The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Catch Her in the Rye

In September, 2011, Mr. Scade invited everyone on the MC Forum to write a mystery as a part of the monthly contests. This was my entry. It’s got mystery, intrigue, and sex. If you’re not interested in or are too young to care about one or more of these things, you might want to look elsewhere. The characters in this story are my creation alone and any similarity to real people, living or dead, is completely coincidental. Feel free to check out my blog, Poor Mudak’s Almanak, at http://mudak326.tumblr.com/ or email me at . I welcome all commentary and criticism.

Chapter 1

Some days just beg you to go back and try and relive them exactly as they happened. You can see everyone and everything around you in your mind’s eye. You find yourself wondering if, given the chance to re-make your choices, everything would have worked out differently or if you’d be here in the same place. For me, that place is naked, tied to some kind of dais, looking up at the sky, and gagged with my head in a solid restraint.

It all started about a week ago. I had one of those days. It started out the way those kinds of days always seem to start. I unlocked the door to my office and staggered in. I don’t know when I decided to be open at the ungodly hour of 9:30 in the morning but I remember resenting the fact that I had to be there by that hour. I wanted to kill the guy who made the decision to open at that time.

So what if I’m the guy who made that decision? I know I run my own business, but I’m the kind of guy who generally stays up until the crack of noon and then goes to bed. I’ve got to be there for my clients, right?

Except that I don’t usually get that many clients. So I’ve always been thankful for the bottle of whiskey I keep stashed in my desk.

So as usual, I staggered into my office, took my place behind my desk, lowered my hat over my eyes, put my feet on the desk, and proceeded to do some of my best drinking.

Yeah, the life of a private detective is hard work.

So I was drinking for about twenty minutes or so when she strode in. You know those kinds of dames. She was tall and thin, with her legs looking like she’d had them surgically lengthened. Her dark hair seemed to fall effortlessly down over her shoulders, so I knew she’d probably spent forever getting it to look like that. The bare lightbulb behind my front door gave her shadow an even longer and more sultry look than she had herself, if that was possible.

I quickly put my bottle of whiskey on the floor out of her sight, sat up, and looked at her. I nodded my approval as I looked her over and I wondered if she could tell what I was thinking.

That’s when she said those five words I wish I heard more often: “I need a private dick.”

I looked away from her. Started to shuffle a few papers around on my desk, making it look like I had more to do than I really did. Finally I looked up and said, “What do you need, dollface?”

She strode closer and put her palms on my desk. She looked me in the eyes. I returned her gaze but the way she was standing gave me a look at some things a little lower without any effort. “I think my husband’s cheating on me.”

It took me a minute for her words to register. I continued to stare at her breasts as the words sank in. I’m not sure which was harder to grasp. The fact that she had a husband, or the possibility that he might want someone other than her? The left breast or the right one?

I leaned back in my seat, gestured for her to sit down, and put my hands behind my head. As she sat down, I felt tremendously jealous of the chair on the other side of my desk. I said, “Listen, honey. I’m a busy man. Why should I take your case?”

She let out a sigh. I could tell that she was reminding herself that I had no way of knowing what she was about to say, no matter how many times she might have told other people about it. She looked down at the floor. I leaned forward and got a good look at her legs just as she uncrossed them. I wondered if she timed it that way.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. I was about to say something when she blurted out, “It all started about two months ago. He told me he’d gotten some new responsibilities at work. They’d given him a special pager and that if it went off, he’d need to leave immediately and come into the office.”

“Wait? A pager? I didn’t think anyone’s used pagers since the late 90’s.”

“That’s what I thought but I didn’t say anything.”

“Okay. So, yeah, that’s kind of suspicious. What does his job entail?”

“He works in systems, so it’s definitely something that could need him to drop everything and go in and troubleshoot.”

“Did he show you the pager?”

“Not exactly.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t ask to see the pager at first. After all, I believed him. But as he started to have to head out more and more often—I mean, you know, the beeping was loud and you knew he was being paged—I went into his briefcase and took a good look at it.”

“And?”

“I guess you could call it a pager. But it doesn’t look like anything I’ve ever seen before. There’s, like, no place for messages to appear. A couple of lights but I never saw them go on or off. I couldn’t make it do anything when I looked at it. It’s just a small black cube.”

“I see. So why do you think this might be more for play than for work?”

She chuckled and said, “Well, when it goes off, he leaves and comes home about three or four hours later. And there’s a look in his eyes. You know how you can just tell when someone’s been fucking by the looks on their faces? He’s got that look, ya know?”

“Have you tried to confront him about this?”

“Well, kind of. The other day, I tried to remind him that you can’t spell ‘cunnilingus’ without ‘us.’”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that line. I made a mental note that I might try to use that at some point. “What did he say?”

“He smiled and said he was just a little too tired at that point. Then he fell asleep and I decided to find out for myself what he’s doing when he’s paged.”

“Seems fair, but why me?”

“You’re cheap.”

