Smarttress Legal Drama

I'm about the poorest judge of women on the planet. I must have neon lights on my forehead that flash "Fuck Over Brent Stromberg," because that appears to be my plight in life.

Since I'm told I'm a very good looking guy, I've never had TROUBLE ATTRACTING women - it's just that apparently it's only TROUBLE women that I'm ATTRACTED to. While I'm pleasant to nice girls who express interest in me, I seem to hook up with only those that take advantage of my good nature.

By the time that I was twenty three I had had five significant supposedly exclusive relationships. All ended when the slut-of-the-moment that I was dating cheated on me. I had lost all confidence in my ability to judge women, and all hope that I'd find someone that would be true to me, but at least with the last two cheaters I caught on to signs that they were cheating and was able to dump them much more smoothly than the first three.

Then I met Laura.

I was pleased that I was attracted to Laura since she seemed different than my five bad experiences. Perhaps the biggest difference was that she was smart - really smart. While I have a B. S. in chemical engineering, Laura - a year older than I am - has an M. S. in electronics engineering, and was near the top of her class at one of the ten best engineering schools in the country.

Laura and I met at a wilderness outing. The attraction was almost instantaneous - at least for me - but having learned a little bit from my five disastrous relationships I didn't jump in with all four feet. I played it cool - at least somewhat. However when I saw her politely but firmly shoot down the many other male participants that tried to get her to warm up to them, and once I had several intellectual conversations with her about technology, current affairs, and the possibilities of extraterrestrial life - far different from conversations that I had had with my previous hot but somewhat vacuous cheating girlfriends - I fell hard.

Fortunately it seemed that Laura fell hard too because by the fifth day of the eight day outing we were sharing the same tent and fucking up a storm. If I had any lingering apprehension it disappeared after the third fuck.

Despite our fatigue from the day's activities our first fuck, in missionary position, was awesome. As a prelude to our second fuck I was awakened in the middle of the night by Laura sucking my cock after which she rode me to nirvana while I manipulated her ample firm mammaries. I awoke at first light the next morning to Laura's bright smile.

"Isn't knocking off a piece of ass in the middle of the night the greatest, Brent?" she chuckled.

"Better than anything except a doggy fuck first thing in the morning, Laura," I snickered. Five minutes later my cock was reciprocating in her snug pussy while she banged back, and I simultaneously poked her puckerhole with a finger and periodically lightly twisted one of her sensitive nipples. Our lights-out simultaneous orgasms insured no holding back on my fascination with Laura.

In addition to being highly intelligent, Laura was a fucking machine. If one were to liken her performance in the sack to the performance of a car, she was a Lamborghini Veneno; a carbon fiber frame, a power-to-weight ratio of 1.93 kg/hp, a top speed of 355 km/hr, 0-100 km/hr in 2.8 seconds, a quarter mile in 10.3 seconds, and a purring yet whining V12 engine so sweet and distinctive that the sound is trademarked.

The only problem whatsoever with Laura was keeping up with her high libido. Once she gave herself to me, it was complete - no hesitation whatsoever; vaginal, oral, anal, and vaginal and a butt plug at the same time.

There probably were some "caution" signs during our whirlwind 150 day courtship, but I was either too oblivious, or too serene from being fucked an average of twice a day, to recognize them. The only caution sign I did notice was her friendship with a guy that I thought was sleazy, but she thought was intellectual, by the name of Clyde Barrow.

Yeah, that really was the name he went by although his full name was Samuel C. Barrow, with no indication that the "C" stood for "Clyde." You would think that he would have changed his name, or at least gone by "Sam," especially since he dealt with banks all the time in his profession. Instead he always got a big smile when he met someone and they raised their eyebrows when introduced.

While the passion of our courtship could obviously not be sustained, even after two years of marriage Laura and I were either fucking or making love an average of six times a week. Every session with Laura was like driving a Veneno; thrilling, exciting, satiating, and sextastic! We were very compatible outside the bedroom too, and for the first time since my first girlfriend had cheated on me, by then about seven years ago, I felt comfortable in a relationship.

