Part 1: Insurance Scam

Chrissy Simmons leaned into the car window and kissed her husband Todd, goodbye. She stood back up and pulled the belt around her bathrobe tighter. Chrissy chatted for awhile, not wanting him to leave her again. Todd was off on another one of his extended business trips and she sighed. He hadn't even pulled out of the driveway yet and already she was feeling lonely and neglected. What she really needed was a job to keep her busy, but they didn't need the money and Todd liked coming home to a nice supper and a clean house or at least he did when he came home.

"Drive safely," she said, looking up as a black sedan slowly cruised past her house. She stared at the sedan as two black men in the front seats turned their heads, reflective sunglasses staring back at her as the sedan continued down the street. It turned right at the next block.

"Thanks," replied Todd. "I'll see you in a few days. Oh yeah honey?"

"What's that?"

"Thanks for the sex. Love ya."

Chrissy stepped back, laughing and watched her husband slowly back out of the driveway. They had made love last night and were trying to have a baby. It was one of the reasons she wasn't working. She waved as he backed onto the street and pulled forwards down the road. The same black sedan pulled up behind her husband and the two black men slowed down, staring at her again as they passed. Chrissy reflexively grabbed the robe up near her prodigious bosom and held it tight. Black men were not something one usually saw in this neighborhood or anywhere within miles of her house, unless you counted her garbage men.

She turned and entered her large, two story house, suddenly nervous about being home alone for four nights. She locked the front door and then went to check the back door and the door to her two car garage and then the patio door and after that the windows just to be sure. Feeling safe, Chrissy headed up the stairs to take a shower.

Entering the bathroom, she started the shower and let the robe fall to her feet. The beautiful young woman stood turning slightly as she examined herself in the mirror. At 27, she was in the prime of her life and never looked better. Her long dark red hair was straight and fell halfway down her back. Her hair leaned towards black colored over orange and many people assumed she dyed it, but it was all natural. Her eyes were a bright green and friends described them as having a playful spark. Her ears peaked out of her hair giving her an elfish appearance. She was tall at 5'10", lithe and fit. Chrissy had never found herself pretty, but men and everyone else seemed to disagree. She hated two things about her body. First, like many redheads, she had lots of freckles. The little blemishes were sparse in certain areas and clustered in others. Her cheeks, back, arms, and chest had clusters where the rest of her body, stomach and legs had just the occasional freckle. The second thing she hated about herself were her breasts. They would have been big on a heavier woman, but on Chrissy's trim, athletic frame, they were enormous. Surprisingly, the large D-cupped melons were free of her other defect. The freckles stopped at her chest, leaving her bosom pure white except for the pink circles of her areola. Her areola were as large as a soda can, but more ovals then perfect circles. They were bumpy and puffed out when she was cold or aroused. The nipples themselves were nearly and inch long, thick, and very sensitive. She loved to have them played with during sex and when Todd sucked on them, she was usually guaranteed an orgasm. Her breasts had developed early and gotten her a lot of attention from boys, mostly unwanted. She'd learned to cover them up and dress conservatively. Bulky blouses and sweaters made her look chubby, but men still stared. Todd had gone nuts the first time he saw her naked. At first, he'd encouraged her to dress sexier, but when he noticed the male attention Chrissy got showing a little cleavage or leg, he too preferred that she hide her figure whenever they weren't alone and Chrissy didn't complain.

Chrissy spun around and looked at her rear. Now there was something that looked good on her. Her rear was a perfect, pale, freckle free, globe that thrust out and filled a pair of tight jeans nicely. She usually wore long skirts though to take unwanted male attention off her ass. She turned back around and let her hand fall to her flat, almost muscular stomach. The hand slid down her navel, stopping just above the neatly trimmed patch of red pubic hair. Maybe last night was the night, she prayed, wondering if a baby would be growing in there shortly. For a couple trying to get pregnant, they weren't exactly having a lot of sex leaving Chrissy feeling neglected and lonely. Todd was away a lot and when he was home, he often worked until eight or later. He claimed to be too tired for sex and often made promises for the next night only to beg off until the weekend and all too often they only made love once a week on Sunday mornings when he didn't have to get up early for work.

