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Dirty Pics Lead to Dirty Tricks Ch. 02

By: urban_legend555



The drive home was an agony. Part of me hoped Peter would not be home when I got there but the rest of me desperately hoped that he would be. When I turned onto our street and saw his car in the driveway a wave of emotion hit me and I lost my confidence. Tears streamed down my face and I felt short of breath.

There was no way I could face him at that moment so I headed for the levy along river road, a quiet place where I could compose myself before going home to him. Ridiculous as it sounds I felt he would just look at me and know that I'd been unfaithful. 

An hour later, makeup reapplied and my eyes dry once again, I went home. Peter was in the back yard happily staking the tomato plants he loved to grow so he didn't see me quietly slip in the side door.

A shower and a change of clothes helped me prepare to greet my husband for the first time since I had cheated on him. The comfort and safety of our own home was calming, and it helped me make up my mind to say nothing of what had happened at work. I was determined to find a way to make things right again without the awful admission of what I had done. 

With the cheeriest face I could muster, I swept through the garden gate and embraced my husband. He wrapped me in his arms like he always did and kissed my neck in the way I had come to love. For a long moment, I just clung to him wanting to feel the reassurance of his strength and his love for me. 

"You're late Babe," he murmured into my neck, "I was getting worried about you."

"I had some work to clean up," I lied, and immediately regretted it. 

"Jane from your office called," he said, and a chill ran up my spine. "She said she hadn't seen you all day and wondered if you weren't well."

"Jane?" I blurted. "Why would she..." and I stopped. The alarm in my voice was obvious and I paused hoping to get a little more control before continuing. "Jane isn't in the same department or even on the same floor. I'm surprised she would know if I was in or not."

"Oh," he laughed. "She clearly thinks you're much better friends than you do. She said she's been seeing quite a lot of you lately." 

Peter had his head down cutting suckers off the tomato plants and I couldn't see his full face to know whether there might have been more to the conversation than he was letting on. My heart was thumping hard and I could feel my face was flushed and hot. I wanted to change the subject away from Jane but I was afraid I'd miss out if there was more to the story. 

"Well, I'm really surprised that she would call," I said in what I hoped was my disinterested voice. "She must not have enough to do these days."

"She wanted you to check that website you two have been discussing," Peter reported vaguely, and I almost stopped breathing. My mouth felt dry when I croaked out "What website?" 

"She didn't elaborate; just said you'd know. I assumed it was an inside joke between you two. She seemed to think it was pretty funny."

Determined now to end the discussion of Jane I asked, "Are you almost ready for supper?" I'm getting hungry." 

"Oh, give me twenty minutes or so ... I have a few more plants to finish here. We can go down to the pub for wings if you feel like it." 

"Great!" I called over my shoulder. 

It was all I could do to keep from sprinting into the house. I had twenty minutes to find that sleazy website and be sure that Jane had not posted any more of the pictures. My fingers felt stiff on the keyboard as I tried several names trying to recall the one she had showed me. There were seemingly dozens of them all catering to prurient interests and showing the decadence of otherwise ordinary married women. 

Finally on the umpteenth try I hit enter and "Slut Wives" splashed across the screen pulsating with starbursts and scrolling billboards advertising every fetish and fixation in the sexual lexicon. 

I dragged the mouse across the screen until the pointer landed on "Down and Dirty Amateurs" and for the second time that day I was looking at my partially obscured profile sucking my husband's cock. This time however, there was a yellow ribbon across my shoulders announcing "new video --click here". 

The banner quickly disappeared and a black screen centered with a white arrow came into frame. A click of the mouse and the screen filled with a close up of an unidentified cock pounding a very wet vagina in living color. For random viewers, the image on the screen could have been anyone. But for the very few who had ever seen me naked, the colorful butterfly tattoo that danced on my belly just above the hairline could leave no doubt as to whom it was in the video. 

The recognition factor would be instantaneous if my husband Peter ever saw it and my immediate concern was not to ever let that happen. I closed the site and was about to shut off the machine when I remembered to erase the browsing history as well. Although Peter and I each had our own work computers, we shared the home computer between us. Until now, I had never had reason to be concerned about him seeing what sites I had visited. But now that was all changed.

Peter came into the house a few minutes later and washed up in the downstairs bathroom. By the time he came up to change his clothes, I was already dressed and ready to go out. My paranoia peaked momentarily when he took time to go to the computer but then he changed his mind and we left arm-in-arm for the restaurant. 

It was a restless night for me. The music at the bar seemed too loud and I had the heebie-jeebies thinking people were staring at me when really no one was. My mind wandered several times over the evening pondering the imponderable such as how many people actually visited web sites like "Slut Wives" and, more importantly, how many of the people who knew me were potential visitors. 

I began to fret then that I hadn't looked beyond the initial icon to see if Jane had posted my pictures in more than one place on that awful site. The faint comfort that I had taken from the fact that the posting had not shown my face faded with the realization that there could very well be more pictures that I hadn't yet discovered. 

Peter picked up on my preoccupation but, thankfully, didn't connect it to the call he'd received from Jane. He could tell from my earlier reactions that I didn't like the woman and he tried to kid me out of my funk by making little jokes that were probably very funny but didn't seem so at the time. His best efforts fell short of relieving my moodiness and, in the end, we decided to go home and make it an early night. 

In the car, on the way through the darkened streets, he reached over and squeezed my thigh. Ordinarily, the gesture would have been welcome, but his fingertips reawakened the soreness I was feeling from Jeremy's mauling and I brushed his hand away. He was hurt and I felt miserable for having caused it.

Later, in bed, he tried again and this time I didn't rebuff him. In the darkness he couldn't see the redness of my abused nipples or the fingermarks where my breasts had been so thoroughly slapped. 

I would have been unable to explain why, but the pain I felt seemed well justified as he took his pleasure. It was as if it was the penance I owed for my infidelity; for sharing with others what I had promised to him alone. 

Ironically, the crude names that he often called me during our fantasy sex games now had a special relevance that I hoped he would never have the opportunity to understand. For the first time I felt that I was, indeed, the slut he often branded me in the heat of passion, and it aroused me even more than usual to hear the words now. 

When he growled "what a great piece of ass", it was in that bastard Jeremy's voice that the identical words echoed. For some inexplicable reason, the humiliating recollection was enough to make my belly contract in the throes of a powerful orgasm. I threw myself against him with an aggressive passion that left us both sated and panting. 

After, when we lay entwined in each other's arms, and he slid his tongue between my lips, I was shamed by the realization that the taste of another man's cum had filled my mouth only hours before. I felt initial worry that he might somehow be able to tell; that the taste might have lingered and he would know that his devoted wife had sucked another man's cock to completion. 

When he didn't pull back in revulsion, I found the idea that he could be sharing my shame and wallowing in another man's cum exciting, arousing me beyond all reason. It was as if Jeremy and Jane were right there watching my beloved husband forced to accept their sloppy seconds. 

With an urgency that made little sense, I wanted him in me again, right then. Peter's feelings were of no consequence at that moment nor would it have mattered to me if it was my darling husband or someone else I was opening myself for. Indeed, it was Jeremy's thick, uncircumcised cock I pictured. 

I'd never felt so slutty, nor would I have imagined that such immoral thoughts could make me feel so aroused. It was as if I had crossed an invisible line and surrendered the right to be a respectable woman. With my vows in tatters, it no longer mattered whose cock I welcomed inside me. 