She’d done her homework, that much is for sure. I said, “But not easy,” as I started to look around at the papers on my desk. After a while, I said, “Sure. I’ll take your case. I’m going to see what I can find out about your husband’s job, but I’ll need you to contact me the next time his pager goes off, OK?”

“OK.”

I got all of her information. Well, almost all of it. I didn’t feel right asking her for her measurements but I figured I could find that out when and if I might actually need to know.”

She walked out the door, swaying her hips as she left. I began to think her husband might be certifiably insane to give that ass up for anything else.

Chapter 2

I figured I’d see what if I could find out by scoping out the place where the dame’s husband worked. As I was driving, I thought about her and wondered what she would do if it turned out that he really was cheating on her. Would she leave him? Or use it as licensem to cheat on him in much the same way? I filed that away in the part of my brain that’s reserved for “questions I know I’ll never ask”.

The building he worked in was as nondescript as any office building I’d ever seen. It was in the middle of a business park, wedged in between a bank and a lawyer’s office. The windows were somewhat dark and, just from looking around outside, you knew that you wouldn’t see anything going on in there if you tried to snoop in.

Going in the front door would only arouse some suspicion so I figured that the only good info I was going to get here, would have been to verify that her husband was actually here right now. Fortunately, the dame had given me his license plate number and told me what kind of a car he drove, so I walked around the parking lot in search of his car.

It took me about a half hour, but I did find the car. Whatever else might’ve been true, he was here now. Could he have been schtumping some broad at this very moment? Sure, but I was only beginning my investigation. I’d have to do a lot deeper probing if I wanted to learn if he was doing his own deep probing.

One of the things about being a P.I. is that sometimes you get to use all sorts of cool gadgets and technology to find something out. If the cops were to use these things, then they’d almost never get to present any of their evidence in a court of law. But I’m not taking this guy to trial for anything. I just need to know where he’s going and what or who he’s doing when he gets there. So I placed a tracking device under his car. Between that and something I’ve got on both my phone and my computer, I can know exactly where … well if not where he is, then at least I can know where his car is.

So I did that, then I returned to my car and sat and waited. And waited. And waited. I waited so long for something to happen, I started to resent not having my bottle of whiskey with me. Yeah, I’m sure that would’ve looked good both to my new client and to the cops. I was drinking so I was bored, occifer, honest!

So I had to find some way of killing the time without sleeping or drinking. I toyed with jerking off while I was waiting. After all, I’d worked hard to go up in the ranks from an amateurbater to, well, you know… Knowing my luck, he’d come out at exactly the moment when I’m about to need to clean up. So I decided against that too.

In the end, I found myself doing little more than counting the endless seconds until her husband finally left the building. I recognized him by the pictures I’d been shown. He walked straight to his car, not stopping for anything. Not that there was anyone else anywhere near him from the moment he left the building, but that’s besides the point.

So he got in his car and drove straight home. No detours, no nothing. Unless you count doing 38 in a 35 mile-per-hour zone, he didn’t even speed. This was pretty boring.

Once he was home, I watched him go inside the house and let out a deep sigh. Knowing his wife was waiting for him, I felt a little jealous of him. So I switched on the tracking monitor and headed home. If his car left his driveway that night, I’d know about it pretty much as soon as he started moving. I set up my monitoring software to make a loud noise when he starts moving. And by loud, I do mean loud. As in, I’ve known quieter whores.

When I’d decided I’d had enough whiskey for one night, I went to bed. The monitor was right next to my bed. Now, if he left, I could be sure that I’d be awakened by the sound of the monitor.

I’m not sure the last time I slept so well. I was awakened at about quarter ’til eight, when he left for work. I traced his path and, like the night before, he didn’t even detour anywhere. Well, unless you count him stopping at the neighborhood convenience store for about five minutes. I made a mental note to call the dame about what had happened once I got into the office.

Chapter 3

So the guy I was following made it in to work without incident. I silently mumbled that this could be one of the most boring cases I’d pursued and only the memory of the vision of his wife got me through all of that.

I stumbled into my office and began to see what I could do about figuring out how best to get into the building itself and see if anything untoward was going on in there. I always liked that word. “Untoward.” Makes me sound so sophisticated, eh?

But anyway, at about quarter ’til 10, I picked up the phone and called my client and confirmed with her what I already knew: that her husband never left the house after he got home. I asked her how often he gets called in to work by the pager and she paused for a minute. She told me it was about every three or four days. The most recent being, of course, the night before she came into my office.

So in hindsight, there was no real surprise in the fact that he had been so … immobile. If her info was reliable, I knew I’d be equally bored that day too.

So I began doing some research into what, exactly, my mark’s company did. Turns out that he was a part of a small technology consulting firm. For the most part, they handled the software end of things but they also made hardware recommendations for their clients. That was easy enough to find out based upon just their website. A lot of important people within the organization were identified directly on the site itself.

I eagerly looked for this rube’s name on the site but couldn’t find it. That meant that he wasn’t important enough to justify being mentioned by name there. I went back to my notes. My client said that he was given more responsibilities and that he worked in ‘systems’. Whatever his responsibilities were, they weren’t enough to justify being cited on this web page. So his wife didn’t have a clue what he really did.