At the back of her mind, she wondered how committed he was to starting a family. He claimed things were frantic at work and swore he was ready to be a father, but her suspicious mind detected that their love making had slowed down as soon as she'd gone off the pill. A part of her felt that Todd was worried what a baby would do to her figure. Her breasts were large now, but they were firm and proud. Would they sag after childbirth? Would her belly and thighs be fatter? Todd told her he didn't care, but still they were lucky to have sex Sunday mornings or often every two weeks when he was away. Unfortunately, the resurgence in hormones when she went off the pill had her climbing the walls with horniness, especially when she felt it was her most fertile time and she felt that way this morning. She smiled, once again praying that last night had been the magic night.

Chrissy stepped into the shower and washed herself. Her red hair turned darker under the water until it was nearly black. She ran a bar of soap all over her body, almost moaning as the soap slid over her nipples, turning them hard. She moved out from under the water and quickly shaved a bit around her pubic patch, under her arms, and ran the razor up her smooth legs. She paused realizing, she could have gone days without shaving with Todd gone, but she'd done it by habit. She rinsed off again and stepped out of the shower.

Chrissy finished drying her body and had pulled the robe back around her body when the doorbell rang.

She frowned, wondering who it could possibly be. She made a face when she realized it was probably Sam Sylvester, her neighbor. The 70 year old pervert was always ogling her and seemed to have no shame about doing so. The first thing he'd said to her when her and Todd moved in was, "I've got a thing for red heads, let me show it to you some time" and he'd said it right in front of Todd who just laughed it off. Sam would stare right at her breasts whenever they were talking. He was also always borrowing something from her or Todd, never returning it until they asked or paying them back if it were food ... Sam had a bedridden, sick wife and was always coming over for flour or aspirin, among other things. Apparently his sick wife must have done all their shopping. The bell rang again and she considered ignoring it. If it was Sam, he seemed to instinctively know when Todd was away and always tried to linger in her house when they were alone. The one time she had accepted his offer to play cards, he'd wanted to turn it into a game a strip rummy. The bell rang again and she decided to hurry downstairs. After all, it could have been the mailman or UPS driver.

Chrissy peeked through the window and froze. She almost wished it was Sam when she saw who was outside her house. It was the two black men who had been driving around earlier. One looked about fifty and the other in his late twenties, though she found age hard to tell with those people. They were fit, wearing dark suits, and reflective sunglasses. The older one had a shaved head making judging his age more difficult and the younger one had a military style flat top. He carried a briefcase. The one at the door was raising a black finger back up to the bell when she called, "What do you want?" through the door.

"Ma'am," said the older black man in a deep voice. "I'm agent Jenkins and this is agent Smith. We're with the FBI, fraud division."

Chrissy opened up her door, but kept the chain lock on. She peered through the crack. "Can I see your badges?"

The one called Jenkins, held up a wallet and flipped it open, showing her his FBI badge. The man behind him also flashed his. "May we come in, Ma'am?"

Chrissy hesitated, long enough she felt uncomfortable keeping them waiting. Finally, she closed the door, undid the chain, and opened it back up. "Sorry, you can't be too sure these days."

Jenkins' black lips curled up in a wry smile. "I understand completely," he replied, showing no more emotion, but she suspected he knew it was his skin color that had made her wary of him.

"Come in," she said, stepping aside. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Not at all, ma'am," said Jenkins, flashing her a reassuring grin filled with big white teeth. "We're investigating a couple of scam artists operating an insurance fraud in the area and we'd like to talk to you about it."

"Well, I wouldn't know anything about that," she said, her heart racing. "But I will keep an eye out for you."

"Well, we were hoping you might be able to help us stop these dirt bags."

"Oh! I'm not sure what I could do to help, but ... Where are my manners? Have a seat. Can I get you some iced tea?

"That would be great," said Jenkins, taking a seat on a large plush sofa. Smith stood nearby. They removed their glasses.

Chrissy hurried over to the kitchen and got the two men glasses of iced tea. She returned to the living room with the glasses and handed them to the FBI agents. They took them and thanked her as she sat down on a chair across from them. She kept her legs closed as her robe was short and ran above her knees when she sat.