In the midst of my emotional turmoil the worst happened. Peter was having trouble recovering from our first fuck. I played with his cock, jerking it until it was semi hard and then trapping it between my breasts for the tit fuck that usually did it for him. 

He was struggling to stay hard and I was callously enjoying his embarrassing difficulty. It was as if his problem provided reason or vindication for my own tawdry infidelity. 

If it had ever happened before, I would have just cuddled with him until we would both fall asleep. Now, for whatever reason, I couldn't (or wouldn't) relent. 

I could see his frustration and I was enjoying it, mocking male insecurity in general and his in particular. It was, in fact, the very first time in our marriage that he couldn't get fully hard and it was bothering him terribly. He could sense my poorly concealed disappointment and the pressure added to his problem. His usually proud cock wilted even further and lolled lazily to the side. 

For some malicious reason, it struck me as funny and my derisive snicker was ill-timed. It devastated him. He rolled off of me, embarrassed and angry, and stomped off to the bathroom like a petulant little boy with a defective toy.

He was in there a long time and I waited, toying with an apology that would have been insincere. I tried to imagine what he might be doing, pouting and sulking or trying to coax an erection with his own hand. 

The image of him struggling appealed to my malevolent mood and, after a while, I masturbated to spite him. When he did finally come out he chose sleeping in the spare room rather than facing me and I felt a pervasive smugness as I lay there alone.

He was gone in the morning before I left for work. 

The self-indulgent arrogance had left me by then and, between the dread of getting to work and having to deal with Jane and the worry of where all of this could end, I felt a sense of powerless ennui. It seemed like I was moving inexorably toward mayhem in my privileged, predictable life. 

Peter, the unwavering constancy of my marriage, wasn't speaking to me; and my solid, predictable job was precariously threatened by the vindictive bitch in HR. Everything important to me was seriously endangered by the trap I'd fallen into. It didn't seem possible that so much had collapsed around me in a mere twenty-four hours.

Common sense should have encouraged me to keep a low profile at work until Jane's evil plans had run their course. But the slutty self-image that lingered within me had no connection with common sense. I rifled through my closet shunning the conservative business attire that had been my ever predictable daily attire throughout my career.

In the back I found a short, red skirt that I hadn't worn since college. It was tight then and the few pounds I'd put on since made it cling around my bottom like a second skin. I tried on a white pullover sweater without a bra but I lost my nerve when my nipples stared back at me like eyes imprisoned in a moving snowdrift. 

My underwear drawer yielded little that didn't call attention to the problem and make it seem worse. In the end I found a satiny white bra that belonged to a peignoir set. It gave no support and my breasts quivered like jello with every step I took. But, at least the opaque satin cups concealed the darker shade of my nipples I rationalized.

A two-button navy blazer completed the look and I bounced down the stairs and out the door before I changed my mind yet again.

To Be Continued.

Dirty Pics Lead to Dirty Tricks Ch. 03



Fifty-five year old Horace Burke had been the Chief Executive Officer of Portland Enterprises for more than fifteen years. His personal business philosophy of "pay well, demand a lot and don't spare the whip" had long been the standard at Portland and it was responsible in large part for the company's success. 

The organization was solid and successful with an impeccable record of innovation by a well qualified management team. That was Horace's doing. A skilled recruiter, the CEO was relentless in finding the best people and getting the most out of them. The management at Portland was extremely well paid but the high salaries came with a demanding work load that left the executives with little time for other things that might distract them from the business of business. If a desire to escape the heavy demands of the job got the best of anyone that Horace wanted to keep, the individual soon found the high salaries at Portland were like golden handcuffs. The level of compensation was simply not available from the competition. Like everyone else, the Portland executives, and especially their wives, grew accustomed to living the affluent life style and settling for less was not an acceptable option. 

Horace himself wasn't nearly as impressive as the company he built. Thirty pounds overweight, sallow skinned and balding, the man looked perpetually unhealthy. In spite of that, Horace was often seen in the company of very pretty women who found the man's companionship was made more appealing by his power and his wealth. Trophy wives and fast cars were the norm among the Portland executives and Horace Burke was not above using his position to pressure a test drive of either one. 

Among the female employees at the firm there were many very good looking women who were always on the lookout for an opportunity to make someone in management happy if that wasn't happening at home. Divorce, being a costly waste of assets for both parties, wasn't very common, so the slap and tickle of extra-marital sex was the order of the day. Like so many other things in the "grass is greener" kind of philosophy, attractive married women in the company who didn't fool around were often the most sought after. They were in a special trophy category all of their own. Getting into their pants brought the kind of group approbation from fellow executives that fed a competitive spirit.

One of the most popular challenges among the married women at Portland was Madison Clarke, the newly appointed department head in accounting. At twenty-eight, Madison still had the youthful good looks that turned heads and the maturity of figure that allowed for an appealing fullness to her breasts and behind. Married with no kids and a successful husband, she could afford to dress well, drive a nice car and not be overly impressed by the come-ons of the executive corps. Curiously, that brought as much resentment from the women who were sexually active as it did from the guys who wished she would be. 

It wasn't as if Madison didn't like sex. She was just getting enough at home from a good looking spouse who she loved a lot. Peter was an imaginative lover who knew how to tap into Madison's darker side. While they were monogamous, they each enjoyed delving into the kinkier side of sex to keep their relationship fresh and edgy, albeit private.

It was seven thirty when Horace pulled into his reserved parking space, a full ninety minutes before most of the staff would arrive to start work. He was not surprised to see Madison Clark's silver Lexus already there. Madison was a hard worker and Horace liked that. He liked it almost as much as he liked watching her ass flex in a pencil skirt as she walked around her department. He might have made getting a piece of that a requirement to the promotion she'd just received, but she was just principled enough that she might have quit. Horace didn't want that. 

The elevator chimed its arrival on twelve and Horace stopped in at the coffee room for his morning fix. He was just in time to see Madison pouring her own coffee and he felt the familiar rush in his belly when she turned to say "Good morning Mr. Burke."

"Good Morning," he said curtly, maintaining the aloof distance that he felt appropriate. While his manner remained cool, his eyes were quick to take in the pretty woman's cleavage and to check for clues to the type of undergarments she might be wearing. Her blatantly braless appearance in the conference room on Friday was an unexpected treat that had surprised everyone. Whatever brought that on, Horace approved of it. He took another long look at what he considered the nicest set of tits in the building before reestablishing eye contact with the blushing woman. 

"You're in early," he observed.

"Yes. I find I get more done before the phone starts to ring."

"Good. Yes. That's good," he responded, letting his eyes drop to her waist to appreciate the way her skirt pulled snugly across her flat belly. He liked the little hollows that it left in front of her hip bones and he found himself wondering what kind of panties she wore. He watched as she turned and put cream and sugar into her cup, giving him the opportunity to check for a panty line in the smooth fabric of her skirt. She turned back to him and he knew she'd caught him checking her out. Instead of looking away, he continued to boldly admire her. He could see that it made her feel uncomfortable and he liked that. 

"Would you like milk with that?" she asked indicating the cup of steaming coffee he was holding. 

He smiled and purposefully dropped his eyes to her neckline once more to be sure she'd get the double entendre. "Yes. That would be lovely." 

"I wanted to thank you for supporting my promotion, Mr. Burke," she stammered, trying to change the subject. Her hand self-consciously fluttered up cover the v-neck of her blouse where his eyes were once again resting. 