There was a testimonials page on the firm’s website. It basically said how awesome a job they were doing with various projects and business partners they’d acquired. It listed other local firms, a farm, and a prominent real estate office among their clients, but that was about all I could find about this group.

But they weren’t hiring. Hey, the economy is tough. Getting in the front door of that place won’t be easy, I realized, but it’s something I could work on.

I just had one thing that was a higher priority. Getting another bottle of whiskey.

Chapter 4

So I was drinkin’ and planning my disguise to try and get into her husband’s office, when my monitor went off. Seemed he was in motion again. I watched his path carefully on my computer and found that he had gone straight home. If there was any real difference between this day and the first day I was watching her husband, he left about five minutes later on the second day. Hell, I’ve spent more time than that in the bathroom at the end of the day.

Of course, I couldn’t say with any certainty that he wasn’t boning anyone in his office, but if he was, I was fairly certain that it had to be in the office itself. If the previous day was any indication, he never left the building until it was time to go home.

Of course, the “pager” or whatever you want to call it, hasn’t gone off since I took this case. But all the same, I think that old case where the lady asked me to figure out who was leaving food in her refrigerator was more interesting than this one. It took all my strength to keep from going over to my client’s house while her husband was at work and showing her what a private dick can really get into.

Chapter 5

Day three pretty much started out the same as the first two days. He went to work, he stayed there all day, and he came home.

And then it happened. It was about 9 pm when my monitor told me that he was on the move. I tracked his location for a few minutes and, when I was certain he wasn’t going to be back home any time soon, I called my client.

She picked up the phone and said, in a sultry voice, “I knew you’d be calling.”

I asked her if his pager had gone off and she said, “Yes.”

I looked at the map of the area. Just watching the way he was moving, I told the lovely lady, “I’m not sure where he’s going quite yet, but at least from the looks of things, he’s not going to his office.”

“Will you follow him?”

I paused for a minute. Not because I wasn’t going to follow him, but rather because I wasn’t sure how best to answer the question. I took a deep breath and told her that I’d investigate the matter as thoroughly as I could.

She thanked me and told me to be safe. I told her I appreciated the sentiment, hung up the phone, and got out of my pajamas and into my surveillance clothes. I’d been an idiot for changing into my bed clothes in the first place, but she didn’t need to know that.

I paced around my apartment for a few minutes trying to decide what I should bring with me before I left. My gun, obviously. Camera, obviously. After thinking about it for a few minutes, I decided that I should bring a few more of those trackers like what I’d put under her husband’s car. Flashlight. Bottle of whiskey, that went without saying. Lock pick and a few other miscellaneous tools.

By the time my car was loaded up and I was sufficiently, um, unloaded of my drinking from earlier in the evening, I took off. His car was no longer moving and it seemed to be in a parking lot somewhere. It was hard to tell by my mapping software. This was a fair bit further away from his house than his office was, and in the opposite direction. On the plus side, it wasn’t that far from my own home, so I was able to get there in no time.

I followed the map and found myself at the entrance to a farm. Wyld Peeches Farm, according to the sign at the entrance. Where had I seen that name before? I knew I’d seen it somewhere but couldn’t place it. I pulled my car in and saw about a dozen other cars parked in small lot. My client’s husband’s car was among them.

I stayed in my car and hid low. Another car—in the darkness I wasn’t exactly sure how expensive it was, but it was definitely reasonably clean—pulled in not long after I did. The car stopped a few feet away from mine but nobody got out, at least not at first. I was about to get up to investigate when I saw a young woman step out of the car. She was completely naked and she strode away from the lot and into a field, out of my sight.

Once she was gone, I got up to look inside her car and saw that she had left her clothes on the passenger seat. I surmised that the delay between her arrival and getting out of the car was due to her getting undressed.

I got out of my car and began looking in the windows of the other cars. Everyone had apparently left their clothes inside their cars. I went back to my car and picked up a few of the tracking devices I had taken with me. I didn’t take enough to get every car, but I figured that I should find two women’s cars and two men’s cars, based upon the kinds of clothes that were on the front seat. I chose the dame who pulled in after me and two other cars. If I judged the kinds of clothes correctly, that meant that I’d be tracking a total of two men and two women (including my client’s husband, of course).

Once I was satisfied that no one else would be pulling in after me, I decided to see what I could find on the farm itself. I walked in the direction that the one naked broad started. After I got over one hill, I saw a dim light near the horizon so I walked towards that. Every time I heard even the slightest noise, I jumped. I mean, here I was, a guy who was clearly not naked, on his way to see whatever was going on. The last thing I needed was to get caught peeping at whatever would be going on here.

I’m guessing I walked about a quarter of a mile or so before I heard sounds coming from within a field filled with corn. There was a thin passage through the towering stalks. I walked through the passage, being exceptionally careful not to step on anything that might alert others to my presence. The light that I had been following was definitely coming from within this cornfield.

