Don t Shoot the Messenger Chapter 13
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Don't Shoot The Messenger — Chapter 2 free porn video
Once Julie was back at her hotel she phoned Anthony.
"Hi, Darling — sorry I missed your call earlier, I'm back at the hotel now, but I've got to go out again, have you got a minute to talk?"
"Sure, go ahead," he said.
"I'm anxious about tomorrow, I've spoken to Angela and I'm sure she'll be there. I'll see her again this evening, later on, to make sure she's not going to back out. She's nervous so go easy on her."
She listened for a second, but Anthony said nothing.
“Do you know why the prosecution wants her to turn up? The guy was definitely with her, she tells me she has security camera footage and has him on tape throughout the whole time he was there. She'll bring the original memory sticks from the camera."
"It may not be needed. I'll try to kill the whole thing."
"Good. That's great, but there are a couple of snags you need to be ready for. I don't know all the details, she's embarrassed about it, but it seems that he didn't have many clothes on for a lot of the time so you may need to find a way to not show the video in open court.
"Can you do something so only the jury sees it or the judge or something? She's in a bind about client confidentiality, but seeing as he could get locked up, he may not mind. You'll have to handle that with your client. Sorry, it's short notice, but I didn't know any of that until you set it in motion with that call this afternoon."
She listened again, a frown creeping across her face at times. "Yes well, we can talk about that some more afterwards. — Yes, I agree, it raises all sorts of questions, but they'll have to wait, there's no way all that can be sorted out by tomorrow morning. There is one more thing darling that you'll have to be ready for. You've never met Angela so you wouldn't know but she looks a lot like me. Honestly, we could pass for twins at times. You know we're always swapping clothes. If she wanted to, she could probably pass herself off as me. I'd hate you to be surprised and wonder why I was there, so don't be shocked, really, don't be shocked."
"How alike?"
"Her hair is shorter and darker than mine. That's the biggest difference between us."
I'd tell him the colour, she thought, but I won't know how it's going to turn out until Marion has finished with me.
"What colour is her hair?"
Oh well, here goes, I'll have to make sure Marion gets it right. "She has a hint of auburn depending how the light catches it, mind you she's so stressed she might go grey overnight. Knowing Angela she'll probably go to her hairdresser for moral support, so be prepared for anything."
Julie listened for several minutes before she spoke again.
"I'm sure you'll manage darling. I wish I could be there, but I've got to cover some things for Angela. Oh, one more thing, she says Mrs. Marsh knows all about Mr. Marsh's sessions with Angela, in fact, his wife paid for them. She thinks it's a kind of therapy. I know it's a bit odd, but I thought you should know."
Once she'd put the phone down, she stopped to catch her breath. Damn, she thought, I should have said Angela thought you should know.
"I'm going to have to tell him," she said to the mirror. "God knows what he'll say. I could tell him that Angela was too scandalous to work with and say I've fired her, but then I'd have to retire. What would I do with myself all day?"
She stared at the figure in the mirror. "And if he leaves you?" the figure said.
"I'll get counselling," she said, "but not from you," pointing at the mirror.
- - - -
Half an hour later she was looking at herself in the same mirror with Marion behind her.
"So what's this about?"
"I have to look different, I don't think I can tell you all of it, but it has to be good enough to fool my husband, at least for a while."
Marion glanced at Julie's face in the mirror.
"Do you mean that? That's not just a figure of speech."
"Absolutely. I'm going to be about ten feet away from him, and he has to believe I'm Angela, not Julie."
"So I have to invent an Angela. Great. It helps to have a name. Give me a minute to think."
Marion spun the chair around and stood looking at Julie, slowly rotating her to and fro, looking carefully from one side and then the other.
"You'll need some different gestures. If we had a few days we could do more; you could practice, but there's no time for that."
"I only knew today, and it has to be tomorrow."
"Great. Shorter hair you said? You could try a wig, but if it’s so up close, I think real hair is better. Colour?"
"I thought dark with a hint of auburn?"
"Yeah, we can do that. I can tint your eyebrows; maybe build them up a little. What about coloured contacts, I know someone who can get you those."
"Wow."
"The thing is to have something striking so that they get noticed. Have you ever worn contacts?"
"Never needed to."
"Haircut first then one of the girls can colour you while I see if I can get hold of my friend. This is exciting, like doing a spy movie."
"Except this is real."
"How much risk will you take?"
"That sounds bad."
"There isn't enough time for Botox, so we'll have to work with makeup. I think you need to change the way you behave a bit. If I put something itchy in your scalp behind your ear, you'd want to rub it wouldn't you, so it would be easy to use it as a sort of nervous tick. I've never seen you do that. What do you think?"
