The Investigation

Once again thinking that I would not let my cue go by, I climbed my considerably larger frame out of the water and drip dried for a moment. Not wanting to seem too eager, instead of going straight over to her, I walked into the house for more beer. Two was the most I would allow myself before a business meeting. I wandered back over to her and handed her the brew. She took it and half rolled, half contorted to be able to take a sip lying down. I sat on the edge of her lounge chair and had a sip of my own. I half expected her to protest, but she didn't. I picked up the suntan lotion and squirted some of it into my hand. Again, she failed to protest so I felt I was in the clear. I laid my hands on her shoulders and began to rub gently, but firmly.

She laid there contentedly as I massaged the oil into her. As I made my way down her back, I came to the spaghetti tie of her top, and undid it, letting the strings fall to her sides. Still no movement.

"I noticed you don't have any tan lines," I commented, hoping it sounded casual and ordinary.

"Well... this place doesn't have any neighbors and I'm the only one with a key. Sometimes I like lying out in the sun. Hey, watch your hands mister!"

"Just trying to cover everything..." I had run my hands down her sides and felt the sides of her small breasts where they were pressed out on the sides from the lounge chair. I moved my hands to the less objectionable small of her back and used some more lotion.

"I just got back from the beach in the Maldives. We had our own private beach and I seem to remember that I did a lot of laying out nude as well."

"We," she asked a little too casually.

"I took a friend with me. A girl I met. She's probably not too happy with me right now." I moved down to her feet and began slowly working my way up her left leg. I was trying to make it more of a massage now than simply putting on the oil.

"Why is she mad at you?"

"I left her there." I said simply. "Work called and I had to come here for the big emergency. She was still passed out from the night before when I left. She woke up to a note."

"Yeah, that would piss me off too", she agreed.

I had working my hands up to the backs of her left thigh. I let my fingers brush lightly against the hem of her bikini bottoms, right between her legs, and then I immediately moved to the other leg before she could protest.

"You know she is going to fuck someone else down there before she comes back? Revenge for you leaving her, right?"

"I hope she does. She's a healthy girl with a healthy sexual appetite. That is a very sensual place. A woman like her, in a place like that, she should take full advantage of the situation. Maybe when she gets back I'll even have her tell me about it." I was still working my way up her right leg, slowing my pace, hoping the beer took full effect.

"You don't sound as possessive as most guys. Most guys it would drive them crazy to think that their girlfriend was cheating on them with some tanned stranger in a foreign land."

"She's not my girlfriend. She's just a waitress I picked up." My hands were getting close to her ass again.

"And took half way across the world? She must have been pretty."

"Not as pretty as you are", I said and found that I actually meant it. Francesca was much more alluring and confident than Jessica would ever be. I found quite to my surprise that I was very attracted to her. My hand reached the bottom of her bikini again, and I slid the tips of my fingers under it.

"Well, I think it's time I got cleaned up so I can take you to the meeting." She stood up and walked away from me. She didn't bother to put the top back on when she got up, but I still couldn't see anything since her back was to me. I sat still for a few minutes debating whether or not to jerk off before I showered and shaved for the appointment. I figured I would probably have to, since I was pretty spun up from the massage I had just given. Before I could make my mind up, she came back, top still in one hand and her other arm covering her chest from my view. "Hey stud, you have a big box at the front door." She winked and went back into the house. I thought to myself that maybe all hope wasn't lost with this one. She was still flirting with me and that was something.

By the time I got back to the front door, I heard the water running upstairs. I assumed she was scrubbing off all of the lotion I had so studiously applied. Opening the box I found it contained my nicer clothes that I leave at the office for just such an occasion. Kara, my secretary, had forwarded them to me, efficient as always. Another woman that I would like to bed, but always seems to slip through my fingers at the most inopportune times. Hmm, my mood seemed to be getting worse as my erection was beginning to soften, unused. "Hell," I said to myself. "Might as well get my head in the game".