The problem, of course, was that there was no light behind me. I turned around at one point and couldn’t see the entrance to this particular field. If there was someone behind me, I had no way of being sure without turning on my flashlight and I knew that would be a bad idea, at least right now.

After a few more steps, I came to a wider clearing in the field. There were torches burning along the outside of the clearing, so there was more light within the clearing than in the rest of the cornfield. I saw two other things—I’m not entirely sure what they were, but they were in the middle of the clearing emitting a pale bluish light. In between the blue lights, I saw the silhouettes of two people. I couldn’t see their faces but they were obviously fucking. The woman on the bottom of this pile of personal pleasuring was moaning somewhat loudly.

There were two circles of people surrounding the copulating couple. The inner circle was all women; they were holding hands facing the two in the middle. The outer circle was men, also holding hands and, to the extent that I could see anything in the shadows, they were visibly aroused and the tips of their cocks were positioned near the asses of the female spectators. The only people actually moving were the two people in the middle. The rest just appeared to be watching and waiting for something.

I snapped a few pictures with my camera. Just as I was putting my camera back in my pocket, I heard a loud, high-pitched sound and all of the spectators around the two fuckers in the middle started to move. The women took a step back and the men took a step forward. The result of this was that the guys essentially started to fuck the girls in the ass. All of the women let out a squeal of what must have been a combination of pain and pleasure.

I took this as my cue to get out of there. So I turned around and ran as fast as I could. I didn’t turn my flashlight on until I was sure I was far enough away from the orgy in the middle of the corn that they wouldn’t see me. I tripped and fell a couple of times and I’m pretty sure I lost some change in my pockets somewhere in the corn. Once I was out of the cornfield, I ran for a little bit longer, but by now my side was really starting to hurt so I slowed down. I couldn’t stop because it definitely felt like I was being watched and followed, so I clutched my side, cursed the fact that the booze had surely slowed me down, and made my way back to my car. I think I saw a shadow or two standing in the dust behind my car after I got out of there.

I immediately drove back to my office to document what I’d seen. Was my client’s husband actually cheating on her? Only if you define “cheating” as participating in an orgy of sorts in the middle of a cornfield while your spouse is safely at home thinking you’re at work. Not that I’d seen his face there, but I think it was fair to say he was in there somewhere. So, yeah, I guess he was “cheating”.

I called my client to confirm what I already knew: that she hadn’t gone with him. I thanked her, hung up the phone, and finished off my whiskey bottle.

Chapter 6

I spent the following day doing two different things: first, tracking down the names of the new people I was tracking, and seeing where they worked. Like my client’s husband, all three new people had lives that basically consisted of driving to work, spending the day there, then driving home and being home for the rest of the night.

“Work” for these three people was very different: one of the women was an accountant. The other broad worked in a retail big-box store that advertises that they’re always open “for your convenience” despite the fact that you practically need roller skates to get from one side of the store to the other. The other guy worked in a hotel.

I was fairly certain that, outside of the cornfield, none of these four people actually, you know, knew each other. I decided my best bet is to go back to the Wyld Peeches Farm and check it out in the daylight. As I drove to the farm, I racked my brain trying to figure out where I had seen that name before, but still no luck.

So I got to the farm and started to amble around amidst the cows. I figured that, if my choices were to seek someone out, or see what I could find out on my own, the better option was the latter. If someone asked me what I was up to, that wasn’t a bad thing, but there was no point in going out of my way looking for someone.

So I started to wander around. I decided against going straight to the cornfield, just in case. I found my way over to the barns and the pigs squealed their own welcomes to me. Or at least, I assumed that’s what they were trying to tell me. I haven’t spoken pig since I lost touch with my ex-wife, so… I guess you could say I’m a bit rusty in their tongue.

As I passed behind the barn, I was spotted. And not like the cows. A big burly guy chewing on some hay walked towards me. He smiled broadly as he asked me if I needed help with anything.

I sized him up before I answered. “Yeah. Do you know what happens here at nights?”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, I got this fox what’s been trying to get at some of my chickens.”

“No. I’m sorry. I mean, like, people coming here and, well…”

He cut me off, showing me the palm of his right hand. “Talk to the hand!”

I shrugged and knelt down to look straight at his hand. “All right, hand. Do you know anything about some strange goings on around here? Like, people walking around here under your nose.” I realized his hand didn’t have a nose in and of itself, but I didn’t know how else to say that.

His hand didn’t answer.

I put my own hands on my hips and addressed his hand again. “Didn’t you hear me, hand? I asked you a question! Now answer my question before my hand gets upset.”

The guy got a little huffy with me. “Nobody talks to my hand that way!”

“But...”

“I think you should leave these here premises before I call the cops… Or didn’t you see that there sign what says ‘No Trespassin’.” He pointed to a spot near the entrance of the farm.

Whaddaya know? The hand-painted sign actually said “No Trespassin’.” He deliberately left off the ‘G’. Probably because he ran out of room.