"You saw us drive past earlier?" asked Jenkins.

"Yes," she replied, nodding.

The two dirt bags in question appear to prefer attractive young housewives," said Jenkins.

"Oh! I see," said Chrissy, blushing a little.

"Yes ma'am, you looked perfect," said Smith.

Chrissy blush grew as well did the nervousness she seemed to feel around black men. They both had picked her because they found her attractive.

"The men committing this crime always scout the neighborhood, just as we did to find you. They seek pretty young women who appear to be home alone and approach them with an offer of comprehensive life insurance that appears to good to be true. The catch is that the promotional offer is only good for those who sign up on the spot for a down payment. Usually these kind of insurance scams are aimed at the elderly."

"Then why do these men target young women?" she asked, curiously.

The two FBI agents turned and glanced at each other, nervously. Smith finally said, "One of the men poses as a doctor and offers an on the spot physical if you haven't had one done in the last week, which of course, no one has. They use it as an opportunity to feel you up, excuse my language."

"I see," replied Chrissy, looking aghast as she leaned back and put her hand on her chest. Her eyes were wide open.

"It's not that bad," said Jenkins. "These men are after money after all and it doesn't need to come down to that. Several of their female victims have stripped naked for both men, even allowing a full cavity investigation and one naive newlywed even let them take nude pictures of her for her file."

"They sound like monsters," said Chrissy horrified that anyone could be so stupid as to fall for that.

"Most women have smartly refused," added Smith. "They let them examine her over her clothes or demand to see an actual doctor."

"My gosh!" Chrissy didn't even like going to her gynecologist.

"You agree that these men need to be stopped?" asked Jenkins.

"Absolutely, but I still don't see why you need my help."

"May I ask your name, Ma'am?" asked Smith.

"Chrissy Simmons."

"Well Mrs. Simmons, these men are currently having breakfast at the Denny's out on the highway after staying at the Super 8 next door. We have men watching them."

Chrissy nodded. She and Todd often ate there as it was only two miles from her house.

"Yes, they are right outside your development. We expect them to take a cruise through here today, maybe tomorrow. We need you to stand outside and lure these men here."

"I'm bait!" Chrissy was horrified at the thought. "That sounds dangerous. Can't you just arrest them?"

"These men are smart," said Jenkins. "We need to catch them red handed. You won't be in any danger, Mrs. Simmons. We want to place hidden cameras here in this room and we'll be right outside listening and watching."

"I don't think my husband would approve," she said.

"Where is Mr. Simmons?" asked Smith. "Was he leaving for work the first time we drove by?

"Well, he just left on a four day trip."

"Then whether or not to tell him is up to you. Mrs. Simmons. Once they show up, it'll only take us a short time to nail them. Mr. Simmons need never know and we plan to catch them on tape so you won't need to testify at a trial. If you help us, you will be doing the bureau, your neighbors, and your country a big favor. It's your patriotic duty, ma'am."

Chrissy paused in thought. "I do consider myself a patriot, gentlemen."

"Then it's settled," said Jenkins. "I thank you. Your country thanks you. Smith, get the cameras."

Chrissy waited while Smith left her house. Jenkins just stood, nodding and grinning at her. She felt a little uncomfortable as they waited silently. She wasn't quite sure she'd agreed to their plan, but he seemed to think she'd said yes.

Smith reentered her house carrying a box. He set it down and handed for black rectangles to Jenkins and took four himself. "These are the latest technology we have, Mrs. Simmons. They don't appear to be cameras and we can hide them in plain sight." The two black men placed the cameras around her living room. One was pointed at the door. Others at the couch and some took in the entire room. "Excellent placement," said Jenkins when they were finished.

"What do I do?" asked Chrissy.

Smith reached into the bottom of the box that held the cameras and pulled out another box. "Go put this on," he said. "All you need to do is stand out in the front yard, water the lawn, weed, or something. Lay out and get some sun if you wish."

Chrissy looked inside the box. She pulled out a skimpy blue negligee. The material was sheer and didn't hide anything. "I can't wear this outside!"

