Dick Tracy
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Yes, God help me, I’m a cubicle slave. I mash my fingers into the keyboard and burn my helpless retinas day in and day out. And good luck trying to get me to believe that I haven’t sold my soul to the Devil, and for what, might I ask? And I endure all of this for that pitiful, pathetic excuse of a salary that my family has perfected the art of pissing through like a bear in the woods. Sometimes I just want to scream. Well, I have darker thoughts, but best to keep those unsaid, lest I be committed.
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It wasn’t supposed to be like this. No, when I was a kid I wanted to be a cop. Well, to tell the truth, what I really wanted to be was a Private Detective. I used to read all those campy Private Eye novels, Mike Hammer, Spenser, and the like. I longed so much to take up smoking and call people ‘doll face’. As a whole, they were just so cool, each with his own style, but all the same sort of hard boiled, street wise, tough customers. Oh God, I get the tingles just thinking about it, even now.
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I work in a tall office building with all the other drones. I sometimes stared out my window and begged God to end it all with a stray lightning bolt. When I saw them putting up another high-rise across the street, I silently prayed for the poor souls that it would incarcerate. When it turned out to be a hotel, though, things seemed a bit more promising.
The whole draw of the Private Dick life, for me, was surveillance. I loved the idea of watching people without them knowing. I wanted to see all their dirty little secrets and rat them out cold. I got shivers whenever one of the characters in the books would watch an unfaithful wife or some sort of illicit drug deal go down. I used to imagine myself staying up all night just to catch the ‘good part’ on film or tape.
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I had to work late one Friday night on a rush job my boss managed to fuck up. That’s when my job offered a benefit that made it all worthwhile. Bleary eyed and waterlogged from all the coffee I had slurped down, I happened to notice a light go on in the hotel across the street. I was sick to death of working on this particular spreadsheet and watched for a while. Of course nothing happened. I contemplated going for a cigarette, but ten stories up is not the time for that. So I continued to stare at the lighted window.
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It was about three minutes later, after I had decided about three different times to get back to work, that another light popped on a few floors below. This one revealed people. Two people to be exact, a man and a woman. They fluttered around a bit, unpacking or whatever, and nothing much interesting happened. I checked the other window, but there still wasn’t anything I could see there.
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In the second window I could see them. He was dressed in something casual and she was in a black dress, or possibly a nightly. I couldn’t be sure from that range. I saw them kiss just once and knew instinctively that I was done working for a while. Meanwhile, a third room came to life.
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This one was just begging to be watched. A fat man in a tux opened the blinds wide. I could see two women in the room with him. Both were slender and probably pretty, judging by their dresses and general attitude of motion. I could see glasses being passed around, not because I could see them but because they raised them to their lips as they mingled. Yet a fourth room lit up and my eyes almost crossed trying not to miss anything.
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This fourth room had two male/female couples in it. All wore summer clothes appropriate to the mid July heat outside. They flipped on the TV and each passed in and out of the bathroom a few times. There wasn’t any unpacking going on, that I could see, and I couldn’t quite figure out what was up with them. I returned to room three, that being the most active and promising at the time.
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Promising was definitely the word. One of the women pulled her dress off without the slightest hesitation. I wasn’t 100% sure, but I believe she was nude underneath. The second women went to work on the fat man’s tux. The nude women moved out of range for a minute or two, but I could see the dressed one working her hand up and down on the fat man’s cock, probably trying to make it rise. This was getting interesting as the nude woman returned to finish undressing the man. Professionals was my diagnosis. Apparently they were getting paid to make the fat man smile a bit, and they would have had to. From what I could tell, no woman in her right mind would willingly strip and fondle this guy.
