Maria had managed to get into his office dressed in a uniform from the cleaning contractor, pushing a vacuum cleaner and to check all of his files and bills. Nothing on the credit card. Nothing on the cell phone. Nothing on the computer.

“Hi, how are you doing?” a familiar voice rang out across the coffee shop.

“Mrs. Windborne? I’m fine, how are you?” She was with Angela’s former client, Michelle Anderson.

Angela flashed onto the vivid images of Mrs. Windborne’s husband fucking Michelle Anderson and wondered what the heck these two were doing together.

“This is Michelle… Oh, I forgot, you two know each other, don’t you?”

Angela’s mind was still half on the reports about Jeff. She found it difficult to shift her attention to what was happening right in front of her. Her mind was flooded with the contradictory images-Michelle with Raymond Windborne…the photographs Angela had presented to Mrs. Windborne? No…something else… But what?

“I’m so happy to see you,” Mrs. Windborne enthused. “Are you doing anything important? Do you mind if we join you?” Michelle Anderson was sitting in the chair Mrs. Windborne had pulled out for her and Mrs. Windborne took the other chair at the table.

Angela snapped the screen of her computer shut and said, “No, no, of course not. Please do.”

“We have news for you!” Mrs. Windborne was gushing.

“What news?”

“Well, you know my husband Raymond? He was cheating with Michelle here. So I talked to Michelle about it and we decided that next time we would both be there. So a couple of days after you showed me those awful photographs, when Raymond called Michelle, she called me. When he showed up Michelle was in the living room, naked. He comes in and gets undressed and she leads him into the bedroom. He has a hard-on and is ready to go, but then he sees me.”

Michelle picked up the story. “And I get on the bed with Joan here, and I say, ‘come on, fuck me’ and he can’t do anything. Joan starts sucking him off while he’s standing there and he can’t get it up again. So Joan and I start making out, just to fuck with his head.”

“And I thought we had given him every man’s fantasy!”

“Yeah, for his wife to be with his girlfriend.”

Both women laughed and Michelle resumed the story.

“So he leaves. But we found that we liked what we were doing, so we just kept on doing it.”

“And?” asked Angela.

“And so I filed for divorce and moved out and now Michelle and I are living together.”

“And we changed to the Unitarian Church where they have a support group that we like.”

Angela finished her latte to disguise whatever expression was on her face, put down her cup and said, “Wow, that is some news.”

“And to think,” Mrs. Windborne said, “we have you to thank for it all.”

“Glad to be of service.”

The two women went to the counter, got a bag of coffee beans, and left hand in hand.

Angela opened her computer again. Well that’s a new one on me! What’s going on with Jeff now?

She read the report for Friday. He shaved and showered in the executive washroom, changed clothes, sent out the dirty clothes to be cleaned. Had breakfast sent in. Ate at his desk. Another conference call. New York. Conference with corporate brass. All afternoon. Two women. Both senior executives. Nobody showed any sexual interest in anyone else.

He went home late Friday night.

The manager of the cleaning crew tried to fuck one of his cleaning women Friday night. She wasn’t having any of it. Sexual harassment. I ought to find out who the contractor is and report this son of a bitch. If the woman doesn’t come forward, nothing I can do. Shit! If the son of a bitch is doing it, it’s because it’s worked in the past.

Saturday morning Jeff left the house and drove to the loop, parked in the company’s parking garage, got coffee and bagels at a coffee shop, ate in his office. A conference call at ten. He worked on the computer…

Maybe something going on there. Maybe he’s instant messaging someone. Maybe he’s doing something with the computer.

The next message on her computer was from Joyce Sato. He was using a wireless connection in his office. Joyce Sato picked up the signal, decrypted it, all transmissions were business with Singapore or Tokyo.

Shit! What’s the asshole up to? She caught herself referring to him by Ronda’s pet name.

Maria followed him from the parking garage home late Saturday night and left off surveillance. Marcella Ingles picked him up on Sunday morning when he picked up the newspaper from the front step of the house. Then again, when he drove to a seedy bar in Garry.

Ah-ha! Gotcha, asshole.

Stephanie relieved Marcella and used a portable microphone attached to her blouse to record his conversation in the bar. He was meeting with an industrial spy who was passing corporate secrets from another firm to him.

He’s cheating all right, but not on his wife.

