Free 18 Ultra Short Erotic Tales by Carl East Page B

about her
gift. If it weren't for it, she would never have known about Dean's desire for
her. With a glow that says "I'm in love' she then went back to work.
    The End

Foster Investigations
    The
wind whistled down the alley, whipping up a trashcan lid with ease and
depositing it across the street. I stood watching the apartment for any signs
of life, the light in the bedroom flickered then illuminated the surroundings.
Well, I thought, she is either going to bed for the night, or she has a guest.
    My
name is Frank Foster. I'm a private investigator. I do the seedy jobs no one
else wants to do but I get top dollar for doing them. Now my job was a simple
surveillance—I had the unenviable task of spying on my client's wife in order
to ascertain whether she was having an affair. I could clearly see her enter
the room from my vantage point; she undressed then turned out the light. I had
seen no evidence of a companion. In fact, this had been the second week I had
followed her and although I had witnessed many conversations with the opposite
sex, I had never witnessed any indiscretion on the part of my client's wife.
Case closed, I thought.
    Back
at the office, I concluded the paperwork for my last case and then sat back in
the chair wondering where my next case would take me.
    The
phone rang just as I was leaving the office for a bite to eat. I answered it to
find they had hung up. Dialing the inquiry number to find where my last caller
came from I jotted the number down and then rang back.
    "Hello."
said a deep voice.
    "Hello
sir, I just received a call from your location, I'm ringing from Foster
Investigations."
    Silence...he
didn't hang up, but for a moment, he didn't know what to say.
    "Hi,
I'm sorry I bothered you, but you see I suspect my wife of having an affair and
I wanted to know for sure," he said, clearly pained that this could be
true.
    "Well
sir, if you want me to find out for you, it will only take a couple of weeks, I
charge ten dollars an hour plus expenses. Of course, if you have a particular
day in mind, on which, I can start my investigation my bill shouldn't be much. If
however I find your suspicions unfounded, then it would go the full two weeks while
I followed her wherever she goes," I quickly said, not wanting to lose a
client.
    "Ok,
let's do this. What do you need?"
    "I
will need to know your current address, a recent photograph of your wife, and a
day in which to start."
    He
produced the photo the next day, gave me his address, and then told me to
follow her from Thursday morning at ten a.m.
    Sometimes
that was how easy an investigation started, so I was on the case.
    Waiting
in my car that morning until ten o clock I looked at the photo. She was
beautiful, a real stunner, class and every other cliché. It wouldn't surprise
me in the least if she was having an affair, I'd seen her husband and although
he seemed a nice enough person, he wasn't a good-looking man. This babe was in
need of glasses.
    I
spotted her leaving the house to get into her car, and turning the engine over,
I put it in gear and followed.
    She
didn't seem to be in any hurry, so I pulled back a bit. She stopped first at
the hair salon, which is something I hated, because they always took a long
time in those places. Her next visit was a hotel, which I thought looked
promising. I followed her in to watch what her next move would be and sure
enough, she booked a room. That was evidence enough in my book, because nobody
stayed at a hotel in their own town, unless they were a) hookers b) masseurs or
c) having an affair. However, proving it was the hard part, so slipping the
desk clerk fifty dollars, I managed to find out what room she was occupying. My
next move had to be finding a way into the room, without being spotted. I went
over to the lobby phones and dialed service, ordering a bottle of champagne and
telling them to send it to Room 144 and instructing them to tell her it was
from Room 143.
    Getting
into place I waited for the