"Not that Ma'am, the bikini," said Smith. "The lingerie is for if the bikini doesn't work or they get scared off and come back later. If you answer the door wearing lingerie, they are more likely to feel relaxed around you. No evidence of a wire or anything, understand?"

"I guess," said Chrissy, holding up an extremely small bikini. "I'm not so sure about this."

"We need your help, Mrs. Simmons," said Jenkins. "If you change your mind now, it will be too late to arrest them in this neighborhood."

"The top isn't my size," she said, wondering how she had gotten herself into this mess.

"The skimpier the better, but if you have another bikini you could wear, then..."

"I don't own a bikini. I can't swim and I burn too easily."

"Why don't you go try it on," said Jenkins just as his cell phone went off. "Yes," he answered it. "Understood." He snapped the phone shut. "The suspects appear to be leaving the Denny's soon. It's now or never Mrs. Simmons. Please. We need you." He waited while she just stood there staring at the bikini. "It's your duty, ma'am."

Finally, Chrissy filled herself with resolve. It was her patriotic duty and she was a patriot. "I'll be right back." She turned and headed up the stairs. Once in the bathroom, she dropped the robe and began putting the bikini on. At first the strings confused her. This thing has got to be illegal, she thought dressing. She did consider herself a patriot, but she had never done anything remotely patriotic like volunteer work or fundraisers. She had considered going to a tea party meeting, but changed her mind at the last minute. This would be her chance to actually do something for her community. "No way," she said, tying the bikini top string behind her neck.

The bikini was way too small. It was dark blue and tight. It consisted of small patches of material and lots of strings. Indeed, she was only three string tugs from being naked. The bottom was bad. The front patch barely covered her red pubes and she kept them very closely shaved. The bottom rear had a tendency to want to slip inside the crack of her cheeks and she would need to keep reaching behind her to stretch it out. The string tied on her right hip. If the bottom was bad, the top was worse. Two blue triangles covered her nipples and some of the area around them, but the majority of her breasts were bare. The material was hugging her nipples so tightly, her entire areola were visible and they were already puffy with her nipples partially hard. "God forgive me, I look like a slut," she spoke to her reflection.

Jenkins and Smith looked up the stairs as she came down them, once again wearing her robe. "Well?" asked Jenkins.

"I can't do this."

"We need you, Mrs. Simmons."

"I have a reputation to uphold."

"These men need to be stopped. How many unsuspecting women will fall prey to them before we can get enough evidence on them."

"I can't be seen in this. What will the neighbors think?" Chrissy stepped off the steps and looked up at the black FBI agents. Both men were at least half a foot taller then she was and she was tall for a woman.

"We can't do this without you. For the good of your community and for the good of your country. It's your duty as an American citizen to assist us."

"Oh god," she cried, putting her hand over her face. "You're right, of course."

"How bad can it be, Mrs. Simmons. Why don't you show us."

"I can't."

"Just drop that robe and march out into your yard."

"Oh god," she cried again. This time she untied the belt on her robe and let the robe fall off her shoulders. Chrissy looked at the agent's faces. Smith's eyes were bugging out and Jenkins had a bead of sweat on his forehead. Both appeared to be struggling not to stare too hard at her breasts and crotch. "My husband hasn't even seen me in something this skimpy."

"Um ... It's," said Jenkins, fumbling with words. "I've seen women wearing less on the beach."

"You're perfect," said Smith, finally letting his eyes run up and down her body. "She's perfect. I've never seen ... Those scumbags won't be able to resist you."

"Lets just get this over with," she sighed.

"You're right, Mrs. Simmons, we're running out of time." Jenkins looked at Smith and nodded. "We'll be right outside in our car. If they don't come by today, we'll come back tomorrow with a bikini sized for your figure."

"What do I do again?" she asked.

"Just stand outside and try to attract their attention. If they approach you, listen to what they offer, sign their phony papers, and give them a check. It's very important that we tape you actually paying them. Don't make suggestions to speed it along, that might be considered entrapment. Hesitate when they mention the physical, but go along with it."