Laura and I made good money as engineers, and she was kind of a savant - or so I thought - in handling our finances so I was happy to have her deal with that facet of our relationship. Even though I thought that she was good with numbers and money I was surprised, since we were only 26 and 27 years old, that shortly before our second anniversary we were able to afford a detached house in a nice suburban neighborhood. Even more surprising was our ability to put down one third of the purchase price as a down-payment.

"WOW, babe; how did we save that much money?" I whistled.

"I made some good investments and had a big bonus this year, Brent," she smiled.

"You're a fucking genius," I laughed.

"And, more importantly, a genius at fucking," she snickered in return as she stroked my cock.

Shortly after that I made a massive sperm deposit in her pulsating pussy to celebrate our purchase.

***************

The only major irritant for me during the first two plus years of our marriage was interacting with Clyde an average of about once a fortnight. Normally Clyde had a date when we interacted, but not always. His dates were always good-looking but slutty. Several came on to me. He rarely was with the same woman twice, although there was one slut who he called "Bonnie," (she giggled every time he did - I never get her real name) who he did bring around at least a half dozen times. Bonnie has double Ds, bleach-blond hair, a pleasant even if not truly beautiful face, and really, really, nice ass cheeks and thighs. She was probably a call girl; as naïve as I am when on two separate occasions out of range of Laura's hearing Bonnie offered me a "freebie" even I could figure that out.

It was clear that Laura did not like Bonnie. Maybe she overheard one of her propositions; whatever the reason, I think that Laura talked to Clyde about how she felt about Bonnie, and did didn't bring her around again after the second time that she propositioned me.

After about twenty eight months of marriage, Laura came to me with a strange problem. She brought it up right after riding me reverse cowgirl while contemporaneously massaging my testicles as I worked two fingers in and out of her lubricated puckerhole. It was in the top ten of all of our sexual experiences - which, to again make a trite analogy - was like accelerating a Veneno to 300 km/hr in 25 seconds and then driving it through a Le Mans course. Once we separated as she snuggled up to me still fondling my balls she cooed "Oh darling that was wonderful."

"Holy shit - you're a fucking goddess," was my candid reply.

After talking about how great our fuck was a few more minutes, Laura morphed the conversation into several other light subjects, and then hit me with "Oh, by the way; I meant to tell you about a problem that Clyde is having."

"Oh..." was my only reply, my mind still awash with endorphins from our epic sexual experience.

"The government has charged him with fraud. I know that he's not guilty, but it is worrying him. His attorney said that he needs to get some excellent character witnesses to testify on his behalf," she mumbled, periodically kissing my face or neck as she did so.

"Are you going to testify?" I asked, now regaining a little cognizance.

"Well, I had an arrest for a minor incident when I was nineteen" - that was the first that I had heard about it - "and I don't have the stellar reputation that you do in the charitable community" she said. The last statement related to the fact that I was the youngest member of the board of directors of the largest and most recognizable charity in our community, one that I had done volunteer work with since I was a teenager. Then she continued, "And Clyde's attorney said that you'd be the best character witness he could find. You'd do it for me, wouldn't you, darling, even if not for Clyde?"

When Laura sensed some reticence on my part, she shinnied down and started sucking my vaginal-secretions-caked cock. Several minutes later I was making another sperm deposit in her tight little pussy when her pc muscles squeezed me as hard as a gripping hand as we both screamed and moaned in orgasm. That apparently indicated assent to her question because after we separated she moaned "Thank you darling for the wonderful fuck, and agreeing to help Clyde."

****************

It wasn't long after our epic fucks where Laura got me to tacitly agree to be a character witness for Clyde that my "feelers" went up. It started when I inadvertently left a camera in an inconspicuous place on a dresser in our bedroom. Of course Laura - an electronics engineer in addition to as highly observant a person as I've ever met - confronted me about it. While pretending like she was joking there was something about her facial expression that was unsettling. "What are you doing, my darling Brent - trying to catch me on camera with one of my many lovers?" she chuckled.

We both joked about it, but my antennas were up. They went up even more when looking for some incidental that I had misplaced when I opened up the trunk of her car and saw what I was sure - even though I'm a chemical engineer and not an electronics one like Laura - electronics sweeping/detection equipment.

