Inspecting the Inspector

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3-7 Available On

PLEASE NOTE: This is a preview of this novella. It is available for purchase in its entirety via

Chapter Two

She led the way to the car and I took the opportunity to reach down inside my waistband, grab my cock and pull it straight up. It would be less visible that way. My eyes never left the undulating ass cheeks packed into that black leather as she walked. I saw she'd put on heels that had maybe two or three inch spikes. They accentuated the hip roll. I could have watched her walk for hours. She turned and tossed me the keys.

"You drive. I drove all day. I'll navigate."

A car rolled by, full of young men who all leaned out of the windows of the car and catcalled to her. She calmly flipped them off. I was astonished. I had seen Kelani work, and her interaction with suspects and witnesses was good, but quite ordinary. I realized I'd never seen her in a social setting until now. We were out on the street, and she was acting like any other good looking girl going out to eat.

She consulted a piece of paper that looked like a map.

"Where'd you get that?" I asked.

"I printed it off," she said.

"On what?" I asked.

"I brought my laptop and the small printer, remember?" she said.

"Oh ... yeah." The printer was one of the things we didn't know if we'd need or not, but wanted along just in case. It had already proved its worth. She used it to guide me to a German restaurant I'd never have found if not for the map.

"You like German food?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said. "I've never had any. That's why I wanted to come here."

I'd done a tour in Germany. Jaeger schnitzel with Bratkartoffeln - fried potatoes - was on my list of all-time favorite foods.

The design of the place was pure American, but the food I could see on the plates we passed as the girl led us to a booth looked authentic. The place smelled good too. They had European beer glasses too, which meant big, and I saw one with that hazy yeasty look of good German beer. My mouth was watering as we sat down across from each other. The waitress left menus and Kelani flipped hers open and then put her elbows on the table and rested her cheeks on the heels of her hands. She was leaning forward, and the tank top let me see the inside swells of her nut-brown breasts.

I salivated even more.

"What funny names for things," she muttered. "I can't tell what anything is.”

"I'll translate," I said.

I asked her a few questions and suggested she try Schweine schnitzel, with Spaetzle noodles. I was going to get the potatoes, so if she wanted something less bland than the noodles we could swap portions. When I asked her if she drank beer she nodded in the affirmative.

The waitress came back and I gave her the order, adding a stein of Schwartzbier and another of Weissbier, so that we'd have two tastes at the table, light and dark, and she could choose which she liked better.

She kept looking at the menu, asking questions, and I kept looking down her shirt. The waitress brought the beer, but Kelani ignored both glasses. Finally she closed the menu, looked at both glasses of beer, and chose the amber colored one. I left the Schwartzbier where it was so she could taste it too.

She took a good swig, swallowed, and smiled. "I like that a hell of a lot better than Coors."

"It's the difference between plain water and strong tea," I suggested.

"No, it's just better tasting beer." She smiled. I told her to try the other and she took a swig of it. "That's good too. I'm glad I found out about German beer."

An hour later we both sat back, stuffed, but happy. She was nursing her second beer, and I was on my third.

"I could get used to this," she sighed.

"German food?"

"All of it," she said. "It's nice not to be in the office. It's nice to get really good food. I like going under cover."

"Yeah ... well, it's not necessarily all Schnitzel and beer," I said. "Not that I anticipate this mission is going to turn out to be dangerous, but sometimes it all goes to shit and your ass is hanging in the wind, and all you can think of is how great it would be to have the four boring walls of your office around you again."

"Maybe," she said. "But I'm going to enjoy it until that happens."

I waved at the waitress for the bill. "That's as good a plan as any," I said.

When we left the restaurant, traffic had died down, and getting around in the city was easier. For that reason I asked if she wanted to do any sightseeing. We basically drove east until we got to the Mississippi River, using the big, silver arch St. Louis is known for as our guide. The Arch itself was pretty impressive. It looked too sleek and too thin to go that high up into the air, unsupported by any exterior wires or cables. There was a riverboat docked nearby, ablaze with lights. A sign said it was a floating casino.

Had I been with one of my previous partners, we might have stopped and gambled a while, getting drunk and trying to pick up women. With Kelani in the car, though, I just headed back to the motel.

I took one last look at her, fixing her look in my mind, and we went to our rooms.

I jacked off, remembering what she looked like, and then fell asleep.

Since I still had the keys to the car, I knocked on her door in the morning and took my stuff on down. I started the car and found a public radio station to listen to Morning Edition on while we started the day. I didn't figure she'd want to talk. I hoped things wouldn't be strained between us. We were turning into a pretty good team, and I wanted that to continue.

She came out of her room dressed in hiking shorts with cargo pockets on them, and a long sleeved sweat shirt. She had fabulous legs, if you like legs with muscles on them, and I did. She tossed her stuff in the back seat and slid into her bucket, fastening her seat belt automatically.

"Hit it!" she said.