"It was my pleasure," he snickered, amused at her nervousness. "I think you could have quite a future at Portland. I'd like to spend some time with you and get a feeling for everything you have to offer.

"I'd like to do that sometime," she replied politely, blushing again at his blatant flirting and the deliberate emphasis he had placed on "everything". 

"Well how about right now?" he pressed. "I'm on my way out to the plant in a few minutes. You can tag along and get a sense of what this company can do for you.

Moments later Madison was settling onto the leather passenger seat in his Escalade. She felt awkward climbing in with her short skirt and felt uncomfortably certain Burke had been treated to more than an eyeful.

The ride to the plant was tense for her. Only a blind person would have been unaware of the man's preoccupation with her legs. His eyes seemed to undress her as they flicked from the road to the expanse of creamy thigh and back with a regularity that was hard to miss. His conversation drifted easily from purely business to quite personal and she found herself answering questions that he clearly had no right to ask. 

"So. How long have you been married?" he asked. 

"Seven years. Going on eight," she replied. 

"Hmmm. And what's that they say about seven? Isn't that the beginning of 'the itch?'" he chuckled playfully. 

"That's what they say," she agreed with a hesitancy that implied that it didn't apply to her. 

"Oh c'mon. Don't tell me an attractive woman like you hasn't had thoughts!" he laughed at her teasingly. 

"No. Never," she maintained. 

"Well your husband is a lucky man. Either that or he satisfies you unbelievably."

"What could be unbelievable about that?" she challenged, and then immediately wished she hadn't. 

"Repetition. Routine. Same old, same old," he answered. "Every marriage has that rust that creeps in and eventually takes the excitement out of sex."

"Well that hasn't happened to us," Madison assured him a little too confidently. 

"And to what do you attribute that?" he teased. "What does he do that's different? If it isn't same old same old, what does he do?"

No immediate answer came to mind. She was rattled by the inappropriateness of their conversation and that was making it difficult to think. Had it been anyone else she would have ended it with a scathing comment. But, the CEO was not someone to alienate, though there was no doubt that he was out of line the way he was coming on to her. For a moment it occurred to Madison that the mess she was in with Jane had something to do with it. The timing seemed so coincident. Or was it? 

"Maybe it isn't what he does," Burke continued, "but what he does it with? Does wonder boy have more than his share down there?"

"That's just men and their preoccupation with size," the young wife blurted, trying to be conversational with an air of detachment that didn't come off. 

"Size is never enough on its own," he conceded. "Variety is much more important. That's why so many married women take lovers," Burke announced as if he was an authority. 

"Really?" Madison mused. "You think that's the reason?"

"Not the only reason, to be sure," the CEO continued. "Often it's for the advantages a lover can give to a married woman as much as for what he physically brings to bed with them."

Madison was stunned by the turn in conversation. Burke's reference was obviously what he could do for her in return for sex. The whole idea of trading her body for favors appalled and offended her. But wasn't what she had done with Jane and Jeremy the same? She had convinced herself that it was a question of survival but she knew that Jane would continue to push the envelope until her career and life with Peter were ruined. She needed a powerful friend to fight Jane Reynolds and there was none more powerful than Horace Burke. Whatever the price, she needed Burke's help.

The intrusion of Jane's name into her thoughts at that moment was like a cold slap of reality. Burke was explaining how they could 'be important' to one another but Madison was already way ahead of him. Rather than being a reluctant sexual toy for the amusement of her blackmailers, an intimate relationship with Burke had a powerful upside. If she had to spread her legs for someone, it might as well be for someone who could help her.

Madison had turned sideways in the seat and no longer seemed preoccupied with keeping her tight red skirt from riding up on her thighs. Rather than being annoyed with her boss's ogling she seemed to be inviting it. "I suppose, really, that most women do have such feelings," she mused. "As happily married as I am, there are still other attractive factors that can enter into relationships." 

Burke had stopped talking, pleased and a bit surprised with the turn in Madison's conversation. Her body language had softened and the defensiveness had left her. His eyes dropped to her lap and he enjoyed a lingering look at her lovely legs. 

"There are times when even a happily married woman has naughty thoughts," she laughed as if the admission released some of the tension.

"Like what?" Burke laughed along with her. "What are some of your naughty thoughts?"

"Hmmm. Other men. What it would be like. That sort of thing."

"A little variety?" he suggested. "A strange cock to play with?"

Her laugh was nervous now, and a lot of the confidence had left her voice. "Just the forbidden aspect of it is exciting sometimes. It's like when someone is looking at you in that way and you let him see you but pretend you aren't aware." She shifted in the seat again as if trying to find comfort. Her skirt twisted with the movement and he caught a glimpse of panty as she stretched.

"Like when you showed up in the boardroom the other day?" he asked. "You knew we were all looking at but you pretended not to be aware?"

"More than that," her laughter tinkled with a mixture of excitement and tension. 

"Were you intentionally teasing?" 

"I was hoping to get your attention," she whispered, letting her hand rest on her boss's thigh.

"You got everyone's attention. Your tits had never looked more ripe or more inviting. I guess the way it went down it was Jane we should be thanking."

Madison's frown was instant and inadvertent but Burke picked up on it immediately.

"Hmm. Do I detect a little animosity between you and Jane?" he grinned, enjoying having uncovered a bit of the office infighting.

Madison was quick to downplay his perception. Too quick as it turned out.

"We were a little suspicious when we saw you turn up when we clearly asked for Jane to be there. Then when we saw you were so obviously not wearing a bra, we thought we were the benefactors of a little cattiness between our female managers."

Again Madison tried to deflect discussion away from Jane. "Oh, we get along alright. We're not close but we each just do our jobs."

"So you're saying there is no substance to the speculation that Jane had set you up? That she'd seen you weren't wearing a bra and for whatever reason wanted to embarrass you?" He was laughing and Madison couldn't decide whether he was joking or just flat out didn't believe her.

We're not friends Mr. Burke, she countered evenly. Sometimes our responsibilities collide and that could cause stress." The answer seemed plausible when she said it and she hoped that would end his interrogation.

"Since you're the queen bee in accounting, I'm assuming that these collisions as you put it are money related?"

"Sometimes," Madison hedged.

"I'm glad you're on top of such things," he said, suddenly dead serious. "Do you always have access to all of the information you need in these matters?"

Madison took a deep breath, carefully considering her words. "Not always, and sometimes there is concern that requesting certain access could cause relevant material to disappear."

"Exactly!" boomed Burke, certain that he was hot on the trail of malfeasance in his precious company. "Where do you need discreet access that you don't currently have it?"

Madison fought to keep her voice calm as she made her request. "I need access to the computer on Jane's desk, without her knowing."

"Leave that with me," Burke proclaimed, pleased to show his unchallengeable authority.

The matter being settled for the moment, he turned back to Madison letting his gaze once again fall on her bosom. "Surely you aren't going to tell me that your appearing braless the other day was entirely Jane's doing are you? There must have been a reason why you weren't wearing one. What was going on with you? I didn't hear anyone declare Fridays 'tits free day' at the office..."

Madison lowered her eyes demurely. The prospect of getting her hands on Jane's files had her excited but she wanted to make sure that Burke would be securely on her side. "I was just feeling a bit unappreciated. I wanted to do something bold to let people know I'm not just a boring little accountant." 

Burke beamed at her answer. He hovered over her solicitously and gave her a peck on the cheek. His closeness was disconcerting but, instinctively, she knew what she had to do. Laying her head on his chest, she let her fingers squeeze his thigh and edge along his pant leg until her knuckles nudged his stiffening penis. "At least I know you aren't bored," she giggled suggestively, tracing the outline of his cock with her fingers. 