"I won't have to take the physical will I?"

"We'll stop anything before it goes to far. Got it."

"I think I've got it," said Chrissy, picking up the robe and quickly covering her bikini.

"We'll be in the car," said Jenkins, laying a large black hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, everything will be fine. You're gonna do great." The big black man winked at her and quickly exited her house with his partner.

Jenkins got in the drivers side of the sedan and Smith got in next to him. Two laptops were already open beside each seat, but on standby. Both black men clicked enter to bring their computers out of hibernation.

"That was the hottest bitch, I've ever seen," said Smith, tapping on the keyboard.

Jenkins winced. His partner was a little unprofessional and crass at times. "I can't disagree with you," he mumbled.

"Did you see those titties?"

"Enough," growled Jenkins. "How are the cameras?"

"Five through eight, up and running."

"One through four up and running." Jenkins computer screen was split into 4 quadrants each showing a view of The Simmons' living room. Chrissy was on three screens pacing beside the couch. The fourth screen showed the door.

Smith's screen showed four different views. "Audio check."

"Jesus, give me the strength to get through this," said Chrissy's voice through both computers.

"Audio functioning properly," said Jenkins, as his computer picked up Chrissy's voice mumbling.

"Bitch is praying," chuckled Smith.

"What's wrong with that," growled Jenkins. "Mrs. Simmons is religious. Show some respect. I pray every night. I'm praying right now that you'll shut up."

"Fuck you."

Jenkins was saved from further argument by his cell phone ringing. "Go ahead," he answered. He listened. "Roger that. We're set up on Washington Avenue. Cameras are up and running." He hung the phone up. "They're leaving the restaurant now."

"Good," replied Smith. "It looks like the bitc ... Mrs. Simmons is finally ready."

"Here goes nothing," came Chrissy's voice from both speakers.

Jenkins watched her on screen. She removed the robe and hung it up near her door. She slid her feet into two high heeled sandals that sat beside her door. One big black finger tapped the camera view showing her front door and it zoomed in on her ass. He watched her hand come down and futilely attempt to stop the material of her bikini from disappearing into her ass cheeks.

"That ass is amazing," said Smith. He had zoomed in a side view of the young wife. "There she goes."

"And here she comes," said Jenkins as Chrissy Simmons appeared just outside her front door. She was now off their screens. The young wife was looking around hesitantly. She steeled herself and marched out into the yard.

"You should get this," said Smith. "And make me a copy."

Jenkins grinned wryly. He set the laptop aside and retrieved a digital video recorder. Quickly, flipping it open and on, he aimed it at Chrissy, just as she was bending to turn the outdoor spigot on. Chrissy stood and began watering several rose bushes beside the house.

"Who the fuck is that?" growled Smith. "He's gonna ruin everything."

Both black men watched as an old bald man with a large pot belly peeked at Chrissy around some bushes in his yard. It didn't take long for him to began approaching the scantily clad young wife. "Get the mic," ordered Jenkins.

Smith pulled out a listening device and pointed it over at Chrissy. "Shit, here they come," he said as a car appeared approaching down the street. "Old man is gonna ruin everything."

"Good morning Chrissy," said the old man's voice through the amplifier."

Chrissy froze when she heard the voice behind her. "Hello Sam," she said, slowly turning around and holding the hose away from them.

"I like the way you hold a hose," said her neighbor, Sam Sylvester.

"Excuse me?"

"Feel free to water my flowers when you're done."

"I'm busy today, Sam." This was Chrissy's worst nightmare come to life. Sam was a thoroughly deplorable human being. He was always making suggestive comments to her and he had an invalid wife, bedridden in his house. His eyes were focused on her roaming up and down her scantily clad body, resting on her tits. "My face is up here, Sam."

"Yeah, but your tits are down here and I got a thing for big tits and overstuffed bikinis and the thing I'm talkin' 'bout hangs down eight inches between my legs."

Chrissy gasped. Her near nudity was making the old fart bolder. "Go home, Sam."

"Damn," he ran his eyes up and down her body. "I always suspected you were stacked, but I had no idea you were this fine. I know Todd just left you alone again, Chrissy. Why don't you invite me over for dinner?"

