Chapter 10

[ Knock, knock. Who’s there? ]

Stakeouts are boring.

The magic of TV and movie editing removes all of the long, tedious stretches of nothing happening.

I hoped nobody was gassy from lunch.

What’s the protocol for a bad case of the farts? Assuming more than one person on the stakeout, of course. Try to slip out of the vehicle and not be too obvious while aerating the surroundings? Go for a neighborhood walk and hope nothing interesting happens while you’re out flatulating?

With five of us available to keep an eye on Blake Taggot’s house, it wasn’t as constrained as a typical stakeout. At least we had that much going for us. Except that Alvaro had to be there all of the time. Lin kept him company much more than her share. Heather, too, although she took a break now and then with me and Emmy.

Otherwise it was almost surreal when I mentally stepped back and thought about our situation.

We had driven to Seattle in a large van, our own version of a Mystery Machine, although without the flowers and Mystery Machine lettering. Heather had borrowed the vehicle from a friend and we were squarely in the soccer mom transportation universe. Flying didn’t make sense, both from the monetary aspect and since we would still have a long drive to get to an airport. Neither my car or Heather’s car seats more than four people. We could have left Lin or Emmy or both of them back in Oregon, but that wasn’t going to happen.

Now we were trying to find out if Blake Taggot was at his Eastlake house. Or if it was even his house, despite someone else’s name listed as the owner. It was one of the older houses on the street, although well maintained. It had a small one car garage separate from the residence.

Earlier in the week we had finalized logistics. I notified clients of my unavailability and Alvaro coordinated with siblings to cover his absence at the farm and market. Heather was able to arrange a Friday and Monday off from work for a four day weekend, a sacrifice I greatly appreciated. She also cleared a trip to Seattle with Lin’s parents.

“What are we trying to accomplish?” I had asked. “We’re not private investigators, that’s obvious.”

“Should we consider hiring one? It might be good to use a professional instead of a bunch of ‘meddling kids’,” said Heather.

“Hey, we’re not a bunch of meddling kids,” said Emmy.

“Scooby reference, babe,” said Heather. “It’s more like two kids and three meddling adults.”

“Two mature teens and three meddling adults,” said Lin, primly.

After some chuckling by everyone, Alvaro spoke.

“Assuming discretion by the PI, even if he or she found out something really juicy about Blake, there’s still the question of what to do with the information. And we’ve already talked about our reluctance to pass info on to the case investigators.”

“We might not find out anything,” I said. “This might be a fruitless trip.”

A surge of sadness and frustration from the last six years hit me. The connection to Blake was thin, thinner than Wiley E. Coyote after ten years of chasing the Road Runner, and I didn’t know if we were going to have any more success than the hapless coyote.

“Let’s make it a true road trip, then,” said Heather. “I can’t help much on the money side of things, but we could do some fun activities in Seattle, or maybe in Portland.”

“Road trip, cool!” said Emmy.

“I’ll reserve three rooms at a decent hotel,” I said. “Summer is a busy season, so finding something may involve a longish drive to and from the Eastlake neighborhood.”

“Pool. Get a hotel with a pool,” said Emmy. “I have a new swimming suit I want to wear.”

“I also haven’t talked much about my finances,” I said. “My consulting brings in a decent income, but Jenn’s shares in Dyna G are worth a lot. When I am able to sell some of them, I won’t ever have to concern myself about money. Let me treat the group and please don’t feel guilty or obligated by it.”

Thanks were given by everyone.

“So, no PI,” said Heather. “And whatever we find, we find, even if it’s nothing.”

“Isn’t ‘private dick’ slang for a PI?” asked Lin.

“Oh, ho, ho, the possibilities, the possibilities,” said Heather with a hearty chuckle.

“Is there such a thing as a public dick?” asked Emmy.

“I’ve known more than a few in my life, both public and private,” said Heather, still laughing.

“Could we just go up to the door, knock, and see who answers?” asked Lin.

Everyone looked at each other. We hadn’t considered that action. Professionals we weren’t.

It was after four PM on Friday afternoon, almost an hour into our stakeout, and eight hours after we had departed from the Oregon coast. We had already checked into the hotel and unloaded bags, with one room each for me and Alvaro and the girls sharing a room.

“And then what?” I asked. “If someone answers, do we ask if Blake is there? If Alvaro sees him and it’s Blake, but he says there’s no Blake there, then what? Or if he says he is Blake, what do we ask him?”

“Hmm, good questions,” said Alvaro. “I say let’s continue the stakeout today and if nothing happens we could always try the knocking strategy tomorrow or Sunday. That will also give us time to discuss what our possible responses should be.”

We all nodded agreement.

