"Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain."
-- The Wizard of Oz.
Tape # 1 - Feels Like The First Time
This fi rst real assignment might determine if I could
be an effective PI. It could also possibly prove if I could
keep my personal life out of my chosen part-time business.
It would defi nitely prove what sort of friend I am. That is
not completely accurate. What should be stated here is that
it would defi nitely sort out what sort of friendship I had
developed with Count.
Taking on my fi rst job has me thinking about my fi rst
opportunity to get laid, and how I missed it. I am not sure
if this is a representation of a failure or of a fear. Perhaps it
was both. I just knew I did not want to fuck it up. I was the
star drummer as a high school sophomore, and after a band
concert, I was helping clean up and put away equipment.
Ms. Williams offered me a ride home. I had no idea what
she really wanted, I just thought she was being nice. We
were both dressed to kill. I got into her car, and watched
her walk around to the driver's side. She entered in such a
way that I thought I caught a glimpse of inner thigh, up by
the panties, only I am not sure there were any. Her skirt slid
way up, because she sort of sat against the back of the seat
and slid down. She did not even adjust it; she just let it ride
up on her. Her legs were so tanned and smooth. I wanted
to lay my head in her lap, and I had no idea that she would
have allowed it. I still had no idea that she was trying to get
me heated up for her purposes. She asked if it were okay to
stop by her apartment for a second. She wanted to run in and
get something real quick. It was on the way. Who was I to
tell her no, she was giving me a ride home. As she started
walking up the sidewalk, she turned and called to me, "Why
don't you come on up. We'll be a few minutes." Thinking
nothing was up; I got out and followed her up the stairs. I
was watching her, and she was making me horny, but I still
did not know that she was trying to do so. Her apartment
was small and cluttered. In fact, it looked like somebody
threw up Christmas. Ms. Williams apologized for the mess,
and said she would be right out. She hollered out, "I'm going
to slip into something more comfortable." I noticed that she
did not shut the door to her bedroom as she was changing.
I secretly wanted to peek in, and she secretly wanted me to
come in. She emerged from the bedroom wearing a thin
white tank that did not hide her hard nipples, and really
short pink cotton shorts. They used to be sweats I think.
The bottoms were loose and frayed, and the top was rolled
down. They covered very little. She was smoking hot, and
I suspected that she was not wearing panties underneath.
Ms. Williams faced away from me, bent over really far,
and acted like she was clearing a spot for her to sit on the
couch. I must have been really stupid to not realize what
she was doing. The pink cotton shorts rode up on her, and
my previous suspicions regarding her lack of panties were
confi rmed. My erection was impossible to hide. She fi nally
turned and sat down on the front edge of the couch, leaned
back, and clearly exposed a cleanly shaved beaver. I could
have sat there and stared at it forever. It was beautiful. It
was as plain as the nose on your face. Ms. Williams wanted
to fuck, and she wanted to fuck now. "Do you want to hang
out here awhile.or will your parents be worried?"
Had she not planted that seed, she would have gotten
what she wanted. I was 16, and I would not have told
anybody. Had she seduced me correctly, she would have
fulfi lled my fantasy. If she had not said, ".or will your
parents be worried?" I would not have said,
"They might, you had better take me home."
As you know, my collection of experience regarding
surveillance is limited to video-taping suspected insurance
fraud and disability claims. All I had to do then was drive
my vehicle to a neighborhood, stick my camera out the
window and catch people in the act. It was a lot simpler
than you might think. Sometimes I would wait for hours, but
I had the advantage in that the suspects did not know me, or
my purpose. If you are a fraud and making out like a bandit
with insurance or disability claims, your lack of ambition
in life generally translates into a lack of intelligence. You
would not spend your entire life hiding your lies from your
neighbors, either because they do not know or they do not
care. And why would you suspect a stranger in a strange
car to be performing surveillance to prove that you are a
fraud?
Following Count would be different. I could not afford
a different car that Count would not recognize. There were
no bells and whistles, but my red Wrangler still stood out
like a turd in a punch bowl. I had to be completely stealth.
Fortunately for me, Count did not suspect that he was being
followed, and the few times he spotted familiar cars, he
dismissed it as multiple co-workers coming and going to
work at the same time.
Count talked about bowling night: That is not entirely
accurate. Count bragged about bowling night. In fact, he
bragged about events occurring on bowling night that did not
always involve bowling. All I really had to do was listen,
and Count would give away his plans. Eventual location
was not always clear, but things always started in west
Lincoln at The Sun Valley Lanes shortly after the bowling
was complete.
On a cold Friday during the Christmas season, Count
seemed particularly excited about getting out of the NSP
parking lot. He had mentioned previously during the day
that he was meeting an ex-girlfriend for a drink and a hug
before she left town. My concern was getting there fast
enough to set up my video. I became practiced at having
a fully charged battery and collecting video on very short
notice.
Count left the exit driveway from the Penitentiary and
went straight across Pioneers Boulevard toward the Jet
Wash. Ninety-nine percent of the traffi c turns right, onto
Pioneers, with access to Highway 2 just across the railroad
tracks. Nobody goes to the left, but that is seasonal, due to
the bridge repair. The one percent that goes straight across
goes to the car wash. No employee of the state that I am
aware of lives in the residential area to the northwest of the
car wash.
I followed Count west of the Jet Wash. He parked in a
vacant lot prior to entering the residential area. As I sat in
my vehicle in the car-wash parking lot across from the exit
driveway, I could see things developing through my lens.
Count parked his vehicle next to another and upon exiting his
vehicle, climbed into the passenger side of the one adjacent
to his. Immediately, my recording session picked-up the
two silhouettes leaning together for an extremely passionate
kiss. There was some squirming in the passenger seat. I
can only imagine that Count was trying to get something out
of his pants. Shortly after, the passenger seat reclined, and
the driver bent her head over into the area that appeared to
be Count's lap.
My video did not produce the actual blow-job, but the
circumstantial events made it very clear what was going on.
Windows were fogging up, but the bobbing curls could still
be seen. A minute of video shot, great evidence collected.
Not a bad start. I already feel like a snitch, and I have not
even turned anything over yet. Count is not half a mile from
work, and he is in broad daylight. Shit, maybe he wants
to get caught. Bowling night might turn out to be Count's
downfall. He gets so excited he can not contain himself.
You can tell just by looking at him that he has plans to
get a nut. I am beginning to think I can almost limit my
surveillance of Count to bowling nights.