have a pharmaceutical sample case, dude?" Obviously this was his first lie of the night.

I smiled as I positioned my purse on the bar to get good sound and video. "Sorry, I don't give out any secret information without a name and a drink," I chuckled, this time aloud.

Roger chortled as he put his sample case on the bar next to my purse, and then extended his hand. "Sorry. Ken Spaeth. What are you having?"

"Wow; this guy even lies about his name," I giggled to myself. "It is going to be so easy to bust this dude," I thought before aloud I said "A Cherry Bitch."

"You're kidding?" he seriously asked, then postulated "I've never heard of it."

"The bartender has," I smirked.

"Bartender, a gin and tonic for me, and a Cherry Bitch for Miss ... what's your name?"

"Susan; Susan Clark," I offered.

"So where do you work Susan?"

"At a stuffy old fart law firm as a paralegal; and you're in fashion, huh?" I asked, and he nodded. "What do you like about my dress?" I continued as I almost completely exposed my right thigh by moving my dress off of it. It did not escape my notice that Roger's eyes almost popped out of his head.

After a big gulp Roger replied "Well I especially like the slit on the side -- it's made by serging, isn't it? And it looks fantastic, and conforms to the rest of the lines of the dress," he said while feeling the material, making only instantaneous contact with my skin.

"At least he knows what 'serging' means," I laughed to myself, "even if his 'women's fashion' line doesn't hold water."

"So tell me Susan do you have a boyfriend?"

"You cut right to the chase, don't you Ken?"

"Would you rather that I beat around the bush?"

"Not a good choice of words when talking to a woman, Ken," I laughed, "but no, although a modicum of subtly would be nice."

Roger looked embarrassed. "Uh, sorry; poor choice of words. Alright, let me ask it differently. Is there a knight in shining armor riding here on his horse tonight?"

"Wow, how flowery? No, I don't have a boyfriend, and you?"

"No, I'm straight," he chuckled.

I laughed and playfully pushed his shoulder. "Funny man; quite literal aren't you? You know that I meant 'do you have a girlfriend,' Ken?"

"No more than you have no boyfriend," he grinned -- a really odd answer that I didn't really catch onto until later.

Roger/Ken sat next to me when our drinks arrived, and we pleasantly chatted. I knew that I was not supposed to have more than one drink when working a mark, but this was so easy that I didn't think that I had to watch how much I drank. As we conversed I thought to myself "This is the horniest mark I've ever had. All I need to figure out is what I am going to do with the bonus money I'll get from his anonymous girlfriend for exposing this fraud. But you know, in person this guy is really cute, charming, smart, classy; if he wasn't such a liar he'd be the whole enchilada."

At one point I excused myself and went to the washroom. Fresh drinks were waiting at the bar when I got back.

Time passed seemingly slowly because I seemed to be more energetic than normal, and I was not noticeably feeling the effects of my Cherry Bitches. That is time passed slowly until I noticed that there were four empty drink glasses in front of me, and Ken/Roger's hand was subtly touching the bare skin on my arm. I decided to end this escapade, either with him propositioning me -- which I expected -- and shooting him down; or with me just simply going home. I was starting to feel a little hot, though, so I thought that I might have to get my vibrator out of storage when I got home.

"So, Ken, it's getting a little late. Shouldn't we be moving on?"

"It depends upon what you mean by 'moving on,' I guess."

"Don't you have things to do tomorrow morning?"

"Yeah, but I feel like dancing. Do you like Latin dancing Susan, not the staid type that they have here?"

I didn't even respond to the "staid" comment even though I liked the dancing at The Airplane Hangar; instead I blurted out "It's my second favorite thing to do with a good looking guy," before I caught myself.

"That sounded like a slut talking; what the hell was that?" I asked myself, wondering about my sudden lack of impulse control.

"Just for an hour. There's a Latin dance club just a short distance away. I do a mean Tango Susan."

I again surprised myself with my response, but I could feel my body curiously getting flushed and warm. "Okay Ken, you talked me into it." I surreptitiously turned off my cameras and recorder while Ken/Roger opened his briefcase, moved some things around in it, and then closed it.

I barely even noticed that Roger had his hand on my arm or back as he escorted me the 100 meters or so to the Latin dance club as I became more and more conscious of an inner glow overtaking my body. Roger was a good dancer, and I had an unusual buildup of energy, so I kept up with him nicely through a number of different Latin dances, even though I wasn't real familiar with some of them.

After a quick but intense light display, the dance club announcer said: "Now for those real Latin dance aficionados, we have a special treat. The forbidden dance; The Lambada."

"You game?" Roger asked, already pulling me toward the center of the floor.

"Try me," came out of my mouth again before I could catch it. I really didn't want to Lambada with anyone except for Bryce.

The dance should have been disturbingly passionate -- however it wasn't disturbing to me, just passionate. It almost seemed that I was looking down on myself from the ceiling rather than living in reality. When the music stopped I found myself in a clinch with Roger as we engaged in a truly deep, scorching kiss.

"There's a four star hotel right next door and I don't think I can make it home. Want to share a room?" Roger whispered.

In a night characterized by my shocking lack of impulse control, yet another surprise from me as I mumbled back "What do you think?" as I planted another sizzling kiss on his lips.