The conversation went on like that, taking one unlikely turn after another as her hair was cut and dyed. Half an hour later while yet another of Marion's 'girls' was working on her eyebrows Greg the film make-up expert turned up with contact lenses. Julie was rapidly becoming Angela with short dark auburn hair. She selected lenses to give her startlingly blue eyes. She kept her mid-Atlantic twang but made more of it.
“Are you sure about that accent? I was trying to place where it’s supposed to be.”
"If anyone asks I'll say I've lived all over, I think I can remember enough places I've been. No one is going to ask, but you’re right, I need to be ready."
"You'll be fine Darling, but I have to dash," Marion said. "Greg is a genius with these things, he'll teach you how to use the lenses."
"So it's just you and me," said Greg.
"Is that supposed to sound ominous?"
He laughed. "Well you never know, I'm going to stick foreign objects in your eyes and maybe make you cry. That's not the plan, obviously, but you never know."
"So you like torturing people?"
"From what I hear you're something of an expert yourself."
"Did Marion tell you that?"
"Whoops," he said. "Putting my foot in it again."
"Let me guess." She looked at him for a second. There was something there, something hidden, something intriguing. " Did you tried to come on to her?"
Greg blushed. Julie smiled, "Oh, poor you," she said. "Too shy for that. I shouldn't tease, but I wonder what you would like? If offered to pay in kind, what would you go for?"
I shouldn't be doing this, she thought. Poor kid, he's doing me a favour, working overtime and because I'm feeling wired about all this subterfuge I'm taking it out on him.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm a bit wound up. I should do your lenses and get home."
There was definitely was something there. I'm an expert she thought; I should be able to figure this. She spun the chair around to face him, stood up and before he could react she hugged and kissed him in one smooth movement. As soon as her lips met his her left hand slid from the small of his back to his crotch, and she felt the familiar solid presence of a cock cage.
"Ah," she said, pulling back a little to see his face clearly. "You have a wife who plays games with you. Can I see?"
"Should I do your lenses first?"
"If you're going to be wound up and frustrated I don't know which is best. I'll tell you what. The place is secure, so why don't I strip and you do the same, and we'll decide how we feel. A minute later she smiled as she looked at the cage.
"I could pick that lock in a minute. Would you have to tell your wife if I did?"
Greg looked uncomfortable.
"Will she take it off when you get home?"
"She doesn't usually."
"Can I call her?"
"It's awkward."
"You mean she out with some guy?"
The look on his face said it all.
"Greg," she said. "These lenses are vital for me for a job that I have to do tomorrow. I'm going to pick that lock and get you relaxed. I can explain everything to your wife. You won't have to say a word."
"She might leave me."
"No love it doesn't work like that. If she wanted to leave you, she would have done it already. She's desperate to keep you so that she has a safe place to come back to."
She knew Greg was putty in her hands and it took less than a minute to unlock him. When she had the cage off, she made him lie on the bed.
"Does she cage you to make you faithful or to stop you masturbating, or is it some kind of humiliation because you come too quickly? Sorry to be so blunt but I've seen all sorts before."
"It's kind of all of those."
Julie lay alongside him, one hand gently playing with his cock. She pulled his head towards her and fed a nipple into his mouth.
"I get the picture," she said. "It starts off as a faith thing, but she want's you to be full of enthusiasm and come when she gets home. That's a good plan, but it can get you so excited that you come too quick. It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Normally I would take a really long time over this, just to show you, but I want those lenses— so here's the deal. First a blow job, then my lenses and then a long slow fuck and finally I'll lock you up and maybe even take you home."
"What will you tell my wife?"
"Whatever you want, but only ask me to tell her something that you know you can live with. If I tell her one thing and later you crack up and say something different she'll never believe either of us again."
"Maybe it's best if you lock me up again."
Julie pulled away from him a little, anxious to see his face clearly. "Whatever is best for you. Do my lenses, and then I'll lock you away again."
It didn't take long so half an hour later Greg was back in his cage.
"I'll give you a ride home, and I'd like to talk to your wife.
"Why?"
"To tell her what a saint her husband is. Will she be home when we get there?"
"Maybe, it depends on how it's gone. I sent her a text to say I was held up at work so she might not hurry home."
As it happened, they arrived together. Julie could tell in a second that Greg was nervous.
"What's your wife's name?"
"Liz."
Julie stepped out of the car and headed straight for Liz as she got out of her taxi. It took a nanosecond of Julie's experience eye to know that Liz had been well fucked and definitely looked a little worse for wear.