I found one of the three upstairs rooms that was not being used. It was the one furthest from the stairs and with only one small window. I laid out a dark grey suit on the bed and stripped for the shower. There is no water purification in the Maldives like there is in the United States, that combined with sun and sand and sweat made my hair stiff and unmanageable. So a good soft water shower was exactly what I needed. I scrubbed everywhere twice to make sure I was as clean as I could get. Then I went one more time for good measure. The second night on the island I had let Jessica talk me into shaving my crotch. I liked how much bigger it looked, but the effect was still strange to me. Washing it felt odd, too smooth, I think I preferred it the other way. Out of the shower I shaved my face, again appreciating the soft water and got ready for my meeting.

Downstairs I was pleased to see that I was ready before her. Men should always take less time to get ready than women. It's one of the quintessential laws of the universe. I grabbed the last Twinkie since I hadn't had anything else to eat that day and heard her come down the stairs. I was surprised. She was dressed in what I would call business semi casual; black slacks and a cream colored blouse with a nice. demure set of pearls. I wondered briefly if they were a family heirloom since they didn't quite seem her style.

"You clean up very nicely indeed Francesca."

"So do you. My friends call me Frankie."

"Okay Frankie, lets hit the road."

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I left Frankie downstairs in the reception area with very strict instructions not to tell anyone who she was or why we were there. I told her to discourage any conversation and keep her head in a magazine. She stuck her tongue out at me like I was an overbearing school teacher. It was a cute gesture though. No I was waiting in a small office in an out of the way place waiting for the main man to show up. You can always tell how someone in this position feels by where they ask you to wait. If you're meeting off site, they feel guilty. In a conference room they are mad and want to let other people see how mad they are. A private office means they are scared, and out of the way means that they don't want to be seen with you. That usually means they are about to ask you to do something they don't want to be linked to. I waited patiently in a nice comfortable chair and let my mind wonder to what Jessica was doing right now. I had an image of her in one of the private pool areas, with a middle aged couple, slowly approaching the wife, everyone's heart beating too fast because this was something new and taboo and exciting to all of them...

Just then the door opened and the man that walked in was exactly what I was expecting. He was around 60, with white hair and a very expensive watch. I estimated that he was not the top man at the company, but probably not very far off. I figured he was probably the vice president in charge of something or other.

"Are you Paul?", he asked in a very serious manner. I could tell this was going to be a no nonsense type of meeting.

"I am."

"Garrison tells me you're the best he has." He waited for me to respond, but since it wasn't a direct questions I just kept my mouth shut. "What other clients have you worked for?"

This time I just stared at him in an unpleasant manner. Direct question or not, clients pay for discretion. Revealing any of the other names we have done work for in the past would be tantamount to scuttling our own business. So I simply waited with a look that I hope said, "You have got to be kidding."

Finally, when I was sure that I had gotten my message across I said "Tell me about your problem." He waited a long time before answering. Whether or not he was deciding if he could trust me, or he was just trying a board room power play, I'm not sure.

"You know what we do here?"

"You simplify code", I said. "Computer programs, anti-virus, operating systems. You take the bloated old code and make it shorter to do the same thing. It runs faster and more efficiently that way."

"It's more nuanced than that, but close enough. Ten years ago a program like Windows had 40+ million lines of code. Today it's three times that. It takes tens of thousands of man hours to clean something like that up. Its big business and whoever can get it to market first can save a software company money. Allow their product to run on older machines. Make it lightning fast on newer models. About a year ago we noticed that two of our biggest projects were turned in by a competitor that we didn't even know was working on it. It costs us millions. One of our engineers got a hold of a finished copy and said that he recognized some of his own code in it. That's when we started taking precautions.

"Over the last months we have been tagging every piece of internal code with a tracking sequence. Only a hand full of us in the company knew about it. About a week ago the same competitor came forth with another piece of our product, and the tracking sequences were still in place. Our engineer looked at it, and tracked everything back to a single user terminal."