I saw a Dunkin' Donuts with a drive through and that gave us something to get out of town on. We were heading west on I-70, which rapidly took us into rolling hills to the west of St. Louis. Traffic was light. We lost the public radio station an hour later. About all I could find was country music or loud preachers. There was a sprinkling of oldie rock stations, but I wasn't in the mood, so I just turned the radio off.

I was just thinking of turning the AC on when she pulled the sweat shirt up and over her head. It was interesting, because dealing with her hair made it harder than the average woman would have to face.

She was wearing a bright yellow bikini top under the sweatshirt. It went with her dusky skin beautifully, and showed a lot of that skin.

"I'm not criticizing here," I said, looking over at her. "But what convinced you you'd need a bikini in the mountains?"

"They have a hot tub," she said.

"Oh yeah," I said.

"You didn't bring something for the hot tub?"

"I didn't think about using the hot tub," I said.

"That's where people sit around for a long time and loosen up," she said. "You can pump them for all kinds of information in a hot tub."

"And why do we need to pump the guests for information again?" I asked.

"I like hot tubs!" she growled. "Where I came from they didn't have things like that."

I let some silence fill the car. I had always had some minor curiosity about her background. Now the urge to probe got stronger. And partners shared everything ...

“So where did you come from?" I asked.

"I was raised in a village called Tokorau," she said.

"Wow!" I replied. "Named after your grandfather or something like that?"

"No, I was named after it, sort of. It's complicated."

"Fascinating," I said. "Where is Tokorau?"

"It's on the southern island of New Zealand," she said, "just off the eastern coast. It's a Maori village. I'm part Maori."

"And part ...?" I asked.

"American," she said. "My mother was American."

"Fascinating," I said again.

"She worked for a whale watching outfit in Kaikoura, a town on the coast."

"Whale watching?" I had never associated whales with New Zealand.

"When the Maori had to give up headhunting and eating all the white men who came to spoil our paradise, they had to have some way of surviving, so they went into the tourist business. Now we just take the white man's money, instead of his head, heart and liver."

She said it so seriously that I stared at her too long and drifted onto the rumble strip on the side of the freeway. I got the car back into my lane as she laughed.

"Well, that's what white people want to believe."

"Which part?" I asked.

"They want to believe we were savages, cannibals and such like. It never happened, but it makes good stories for the tourists.”

"So how does one get named after a village?" I asked.

"My mother died when I was little. I barely remember her. From then on, I was raised by my aunties and uncles. It would be called foster care here. I was shuttled between, and raised by, three different families. Nobody would actually admit it, but I figured out that my father came from one of those families, but nobody knew which one. When my mother died, they wanted to raise me as a native, but couldn't decide which name I should have, so I became the village daughter."

"Wow," I said. "I guess it really does take a whole village to raise a child."

She looked over at me. "Ha-ha."

I ignored her sarcasm. "I don't know why, but if you'd have asked me if there were Americans living in New Zealand, I'd have thought not."

"There are a lot of American ex-pats in New Zealand," said Kelani. “I guess a lot of GIs in World War Two were stationed in New Zealand and after the war a bunch of them came back to live.”

"So how did the village daughter end up in her mother's country?"

"I was offered a scholarship at a stateside college. I jumped at it."

"And stayed?"

"Being the village child, my future would have been ... shall we say ... less than exciting."

"In what way?"

"I had no sub-clan elders - parents - to barter for me in a marriage proposal. And there is racism in all peoples, so I wasn't considered a good catch anyway."

"You're kidding," I said.

"There, my white features were considered odd and distasteful. I thought I could get away from that, but in America my looks were a burden too."

"Guys hitting on you all the time," I said.

"All the time," she said. "But I learned how to deflect unwanted attention. And since there was nothing to go back for, I decided to stay here and see what kind of life I could build in my mother's country."

"Well, welcome to America," I said.

She grinned. "And it only took you six months to say it."

She asked me about my military career, and interesting cases I'd worked while I was an Agent for the IG. That took us through Kansas City and into the prairie that was most of western Kansas and the eastern edge of Colorado.

We had shared a little, which was a big step for us, though what we covered was something we should have known about each other within a month of working together. There was a forced quality to it, like we were trying too hard to get to know each other. Finally I started going over the game plan for what we'd do once we checked in at the reception area in the park.

When we had beaten our plans to death, there was silence for a while, and she looked out the window of the car.

"It's amazing," she said.

"What's that?"

"This country. It's so huge. Right now it looks like I'm looking out at some strange ocean."

I looked at the vast stretches of wheat, rippling in the wind, golden and ready for harvest. I looked back at her upper body, graced by the yellow cloth of that bikini top.

"At least you're dressed for the ocean," I quipped.

When we got into Colorado we stopped for gas and switched drivers. I took a nap, and woke up to see her spreading sunscreen on her chest and arms. Watching her hand dip down into that bikini top made my cock twitch.

She saw me move and looked over at me. She didn't seem at all embarrassed about what I had apparently just seen.

"Question," she said.

"Answer," I replied. It was a little ritual we'd gotten into, and it almost always worked out well, because I almost always knew the answer to whatever question she had.

"How far are we supposed to go to look married?"

