Your Cheatin' Heart - Sex Stories

Your Cheatin' Heart

... clothes were a mess and her normally neat hair badly needed combing. My zoom lens picked up what I thought might be semen in her hair. She walked straight to her car with her lover, oblivious to anything and everything around her. Snapping photos in rapid succession I easily recognized the boyfriend. It was our neighbor Alex Hammond; he lived about five houses up the block from ours. After a quick grope and a slow kiss they were gone. I grabbed my jacket and briefcase and walked hurriedly to the lobby, hoping I’d get lucky. Beth Samuels was an assistant manager here. I’m the reason her only son isn’t in prison for twenty to life. Encouraged by some of his idiot friends he and two others stuck up a gas station and killed the attendant two years ago. Martin had stayed in the car, but technically and legally he was just as responsible as the kid who’d pulled the trigger. They trio had gotten away with all of $43. Martin told his mother the following morning. He was terrified and claimed he didn’t know the others planned the robbery; he thought they were going to try buying beer. Beth called me. She knew me from Corpus Christi Church in Mineola where she was an active parishioner and I did some pro bono work with their outreach program. Long story short, he gave evidence against the others and received a slap on the wrist—five years in a minimum security facility, serving only twenty months, and ten years probation. The other two boys--both seventeen like Martin--got twenty to ...

... life in an environment where they were sure to be raped daily. I was pleased to see Beth behind the counter. “Hi, Rocky—what brings you to the Marriott?” “I have a meeting with a client. Did I just see Alex Hammond, the real estate guy, on my way in?” “Sure…he’s here every Tuesday and Thursday for some meetings with his staff. He always uses the same room—217. It’s a suite with a couch and a few chairs and room for a few tables. His assistant is always with him.” “Is she that tall woman with the black hair?” “Yeah, that’s the one; boy, is she a looker, and what a wardrobe. I’m surprised she can afford it.” “Beth, any idea how long they’ve been holding these meetings?” “Sure…hold on,” she said as she checked her computer. “Okay, I remember now; he started just after the New Year—every Tuesday and Thursday for the past ten weeks.” “Beth, can you give me a print-out? I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” She whispered, “I’m not supposed to, Rocky. I could get into trouble. He’s not doing anything illegal, is he?” “I don’t think so, Beth, but it might help me to establish a pattern for him.” “Oh!” We continued to speak while she typed on her console. She reached down to pull several pages from the printer. Folding them and placing them into an envelope she handed it to me. “Here’s your itemized receipt, Sir. Please come back again.” “I certainly will. The service here is great. Thank you.” Those remarks were directed to the fiftyish man I knew was her boss in the office doorway ...