I was slightly aware of a loss of control way beyond what I had ever experienced before, but before I fully realized it I was in a hotel room with a hot guy, not my husband. I placed my purse on a table as Roger put his sample case down on the edge of a chair, and we embraced and kissed again, running our hands over each other's junk.

Oddly, totally unlike what my reaction should have been, and historically was, I felt bad about what I was going to do to Roger's relationship with his anonymous girlfriend rather than what I was doing to my husband. "If he's willing to jump in the sack with me after knowing me for just a few hours, maybe Roger and his girlfriend aren't right for each other," was my rationalization, no thought of Bryce entering my mind. Obviously my mind was not processing properly.

I broke his kiss and avoided his mauling, with "I gotta go," and by that I should have meant I have to get the hell away from him and back home in a cab.

"What? No! I'm so fucking charged up and horny," Roger whined with a perplexed look on his face.

Instead of exiting the outside door, however, I picked up my purse, walked into the bathroom, turned at the bathroom door and smiled at Roger. He gave me a relieved smile back.]

I stripped off my clothes, including my bra and panties so that I was completely naked. Then with a washcloth I freshened up my coochie. Instead of thinking of what I was going to do to Bryce -- my mind was clouded -- I mumbled to myself "I got all I need for Deception so I want to make sure nothing more is recorded," and then fumbled some more with the gadgets in my purse trying to make sure that they were "off" even though I thought that I had turned them off at The Airplane Hangar.

When I walked back into the hotel room Roger was just in his boxers and whistled while grinning. "I'll be right back," he growled as he walked into the bathroom with cellphone in hand, pinching a nipple as he passed me.

When I got under the covers my libido -- always strong to begin with -- seemed to be at an all-time high, and my entire body had a bizarre flushed feeling. I fingered myself to one orgasm before I felt Roger crawl under the covers and spoon me. It wasn't long before he had rolled me over, was sucking one nipple, fondling the other, and massaging my clitoris with his thumb. I was not just in a fog but again seemed to be looking down on myself from the ceiling. However what came loud and clear through my mind's murkiness was that he had a really nicely shaped and long penis, and when it penetrated my vagina it really felt good.

After one intercourse session in missionary position where his condom-less discharge into my vagina caused me to spasm in ecstasy so strongly that it probably seemed like I was having a heart attack, I instinctively shinnied down the mattress and took his sperm and vaginal discharge coated penis into my mouth and started sucking like it was the last lollipop on earth. He got hard again, faster than any other guy in my experience (although I have to admit that with others I rarely did as enthusiastic a job of sucking and fondling testicles as I had with Roger), and soon I was on my hands and knees and being penetrated while in doggy position.

Every stroke in and out of my coochie seemed to energize millions of nerve endings, and when he stuck a thumb in my anus as he ejaculated his second load into my moist vagina I had one of the most extreme orgasms of my life.

I passed out more than fell asleep, but seemingly not for long. Roger woke me up twice in the middle of the night (actually early morning) to make sperm deposits in the face-to-face sitting position (while simultaneously sucking a nipple), and in the spoon position lying on our sides. I woke up the next morning with his lips on one of my nipples even though he was still asleep.

Shortly after that he did awaken and gave me a big smile. My mind was still hazy, but I do remember lying next to him, smiling, and engaging in pillow talk.

"You're really something Susan. I don't remember ever feeling better," he gushed.

"You really know how to treat a girl right stud," I countered.

After some kissing and stroking I finally said "You know we both have to go home and change before we start our days. It's already like 9:30".

"Yeah, we gotta hustle; but we need to shower before getting dressed," he chimed with a diabolical look on his face.

I laughed as I got out of bed on one side while Ken/Roger got out on the other side; "Yes we do need to shower, but you know what will happen if we get in together. You go first Roger."

"You're no fun," he fake pouted as he walked to bathroom door. Then he got this strange look on his face, hesitated, and finally walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

I suddenly got a feeling of realization. As I slapped my forehead I mumbled "You moron: you called him Roger instead of Ken! Aaaaggh!"

With that I fell back onto the bed in disgust. My leg unconsciously kicked out as I fell back and knocked over the chair with Roger's sample case on it. It fell to the floor, opening and spilling out a video camera and some business cards with "Stray, Pay" on them. I picked up one of the Stray, Pay cards and looked carefully at it. It read "Roger Ward, Operative."

I slumped to the floor and gurgled "Oh no, no, no!"

Roger then opened the door of the bathroom as he held my purse up with the video cameras visible inside.

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

Roger and I had a heart-to-heart talk, unthinkingly still naked in the hotel room.

"Roger, I don't know what came over me last night. I'm not a tramp, and I've never cheated before, let alone violated the prime directive of a relationship tester -- no sex with the mark! You can't file a report with Bryce telling him what happened. Please. I'm not going to file an honest report with your anonymous girlfriend."

"I...I don't know. You were so much fun to talk and dance with -- let alone providing me the best fucks of my life -- but I have a responsibility to my employer to be honest."

"You don't care if I tell your girlfriend what happened?" I incredulously asked.

He shrugged. "I have to let the chips fall where they may. After how good the sex was with you, I'm re-thinking my relationship anyway."