"Liz, I'm so glad I've caught you. Greg has been doing some work for me. My friend Marion recommended him— he's a genius isn't he."
Liz clearly looked surprised to find her husband being driven home by this very elegant woman.
"Greg promised me a coffee," she said. "Is that okay?"
"I guess."
"Greg," Julie said, "can you get the coffee on, I want to talk to Liz for a second."
Julie wrapped an arm around Liz and led her towards the door as Greg disappeared inside.
"Did you have a good session?"
"What?"
"Oh, sorry. My mistake. I accidentally discovered Greg's cage, so I know what you've been doing. Don't worry about him, he's a saint. I teased him a little and made him let me look. I've seen that sort before, I showed him how I could pick the lock in a few seconds, but he wouldn't do a thing. If you ever had any doubts about him then don't. If I can't tempt him, then I doubt if anyone can."
Liz stopped her on the doorstep.
"What exactly did he do for you?"
"These contact lenses. I need them tomorrow. He was brilliant, but he really deserves you being nice to him."
"What the fuck would you know about it?"
"In my day job I'm a very expensive whore, I offered him what would cost most guys a grand and he turned me down. I've paid him for his overtime, and he said no to the freebies."
"Seriously?" Liz paused for a second, fixing Julie with a searching gaze. "You are serious aren't you."
"Absolutely."
"Then why don't you come in and fuck him now. I'm exhausted, so if he needs a treat, you're up."
"Promise me one thing."
"What?"
"You won't take it out on him afterwards. I think you love him, but I need to be sure."
The gaze didn't falter as Liz's face slowly broke into a smile.
"Absolutely. I promise, but I do want to see this."
I’m crazy, Julie thought, but what the hell. I’ve got a court case in the morning that could turn my life on its head, and I’m going to waste an hour fucking a cuckold in front of his freshly fucked hotwife. I’m crazy, but it could be fun.
When they got to the living room, Liz had recovered enough presence of mind to take charge.
“Greg darling,” she said. “That treat that Angela offered, the one you turned down, I want you to have it. I’m kind of tired, you know how it is, so go for it.”
"Strip please Greg. If I overdo it or go anywhere you don't want you need a safe word so if you want to slow down say blue and if you want to stop say red."
"Don't do that Greg," Liz said. "Angela's being very good but I want to see you completely in her control as if it was me. Let go completely."
Julie glanced at the two of them quickly reassuring herself before nodding.
"Okay, Greg, off with everything."
As he undressed she stripped herself and in a minute was poised in front him, and with the same piece of wire she'd used earlier, she unlocked the cage.
"Cool," said Liz as Julie's mouth enveloped Greg's cock. As soon as it was hard, Julie made him lie on the floor. Kneeling next to him Julie turned to Liz.
"Does he clean you up when you come home?"
"If he's been good."
"He has been extra good. I think you should get over here."
Liz stood up, dropping her clothes on the floor in a few easy movements.
"I don't know if I have the energy for this."
As she strolled over and spread her legs kneeling over Greg's face, Julie could see marks on her breasts and swollen reddened cunt lips.
As she spread her leaking vagina on Greg's face Julie's mouth got back to work. From there on it was fun; working Greg as close to coming as she dared and then edging back a little to keep him close enough but not too close. Watching Liz at the same time and trying to read where she had got to; hoping that Greg could get her off despite whatever she had been through earlier in the evening.
After what seemed like forever but was probably ten minutes Liz threw back her head, moaned and slumped backwards off Greg. It took Julie less than a minute to bring Greg off, filling her mouth with cum.
Julie pulled up, her overloaded mouth dripping cream down her chin. She crawled over to Liz and poised over her face.
"Want your property back?" she said as she leaned down to kiss her. Liz grinned and accepted the gift. Julie reached between Liz's legs and gently tweaked her clit as she kissed her, making it last and taking her over the top again.
As the two residents of the house lay on the floor temporarily exhausted Julie moved to a chair and began to drink the coffee that Greg had made what seemed like an age ago.
“Liz, when Greg was doing my lenses I did offer him a blow job and a fuck. He can take a rain check on the fuck or try for it after a little rest. What do you reckon?"
Liz laughed. "I think he should try for it, but I bet he doesn't make it."
"Okay, what's the bet?"
"You mean an actual bet, with money?"
"Or something else."
"Like what?"
"Greg I don't think you should hear this. Can you find me a diet coke or something? I have to drive, so nothing stronger."
As soon as Greg was out of sight, Julie spoke very quietly to Liz.
"How long do you keep him in the cage."
"A few days at a time and when I'm out. Longer if he needs punishing."
