She felt almost disappointed that there were no marks because they would have been proof to her what an absolute sexual beast her husband was.Running ...er hands over her body, she winced with disgust as she became aware of tender places on her curving thighs and rounded buttocks. Then, her hands found the silky triangle of her womanhood, moving, gently, over the private parts of her, there exploring any damage he might have done. With both hands now, she spread the lips to determine the extent. Self-absorbed distractions here, late meetings there, the boozy client dinners, the overnight stays and the excuses and the tiredness – drip, drip, drip, drip… drip.There was no lipstick on his collar or an errant hair on a jacket. He did not come home freshly showered from something innocuous like a late business meeting or dinner. She knew what Peter was doing when he made an extra effort when going out. As long as he did not pester her for it and did not rub her nose in it, he could come. The next step is we follow him around for a day or two, see what he does. Last night, one of my people tailed him to a house in Orlando. He got these photos.”Barbara stared at the photos spread the investigator spread out on the desk. She stared at them without understanding. It was definitely her husband, photographed both entering and leaving a house. A time stamp in the lower right corner showed he had been inside almost an hour. “I don’t understand.”“This is your husband, Jerry Blockings?”. Tiffany watched raptly as Greene's handiwork brought about dark red stripes across Mel's buttocks. How much more could she take? Ten more? Fifty? A hundred?Almost sadly, she would never learn, since Greene stepped back and said, 'Enough.'Tiffany watched Mel straighten, her face flushed, her nipples erect, her hand resting almost subconsciously against her crotch, her fingers cupped as if to support her sex's apparent engorged state. She breathed heavily from the exhaustion, and from her.
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