The older man wheezed heavily and slid to the edge of the seat giving her greater access to his groin. She found the tab on his zipper and tugged it down. "Mmm, Mr. Burke," she whispered demurely as her hand found his damp flesh. "I hope you won't think I'm a tramp." 

The CEO's reassuring answer was all she needed. With that, Madison dropped her head into his lap and licked along the length of his shaft. Burke's hands caressed the back of her head and she heard him mutter "what a sweet little cocksucker you are...," as he pushed into her mouth. For several minutes Madison worked on his rubbery cock. Used to the steel of Peter's erection, she was surprised that Burke never seemed to get fully hard. His cock was noticeably smaller than her husband's and the taste was mildly bitter. Several times she had to swallow her pride and remind herself of why she was doing this. 

Burke lay back against the seat and watched Madison's head bobbing in his lap. She had him thinking with his little head and he was too shrewd not to recognize it. He was used to women flirting with his power, offering sex for favors. But Madison was an unexpected wet dream come true for him. He had often felt rebuffed by the aloof, untouchable image she projected around the office. None of that was in evidence now as he took liberties under her skirt and she played with his cock. 

Instinctively, he knew there was more to her need to get into Jane's computer than she was telling. If she was willing to suck him off to get access she'd do a lot more once he knew the whole story. A simple blow job and a finger fuck wasn't going to do it after today. She had a lot to make up for. A little humiliation would look good on the snooty little bitch. With that thought his balls began to tighten. Madison felt Burke's hands pressing down on the back of her head holding her firmly in place. She knew not to object. 

Even knowing what to expect, the first jet of his seed revolted her. The taste was bitter and although the quantity was far less than she was used to with Peter, it seemed to coat her tongue and teeth in a vile cream. This was not her handsome healthy husband sharing a loving act. It was a dirty old man getting a blow job from a desperate unfaithful wife. 

"Don't get any on my pants," he admonished as Madison forced herself to keep from pulling away in disgust. 

She wanted to sit up them and clean herself up but Burke wanted to play. "Your husband is a lucky man," he chortled as he cupped her sex in a pudgy hand. The little virgin in accounting is not so prudish after all, he thought smugly. 

Madison shuddered at Burke's mention of her husband. She did not want to be reminded that she was betraying the man she loved. 

"You suck great cock," he complimented.

"Thank you, Mr. Burke" she whispered, ashamed.

"You've obviously had lots of practice."

"Not so much," she demurred, not wanting to appear any more sluttish than necessary.

"How many?" he pressed. "Fifty? Twenty-five? I think you've had a lot of cock in that pretty little mouth."

Madison was getting distressed. She wanted this remembered as an intimate favor not a tell-all of her sexual history.

"A nice girl doesn't tell," she whispered.

His fingers traced over the butterfly tattoo and he said pointedly. "Yeah. But you're not a nice girl are you Madison."

He snickered when she feigned shock and protested, but they both knew he was right. 

To be continued... 



Dirty Pics Lead to Dirty Tricks Ch. 04



Sometimes it is the wounds we inflict on ourselves that cause the greatest pain.

*

Albert Cooney watched as the monitor on Jane Reynolds' desk sped through series after series of letter, number and symbol combinations faster than the eye could follow. The password on file in the IT department hadn't worked and, realistically, Albert had never expected that it would. They seldom did, but it didn't matter. The millions upon millions of combinations the software systematically checked narrowed the possibilities with each one it rejected. Albert knew it was just a matter of time until the screen would freeze on an 8-character key that would give access to the secrets of any machine in the Portland network. The one on Jane's desk was no exception. 

The request from Horace Burke was not new. The CEO did random checks on all of his executives and Albert was his go-to guy when access to their computers had to be accomplished quickly and discreetly. The task today did seem a little different because the boss himself hovered over his shoulder waiting for the search algorithm to work its magic.

Success brought a grunt of approval from Horace. It took only seconds for Albert to install an invisible back door and bury it while following HB's orders to remove any sign that the machine had been compromised. Next, he did a password search on the two email accounts on Jane's machine with similar success. A congenial pat on the shoulder told Albert the boss appreciated his services, but his further involvement in the project would not be required. 

With a flourish befitting a computer genius Albert pushed himself back from Jane Reynolds' desk and made room for the big boss to take his place. He wouldn't wait around for Horace to crack her files. With the backdoor in place, he didn't need to.

Horace was no computer nerd but he had a practiced eye when ferreting out anything that looked out of place in a document file. Time would not permit a laborious scroll through the multitude of folders nor a meticulous look inside to see what files each one held. Burke simply plugged an external hard drive into a USB port and downloaded the entire contents of Jane's hard drive. 

While the machines were talking, he went through her desk drawers and checked for other storage devices that may contain what he might be looking for, although at that point he wasn't really sure what that might be. 

Hidden in the space behind the hanging files he found a DVD that looked out of place and he slipped it into his laptop and downloaded every byte that it contained. He was finished and back in his own office before the old security guard made his 8 pm rounds. His first phone call was to Madison Clark.

Madison's heart was in her mouth when she heard Burke's voice on the phone. It was all she could do to keep calm and businesslike while he spoke. "I have the passwords you'll need," he confided. "If you go in sometime between 8:15 and 11 pm you'll miss security. Otherwise, you'll have some explaining to do and Jane Reynolds may get wind of your having been there." 

¬ Peter was watching Monday night football and his beloved Patriots were holding off the opposition by less than a touchdown. The Cowboys were third and six and nearing field-goal range so he hardly looked up when Madison kissed him on the forehead and said that she wouldn't be long. 

Before the end of the half, Madison was settling behind Jane's computer and punching in the codes that Burke had given her. When the password allowed entry, she knew enough to go directly into Jane's email and delete everything that had her name on it. 

There was no time to go through every folder so she systematically dragged every one of them to the trash. The recycle bin was next and when the little basket showed empty, all of Jane's files were erased. It took her a few extra minutes of searching to find the DVD's buried deep in the file drawer but Madison felt a triumphant surge as she tucked them into her purse. 

In less than ninety minutes she was back in her own driveway with the weight of the world lifted off her shoulders. Peter's football game was over and he and Madison tumbled playfully into bed. He was euphoric because the Pats had won and she was ecstatic to have neutralized Jane's incriminating evidence. 

They made love like teenagers and after lay side by side, sweating and exhausted, complacently content with their privileged lives. There was no mention of the spat that had them in separate bedrooms only twenty-four hours before, and neither took a chance of spoiling the moment by mentioning it. Seeing his pretty wife naked and sated, Peter felt that was proof that he had redeemed himself sexually from his embarrassing debacle. 

Across town, Horace Burke tediously opened every file downloaded from Jane Reynolds' hard drive. Nothing suspicious jumped out and Jane's meticulous attention to detail could be seen in file after file. He was about to give up and wait for Madison to enlighten him as to what the HR manager might be doing wrong when his natural curiosity led him into Jane's email. A search for Madison's name brought up a dozen or more entries and he noticed a recent one with a hefty attachment. It took only one click on the paper clip icon for him to know instantly why Madison desperately wanted access to Jane's machine. 

He clicked through the pictures, marveling at both Madison's sensual beauty and her saucy sexuality. In some she was clearly posing for the camera, but the poses were extremely provocative. No, more than provocative, they were pornographic he decided after a second viewing. The little slut from accounting had shed her prim reputation along with her clothes. 