“But…”

“No ‘but’s. That’s all the talking’ you’re gonna do to my hand and nobody talks to my butt. D’you understand?”

I shrugged and walked back to my car, slowly leaving under his scowling gaze. He didn’t turn away from watching me leave until after I was completely back on the main road.

Chapter 7

I returned to my office and started to sort out what I knew and what I was prevented from finding out. I knew that I didn’t have enough information to call the cops. I had a sense that something was going down and that the farm was obviously the key.

I decided to do some research and find out what I could about the three new people I was tracking. Turns out that the guy who worked at the hotel worked behind the front desk. I really didn’t have anything to say to him unless I wanted to rent a room. I wasn’t quite ready to do that, so after loitering around the lobby, I left.

It turned out that the girl at the retail store managed incoming inventory and oversaw the guys who unload the trucks. I was able to get a little bit of facetime with her because she had come out to talk to someone at the returns counter. She was fairly cute and I started to wonder if she deserved a better life than a place like this.

Now my accountant friend was quite interesting. I couldn’t ask for any of her books without a subpoena and I wanted to stay as inconspicuous as possible. (Notwithstanding what I’d done on the farm.) But I didn’t need to. Once I knew the name of her firm, I looked it up on the internet and saw that they advertised that they managed the books for the Wyld Peeches Farm.

That seemed like an awful coincidence and it got me to thinking. I knew I’d seen the name of the farm before I traced my client’s husband’s car to it somewhere. I went back to that website and, lo and behold, on the page that reported they automated a farm, there was the name Wyld Peeches. Now things were starting to fall into place. I’ll bet the farm gets a lot of their supplies from the retail store and maybe even has some kind of large-scale account to purchase some things there in bulk. And I’m thinking that someone in the farm uses that hotel to put people up whenever they need it.

It all started to make sense. The Wyld Peeches Farm is quite literally the center of this whole case. It’s where everyone converged to have their little orgy, and I’d be willing to give up whiskey for a week if it turned out that any of the participants in the orgy weren’t directly connected to the farm through some kind of business tie.

So something was clearly rotten at the farm and it just wasn’t vegetables that were harvested weeks ago. The question is: what? And why were they doing this?

I figured I’d have to dig a little deeper. I was about to look into getting a good satellite photo of the farm, maybe focussing in on the cornfield itself, when I got a call from my client.

She had apparently just gotten a phone call from her husband. He told her that she was welcome to come with him the next time his pager goes off at night.

I asked her what that meant for her needing my services. Of course, I thought about some non-professional services that I could offer her as well, especially if it turned out that he really was cheating on her, but I didn’t ask about that.

She sighed and said she thought that meant that she wasn’t going to need me. There was some hesitation—maybe even sadness—in her voice as she said this. She clearly didn’t want to lose me but she had her own needs to look after. I didn’t want to lose her either, so I had to think quickly if we were going to keep up what she started when she strolled into my office the way she did.

“Listen, Dollface,” I said. “I’ve started to make some headway into this case, and I think I might’ve ruffled a few feathers by my having looked around. So if they’re scared, they might’ve backpedaled a little bit and told your husband that I was onto them. And then he, naturally, said he’d bring you along.”

She told me I made it sound so sinister.

I hope that the scowl I wore on my face came through over the phone. I told her that every day I work in the sinister. There’s something big going on here, much bigger than a wife who suspects her husband of being unfaithful.

She asked me what I thought she should do.

I told her that she should keep me on at least until after she goes with him the next time his pager goes off.

She accepted my advice. After I hung up the phone, I decided I was done with my investigation for the day. And I needed a drink more than ever.

Chapter 8

I’m not entirely sure exactly how much time passed but the next thing I knew, it was dark out. All four cars I was tracing were on the move and the sound of the alarm going off was loud enough to make me drop my empty bottle; the sound of the bottle smashing on the floor jostled me out of my whiskey-induced sleep.

I glanced down at my watch and realized it was either quarter after nine, or Mickey had a hard-on. I rubbed my eyes and staggered over to my monitor to see where the four cars were. Everyone was leaving their homes, which meant that I had had so much to drink, I didn’t hear any of them leaving work for their homes.

It took me a minute to process what exactly was going on. Not only was I having a hard time getting my senses back from my unplanned nap and the resultant hangover, but I also didn’t expect anyone to be on the move tonight.

I squinted in disbelief at what I saw. I had fully expected to see everyone heading towards the Wyld Peeches farm again but they were all moving in different directions. I took a deep breath in hopes of clearing out my head. Two or three breaths later, I realized that they were actually heading to their respective work places.

The first person to arrive at work, was the guy who worked in the hotel. Then the accountant. Looking at the map and recognizing where I was, I realized that it was possible that I could get to the retail store before or at about the same time as the girl who worked there, so that’s where I headed.

Keeping a close eye on where her car was, I ran as quickly as I could to my car. I wanted to get there before she did, since it was a big store and I didn’t want to have any doubts as to whether she was in the back or if she just decided to do some late night shopping.