"Excuse me, I thought I was here because you didn't know who the thief was? If you know what user is leaking, just fire him and move on. Why do you need me?"

"We do know who's is behind this, but we need to know how many other projects were compromised. We need to know what they offered to the employee to get their cooperation. Most importantly we need to make absolutely sure that she does not speak to anyone else about what she has done. It would ruin our reputation."

"She?"

"This woman, Diane Margon. She is a junior level executive in the customer relations department." He handed me a file.

At first glance it looked like a standard HR file. Her picture was clipped to the inside front of the folder. She was an attractive strawberry blond haired woman that appeared to be around 37. She had very pale skin and green eyes that made me think her ancestors hailed from somewhere in northern Europe. She was attractive, and would be absolutely stunning except for a few extra pounds that she was carrying. A few freckles around her face that she seemed to be trying to cover up with makeup made her look younger and less serious. Something about her face made her look rather unintelligent.

The meat of the file was telling. She lived locally in a small, commuter neighborhood not too far from work. One nice car and a mortgage that was probably a little too much for her comfortable, but not extravagant, salary. She carried a hefty student loan.

"Does she have a boyfriend or a girlfriend?"

"Not that we are aware of. She's had a number of relationships with men in the office. She has always been regarded as something of the office slut or maybe a man eater is a better use of terms. She likes to go for younger, nerdy guys, easy for her to control. Until now I just thought she was promiscuous. Now it seems she may have been working toward gaining favors or people's trust."

"Your file seems pretty sure she lives alone?" I made it a question.

"We've had her followed by our in house security for the last few days. I feel confident it's just her and a cat there. So what's the next step?"

"The next step is that I need to get into her house to see if I can find anything linking her to the leak. It's almost the end of the day now, I assume she is about to get off. Can you, or someone in the loop, call an emergency meeting; something that she would have to attend and that would include a number of other people?"

"Sure, that shouldn't be too difficult. Why?"

"I want you to keep her hear for at least two hours. If I find what I need I will pick her up and take her somewhere to find out what she knows. If that happens, she won't be coming back to work. I will encourage her to move, change her name and never trouble you again."

"Okay, that's fine. I'll arrange it now."

"Call off your security. I don't want them lurking around. Message me the moment she leaves"

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I asked grey hair if I could use the room for a couple of minutes after he left to make some calls. He grunted agreement, and left the HR file with me. I called my boss and told him what was going on. I knew what I had to do, and the most important question I had for him was could I trust Frankie or did I have to wait a few days for him to send me someone else that didn't mind taking risks.

"She's fine. Solid. We've used her on a number of interrogations in the past. She gets into them. Bill's worked with her before. Recons they turn her on."

"That's interesting."

"Already trying to cut yourself off a piece of that? Don't bother. Bill said she is a flirt, but he never got anywhere with her. Thinks she's a dyke. She just kept him on the edge the whole time."

"I'm not Bill." This time I hung up on him before he had the chance to hang up on me. It was a small victory that felt like a very small victory. I left the room and there was a young guy in a suit too big for him making him look younger than he really was waiting outside the door. He was trying to look tough and intimidating.

"That took long enough," he said. "I didn't know you were going to be keeping me out of my office all day."

"Piss off junior", I said already on to more important things in my mind.

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When I got back outside I took Frankie for a walk. I didn't want to talk about any of this stuff inside a building or a car and increase the chances of being heard. I told her about what we were going to do and how we were likely going to have to do it and she seemed interested. When I talked about the kidnapping and interrogation, she was downright excited.

We left to rent a van with tented windows and a sliding door. She drove and I rode in the back getting my things ready. I knew we only had about two hours to check out her house before she would be coming home. That was all the time Grey Hair had agreed to give us. Frankie dropped me off in the neighborhood, a few streets down from Diane's house and I pretended to jog up and down for a little while to get a feel for the area. Meanwhile she left for the safe house to get the table and chairs out the basement room. I also asked her to pick up a few things from the house like zip ties from my bag .