There was something else about each picture that was manifestly evident. Madison was clearly enjoying herself. She was excited by her nudity and aroused by showing herself in such brazenly sexual poses. 

The second folder on Jane's hard drive was harder to find but it was an even greater revelation. Madison and Jeremy Shore! The eclectic mixture of stills and blow-job videos showed her considerable oral talents in another extra-marital dalliance. The variety of camera angles ensured Madison's face was fully visible and recognizable in every shot and the constantly changing camera perspective left no doubt that there had been a third person taking the pictures. 

Burke was sure it had to have been Jane. That, and the incriminating nature of the photos, would surely explain the Head of Accounting's determination to access the Personnel Director's computer. 

Madison's expressive eyes were very different in the second set of photos. There weren't any smiling, confident or coquettish eyes like in the first file. The eyes in these pictures were frightened, embarrassed, even humiliated. Burke could see that Madison was not posing willingly. There was also no question that the second set was intentionally more pornographic. The second set made the first look like erotic art.

Burke leaned back in his comfortable chair and shuffled through the pictures a second and a third time. "Well Mrs. Clarke" he mused out loud, "we know you can suck cock. It's high time we expanded your resume and put your other openings to good use." 

He dealt out the pictures on the table in front of him and picked out the ones he liked best. The embarrassment in her eyes did it for him. He could feel her humiliation and that was definitely what held the greatest appeal for him. One of the perks of having power was the opportunity to bring that look into other people's eyes and Horace Burke knew it well. __________________________________________________

Tuesday morning dragged for Madison. She had been expecting her phone to ring at any moment with an irate Jane Reynolds on the line. But, it didn't ring. At noon she made a point of walking through the HR department and was disappointed to see Jane's door was open, but there was no Jane. There were no papers on her desk save for a scattering of telephone messages. It didn't look like the HR Director had been there at all. 

By five o'clock she was preparing to go home when the ring tone on her cell phone startled her. It was Mr. Burke and he wanted to know what evidence of wrongdoing she had found on Jane Reynolds' computer. Madison was expecting him to ask at some point so the glib answer she had rehearsed rolled easily off her tongue. "Her computer had been wiped clean," she reported. "Everything was erased as if she had been expecting to be audited."

"No matter," Burke said. "Nothing is ever truly erased from a hard drive. I'll just get Albert to see what he can restore."

Madison was momentarily flustered. Having Albert Cooney drag those files back from oblivion would be worse than having them remain in Jane Reynolds' possession. Not only would Albert see her dirty pictures but he'd undoubtedly turn them over to Horace Burke. For a moment, she was speechless as thoughts tumbled helter-skelter through her mind. 

On the other end of the line Burke was grinning broadly knowing the turmoil Madison was feeling. The more she panicked, the more she'd be willing to do to keep her head above water. He could almost see her squirming.

"I really don't think that's a good idea Mr. Burke. Having Albert do it will surely send a message that we are onto something."

"Well, that's a risk we'll have to take if we want to find out what's on that hard drive."

"Hmmm...I was wondering...My husband Peter teaches computer sciences. He could do it discreetly without anyone being the wiser," she offered, hoping she sounded sincere.

"Well, that's an interesting thought. Regrettably, risking the questionable optics of giving an outsider access to confidential HR information doesn't really appeal to me," Burke hedged, purposely cranking up Madison's anxiety level.

"He's very prudent where confidentiality is an issue. There would be no leaks with Peter whereas someone seeing Albert poking around on her computer could cause tongues in the department to wag."

"That's probably true. Let me think about it. Come up to my office before you leave and we can discuss this further."

Twenty minutes later, a freshly groomed Madison tapped on the oak door that led to Burke's private office. She wanted the CEO to see her at her best and she had pulled out all of the stops. Freshly brushed hair and flawless makeup supported her over-all look and the two extra buttons open on her blouse were calculated eye candy. Even without the pantyhose that she'd hastily removed in the ladies' room, her tanned legs looked exceptional in her short skirt. By carefully rolling the waistband over and tucking it beneath the belt, she'd raised the hem and allowed an extra few inches of nicely toned thigh to show. She knew she looked good and if even half the stories she'd heard about Horace Burke were true he'd be eating out of her hand.

Madison was perplexed when she found he wasn't in his office. The room was empty and the door ajar, but no Horace Burke sitting behind the desk. Not wanting to be seen hanging around waiting, she slipped inside and closed the door. The couch seemed the appropriate place to sit and wait and she squeezed past the large coffee table and sank into the upholstered softness. A single sheet of paper was conspicuously folded in half and stood up like a tent on the glass top in front of her and after a few seconds her eyes focused on it. 

"Back in a few minutes. Having a drink with Jane Reynolds at the Chanticleer and we will be along shortly."

Madison was devastated. She could think of no circumstance that would put Jane and Horace Burke together that could possibly benefit her. She thought of the blowjob she'd given the CEO not twenty-four hours before in the hope of winning his support. Surely, his offer to help her had not been a ploy, or worse, some sort of evil plot or collusion between him and Jane Reynolds.

Time ticked by and Madison was tempted to leave. The prospect of facing Burke had been daunting enough but, if he was indeed plotting with Jane, the outlook was now terrifying. 

Two or three times she stood to make her escape but sat down again when she reminded herself that Jane's cache of blackmail photos had been erased from her machine and the spare CDs were destroyed. That was some consolation. There would undoubtedly be a confrontation over it but Madison felt confident that she had gained the upper hand; provided that "Having a drink with Jane Reynolds at the Chanticleer..." didn't mean any more than just that. She paced for a bit, eventually coming to rest in Horace Burke's big chair where she toyed with the wireless mouse to his computer. The movement prompted the monitor to come to life and she stared at the rows of icons that populated the desktop. 

She'd already gone too far and she knew it but one particular folder caught her eye and she clicked on it. Microsoft Word took a moment booting up but then Madison found herself looking at a list of names in bold face that she recognized. Most were Director's wives and employees. All had notations beside their names and cryptic notes that described particular talents and even a few fetishes that Madison would never have expected. 

Madison was relieved that there was nothing in the file for Jane that would imply a relationship. Relief from that concern was soon forgotten when she spotted her own name with an obscene happy face avatar beside it enthusiastically sucking a disembodied cartoon cock. The text below left no doubt as to the depth of Mr. Burke's interest in her. The discussion of her physical attributes was disconcerting enough but Burke had cut and pasted the dirty remarks and speculation of a number of the upper management group as well. Her eye scanned down the page past the crude jokes and comments to a highlighted section that proved to be a complete graphic description of what she had done for him in the Escalade. It also confirmed that their morning encounter had not been as random as it seemed. 

Where Madison thought she had been the initiator, the text beside her name made it clear that Horace Burke had been following his own plan. Particularly disconcerting was the brash confidence that laced Burke's critique of her performance which he found only adequate. He made sneering reference to Madison's husband and mocked her willingness to cheat on him without compunction. 

By the time Madison had finished reading and rereading each entry beside her name she was thoroughly humiliated. Bad enough to read a written record of her slutty behavior but to be critiqued on technique, applauded for her enthusiasm and rated versus other cheating wives was degrading in the extreme. And there, cut and pasted from email and appended at the end of his own disgusting commentary were the filthy remarks of others from Burke's inner circle of senior management. She knew them all and now, thanks to Horace Burke, they knew more about her than she could ever imagine sharing with another human being. 