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The action also picked up in room number two. The woman in the black had her man on the bed and was sucking his pole. At least that’s what I could deduce. I can’t think of any other good reason for her head to be bobbing up and down in the region of his waist. It made me jealous to watch her. She was set on her task and enjoying it, from what I could tell, like a hard won prize that she wanted to savor for as long as possible. Her hands stroked his naked thighs and her body moved in such a way as to suggest that she was thoroughly enthralled with sucking him off. I don’t think he was her husband, but I’d like to. It would be nice to think that someone were that lucky. I certainly am not. To keep from missing anything, I scanned the other rooms quickly.
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Room number one now showed some life signs, a single man was in the partially open shades undressing himself. He was well built, from my perspective, and seemed to be alone. The TV was on, and I assume he was watching porn. I saw him settle into a conveniently placed chair and begin to stroke himself. I was amazed. I’d never seen such a thing in all my life, and was strangely drawn to it. I watched as he teased his balls and gave a few quick strokes. Then he let it alone for a while, only to return to teasing his balls. Motion in room number four, though, attracted my attention away.
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Room four tuned out to be a party of some sort. There was obviously excessive drinking going on and lots of laughter. I was about to go back to the single man, when both women tossed off their tops and kissed. My eyebrows shot up. I watched as they kissed each other like hungry wolves trying to eat each other whole. The men in that room were watching too, each probably as horny as I was getting. Each woman fondled the breasts of the other as they sucked face, oblivious to everything around them including me. I was about to look away when one of the men pulled down the shorts of what was probably the woman he was with. Soon both of her ass cheeks were grabbed by the other woman and worked like balls of bread dough. I hated to look away then, but I didn’t want to miss any of this.
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A thought occurred to me. I quickly hooked up to the company’s DSL line and got the website for the local jazz station up. The soft rocking of the jazz made the picture complete. I had my own private porno playing, complete with soundtrack. All I needed was some popcorn and someone to play with me, and life would be perfect, but I digress.
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In room three, both women were now nude and all three were on the bed. The man knelt as the two women played oral tug-o-war with his tool. It was hard to make out the details from that range, but I knew what was going on. The girls were very pleasant to look at. Each looked to be in her thirties or forties and in good condition. Both appeared to be altered in some form, trimmed or shaved, because I couldn’t make out any sort of pubic triangle when the opportunity arose. Lucky bastard, I though, I hope they were very expensive. Although I did wonder just how expensive and whether I could hide that much from my spouse without getting caught. The thought faded quickly.
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I peeked in on the lone guy, just out of curiosity. He had his head thrown back and was on the brink. His hand was just a blur and I think I could make out movements on his face that would have to be his mouth. I tried to hear what his moans of pleasure would sound like in my head. The thought was arousing. I saw his whole body jerk as he obviously blew his load. A small wave of something passed through me. Then he stood and the lights went down like a curtain on a play. I was almost sorry to see it end.
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I took a look at room two, but the couple must have retired to the bed to make love. I wouldn’t think that they were fucking, not from the way I saw that woman worship the cock in her mouth. When my eyes wandered back to room four, they were greeted with a full-blown orgy. Everyone was nude now and a small sexual riot had broken out on the floor. I guess a king-sized bed still wouldn’t be a large enough playing field, but I wouldn’t know for sure. All I could make out were heads of hair against lighter skin and motion. I was disappointed, and wanted desperately to cross the street and knock on their door. That ten-story trip for a cigarette was looking a bit more appealing.
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The action in room two seemed to have died down with the fat man’s cock. I could see both women up and doing things other that what they were being paid for. Serves the fucker right, I thought. One was touching up her make up and the other was coming out of the bathroom, dressed. They exchanged a small kiss and changed places. So much for that one, I thought.
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With the festivities over, I now needed a cigarette like I’d been locked in a solitary cell for three days. My nipples were hard as rocks too, and my clit was throbbing. I clicked off the computer and gathered my things. I said a small prayer that my husband wasn’t too mad at me for working late and ran to the elevator. On the way down, I tried to think of excuses for me to work late again next Friday. The possibilities were endless.
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