Alvaro was sitting in the middle row of seats, with Lin leaning as close to him as possible. Alvaro had picked his spot because it was one of the more comfortable seats and had the best view of Blake’s house. Heather was in the driver’s seat, facing backwards and watching Alvaro and Lin and occasionally me and Emmy with a smirk on her face.

Emmy had been physically teasing me during most of the stakeout. She would slip a hand inside one leg of my shorts and tickle a testicle. Or nuzzle my neck and then stick her tongue inside my ear. Or flash a nipple. Or pull down her shorts and panties to show me the top of her mons then smile at me and quickly wiggle her eyebrows like Groucho Marx.

I was a combination of turned on and irritated. And not only was Emmy loving it, Heather was loving it as well.

Lin wasn’t paying attention to anyone but Alvaro, who seemed mildly amused by all of it. He was the person who had to focus the most.

“Isn’t the houseboat from ‘Sleepless in Seattle’ around here somewhere?” asked Emmy.

“I’m pretty sure it’s on the other side of the lake, in the Westlake area. I can look it up on my phone if it’s important,” I said.

Emmy and I were outside of the van taking a break.

“It’s a sweet movie,” said Emmy. “I watched it a few years ago, I know it’s old, but I liked it anyway.”

The movie had been released when I was in my teens, probably when I was sixteen. I didn’t consider it old, even though it was certainly classic by most measures. But then, most teens consider anything happening before they were born to be ancient.

I smiled to myself and let out a small sigh.

“Let’s explore and walk around, I know there are a lot of houseboats in this area.”

Uphill from the water and houseboats were a mix of older single residence homes, mostly craftsman style, with new condo developments and other high density buildings under construction. The area was undergoing rapid change, although the majority of the houseboats looked like they had been there for a while. I mused out loud about how much the area had changed since I had moved to Oregon.

I’m not sure Emmy cared that much about my commentary on architectural transition, but seemed to enjoy the stroll. She really perked up when we walked under the University Bridge and discovered a small, secluded houseboat neighborhood nestled between the Ship Canal and a steep bluff.

“Wow, this is kind of cool,” she said. “You would never know these houseboats are here. And there’s a real variety, some are almost shacks, and some are really nice and big.”

A hand grabbed one of my butt cheeks.

“And speaking of nice and big I wonder if we could find a secluded place and...”

“And?” I asked with a smile.

My phone rang. I quickly answered.

“Darrien!” said Lin. “We’re on the move, we’re heading north on Eastlake Avenue. Get there as fast you can. I hope you’re close. We’ll look for you.”

Emmy and I ran up a set of stairs to the top of the bluff and headed west on an arterial street until we reached the avenue.

A few seconds later we saw the approaching van and we started frantically waving our arms.

“Hurry, jump in!” yelled Lin out the front passenger window as the van pulled over. Heather was driving.

“We saw Blake leave the house,” said Lin breathlessly after closing the van’s sliding door. “He walked over to the garage and drove out in a car. We’re tailing him.”

Emmy jumped into the seat next to Alvaro and I stumbled into the back seat, almost falling on the floor as Heather accelerated.

“You’re sure it’s him?” I asked.

“Yeah,” answered Alvaro. “He looks older, which is obvious, but I’m ninety eight percent sure it’s him.”

“Don’t lose him! Drive fast!” said Emmy.

“Umm, there’s a light blinking. I think the drawbridge is getting ready to go up,” said Heather.

A tall mast from a sailboat was visible on the west side of the bridge, waiting to go through and return to Lake Washington.

“Shit, keep driving, don’t stop for the light!” said Emmy.

A crossing gate started lowering to keep traffic from driving across the bridge. Heather sped up. I exhaled when I didn’t hear a scraping sound on the roof as we drove under the gate.

“That was close,” muttered Alvaro.

I just hoped the bridge operator didn’t have a camera system that would result in a moving violation sent through the mail. Or worse, that he or she would make a call to a patrol officer.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.

“Yeah, fuck,” said Heather.

We had lost Blake in one of the neighborhoods west of Sand Point. Shortly past Children’s Hospital he turned on to a side street that was narrow and had no traffic. A few turns later he sped up and within three more turns he completely disappeared. After driving back and forth a few times we saw at least three small side streets or alleys he could have ducked into.

“I think he realized someone was following him,” said Alvaro.

“Yeah, I think we were pretty fucking obvious, in a big van full of people,” I said.

“Well, we’re not professionals,” said Heather, not quite with a smirk, but smiling anyway.

I slouched in my seat, dejected. Emmy didn’t say anything, but she turned around, crouched on her knees and reached back, touching one of my knees. I took her hand and laced my fingers together with hers in a backwards handhold and squeezed, lightly, until Emmy flipped back around to face forward.