In the midst of her mortification and heartache she became aware of someone else in the room. Burke had slipped in quietly and was standing watching her snooping on his computer, and in his estimation, feeling sorry for herself. 

No words were needed to communicate the anger and frustration she was feeling. Her discreet, ladylike image, unencumbered by tawdry office liaisons lay shattered in the coarse comments of men she had to work with every day. To see herself referred to as "the little cunt" and "Peter Clarke's whore wife" was hurtful in the extreme but nothing compared to the assumptions that they would all be "humping her ass" now that Horace Burke had shown the way. 

There were even comments about the butterfly that floated just above the silken cloud of her pubic hair and the bold view she would have been presenting to the tattooist as he went about his work. Madison didn't remember anything of that night but their vivid speculation painted a spectrum of filthy thoughts she would never have allowed herself to dwell upon. 

"I see you've made yourself at home," Burke sniffed reproachfully, "or is my computer on your list of suspects as well?"

The monitor faded to dark as Madison sat trembling in front of it waiting for a tirade of recrimination from the powerful CEO of Portland Enterprises. A week ago Horace Burke controlled her path within his corporate domain. Now he gleefully held the keys to every important aspect of her life. In an effort to control Jane Reynolds, Madison had fallen far deeper under the influence of a cabal of powerful men who were fully expecting to share her with Horace Burke. 

Instead of the overwhelming anger and indignation that Madison should have been feeling, and would have felt just days before, she found herself apologizing. While Burke glared coldly over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses she was lamely trying to explain that "she hadn't meant to snoop," when it was obvious that was exactly what she had intended.

Burke was quite prepared to let her assume the role of the guilty party. He enjoyed seeing the proud little bitch grovel. "So... You said on the phone that you couldn't find what you were looking for on Jane's computer?" 

"Yes. No... I mean there wasn't anything left. She must have had erased it all." A cold smile slowly took over the boss's face. He kept Madison fixed in his stare until she began to feel uncomfortable and looked away. "If there is anything that is still retrievable, I'm sure Peter will be able to find it." She offered. 

"And if not, I have a spare download of her entire hard drive," he announced. 

The news was like a punch in the gut to Madison. Anxiety welled inside of her threatening to overpower her outward composure. "Peter can check them both. If there is anything at all on them he'll find it. He'll know what to look for," she assured.

"Of course he will. He's seen it all before hasn't he?" Horace Burke was grinning broadly now, pleased with himself that he had Madison in near panic. Her eyes told the story as they always did. Behind them her mind was scrambling desperately for some reassurance that he was not alluding to anything more than evidence of Jane Reynolds misappropriating from the company.

For what seemed like an eternity, they stared at each other; he waiting for her rational mind to acknowledge what he was hinting at; and she wanting confirmation that his broad hints were not paranoia getting the better of her tortured imagination. 

With deliberate slowness Burke reached over and undid a button on Madison's blouse. "I'd like to see it again myself," he grinned, removing any doubt about what he'd been insinuating. Madison's hand went instinctively to stop him but he was already turning toward the couch. "Take everything off and fold your clothes on top of the credenza," he ordered. "And be quick. I have tickets to the Antoinne/Morley fight tonight and I don't want to miss a fucking minute of it." 

He settled comfortably onto the couch and watched the young wife disrobe. There was no point in her objecting. They both knew it. Horace Burke always got what he wanted and, at the moment, he wanted a piece of ass. 

The deep pink color that painted across her cheeks spread lower onto her chest as she carefully folded the blouse and put it on his credenza as he had told her to do. Perhaps it was because he was an older man, but it seemed especially humiliating to have him just sitting there watching as she took off her clothes. 

Her bra was next and, as it slipped over her arms, he told her to turn and "hold your tits up for me." She did, fingering the nipples on demand until they were like two spongy corks that danced on lovely, swaying breasts while she disrobed. Her blue boy-cut panties were new and expensive, practical and comfortable, but not overly sexy. Embarrassed, she hoped he wouldn't notice the cloth darkening between her legs where she had begun to get wet. 




Dirty Pics Lead to Dirty Tricks Ch. 04



Soaking up the summer sun on weekends in the back yard, while Peter played with his tomatoes, had turned her skin a lovely golden shade. It contrasted nicely with the creamy white where her shorts and halter had blocked the rays. For some reason, seeing the outline of where her clothes should have been, sent a wave of sensation through her belly. Not wanting her darkening panties to show that she was getting aroused, she stripped them off quickly and put them in the pile.

"Let me have a look at those," she heard him say, and having no other choice, she handed them to him and watched while he pawed and sniffed at the wet spot like the dirty old man she knew him to be. "You must not be getting enough at home," he chortled, indicating the tell-tale spot. He laughed even harder when she snapped at him defensively. 

He pulled her down onto the coach beside him, turned her around and ran his fingers through the soft hair that covered her mound. His index finger found the seam and slipped inside easily on the now well lubricated lips. His touch was surprisingly gentle and she could feel herself responding even as she told herself that she wouldn't. 

Burke could see that she was trying to withhold any reaction and it amused its hood and making her gasp with pleasure in spite of herself. Her hips had taken up a gentle rhythm reciprocating the milking actions of Burke's fingers on the tiny 'man in the boat' that nestled between the saturated lips.

She was trying to minimize Burke's role, shutting him out of her sight and her awareness, trying to soften the sense of her own guilt. For Burke, the most satisfying moment when having sex with another man's wife is that instant when her physical need overpowers her commitment to her spouse and she gives in to the sensations in her belly. 

Madison was very close and she was extremely wet. Her breathing was shallow and irregular, almost anguished, strangled by her need to cum and punctuated by little whimpers that escaped in the intensity that overwhelmed her. Her hand covered Burke's trying to secure the maximum pleasure from his touch. And then it hit. A glorious spasm that rocketed through her belly flooding their meshing parts with her abundant lotion. A second spasm clamped her thighs around his hand and she wailed with the unrelenting carnality of the moment. 

For several minutes after, she held his hand pressed tightly against her creamy wetness craving the closeness of touch but shunning further movement or stimulation. She had to rest her clit until it could once again tell the difference between pleasure and pain. The powerful orgasm had been stronger than she had ever felt before and left the tender bud too sensitive to touch. She squeezed the older man's hand once again to let him know how good it had been. 

She knew she should get up and make her way home to Peter yet she could feel herself clinging to Burke, needing the tender moment to last. She wanted him to acknowledge she was more than just a piece of ass. Her self-esteem depended upon it. 

Finger fucking was supposed to be a prelude to something else not necessarily an end unto itself. Surprisingly, Burke seemed in no hurry to seek his own relief and Madison knew she should take care of him so she could get on her way. 

He let her undo his trousers and lower his silk boxers exposing his cock to her for the second time. She was going to straddle his thighs and face him in the cowgirl position but he slid forward on the couch and eased her down onto her knees on the carpet. She thought she had been offering him what he would want and was surprised that he'd settle again for oral sex.

He was watching Madison and grinning oddly adding to Madison's confusion. Any doubt was erased when his fingers laced together at the back of her neck and he pulled her face forward against his cock. She had started to protest when he cut her off with "Jane took care of me. I just need you to clean up after her."

The scent of another woman was all over him and Madison gagged. 

