Chapter 7

--- Mark ---

At 12:30, just as I was about to go out to pick up a meatball sub, my cell rang. It was the bitch.

“Hello, Kathy. What can I do you for?”

“I just wanted to give you a call. I made an appointment to get ... to go to a clinic for tests, like you wanted.”

“Good.”

“You know, we haven’t had a chance to talk about things. I mean since Thursday. And it’s been a long time. Several days.”

“Not much to talk about, is there? I mean, you gave me the ‘fuck you’ speech. And went on your little outing Friday. We could have talked Friday or Saturday, but you were ... ahem, busy.”

“It was not a ‘fuck you’ speech. I just wanted to be open and fair to you...”

I interrupted her. “After 14 years, you told me: ‘Hey, fuck you. I’m going to spend the weekend trying to get impregnated by some guy.’ Didn’t leave much to talk about.”

“I told you. It won’t change anything between us. It’s just a one-off thing...”

“That’s lasted 5 months. Just a one-off thing, right? Since you stopped taking the pill, right? Or was it longer?”

“Well, I...”

“I don’t think this is going to be a profitable conversation for either of us. You saying ‘It won’t matter.’ And me saying ‘It does matter.’ Like two little children: ‘Does not’... ‘Does so.’ ... Thanks for calling. I’ll get my own Maalox on the way home. I think I’m getting an ulcer.” I pushed the button to terminate the call.

I checked her online calendar. I noticed that she’d changed her ‘Lunch with L’ to ‘Meeting with P.’ Very clever. I could not have figured out that switcheroo in a million years. Hope your ‘meeting’ goes well with Mr. James Lucas Pendleton.

I flipped open the mini-laptop and listened to her calls this morning. I heard her call the clinic, there was a call to J.L. his very own self.

“Hi, Jimmy. We still on for our special lunch?”

He laughed. It was a rich baritone. “Katie, the only thing I’m going to have for lunch is your ass, between two hot buns, with a poker in it. You know that Tuesdays are Ass-days.”

“You’re a dirty old man, Daddy.” She laughed ... giggled almost.

Sex talk in the middle of the work day? This sounded like two lust-filled teenagers.

“About your husband. How did he take it? Did he walk?”

“No. I think he’ll come around. I might have to use my feminine wiles to really get him to cum around, if you know what I mean. But he’ll sign on to be the Daddy.”

“Good. You have to get the wimp on board for that. I’d have walked ... And don’t forget. We have that meeting with Mercer from GM, next Wednesday. A special meeting. I’ll want you to be extra nice to Mr. Mercer.”

“Not again. He’s a pig with a little bitty pig sticker. I’ll play with it, but he WILL NOT come in my mouth again.”

“Katie, I don’t care what you do with it. He can give me the inside info on what the Corvettes are doing next fall. That’s worth millions. And I’ll make sure to set some aside for little Jimmy or Jamey.”

“Well, keep your butt fucking rod ready for me. I want it today ... Now I’ve gotta run. Bye-eee.”

So, he was whoring her out to get inside info. Probably she had other appointments set up for Ford as well. They sold a lot of pickups in Georgia. Not Toyota, I figured. Too Japanese.

And then she called me. I hoped the ‘fuck you’ phone conversation warmed up her little ass.

I listened as her cell phone picked up the conversation with her secretary. “Out to lunch with Pendleton and his CFO. They want an update on the portfolio. I owe them that. Haven’t given them a full update in a couple of months. Then I have a doctor’s appointment afterwards. Might as well take the afternoon off. I’ll be back probably around 4:30 or so. Ta-ta.”

What? No ‘Bye-eee?’

I listened in all afternoon. From the groping at the door, through the “You know I love it when you don’t wear any panties,” to her “Put it in. Don’t make me beg for it,” right up to the “Oh, you’re so big. I can feel you shooting in my throat. I swear I can.”

Then she washed him, and sucked him hard again, and they did it doggy style. Only this time she called it ‘puppy fucking’ – she never called it that with me. When she was playful she called me her black stud, Rufus, and said she wanted to take it ‘where the sun don’t shine.’ She was imaginative, was our little b-K.

I’ll spare you the sordid details. I closed the app.

I re-opened her calendar, and scanned forward to see if the scheduled meeting in New York was still on. Yep, there was a ‘C’ in the expected days. Chuck, I decided. Or Cliff.

Just for fun I checked on Chuck or Charley or Cliff in the bank’s online directory. There were a lot of ‘C.’ something or others. Chauncy? Clark? One of the Directors was Carmichael E. Vanderbilt. Oh. He was very old, judging from the picture, and looked like he’d have the prick of an aardvark. But then again, I didn’t know how well aardvarks were endowed. They say that pigs were ... sorry. Option 8, Avoidance again.

I dropped a memo to my boss about taking Thursday and Friday as vacation days for the week of April 7-11.

Damn! I needed to find out where she was during her little ‘puppy fuck.’ So, I re-opened the mini-laptop and checked the tracking device I’d attached in the wheel well of her car. Good thing she didn’t drive a Corvette – where would I have attached a magnetic device on an all-plastic car? Thank goodness for a BMW.

The tracker showed that she was in the parking garage of an up-scale condo building in a nice section of Atlanta. Did she have another condo? It seemed unlikely. She probably wouldn’t have been able to get one within the last six months. Probably it belonged to the middle-aged butt fucker. I started to get some ideas about the butt fucker’s love nest, and Mrs. butt fucker’s potential involvement.

To do that I’d probably have to get into the condo. Not to mention, I’d have to find out which one was the site of today’s puppy fuck, usually on Ass-days. I’m no good at this. I needed a private investigator. That would be expensive, probably.