"Okay here's a deal. If he makes it, if I can keep him going for at least five minutes before he comes then you let him out of that cage for a week. If he comes too fast, then he stays in an extra week and to hold him to it; I keep the key."
Liz giggled. "You're something else. Could we switch it the other way? If he comes too soon, he stays out for a week. I'll be nice to him and commiserate because I'll feel sorry for him, but if he gets a real treat and he stays the distance, then you take the key. Put it in the post when you feel like it."
"Seriously?"
"I have a spare in a safety deposit at the bank. It's not the end of the world if the post loses one."
A can of diet coke and twelve minutes later Julie carefully slid the cage back on, gave Liz one of her cards to maintain contact and pocketed the key. When she made it back to the hotel, she felt energised and relaxed. She took out the contact lenses and slept like a log.
- - - -
After Julie's early evening call Anthony put the phone down and reached for his glass of whisky. The conversation with Julie had not been the one he'd expected. So Angela Evans had video evidence. Julie had done well to find that out and warn him. Did the prosecution know? Surely not because they would never have called her as a witness if they knew she could verify her story. What was their game? They must think she's not a credible witness. They'll set out to destroy her. By the time I get to cross-examine the damage may be done. I need some way to explain how I know that tape exists.
He tried to call Julie back, but the phone was going to voicemail. Julie must know how to contact Angela. He picked up his phone and set about texting.
JULIE I NEED EVIDENCE THAT ANGELA HAS THAT VIDEO. OTHERWISE, I CAN'T ASK HER ABOUT IT. PLEASE ASK HER TO TEXT OR EMAIL ME SAYING THAT SHE HAS IT.
He sent a slightly longer version by email and then went back to Julie's phone to say the same thing on voicemail.
Where was she staying? He should have asked. He booted up Find My iPhone, studied the map and had the hotel pinned down.
He called the hotel. "I'm Anthony Goddard, I am trying to track down my wife who is staying in town. She may be with a friend. Do you have either Angela Evans or Julie Goddard staying with you?"
"Ms. Goddard went out about an hour ago, she left her key with us."
"Could you leave a message asking her to check her emails and if necessary call me. I think she's left her phone in her room so I can't get hold of her."
Anthony put the phone down and went back to sipping whisky and reading the papers for tomorrow.
Somehow the house felt empty. After reading a few pages, he found his concentration wandering. The house didn't feel right. He raided the fridge, trying to find something interesting, spent ten minutes on his exercise bike, swapped a beer for his whisky and thought about a shower before the penny dropped. There was no Julie.
But I spend every night reading like this, he thought. Or watching football said an inner voice. For a moment he felt slightly sick as the thought filtered into his brain. He neglected Julie.
He had all the fun; he had the interesting work. He had to stop himself for a moment — she has her work, but the thought dawned that deep down he regarded her work as pin money. Really he had no idea what she did, he'd bought all that stuff about client confidentiality too easily.
He'd finished the beer before he'd got his head back together. He was a boring workaholic lawyer, who couldn't manage a night on his own without missing his wife, even though he usually ignored her.
For five minutes he was lost in thought staring into space before his phone bleating interrupted him. Snapping out of his reverie he recognised the incoming email sound.
From Angela Evans –
I understand that you are the lawyer for Adrian Marsh. I don't know how these things work, but I have been told that you may need to know that I have a video of Mr. Marsh when he was with me. You should know that I have the originals of the door security camera and a camera that I use to record my interaction with clients for quality control and research purposes.
My interaction with Mr. Marsh included some quasi-sexual activity. I am an unwilling witness. I think the detective involved hopes to see my credibility undermined. He initially offered not to call me as a witness provided I did not give Mr. Marsh an alibi. I was attracted by this possibility, but the detective demanded sexual favours to secure my silence, saying that if I did not agree to his demands, he would make sure that I was presented in public as some sort of disgusting slut.
I have video recordings of the detective making these threats. If possible, I would value your assistance in taking action against this detective. I will bring the memory sticks with the videos tomorrow, but I will also upload them to several sites on the Internet. They will be available with password protection at the web address below at the time the court is scheduled to begin. The password is 'Goddard.'
There were some web addresses attached. The file labelled Court wouldn't open but came back with a message saying it was locked until the morning.
What about the other file? That did open, he set it to download and let the screen go to saver while he thought.
Tactics, that’s the thing – no point in blowing the gaff on the detective in the first go round. With luck, he could cross-examine Angela in such a way as to discover the tape then put it into court. That ought to be enough. If that failed to wreck the case then call her as a defence witness and destroy the detective; make the whole thing look like a fit-up.