To be Continued



Dirty Pics Lead to Dirty Tricks Ch. 05



Chapter 5

The drive home was a maelstrom of distraction. Madison's thoughts pin-balled through rage, recrimination and unrequited desperation. Her neatly orchestrated intercession by Horace Burke had failed utterly and her situation was now far worse than before she had enlisted his help. Not only had she been duped into more infidelity, but the struggle with Jane Reynolds took on the cloak of an unmitigated disaster.

The CEO's duplicity rivaled Jane's treachery in a way that left Madison wallowing in a tsunami of directionless self-pity subject to whatever malicious whim the head of HR could imagine for her. She felt certain that even without his help Burke would expect sexual favors and she would be obliged to provide them. Her balled fist pounded the steering wheel and fresh tears of frustration washed over her cheeks. She felt isolated from all of her support systems. Even Peter, her unsuspecting husband, loving and loyal to a fault, would be devastated if he knew that she had sullied their marriage not once, but twice with first Jeremy and then Horace Burke. She swallowed hard trying to rid her mouth of the disgusting taste and the horrible memory of what she had done.

As she rolled into her neighborhood she tried to compose herself. It occurred to her that the worst that could happen had already done so. Providing she could keep this past week's disasters from Peter, she could contain the damage until the evil bastards tired of tormenting her and moved on to some other amusement. She stopped at the Shell station a few blocks from home and repaired her makeup and brushed her hair. She wished she had a toothbrush and some mouthwash but she settled for scooping water into her palm to rinse her mouth. Her eyelids were puffy and red-rimmed but she thought Peter would accept it if she pleaded fatigue.

____________________

Jane Reynolds relaxed in the fragrant bubbles of a hot bath soaking away the repugnance of sex with Horace Burke. Happy with the results of her difficult day, she still wished she could have been there when Burke told Madison to "clean him up". She could imagine the other woman's dismay and the thought amused her. The irony of her bitter rival licking her juices from the cock of the man she thought was going to save her was too precious for words. Now, after three years of putting up with Madison's "Miss Perfect" bullshit, Jane was looking forward to making her pay. It wasn't lost on her the way Madison had pleaded that "Peter can't know about this." She was so annoyingly superior when she talked about her husband and her marriage that Jane was fed up with hearing it. 

Her first thoughts had favored an anonymous package delivered to the school where Peter taught. A nice selection of photos of Madison having sex with Jeremy would "set the cat among the pigeons" she gloated. But, the more she thought about it, the more an alternative plan began to form. Madison was so sure of Peter's undying devotion to her, it might be fun to see how Peter might react to a bit of strange pussy in his life. It might be fun to see Madison's face if she were the one opening the anonymous package. That would be sweet! 

Jane's fingers caressed the smooth skin on her belly as she thought about the possibilities. She remembered Madison's dismissive disinterest when Jane's marriage had ended in a bitter divorce. Her "couldn't happen to me smugness" had been galling at the time and a little payback might be fun. Her fingers toyed with the soul patch of pubic hair that sat just below her bikini line. Peter wasn't a bad looking guy she recalled with a smirk.

_________________________

Horace Burke had retired to his study after a late solitary dinner. Mrs. Burke was out canvassing for The Kidney Foundation so he had a little time to himself. The downloaded DVD from the HR Director's computer would have been his entertainment for the night but Burke was still recovering from having had sex with Jane barely two hours ago. He skipped over the files with all the dirty pictures and went to her email accounts. People tended to regard email as private and, as a result, often left themselves unguarded. The fact that Jane Reynolds had three different email accounts intrigued him. Usually, there was one for business, one for personal, but three? 

He pulled out the scrap of paper where Arnold had jotted down the passwords he'd found and like magic he was in. The business account seemed all in order. Nothing jumped out at him so he went to the one marked personal. The usual boring "hi...how are you?" stuff had him quickly scrolling through looking for anomalies. Apart from a rather terse admonishment to the ubiquitous Jeremy, nothing grabbed his attention.

The third account was a complete surprise. It took him a minute to realize what he was looking at. There was no sent file, only a very active inbox that contained very few emails addressed to Jane Reynolds. Burke was astounded to see his own correspondence along with that of every Director in company. The account was a repository for all of the company's high level communications diverted from the desks of the firm's most senior personnel. Along with business secrets there were clandestine emails to business rivals, doctors, bookies, drug dealers and homosexual lovers.

Burke was stunned by both the volume and nature of what he was looking at. Jane Reynolds was the J. Edgar Hoover of Paramount Enterprises. She had files on everyone who was anyone in the company; damning files that showed everything from theft of proprietary secrets to character assassination and philandering. His self-interest drew him to every entry that bore his name either as sender or receiver. The sensitivity of some of the documents left him with a feeling a dread as he scanned through the pages of his private correspondence. A whole series of emails with tax lawyers held possibly indictable evidence that was enough to put him in a cold sweat as he realized its implications.

Burke's shock slowly morphed into anger as he paced about the room clutching a bottle of scotch. Deceit, disloyalty and an abundance of blame ran rampant through his assessments. There were so many revelations that he could scarcely focus as each seemed more scurrilous and reprehensible than the last. People who he had trusted implicitly stood out for their treachery and Burke readily embraced the mantle of undeserving victim as if he was blameless. 

Three times he had picked up the phone and begun to dial before thinking better of it. His first call would have been to Jane Reynolds to unleash a tirade of accusation and threat that would stop this bullshit in its tracks. He had scarcely punched in the area code when he hung up. Best not to alert her that he knew what she was up to before he was ready to strike her down. 

Next was Albert; Albert fucking Cooney, his IT expert! How the fuck did this happen without him knowing? He stopped dialing when the question became rhetorical. What if he did know? And if he didn't, why didn't he? What if he was a part of this? An old fart like him might do a lot for a piece of ass like Jane. He knew Jane would spread her legs if there was something to gain. But Albert had downloaded the entire hard drive. Would he have done that if he knew it would expose what they were up to? No, that was stupid. But fucking Albert must have been stupid to have missed this. 

The third call would have been to Madison Clarke. If she really did have something on Jane there could be a tradeoff. Then he remembered the look of disgust on Madison's face as she sucked his cock after he'd used it to fuck Jane. Not the best time to call, he decided, taking a long pull of single-malt straight from the bottle.

Burke was on the highway headed back to the office when he called Albert Cooney from the car. As much as he tried to keep the stress out of his voice, Albert knew that a call from the boss at 7:30 on a Friday night was not good news. The conversation was brief and Albert wasted no time in leaving. Forty minutes later Burke and Cooney were looking at the empty hard drive on Jane's desktop. Albert was unequivocal in telling Burke that the memory had been erased but the files would still be there and retrievable with a bit of effort. Retrieving them was not what Burke had in mind and Albert simple removed the entire drive. 

The next questions were not as easily answered and Albert in spite of his expertise, was not able to find a connection between Jane's computer and those of the company's top executives. The possibility of a worm buried on each unit and siphoning off data to a cloud account seemed the most promising possibility. While that could be the answer as to how the accessing was taking place it immediately presented another set of problems. 

With nothing else to go on, Burke left Cooney with the task of hacking the cloud account if it existed and destroying everything stored there. If that worked, the next needle in the haystack would be tracking down any backup accounts or hard copies and eliminating them. The final question, after everything else was accomplished, would be Albert Cooney himself. Perhaps he was no longer at the top of his game. Or, maybe he was the mole behind it all. Burke would defer that to another time. For now he needed him. 

___________________

Peter Clarke was a predictable man and Jane Reynolds was resourceful. It took her less than an hour to find out that Peter was a regular Monday, Wednesday, Friday attendee at Fergie O'Connors, the gym on Ivy Street near the school where he taught. 

