Chapter 3

Stern picked the print out of the finishing solution with a pair of plastic tongs and hung it on the line to dry with the others. This one was his favorite: Amanda Westphal on her hands and knees with her head between the maid's legs, her huge, perfectly symmetric breasts hanging down like ripe cantaloupes. Photography was a serious hobby of his: he spent more money than he could afford on darkroom equipment and chemicals, making up the difference by avoiding unnecessary expenses like new clothes and brake pads. Now it was finally going to pay off.

Martin Westphal was going to love these. Stern had decided just how he was going to play it: first show him the pictures of him and his maid at the motel, and tell him he was going to get skinned alive in divorce court. Get him all worried. Then show him these — the perfect antidote, but expensive. He chuckled to himself, imagining the look on the plastic surgeon's face when he realized his wife was two-timing him with the maid. And that the maid was two-timing him with his wife.

He went out of the darkroom to get a beer, and on his way back he noticed his answering machine light blinking and he stopped to play the message:

"Hey Frank, it's Phil. I checked out that plastic surgeon for ya — it didn't take long because he's got legal and financial problems like you wouldn't believe. You better collect your fees from this guy up front! Martin Westphal is being sued for malpractice by three patients who aren't happy with their nose jobs.

Apparently he developed a new technique for rerouting a septum or something, but one good sneeze and the whole thing blows apart. He settled the first few cases out of court and that just about wiped him out financially. Now with these new lawsuits he's looking at bankruptcy and possibly losing his license. Hope that helps, buddy! Gimme a call sometime and we'll go out for a few drinks."

Stern swore violently and slapped the answering machine off the shelf and onto the floor. It sprung open, sending the little tape skittering across the floor and under the couch. Once again his luck had turned sour. He paced around the apartment for a while, and slowly calmed down and started to think. It wasn't over yet. He just had to be flexible.

"I got some good news and I got some bad news," said Maria, closing the door to her apartment behind Martin Westphal.

"I could use some good news, Maria. God knows I didn't get any at work today." The plastic surgeon went straight into the efficiency kitchen and started assembling bottles on the countertop. Maria padded along behind him in her bare feet.

"Somebody else don't like their new nose?"

"Yeah, something like that. What's the good news?"

"We got the pictures, and you wife is all set to divorce you. She know she got to be quiet about her and me until after the divorce."

"That is good news!" Westphal looked up from the blender and smiled at her, his bright white teeth gleaming out of his tan.

"Yeah, she all excited to get half of you money so we can go to Paris. Why the fuck I want to go to Paris?"

"Hah," snorted Westphal, and said something else that was cut off by the sound of the blender. He poured out two margaritas and knocked off half of his with one sip. "Ahhh. Jesus, I needed that. OK, what's the bad news?"

Maria took a dainty sip of her drink and shook her head. "She develop the pictures all ready, even though I tole her a hundred times to jus give me the film."

"Shit — what did the airhead do, drop it off at Moto Photo?"

"Uh-uh. This is the really bad thing. She say she use a machine at the camera store to do it." She paused for another sip, letting Westphal figure it out for himself. He was supposed to be the brains behind this operation.

"But those machines don't develop film, they just make prints from negatives."

"Thas right." She could see the wheels turning now.

"Dammit! I bet she didn't take the goddamn pictures in the first place."

Maria nodded. "I think you right. I think she was very nervous, afraid she would make mistake with camera."

Westphal poured himself another drink and thought it over. "I guess it doesn't matter, as long as she's planning to keep quiet about her wonderful new lifestyle until the divorce is settled. But it's creepy to think that someone else was watching us."

"You wan me to try to find out who took the pictures?"

"Yeah, do that."

Maria walked over to Westphal and kissed him, raising up on her toes to reach his mouth. Her short black dress rode up high on her thighs as she pressed herself against him.

"Tell me baby — how it go with the plan?"

Westphal set his drink down and put his arms around her, his hands sliding down to cup her buttocks. "Everything is going fine." He didn't sound too convincing.

"I thought we suppose to have the diamonds by now."

"Now that we can guarantee that nothing will come out before the election, we should collect in a few days."

"Mmmm. How many diamonds in two millions, Martin?"

"Depends on the size and the quality, obviously." He had worked the hem of her dress up over her ass with his fingers, and now he slid his hands under her panties. "I told him to buy good quality stones between one and two carats, worth about ten thousand each. So figure about two hundred diamonds."

"Two hundred! Thas amazing." She felt his erection growing and pressing against her stomach, and she rubbed herself against it.

"You wan us fuck now or after we eat?"

"Don't be so crude, Maria. How about both?"

"That sound good. You gonna stay late tonight?"

"Yeah, why not. My wife is divorcing me anyway."

"You know what she say to me today? She say why don't you come over to the house in the evening because Doctor Westphal always come home late anyway. I tell her thas no good — we have to be careful."

Westphal laughed as he squeezed and kneaded her ass. "Does she still get off on being humiliated?"

"Oh yeah. She like to be called a cow, and yesterday I have to pretend I am milking her. You wife is one fucked up lady."

"Don't I know it. I spent the first three years of our marriage spanking her and leading her around on a leash. I finally had to tell the kinky bitch I was sick of it."

"I'm starving. Les do it quick an then eat."

"OK, let me slide it right in here then." He moved his hand down and pressed a fingertip against her anus. "You know how fast that gets me off."

She smiled and poked him playfully in the ribs. "And you call you wife kinky?"

Westphal slid her white panties down to the floor. "There's nothing kinky about liking anal sex, Maria. Unless every man in the world is kinky."

"You jus lucky I like it too. Lemme get my lubricant."

When she came back to the living room he was lying naked on the floor, his cock pointing up at the ceiling.

"Thas what I like to see," she laughed. She stood over his face, letting him see up her short dress to her neatly-trimmed pussy. "After dinner this is going to be you dessert, got it?"

"Whatever you say."

She squirted lubricant on his cock and worked it in with her fingers, and then she reached between her legs and put a dollop on her ass.

"Come to Papa," said Westphal, and he gripped his cock firmly to make a steady target. Maria squatted down and carefully aligned herself by feel. She loved the feeling of having a big cock filling up her ass, but the initial entry was always painful and a little scary.

"Come on sugar, two inches of pain and six inches of pleasure — come and get it."

"Fuck you. Why you have such a big cock anyway?" She slowly lowered herself, steeling herself against the painful stretching. Just when it really started to hurt and she wondered what the hell she was doing, the pain went away and there was just a long, smooth, delicious slide to the bottom.

"Shit Martin, how you ever get me to do that the first time?"

"You did six or seven tequila shots and then asked for it. Now raise up a little, will you?" She was literally sitting on his tool, pinning him down to the carpeted floor of the living room.

"Oh yeah, I remember. That wasn't nice, fucking Maria up the ass when she drunk." She slowly peeled off her dress, letting him squirm helplessly beneath her for a few moments, and then she leaned back on her hands and lifted herself up a few inches, giving him room to thrust up into her.