"What about your wife?" Chrissy was so focused on Sam, she was barely aware of a car slowing down as it passed her house.

"Meal on wheels will feed her. What do ya say? I could bring some pornos over. I got some I just know you'll love."

"Go home."

"We could play poker again?"

"Get off my property, Sam."

"Look bitch," growled Sam. "Any woman dressed like you are when her husband leaves for work needs it bad and trust me I got what you needs."

"Get off my property or I will call the police. They can get here sooner then you think." Chrissy could make out two dark forms in the sedan across the street a few houses away.

"Alright, alright, fine." Sam held his hands up in surrender. He turned and began walking back to his yard. He stopped and turned back. "Let me warn you though, Chrissy. I saw some niggers walking around here earlier. You'd better be careful, you being a pretty white woman dressed like a slut what with niggers in the neighborhood."

Chrissy's mouth was hanging open in shock. Before she knew what she was doing, she had turned her hose on her neighbor. The old man yelped in surprise as the cold water hit his face. He spluttered and hurried away from stream of water. "Take that you vile son-of-a-bitch."

Sam shook his head free of water when he got back to the safety of his yard. Chrissy took her thumb off the nozzle and let the flow of water return to normal. Sam gave her the finger and disappeared around the side of his house.

A car slowly drove past as she said, "I'm sorry, I can't do this. I thought I could, but it's too hard." Chrissy turned the spigot off and rolled the hose up. She was embarrassed, but slightly proud of herself. Her personality leaned towards meekness and conflict avoidance. This was the first time, she'd really stood up to anyone.

Chrissy stood up straight just as the same car that had passed earlier slowed again. She stared and saw two black men staring back at her. She quickly flushed and looked away. The same feelings of unease she'd had when she'd seen the FBI agents ride past earlier now returned. These weren't the scam artists were they? The agents hadn't told her they were black. She quickly headed back to the safety of her house.

"I like that old man," said Smith. "Except for that nigger crap. I should go beat his ass."

"Yeah, way to go Chrissy, turning that hose on him," responded Jenkins. "It looks like she scared him off just in time. Here come our boys." The car that had been circling the block earlier, pulled up to the curb in front of Chrissy's house. Two black men got out of it.

"Lets get back to the cameras."

The two men returned to their laptops. Most of the screens showed Chrissy leaning against her door, once again wearing her robe.

Chrissy could see the car stop in front of her house. Two black men got out. They appeared young and she guessed early twenties, both were fit and muscular. Both men wore khaki's with nice collared shirts. WWBC was embroidered on pockets on the shirts. Were these the con artists? The FBI agents hadn't said they were black, so she'd assumed they were white. Of course, she assumed everyone was white unless they were described as black. Maybe blacks assumed everyone was black unless they described them as white? Chrissy jumped when her doorbell rang. She slowly opened it with the chain on again. "Yes?"

The lead black man grinned at her. "Good morning, Ma'am. My name is Malik Hassan and this is my associate Eriq Royal. We are with World Wide Beneficial Co. insurance and we are offering a special once in a lifetime opportunity for a few select customers in your neighborhood. Tell me Mrs.?"

"Simmons, Chrissy Simmons."

"Does your husband have adequate life insurance?"

"He's got something through work, but I'm not sure how much."

"And yourself, ma'am?"

"Why none." The truth of the matter hit Chrissy and she resolved to buy real insurance the first chance she got.

"Life insurance is vitally important today. If something were to happen to you or your husband, heaven forbid, today, where would you be tomorrow?"

"I honestly don't know," she replied. These guys were good. She was almost convinced to buy insurance from them even knowing they were frauds.

"Well, if you will just give us a few moments of your time. I'd like to tell you about this amazing new offer from World Wide Beneficial Co. insurance."

"I don't know. I'm not exactly dressed at the moment." Even with FBI agents listening in and right outside, she wasn't sure she wanted to let two black criminals inside her house. She was close to chickening out and slamming the door.

"That's fine ma'am. We're both professionals. We speak with women in their bathrobes or pajamas all the time. Here's my ID."