Upon return from Clyde's attorney's office my antennas weren't just up, they were pulsating.

I asked Clyde's attorney, John Justice (a good name for an attorney, don't you think), to give me a preview of the case against Clyde. When he did I saw a couple of documents that looked familiar; I was sure that I had seen them on Laura's desk. Justice thought that the case against Clyde was a true 50-50 one, and that my testimony could be the key.

After Justice went over my background, highly pleased with it - including awards that I won in college and my charitable work - I told Justice what an honest individual I knew Clyde to be. When I told him that I was highly exaggerating, even if not outright lying, and I even made up a few stories about how Clyde had proceeded scrupulously in the past even when duplicity would not have been detected. Justice was very pleased.

Knowing that Laura was too smart for me to catch cheating, and typical electronic surveillance equipment out of the picture in view of her expertise, on my work computer I did an Internet search for some alternative. I couldn't believe my luck when after about forty minutes of searching I came upon a new product; a mattress sold by a Spanish company under the trademark Smarttress.™ As the name implies, that $1700 mattress sends a text message when the mattress is in use when the owner is away. The text reports not only that the mattress is in use but how many people are on it and the total weight of the individuals on it. I bought a Smarttress™ and an HD video camera that same day.

I spent the next week until the mattress was delivered complaining about our old one - which was a relatively cheap one, so my complaints were not transparently false. During that time I also delivered all of our financial information that I could gather to a forensic accountant for review.

I had the Smarttress™ installed while Laura was at work, and was sure to get home before she did. "Darling, I've got a surprise for you - remember how I was complaining about our lumpy mattress?"

"Yes..." she hesitantly replied.

"Well I got a top pick Consumer Report's one - let's go try it out," I snickered with a diabolical grin on my face.

"You animal," she mocked complained as I virtually ripped her clothes off and then fucked her doggy - her favorite position - on our new mattress with as much intensity as I had ever exhibited.

As we lay in post-coital bliss Laura mumbled "Well that was about as nice a christening as any mattress has ever received. However since I now have no spine you're either going to have to make dinner or get takeout - but only after I recover," before turning on her side and promptly falling into peaceful sleep.

I popped up and checked the text message on my phone from the Smarttress™. "Mattress in use from 6:03 - 6:46 p. m. by two people, total weight 325 pounds. In use by one person from 6:46 to present by one person, 135 pounds."

Since I weigh roughly 200 pounds, and Laura 130, and since it was 6:48 when I checked the text, I got an enormous smile on my face.

That weekend I went to see the octogenarian neighbor who lived across the street, Tom Watson. I had been friendly with Tom ever since we moved in. He was a widower with an interesting past - one that he only provided vague details about, but which lead me to believe that he was involved in some sort of covert operations during the Cold War. I had shoveled his sidewalk on occasion, and he had retrieved or signed for packages for us when we weren't around.

After some small talk, over a beer I said "Tom - I need a favor; one that you won't be at liberty to discuss with anyone else unless you're called to testify about it."

His eyebrows raised. "You think that I'd be willing to testify in a court of law?" he asked with a wry smile.

"Tom, I don't know much about your background - except that you seem to have devoted your life to seeking justice. I imagine that you haven't had the excitement of your youth the last decade or so, and I'm hoping that you miss it - and are interested in dealing out some justice."

His smile turned from wry, to diabolical, to welcoming. "Tell me what you have in mind - no promises," he cackled.

"This has to be in strictest confidence," I said.

Tom laughed. "That's something I know a lot about - it's the way I lived my life. OK, strictest confidence."

"Pinky swear?" I chuckled.

"Pinky swear," he laughed as our pinkies interlocked.

"OK, it's simple. When I call you, you take this HD camera with a telephoto lens and film any activity outside my house. While I'm not sure what it will be, I'll give you the most likely scenario. A car will pull out of my garage with two people in it, and will drive past your house since we're on a cul-de-sac. Focus on the car as it moves out of the garage, and the inside of the car as it comes past you."

"And the testimony?" Tom asked.

"You'd only have to testify that you took the video, with this camera, at what date, and at what time."