So I floored it and got to the store in under five minutes. I looked down at the monitor for her car on my phone and saw that she was about three blocks away from the entrance to the store when I got there. I decided to stand near the entrance and watch for her.

I saw the car pull into the parking lot and take a space that wouldn’t make it harder for customers to get in.

She stepped out of her car. Damn, she reminded me a little bit of my client with her shapely body and hair that seemed to shine even in the most dimly lit parts of the parking lot. She flattened out her skirt with her palms as she walked towards the entrance.

I followed her into the store from a distance. The old guy at the front door smiled at her. “Back for more, eh?” he said, teasingly.

She grunted. From behind, she moved somewhat stiffly, barely even turning her head to see what was around her.

I walked a few feet behind her. The old guy by the front door smiled at me and welcomed me to the store. He asked me if there was anything I was looking for. I told him that I had a fairly good idea what I needed and left it at that.

I sometimes wonder what those people are really there to do. They can’t be security because they’re usually older so they’re not going to tackle someone who’s trying to steal something. They don’t make any sales or ring up your purchases. They don’t handle returns or stock shelves. So really they’re just there to stand at the front door and smile.

Must be nice to get paid for something as simple as that, huh? Maybe I should get a job doing that. Although I’d probably spend too much time staring at the dames that walk into the store. I wonder if this guy ever gets any dates from the lady customers he greets. Or, for that matter, any of the guy customers he greets. I’m not trying to judge here, ya know.

So anyway, I followed her to the back of the store and she goes through a door marked ‘Employees Only.’ There’s another sign near there that says ‘Emergency Shelter.’ Which, of course, set my mind to wondering how often someone on the other side of the door might yell, “Quick! Get in here! Here come the customers!” Especially during Christmas shopping season.

I figured she’s just going to clock in or something so I decided to hang out near the water fountain, occasionally wandering as far away from the door as the bedding department.

When I glanced down at my watch and realized she’d been in the back for more than ten minutes, I decided she wasn’t coming back out. Employee or no, I was going in. Besides, this could be an emergency if what was going on back here gave me any reason to think that my client might’ve been in trouble for going with her husband into his office.

I wandered around in the maze of shelves and boxes and finally saw my mark. She was talking to someone in the shipping dock. He seemed a bit uneasy at her presence.

“I don’t get it! What do you need me to do that couldn’t wait until I saw you tomorrow?”

She scowled and stepped closer to him. “See this?”

“Yeah….” He might’ve seen it, but I couldn’t, whatever it was; I wasn’t even sure where she got it from or how she was holding it. It was my angle, and I certainly didn’t want to get any closer for fear of being caught.

“Look closely. Let it become you. Give your will over to it. Let it take your fears and inhibitions. How are you feeling?”

His head started to bob up and down.

She stood up and backed away from him. Even as she backed away, I really couldn’t see whatever it was any better than I had before. He stood up and followed her to a spot behind the box compacter near one of the bay doors.

Once the two of them were out of my line of sight, I decided to move a little bit closer. As I approached them, I heard some heavy breathing and saw a dull red light. The two of them were awkwardly taking off their clothes. I suspected I knew what would happen next, but it was like a train wreck and I couldn’t look away.

Yup, you guessed it. Once the two of them were naked, she started playing with his johnson until he was nice and hard. Then she pushed him down on top of some boxes and climbed on top of him, using him for the piece of meat that all men can be.

Her face had an otherworldly appearance between the glint of the red light and the way she contorted her smile and her eyes in the throes of the passion she was experiencing. His probably did too but I really wasn’t paying close attention to him. I’ve always had a soft spot for broads who know what they want, ya know? Okay. Maybe “soft spot” isn’t the right phrase for the moment, but you still get what I’m saying.

As I watched the two of them play a little game of “hide the salami,” I started to think about my client. Was she with her husband in his office? Was he demonstrating to her the RAM of his hard drive, especially with his optimized search engine? I was running out of sexual computer metaphors fast and there was nowhere else for me to turn.

I still suspected that someone at the Wyld Peeches farm was pulling the strings here, but the results were taking place everywhere but in the back forty, so to speak. At this point, I wondered if the two of them had ever used non-company sanctioned equipment here in the back of the store before, or if somehow this was what she had been instructed to do by someone from the farm. Was he her specific mark, or was he just lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time to get the right way with her?

I knew that their little liaison was about to come to an end by the sounds he was starting to make. She hissed, “Yes… That’s it. Give yourself to me and to the light… We need more recruits, that much is for sure...”

He grunted a few times before whispering, “Yesss….”

I started to think about her word choice there. Recruits? Who was being recruited? That’s when I realized I had to get out of there; getting caught wasn’t an option. I ran out of the store and into the parking lot. Once I was outside the building, I grabbed my cell phone and tried to get ahold of my client. I got her voicemail so I yelled into the phone, warning her to be wary of anything she might see when she goes with her husband. And, for the love of all that’s good, right, and holy in this world, she shouldn’t fuck him no matter what else happens.