We ate at a seafood restaurant on the north end of Lake Union, away from most of the summer tourist crowd. We explored the nearby Gasworks park and climbed Kite Hill to gaze across the lake at downtown Seattle and the Space Needle. We took pictures by the troll under the Fremont Bridge and walked over to the center of the universe, which as everyone knows is not far from the troll. We said hello to the statues of Lenin, Sri Chinmoy, and the people waiting for the interurban.

Since the Fremont Summer Solstice Parade was already over, we couldn’t watch any nude bicyclists pedaling by. Besides, it was close to dark, so we wouldn’t have been able to see anything interesting.

It was late by the time we returned to the hotel, but there was still time for swimming and fun in the pool. I admired Emmy in her new swimming suit, Lin looked stunning as usual in her bikini, and Heather was every bit as sexy and fun and flirty as the two younger girls. We splashed and frolicked. Butts and crotches and breasts were groped and tweaked and teased, at least until a family with young kids arrived. That didn’t stop the tomfoolery, but it did make us be more discreet.

As expected, Alvaro looked yummy and tight in his swimming trunks, and everyone, not just the females in our group, appreciated the view.

When pool closing time arrived, we all headed to our rooms for showers and dry clothes and a night of rest.

Or not.

I wondered if more activities were on the menu.

Three quick knocks sounded on my hotel room door.

I thought about asking “Who’s there?” but decided against the smart-assery.

I opened the door and Emmy was standing there with a backpack on her shoulders and a huge smile on her face. I matched the smile.

She leaped in, hugged me, and gave me a quick kiss.

“Is that all the kissing I get?” I asked.

“Yup. i can’t wait. More kisses to come. And more cum to come,” she said, with a leer on her face.

Emmy pulled me over to the bed, pushed me on it and straddled me. Her groin started rotating and pressing into me.

“Babe, that feels wonderful,” I said.

“Just wait,” she said, lifting up and off, quickly taking off her shorts and shirt and unsnapping her bra.

The sight of her dressed only in panties was lovely, as always. Extremely lovely.

I thought she would hop back on, but instead she pulled some items out of her pack.

Four very long and thin strips of fabric.

“What is this?”

“Shh. Be still. Take off your t-shirt.”

I complied.

She took one of my hands and wrapped the end of a strip around my wrist with a loose knot. She looked for a post or other place on the headboard to tie the other end, but ended up using one of the corner supports under the bed. My other wrist was quickly and similarly bound.

The knots weren’t uncomfortable or very tight, and I could have slipped out of them with a minimal amount of effort. But I didn’t think that was the best course of action.

She slipped my shorts off, followed by my underwear. I didn’t have any socks on.

She tied up both of my ankles in the same manner as my wrists.

Then she pulled a blindfold out of her bag.

Oh shit.

I was naked and spread-eagled on the bed. Not quite naked and afraid, but definitely naked and apprehensive.

And now I was blindfolded.

“I told you there would be consequences,” said Emmy.

Oh shit.

A knock sounded on the hotel room door, a soft one. Emmy opened it and another set of footsteps entered the room alongside Emmy’s. A small gasp and giggle came from the other person. It sounded female.

“Now, what should his consequences be?” asked Emmy.

I started to say something, but a hand quickly covered my mouth.

“Quiet, or else I may have to find something to gag you with,” said Emmy.

The other girl giggled louder, and I could tell she was trying not to laugh out loud.

“Remember, don’t talk, just nod or shake your head for yes or no,” said Emmy to the other girl. “Should we take out this whip and put some big red marks on him?”

Oh shit. What else does she have in that bag?

“No? Too noisy? Too much work? Ok. How about these nipple clamps?”

A few more seconds went by, The muffled giggling never stopped.

“No? A butt plug? We’d have to flip him over for that, so no. Maybe we should just tweak his nipples ourselves, since we don’t have clamps. We need some kind of consequences.”

I felt two hands grab and twist my nipples, not hard enough to make me gasp in pain, but definitely uncomfortable. Another set of hands did the same a couple of seconds later, although with not as much force. The second set of tweaks was almost pleasurable.

“Oh look,” said Emmy. “I think he’s happy with that. He’s at full extension. I bet he wants even more attention, lower than his nipples.”

I felt a hand reach around my cock, then a mouth slide down over the tip. I moaned with the awesome sensation.

“Ok, enough of that. My turn.”

The warm mouth had only been around my cock for a couple of seconds. And it wasn’t Emmy’s.

It slowly slid off and I felt a different set of lips start kissing my cock, then a second warm mouth engulfed me. This one must be Emmy’s since nobody else was talking, although I could hear heavy breathing from the other girl.

I started softly thrusting up into Emmy’s mouth until she pulled off.

She lightly smacked the side of my butt.

“Nope, no thrusting. Only when I say you can.”

I quit moving.