"Maybe my ole bones do need some exhilaration," he chuckled. "You got a deal!"

I went over operation of the camera with him, made sure that I had his correct phone number, and left, very satisfied.

There were a number of other aspects of my plan. One required me to get a voice activated audio recorder that when off had basically no electronic signature. I found one that could be installed in our already existing electric bedroom clock so that its only electronic signature was that of a small receiver that could be masked by the workings of the electric clock. That way if Laura swept the room with her detection equipment she was unlikely to find it, yet I could remotely turn it on when I wanted to.

I also got a meeting with Dylan Roberts, one of the two best known criminal defense attorneys in the city - one having no association with Clyde and in fact someone who had an acrimonious relationship with Clyde's attorney. When I told him what I wanted to do he got a big smile and offered to represent me at a third of his normal hourly rate.

Now I had to bait the trap. I arranged to have an out of town business trip for two days and one night. Since Laura always seemed to know where I was - I don't think that it was an app on my smartphone because one time when I left it at my office she still knew where I was that day, how I don't know - I had to have a real trip, not a fake one. Wednesday morning I kissed Laura goodbye and drove to a city 100 miles away. I called Tom on the way and asked him to be on guard. "10-4" he joked.

**************

At about 2 p. m. on the Wednesday that I left, I got a text from the Smarttress™; "Bed occupied starting at 2:03 p. m., two people, 290 pounds."

I immediately called Tom to put him on alert. I told him that I'd call him again as soon as he needed to have the camera ready. I also sent a signal to the voice recorder in the bedroom clock to turn on.

When I got another text at 2:32 that the bed now had only one occupant, and another at 2:34 that the bed was unoccupied, I called Tom and told him to get the camera ready.

I had no joy that my plan had worked so far; another cheating female ripping my heart out, although I was more sanguine that I thought that I would be.

Tom called my cellphone at about 4:00 p. m. to give me a report. "I got good film - I guess good digital video, no more film these days," he snickered. "At 2:56 the garage door opened and Laura's car backed down the driveway. When it drove by my house with the telephoto lens I could clearly see two people in the car - the driver was Laura, the passenger I guy that I had seen at your house before and met once I think. He had the name of a famous criminal as I recall..."

"Clyde Barrow?" I interrupted; that made sense since Clyde weighed about 160 pounds and in view of the report from the forensic accountant that I had hired.

"Yeah, that's it. I stopped taking video at 2:58. I'm ready to testify if needed."

"Thanks, Tom; when this is over you can name your reward."

"My pleasure - I'll be thinking of something nice - maybe a compped day at a casino," he chuckled.

**************

I called Dylan Roberts the next morning, a Thursday; I was pleased when his secretary said "He's not in his office right now, Mr. Stromberg, but he told me to track him down when you called. Please hold."

Three minutes later Roberts was on the phone. "Whatca got for me Brent?" he inquired, getting right to it.

I told him what I had - although I still needed to listen to the audio recorder (which I had turned off about 3:00 p. m. the day before). I had already given him the report from the forensic accountant in my initial meeting.

"Great - I already have a meeting scheduled tomorrow, Friday, with the D. A. and the assistant D. A. who's handling Barrow's case. Let's meet Saturday morning, my office, about 10 a. m."

"I'll be there," I replied.

Obviously I wasn't at the meeting between Roberts and the D. A.'s office, but he gave me a complete report. Like Barrow's attorney the assistant D. A. honestly admitted that he had only a 50-50 case, and when Roberts promised him a slam dunk he and the D. A. were virtually drooling. Barrow's fraud was pervasive and they wanted to nail him more than any other present "white collar" criminal. After Roberts laid out what he could deliver - obviously without naming any names or providing any documents - the D. A. and his assistant met in private for only fifteen minutes, and came back and agreed to Roberts'/my proposal. Roberts handed them a simply written agreement which they both signed.

"Gather any other information you need so that we can meet with the D. A.'s office again Monday at 11 a. m.," Dylan told me.

I transferred the text messages from the Smarttress™ and the audio from the recorder to a CD, one copy for me, one for Dylan, and one for the D. A., and made DVD copies of what Tom recorded, and got a written narrative from him.