Strange how one piece of evidence, well not even evidence, merely an email promising evidence, can totally change your mood. A quick look at the file showed it was still downloading, so it had to be high-resolution video. The curse of living out here, great air, great scenery but lousy broadband.
Anthony downed the rest of his beer and returned to the paperwork with renewed enthusiasm, finding a few more holes in the prosecution case before he was ready for bed.
Maybe now would be the time for a quick treat, what did she have on the detective. He hit play and watched the conversation unfold. The early part was simple bullying bluster from the detective, he could only see part of Angela, the occasional side view, backlit because the light was on the detective. Julie was right, in this light, they could be doubles.
The tape got more interesting when the detective got his blowjob. The details couldn't be seen, and technically you'd have a problem to absolutely verify that a sexual act had taken place but the soundtrack gave enough away, and the detective's face when he came was beyond suggestive. That and the other sounds made it completely obvious. Yes, a defence counsel could argue that it might be acting, but the bullying and bargaining were enough to sink the detective.
The tape went on to the second day and then the guy was asking for straight sex and threatening that if he didn't get it, then Angela would end up in court having her life pulled apart while the prosecution lawyer threw the pieces to the wolves.
Anthony, finding himself a voyeur into this sordid episode found himself being both disgusted and turned on at the same time. He knew such things took place, of course, he did, but he'd always framed such things in legalese, seeing them in terms of the laws infringed the precedents of previous cases, imagining the lines that would play best with the jury. This was different; up close and personal and with a woman who bore a startling resemblance to his wife. It was easy to imagine himself doing the same thing, disgusting of course, but taboo and tempting.
Somewhere in the mix was the blond on the motorbike as well. He found himself imagining circumstances when he needed to work at home and required something from the office, a sure fire way of summoning the leather-clad blond. Of course, she'd arrive at precisely the moment that he had decided to take a break and have a brief swim, or a nap or a shower, any one of which might have him compelled to open the door in a bathrobe.
They'd be unequally matched, her in leather, him in hardly anything at all, but how would it play?
He might order her to take off the leathers, threatening her position, using his weight as a partner to take advantage of her. Of course, that would be taboo and terrible and would jeopardize his position more than hers but what if she was suggestive? What if she offered to remove her leathers if he took off his robe? What if she wanted a swim, but had nothing by way of a costume? She might say she was very hot under her leathers, insist that because he had dragged her across town, sweating in the traffic, he owed her a swim.
It was all too much. A swim was the right answer, it wasn't too late, a few lengths to cool off, swimming naked, just what he needed.
That dragged up memories from when they'd first built the pool, swimming in the moonlight, having sex on the patio.
Afterwards, he showered, towelled off and pulled back the bedclothes, throwing himself onto the pristine sheets before he collapsed again. Now he wanted Julie more. In this moment of imagined victory, when he had this detective bang to rights, when he had mentally resisted the temptation to dominate the leather-clad blond when he was the good guy on top of his game, he wanted Julie, needed her so much.
His mood collapsed a little. What kind of a selfish bastard was he to only be interested in his wife when he was on top? The number of times she’d helped him back of the floor, re-built his ego after defeats, kept him going through all those exams, all that tedious junior work when he’d had to suck it up and get on with his outdated intolerant senior partners.
For the first few hours, his sleep was restless. He saw fearsome figures blackmailing him, demanding he be naked in court, threatening him with one ghastly scenario after another. He woke up three times, and at two in the morning he walked naked downstairs for a drink, thought about whisky but settled for milk and sat at the kitchen table until his agitation gradually settled.
The detective had no power over him, he hadn't even done anything yet, there was room to negotiate, to simply tell him that the material existed and that he had better mend his ways.
What if the man was vengeful, what if he came after Angela and was violent? Somehow in Angela's place, he saw Julie. Why did they have to be so alike? If she were here, he wouldn't be having these dreams. As he drank the last of the milk, his world continued the metamorphosis that began when he first missed her. She meant the world to him, and despite all his macho lawyer stuff, he was nothing without her.
He went back to bed and clutched the pillow that still had her scent, drifting off eventually into another hour's sleep, but this time Julie had dyed her hair blond and was wearing leather as she moved around the house.
He woke with a start with that image so real in his brain that he was tempted to get on the Internet right then and find someplace he could buy her what he had just seen her wear.
He lay in bed, still clutching the pillow, inhaling her scent, images chasing each other around his mind until he fell asleep holding on to one thought.
Tomorrow was going to different. Tomorrow he would make it up to Julie. He would do a good job for her friend Angela; whatever she'd been up to she didn't deserve to be hassled and bullied by this detective. Tomorrow he would show Julie how much he loved her.
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