“I’m telling you, you can’t trust an employee farther than you can throw them. This is state-of-the-art,” the salesman slapped his hand on the cardboard box.
“I only have one employee in this building, and I trust Janet implicitly,” I said in annoyance.
“Do you? Do you really?” he asked, putting his face close to mine. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Mister Harper. I’ll install this system free at my own expense, right here and right now. If you’ve had it for a week and actually used it,” he stressed the words, “and you still feel it’s worthless, I will take it out and it will cost you nothing. If you find it useful, I want your promise to install similar systems in your warehouses and factory. Is it a deal?”
“Yeah, sure,” I agreed, trying to get rid of him. “But install it after 4:00 pm when Janet leaves the building. I don’t want her to think I’m spying on her.”
“That’s the best way. If an employee knows a system is in place, they can usually find a way to circumvent it. A hidden camera is always the most useful. You won’t be sorry, Mister Harper, I promise you,” he said as he finally left.
There was no change in my office, the system was hooked into my desktop. So it was a complete surprise when I accidentally pressed a colored button and a naked woman appeared on my screen. It took me a moment to realize that woman was my own secretary, Janet Goldthorp.
“What the hell!” I said in awe. The first thing I noticed was that my 46 year old secretary had the body of a 20 year old girl. The second thing was that the black stockings accented her tanned skin. My dick was hard. I flinched when my nose touched the computer screen. God, what a body that woman had. I had brief glimpses before, a panty shot while she was filing on the bottom drawer, crossed legs as she pulled away from the desk in her chair, that kind of thing. This was amazing. And the damned salesman was right, the picture was as clear as a bell and very detailed. Read the rest of this entry »

Maddy loosened her nurse’s uniform and started coffee in her espresso machine. It had been a long watch. She was an emergency room nurse, and Philadelphia seemed to go insane from time to time, sending them wounded, overdoses, and battered victims by the dozens. What was wrong with the world?
Maddy rented the upper floor of a quaint three bedroom house. One bedroom was her’s, the other two belonged to Sheila, one of her candy-stripers who lived downstairs. Sheila had warned her that she had a party planned for the weekend. It wasn’t the first.
Maddy knew when the party started by the way the pictures began bouncing on her wall. Sheila invited her, but Maddy wasn’t interested in parties right now. Besides, she didn’t know any of Sheila’s friends. She would end up standing around by herself. Still, it was easier to stand loud music from inside the party, rather than above it. All she could hear was the bass thumping in time with her headache.
Maddy stood and took off her blouse. She tossed it in the hamper as she pulled a white towel from the hallway closet. She would take a bath and spend an hour under the tanning lamp. That was the best medicine.
Maddy lay naked beneath the sunlamp. She drifted off to sleep, unaware of the stealthy footsteps approaching her from where she lay on the floor. Her eyes flew open as the lamp suddenly went off and fingers touched her open pussy lips.
“NO! Don’t look,” a voice commanded. She thought for a moment, then closed her eyes again. “I want you to guess who this is,” the voice whispered. She knew the voice already, it was John, Sheila’s best friend. She must have sent him upstairs to appease her. “Just lay there, pretend you’re asleep,” he whispered as his fingers manipulated her pussy lips.
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Phil laid a stopwatch on a brown towel at the edge of the pool, then stood and counted silently to himself. He swung his arms back and forth, in time with his count. His eyes strayed to a skinny little girl who could not be more than 18 years old. She was watching him quizzically.
“Three, two, one, go!” he counted silently before diving into the pool and swimming at his very fastest speed. Water splashed in all directions. A wave preceded him down the pool and splashed over the end, as he dove, spun, and kicked off toward the other end. As he reached the far end he reached out and grabbed his stopwatch, pressing the peg on top.
As he looked up, the skinny girl was smiling, still watching him. He grimaced in annoyance and turned away from her.
“This is the Hotel Bon Air, not the olympics,” her amused voice came from over his shoulder.
“No shit,” he growled, looking down at the skinny girl.
“So what are you doing?”
“Trying to qualify for the swim team. This is the only olympic sized pool in town,” he said, starting to leave.
“Good luck. I could beat you,” she scoffed.
“Yes, of course you can,” he said sarcastically
“Oh, I can,” she assured him. “Your stroke is too short and fast, you are holding yourself too high out of the water. You kick too hard, wasting more energy than you use. I could beat you by ten full seconds and never be out of breath.”
“Would you please go away and stop wasting my time.”
“Would you like a second opinion?”
“Sure, go find me another skinny girl and I’ll ask her advice on swimming.”
“You could ask my coach.”
“What coach?” Phil said, out of patience.
“My swim coach, Bob Abrahms,” she pointed to an old man in the background. He started to scoff, then looked more closely at the man. He did look like a professional coach.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked. Read the rest of this entry »