Chapter 9

I got back to my office and just kept pacing around, occasionally glancing back at my tracker, watching for the four cars I was tracing to return to their respective homes. When my client’s husband’s car started moving, I prayed she was actually with him and still healthy, breathing, and in need of—to use her words when I first met her—a private dick.

After about a half hour of pacing, biting my fingernails, and generally not knowing what I ought to do, I decided to take a trip to her husband’s office, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be there.

The security guard looked up at me as I sauntered in and asked if he could help me.

I asked if my client’s husband was still here. I said he’d told me he might be coming back here that night and I needed to see him.

The guard glared at me. “You just missed him. He left about an hour ago.”

“I guess he didn’t need my help after all. Anyone else leave with him?”

“Just his wife.” There was a look in his face that I couldn’t quite read, but I’ve got to admit that it was good to hear that she wasn’t dead somewhere in the duct work of the building.

I feigned ignorance. “Really? What was she doing here?”

The guard scowled and stood up. “Get out before I call the cops!”

I didn’t understand. “Was it something I said?”

He started to yell. I didn’t catch his exact words but he said he didn’t believe I’d actually known he’d be there tonight. In his anger, he revealed more than he probably should have. My client and her husband showed up, they disappeared into the building, and he heard her starting to moan and scream in passion less than five minutes after they passed the security desk. And it lasted a while. Then, when it finally stopped, they were back in the lobby within ten minutes. He mumbled something about how he didn’t know whose idea it was for the two of them to come here and fuck and never would’ve pegged him to use his office for that kind of business, but hey, different strokes for different folks. And this was one stroke he definitely appreciated.

I raised my hands and slowly backed off before I left the building entirely.

I decided to head home. I was thinking so hard about about everything I’d seen, I actually missed my exit from the highway and kept going. I guess that’s not too strange a thing to happen, at least, not compared with everything else I’d come across since I started getting involved in this case.

The only explanations I could come up with for everything were outrageous to say the least. I figured that someone at the Wyld Peeches farm had gone to all of the businesses that they regularly patronize and gave one person a specially designed pager. That pager instructed them, on somewhat regular occasions, to come out to an orgy in the middle of a field and then return home as though nothing had happened. When I started snooping around, they might’ve gotten scared and instructed everyone to seduce and maybe get some information out of the people closest to them.

If that were the case, did my client break? Was I in danger?

As I unlocked my apartment, I found out the answer to that question.

Chapter 10

As I stepped across the threshold, I barely saw what was going on. I remember seeing something glisten in the light from the hallway and then some searing pain in my nose and face. That’s when I blacked out.

I don’t know how long I was out, but it was still nighttime when I woke up. I looked up and I saw the sky, so I figured I was outside, lying on my back. I couldn’t move my hands because they had been tied together. I felt a cold sensation underneath me, like I was lying on a metal table or something. My head was being held in place, so I couldn’t be 100% certain but I was definitely in some state of undress, probably naked. I moved my tongue around and felt the gag in my mouth.

So this is where I started telling this story. Yep. Not sure what I could have or should have done differently to be in a different place than I am now, but, well... Here I am in all my glory.

I can hear a man’s voice laughing. It sounds vaguely like guy I’d met at the farm a few days earlier, but it doesn’t have that slow drawl that makes you think of the movie Deliverance. This was more forceful, maybe even arrogant. I shook my head slightly and his voice echoed around me. “Our guest of honor has awoken!”

I was a guest of honor? What had I done, other than go snooping around, asking questions and trying to find stuff out for my client.

And now I can hear a low humming. The humming makes it hard to concentrate but I figure that if I screw up my eyes, I might be able to listen for anything that might help me understand.

“I wanted to thank you for giving me the motivation for moving forward with my plans,” Farmer Dan is saying. “I was just having fun hosting these little shindigs here in my farm but when you came by, I knew that people might start to get suspicious so I knew I needed to step things up a bit.”

Monologuing! Just like they do in the old James Bond movies. Maybe I could get out of this if I kept him talking.

Forgetting that I’m gagged, I try to speak and all that comes out is a muffled vocalization.

More laughter from the man. “Oh, don’t worry, my friend. I’m sure you’ve got a lot of questions. Rest assured, they’ll all be answered in due time. In due time. As you can probably guess, you are completely naked, your arms and feet have been bound, and you’re lying on a dais in the middle of my cornfields. Welcome to the Wyld Peeches Farm. You’re going to have a hell of a good night tonight.”

My muffled protests do me no good.

His echoing voice sounds more personable now. “Now, as far as I can tell, you’re a private investigator. Someone hired you to find out what happens when one of my little pagers goes off, right?”

Now, I figure silence is my best defense.

“Would the person who hired you please step forward?”

I can hear some rustling and can tell that the broad who stepped into my office is approaching him. Even without knowing, I know. I wonder what she’s wearing.

“Very good. Why did you hire this man?”

I hear her voice clearly. “I was wondering if my husband was cheating on me. I’ve been feeling … unsatisfied in my marriage and was wondering if this might be part of the reason.”