After making the block a few times I had worked up a good sweat in my newly purchased running outfit. It was so dry in Pena Blanca that, even though it was hot, it wasn't oppressive. Finally, when I was sure of the area I took a jog through a neighbor's yard and easily vaulted the 5 privacy fence into Diane's yard. On one of my passes I had noticed that she had a little alarm company sticker on the front window, but I was betting she never set it. Most people don't. I looked in the back door window, and sure enough, the little push button pad was flashing a green light.

I could have picked the lock, but lock picking isn't like it is in the movies. It takes time and skill and tools, two of which I was short on. So I simply walked around the side of the yard until I found the window closest to the air conditioners, and not visible from the driveway. With a rock from the ground I broke the bottom pane and let myself in. I had to use the air conditioner as a foot rest to vault in, but no matter. I was inside what looked like a junk or storage room. Probably an extra bedroom that was just being used like a giant closet. There were mounds of clothes from floor to ceiling, All of this kind of stuff costs money and there was no way she could afford this much with her mortgage and car. Out of that room I was happy to see that her house was better kept. The first room to my left was the master bedroom. There were a few clothing items strewn on the floor, but not much.

In the bathroom there was a pair of lacy panties on the floor by the door. I figured they were the most recent pair she had worn. I picked them up and smelled them. They were pungent with the mingled smells of arousal and sweat. I guessed that she had sex the night before, or at the very least had been extremely turned on. Her nightstand contained two vibrators and some different types of lube. Standard fair for a woman in her 30s that lives alone. I took them out and laid them on the bed.

Most people think that they are really good at hiding things. Think that they come up with the cleverest place that no one would think to look in. The truth is that almost everyone puts things in the same few places. The shoe boxes in the closet, behind the dresser and the freezer were all a bust, as was the HVAC vents. But the first old suitcase I opened, all the way in the back of her closet was the jackpot. Three were a couple of thumb drives, some jewelry, papers and about $30K in cash. A quick look at the papers looked like it was her record of how much she had been paid and when. The flash drives were probably copies of everything she had stolen. Not smart. I took the suitcase with me and put the vibrators and lube in it. When you are trying to get the truth out of someone, anything you can use to humiliate them can help.

Next stop was her home office. She had a nice, feminine desk with a laptop computer on it. Extracting a flash drive of my own I copied her personal files to the drive to review later. The phone rang.

"It's me, " Frankie said. "I'm back"

"Come up to the house, I have a suitcase for you to put in the van." I opened the back door for her and handed her the little, scuffed valise filled with the evidence of all of Diane's sins. She gave me the zip ties as I had asked for and left to park across the street again. She would not be coming back until Diane was home.

My phone beeped again and I knew that was my cue that Diane was leaving work. I figured that gave me about 25 more minutes before she would be there. I wanted to see if there was any more evidence on her computer so I went back to her little pink office. Since I had a list of the passwords she used at work in her HR file, it only took me two guesses to figure out the password on her computer. Searching through the drive for a little while I came to file marked "Private". That's always a good sign. When I opened it I found a series of nude photographs. Most of them looked like the standard selfie in front of a mirror type photo.

The first set was of her in a lacy bra and panties. As I clicked through the photos she took off first the bra, and then the panties. Her nipples were very very lightly colored and were just a bare rose shade darker than her pale skin, but her breasts were large and hung well without the confines of the bra. Her pussy was shaved clean in the photo. She must have been aroused because her lips were swollen and flushed. The final picture showed her finger just touching the place where her clitoris was hidden. The next three sets were the same, just with different outfits and hair styles. In one she was turned to the side to give us a view of her ass. She had several whelps that looked like she had been spanked or canned, and she had the most devilish grin on her face. Another set had the same marks, but more faded and the bruises were yellowed. I wondered why she had taken these, for whom? Who had canned her?