Expressions of wonderment at "what a small world," allayed any question the credulous Peter might have had about her being there and a glimpse of Jane in spandex was enough to get him thinking with his little head anyway. Ever the gentleman, Peter was happy to show her around on her first day and Jane was flirtatiously grateful. Later, after a relaxing chat in the whirlpool and then a shared liter of Mouton Cadet at the wine bar next door, they were fast friends. 

Peter was enjoying Jane's company but was mindful of the time. Aware that Madison would be making dinner he knew that he should say goodbye and be on his way. Each time he would begin to say those goodbyes Jane found a way to delay him. She insisted that she wanted to pay for her share of the bill. But she did so by matching the liter of wine that Peter bought with one of her own. Peter did not need another drink but he didn't want to be rude so he stayed for just one more glass. And another. 

When they did make it out to the parking lot Jane made a show of calling a cab until Peter graciously offered to drop her off. It was obvious that he was feeling no pain as he helped her into his car and fumbled around for the keys. They laughed about too much wine on an empty stomach. He sat for a few minutes trying to clear his head. Jane tweaked his ego with a teasing comment about men not holding their liquor and Peter took the bait assuring her that he was okay. 

"Do you know how women hold their liquor?" she asked provocatively. An unsuspecting Peter admitted that he didn't. "By the ears," she smiled in the coquettish way that had beguiled men since she was teenager. "They hold them by the ears," she repeated with a naughty giggle.

Peter laughed at his own naivete not having expected the joke or the blatantly sexual reference. He wasn't sure how to respond so he laughed heartily buying some time to see where the conversation would go from there. She covered his hand with hers and laughed again, mocking him with her tone and her eyes. "You're embarrassed," she proclaimed in the patronizing way that you'd speak to a child. 

His denial was quick and a little too emphatic to be believable. The insecurity that many teachers show when in the company of people with corporate credentials was evident in his demeanor and he tried to regain an aura of sophistication. "I was wondering how big my ears must look," he quipped inanely, hoping to show he wasn't at all out of his comfort zone with her suggestive humor.

"Not quite a handful," she assured him, "but big enough, I'm sure. Perhaps Madison doesn't appreciate that about you ... that size does matter, I mean."

It was obvious that she was teasing him with the mention of Madison but Peter again felt compelled to respond. He wasn't really sure whether it was Madison's sexuality or his own skill as a lover that he was defending. "I don't think you'd find her complaining in either case. She knows what she likes and isn't shy about asking for it."

"Does she enjoy giving as well as receiving?" Jane smiled slyly.

"Yes. Very much," Peter said, and immediately regretted it. The gleeful look on Jane's face confirmed that she was baiting him, manipulating him, drawing him into disclosing details of his marriage to Madison that were not appropriate conversation. Yet the discussion of such intimate matters with a woman other than his wife was undeniably arousing. He was fascinated by her boldness and reluctant to end the exchange.

"Is she good at it?" Jane asked bluntly.

Peter shrugged in a non-committal way intended to show that he was not at all daunted by her probing questions. He slouched back against the seat in a posture of boredom that belied the tension in his belly and his stiffening manhood. He hoped his nonchalance would make the bulge in his trousers less obvious. 

Jane leaned towards him and slid her hand along his thigh finding his awakening member before he could grab her wrist. Her fingers gripped his erection and she held on while he tried half-heartedly to brush her hand away.

"Well? Is she?" Jane probed while her fingers tightened around him. Before Peter could answer appropriately, Jane stunned him with "I've heard she is very good. I just wondered if she's as good for her husband as well."

Peter was too surprised to react and Jane took advantage of his confusion to add "well at least she's discreet. Only the big brass really know, although they aren't the best at keeping that sort of thing secret."

Peter was in full retreat with the wine slowing his thoughts and Jane's hand toying with his erection. The suggestion of Madison's unfaithfulness unsettled him and he stammered "What do you mean, 'only the big brass know'?" 

Jane was quick to continue "It's a man thing, I suppose. Half the fun is in the bragging rights. The alpha dog. They all want to be first and then, when they get it, they can't wait to tell the next guy."

"Who do you think...?" Peter began and Jane kissed him lightly on the cheek cutting him off with "It's better that you don't know..." 

She took her hand away then and sat back. "I'm feeling a little sorry now," she lied. "It's obvious talking to you that you didn't know. I just assumed that you did. The old saying that "the husband is the last to know," is truer than I thought. It's common knowledge in the company. Everybody knows how badly Madison wanted the promotion..."

Peter's thoughts were in chaos. He wasn't so naïve that he didn't know that such things went on in a corporate environment. He just never thought of Madison sleeping her way to the top. He knew she attracted a lot of male attention. She always had. And, she's uncommonly ambitious ... the late nights at the office crossed his mind. 

"Don't worry. She's smart about it," Jane comforted. "She's not some silly little bimbo who'll get knocked up at an office party."

"Who has she been with?" Peter asked again, trying to keep his voice from showing the emotion he was feeling.

"Lately?" Jane cuddled against him, laying her head against his chest so he wouldn't see the smirk. Her hand found Peter's cock once again and she was surprised to find him fully erect. The tab on his zipper slid down easily and she found the opening in his underwear, tugging his penis into view. The tip as already wet with his pre-cum and Jane spread it around the purple crown. 

"Your little Madison's been busy," she hedged. "It wouldn't do for you to do something rash, if that's what you're thinking."

She bent forward and kissed the smooth bell shaped knob licking along the sensitive frenum until Peter moaned. "Slip your pants down," she instructed, tugging on his belt, "so we don't get anything on them."

Peter unbuckled and eased his trousers and underwear down below his knees while Jane buried her face in his lap kissing her way between his thighs and licking the wrinkled sack of his hairy balls. Sprawled across the seat the way she was, Peter's hand found the hem of her skirt and pulled it up until he could get his hand into her panties. Her mouth had fully engulfed his cock before he felt the excessive wetness between her legs coating his fingers. 

His shock at hearing of Madison's infidelity was blurred in the raw lust he felt with a strange woman. His ego was wounded by Jane's testimony but imagining his wife with other men fed his most prurient fantasies. 

Several times Jane felt Peter get close but she expertly held him off until he was panting with need. She didn't want it to end too quickly, at least not until the reality of his cheating with her was more than just a brief encounter. She wanted him to remember her talent every time Madison went down on him. But, when Peter had had enough of her teasing, he simply pushed in deep, holding her head down while he emptied his seed into her mouth. 

Exhausted he laid his head back against the car seat catching his breath. Jane eased herself up beside him and kissed his open mouth. Peter never expected the snow ball she gave him and he groaned out loud with shock disgust. 

With giggle, Jane leaned back against the passenger door and lewdly beckoned him between her thighs. "Time to return the favor big boy," she smiled "Time to show me that you can wiggle that tongue for more than just talk."

She linked her fingers at the back of his neck and arched up to meet his mouth. As much as she wanted his tongue inside her, she wanted to bathe his face with her abundant juices. Like a feral cat, she wanted to leave her scent all over Madison's man. 

"Lick my little bum hole," she whispered and Peter did as she asked. For a brief moment she stopped moving and Peter raised his glistening face to see why. The flash illuminated the inside of the car and caught Peter's tongue reaching for her pink folds. A second shot and a third were in the camera's memory before Peter thought to object. 

To be continued