Maria picked up the tail and followed him to another bar in another part of Garry. There he met an FBI agent. While he was inside, Maria attached a tracer to his car.

Corporate spies and FBI? What is going on?

He drove home and arrived at 11:00 in the evening.

From the rented office across the street from Jeff’s, Gudrun could trace his car downtown without having to risk following him from home. He went into the parking garage, got coffee…

Angela’s cell phone vibrated. She snapped her computer shut, put it in her bag, and walked outside where she listened to the message and hit the call back button to see what Ronda wanted.

“What’s up, girlfriend?”

“Oh, hi. That was me just now.”

“Yeah, got it.”

“Asshole’s away tonight. Another trip.”

“My gals are covering it. You want the news?”

“Sure. What’s he really doing?”

“It looks like he’s really going to meetings and doing corporate stuff.”

“No girls?”

“Closest thing is a Danish cross-dresser.”

“Can you come over?”

“I’m on my way on foot. Be there in a few.”

“I’ll leave the front door open. I may start without you.”

Angela walked the mile or so to Ronda’s house, let herself in, and went up the stairs to the bedroom where Ronda was playing with herself on the bed.

“You’re much better at this than I am…”

“And I’d love to, but we need to talk.”

“News?” She sat up with interest.

“No news. That’s the news. Nothing. And this is costing you an arm and a leg with air travel and wages and…I don’t see anything at all. We’ve scanned his home and office computers. We checked his laptop when he left it in his room in Copenhagen. No e-mails to women. We checked his files at the office, and the cell phone records are squeaky clean. There just isn’t anything. Your guy is just that. Your guy. I’ve seen enough of this stuff to know that if something were going on, we’d have wind of it by now with all this surveillance and snooping.”

Ronda lay back down and resumed playing with herself. “Do I have to do this myself?”

Angela unbuttoned her blouse. “Save some of that for me. You’re getting fuzzy down there.”

“I cancelled my salon appointments. I wish Jeff would stay here long enough to notice. Or to see me naked at least.”

“Did you ever do this in front of him?”

“Play with myself? No!”

“Why not? I bet he’d like it.”

“Tell you what, you join us and we can both do it. Or we can do each other and he can bloody well watch that.”

“What happened to you steering his big hard cock into my asshole?”

“Oh, I’m still up for that. Come here so I can practice my part.”

Naked, Angela complied.

“You’re getting fuzzy down there too, girlfriend. We’re going to be a couple of hairy girls in a couple of weeks if you don’t do something about that fuzz.”

“I thought you’d like it.”

“I like you the way you’ve been.”


--

“What time is it?” Ronda was rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“It’s early. But it’s Tuesday. I have to get to work sometime.”

“Can’t someone cover for you today?”

“I’ll see if Joyce is available.” Angela said “Joyce” into her cell phone.

“Hi, Joyce, can you cover for me at the office today? Thanks. I owe you one.”

“We have the whole day. Let’s do the sauna and then have a hot bath.”

Ronda led Angela to the sauna and turned on the heat. “Fill the water bucket, will you?” She handed the bucket to Angela.

“Shall I turn on the water in the tub too?”

“Sure, there’s an automatic cut-off, so it won’t overflow. Be sure it’s hot enough. I don’t want to jump into cold water this morning.”

Angela looked at herself in the mirror. “I see what you mean about getting fuzzy. Do you have a razor I can use?”

“Sure. Open the drawer. There’s a bunch in there. But why don’t you let me do it? Come on back to the bed for a minute. Bring a towel. I have some shaving gel.”

Angela spread out the Turkish towel and lay on it, her legs slightly open. Ronda sprayed shaving gel on her sprouting pubic hair and rubbed it in with her fingers.

“Mmmm. That feels good.” Angela put her hands under her head.

Ronda took the razor from Angela’s hand. “I’ve never done someone else before.”

“Just be careful.”

“These razors can’t cut anyone.” She was shaving and wiping the razor on the towel. “Hang on, I have to rinse it off.”

She continued shaving. “Shit, it’s not even.”

“Hey, leave something.”

“Okay, don’t worry. I like that little patch as much as you do.”

She carefully shaved from Angela’s navel down to the small triangle of long hair that guarded her labia. Then she shaved each side of the triangle until Angela was bare to her thighs. “There, that should do it.”