“Yes. That’s a good reason for wanting to know,” the farmer chuckles. “Now that you’ve had a taste of the wonder that is my discovery, how do you feel about hiring this man to help you?”

“If I wouldn’t have had the taste otherwise, I’m glad I did.”

“Oh, you probably would have eventually. I just wasn’t sure when. Just wait here for a few more minutes.”

The humming gets a little louder. I see a bright red light pass over my head, obscuring my view of the star-filled skies. I squint and try to block away the light but it just shines through my shut eyelids. Suddenly, the farmer’s voice sounds much more distant as he’s telling me not to resist.

Resistance really does seem kind of silly. It’s such a beautiful night, not too warm, not too cold. And, even though I’m exposed and bound, I’m also kind of, you know… Comfortable.

He starts to talk again, but I’m not really paying as close attention to his words. He’s saying something about discovering something in his grain fields about six months ago. Something buried in the ground and it glowed. Yeah. Kind of like that pretty red light. He felt a sense of power from handling it, I think. I don’t quite get that bit but, well, who knows. Then, when he showed it to his wife, she kind of started doing anything he told her to do. Even when it would be triggered by something that hasn’t happened yet. And even if it was something she didn’t have control over, like, say, an involuntary orgasm.

I wonder if that would boost my business, having a broad screaming in pleasure because she walked in my door. I’ve got to ask if I can borrow his power source.

He goes on to talk about how he quickly ensnared someone who works with each of his business partners and figured he’d start giving them some fringe benefits for being such good colleagues. And, I mused, once they were here, they’d have the orgies like the ones I saw. That makes sense, that’s quite literally the least he can do until this thing makes him rich beyond anyone’s dreams. He talks about how the power felt good but how he was just too lazy to see if he could get more. Then I showed up at the orgy the other night. He just didn’t know who was the suspicious one so he figured get everyone and the people they’re closest with and someone will come forward.

And that’s how I got here, I guess. He starts to say something to someone else, but I don’t know—or care—what or to whom. I just want to see that red light again. That’s when I hear my client’s voice. “Let me untie you.”

She starts to untie my arms and feet, taking off my gag and removing the head restraint. I turn my head to see her beautiful naked body, those breasts with the big pink nipples that just seem to scream “look at us!” And I see that red light again, in a pendant around her neck, balanced loosely between her gorgeous tits.

Aaaaah. Life is good. And I’d say that even if she weren’t squeezing my rock-hard cock with one of her hands as she’s climbing onto the dais and steadying herself against my chest with the other.

Now the farmer is telling me that I’m not allowed to have an orgasm until she says I can. And then he tells her that she’s not allowed to tell me to orgasm until after she’d had at least three orgasms herself. Other than that, he said, “anything goes.”

We both thank him. I can feel her warm pussy wrap itself around my cock. I don’t necessarily know what perfection is but this is as close to it as I’m ever going to come. I might as well pinch her breasts. She doesn’t fight me as I grope and fondle somewhat clumsily. Her twat clenches up around me and she squeals in pleasure. I push up a little bit and appreciate her sensual reactions.

Nothing exists except for me, her, and that red light that hangs down between her breasts. It’s so perfect and blissful. I don’t want it to end.

But of course, all things like this have to end some time. I cum, hard, and immediately fall limp inside of her. She shifts her hips once and I fall out. She then climbs off of me and back down to the ground. I lift my head and see her return to her place by her husband’s side. I feel a slight sense of relief as I see him smiling broadly and not doing anything to hide the fact that me banging his old lady turned him on.

Everything makes perfect sense now. Was my client’s husband cheating on her? Well, yes, but only because she hadn’t seen the light. Now that she has, though, everything can only get better.

I feel someone putting a ring on one of my fingers as the farmer speaks again. “Let me give you a pager and a means of ensnaring others into my web. Just as I’ve told others, when the pager flashes green, you will come out here, take off your clothes, and join the orgy. After you get any new clients, you will show them the red light in your ring after you get their information. Once their minds have been sufficiently ensnared, you will call me and give me their information. Then you will tell them to wait for someone from the farm to contact them.”

I step down from the dais, find my clothes, and go home. If when I first woke up after having been knocked out, I thought I was in a bad place, I now know I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Chapter 11

The next day, my client comes into my office, and I explain what I had learned, about how she really doesn’t have anything to worry about, how she shouldn’t be too harsh on her husband for the other dames he’d banged on the farm, and how there’s freedom in embracing a greater sensuality than what we might have previously known.

She pays me handsomely for my services before remarking that I had been so professional in all of my dealings with her, so helpful, that she’d be sure to tell all of her friends about me and that I should expect a nice increase in business.

She saunters towards the door, shaking that beautiful ass of hers. I stand up and say, “Wait!”

She turned back to face me.

“You know, darling, you can’t spell ‘cunnilingus’ without ‘us’.”

“No. No you can’t.” She’s got a shit-eating grin on her face as she walks back to me.

Who says that there are no winners when a private dick confirms your worst suspicions?