My mind flew off in the direction my balls wanted it to go. I managed to grab it and bring it back.

"You've seen married couples in public," I said carefully. "We just act like them."

"So I should kiss you once in a while," she said.

"In the right setting, I suppose," I said. "And the other kinds of common touches married people engage in."

"Are you going to grab my ass?" she asked, laughing.

Again my balls sent my mind skittering down a slippery slope and I reined it in.

"I doubt the occasion will arise where that is needed," I said.

She stopped laughing, and shot me a look.

"I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, Bob," she said. "I've known a few men like you, but not many, and of course I never had to pretend to be married to one."

While I was trying to figure out what that meant, exactly, she distracted me again.

"Okay, so some hand holding, arms around each other, affectionate pushes and caresses. You'll be the older guy who bagged a hottie, and I'll be the hottie satisfied by the man with all that experience."

"Something like that," I said.

"Have you done this before?" she asked. "With a woman I mean?"

"Nothing this protracted," I said. "I've been on missions with women, but usually they only last one day, or one evening or whatever."

"So can you pull this off?" she asked.

"Me?" I was shocked that she could even begin to question my capabilities. "Yeah, I think I can struggle through it. I just don't want you using any of that Kung Fu and kicking my ass because I touched yours."

She laughed! Then she looked over at me. "I know it's play acting, Bob. I won't take it personally, if you won't take it personally when I do the same thing back to you, okay?"

I thought she was absorbing all this awfully easily. But she was a big girl, so I took her at her word.

"We'll be fine," I said. "As long as we remember it's just acting."

"We'll be fine," she affirmed.

We avoided the urban center of Colorado Springs by skirting south. We got to the park around eight in the evening. Mountain Standard Time kicked that back to seven. We got directions to the tour lodge, which had a room ready for us, and an information sheet that told us where to be at seven the next morning.

The tour lodge was built of logs. It was two stories, but hollow in the middle, with a twenty foot ceiling. There were mounted elk, deer, and bear heads on the walls. Smaller animals were mounted and posed on platforms that looked like the territory they lived in. It was almost like a museum. The guest rooms circled the balcony around the second floor. There were vending machines on the first floor and rooms for the staff. It was very rustic.

When we entered the room there was a plank bed, larger than a double, but smaller than a queen, with a custom made mattress that felt like it was stuffed with old fashioned cotton tick. There were no linens. Guests were expected to bring everything they would need. Our room shared a bathroom with the room next door. The door to the other room was locked on the other side, as ours could be. There was a knob in the middle of each door that could be turned by hand, and which flipped an arrow on the other side of the door from "Free" to "In Use." You could lock your room, but you couldn't lock the other people out of the bathroom.

"By the standards of my village, this is palatial," said Kelani, looking around. "I'm going to grab a quick shower."

"Leave me some hot water," I joked.

"Do you think they have hot water here?" she asked.

"It's not that rustic," I chuckled.

She rooted around in her pack and pulled out a towel and change of clothes. Then she turned to look at me, and I was caught standing there. I had been watching her, because she was just so much fun to watch.

"Look," she said. "I don't want to pry or anything, but like I said, this is the first time I've been in this kind of situation. So how are we going to handle nudity?"

"Nudity?" I repeated, feeling a little light headed.

"We have to live together for a week. I can try to keep everything covered if it's going to make you uncomfortable, but it will make things kind of stiff between us."

Things were already stiff between us ... in more ways than one. I wondered if her culture had a different view of nudity than the one she was in now. Maybe they were less hung up about their bodies.

"Whatever makes you comfortable," I said. “If something bothers me, I'll let you know."

"Good," she said, smiling. "I think that's best. I mean if we're going to be acting married, then we should learn to be comfortable with each other. We can think of it like being in a locker room."

Then she lifted the tank top off her body. Right there in front of me. Before I could say or do anything she popped the button on her shorts and pushed both shorts and panties down. Just like that she was naked. Her nipples and areolas were almost black, and I saw that her black pubic patch had been trimmed to a long, thin vertical line. Bikini cut. The radical kind. She picked up the towel and, giving me only a glance, went into the bathroom.

She left her fresh clothes lying on top of her pack.

I didn't know what kind of locker rooms they had in New Zealand, but I was now interested in visiting the country and taking the locker room tour.

I'm not used to being off balance. I'm especially not used to a rookie putting me off balance. On auto-pilot, I got new clothes and my own towel out, and then sat on the bed and waited for her to emerge from the bathroom. When she did she was still naked, and was using the towel to pat her long, black hair dry.

"They do have hot water, and I saved you some," she said.

I think that what happened then was that experience and training took over. I was suddenly in mission mode in my head, which meant I was thinking of the next step in the mission, rather than what I wanted to do with that body. And the next step was for me to act as casual about all this as she was.

She was in the process of getting dressed, which I dearly wanted to watch, but I needed her distracted to get to the bathroom without her seeing the evidence of my arousal. I stripped in record time and, using the towel as a shield, hurried to the bathroom. I took what I was going to wear with me.

Beating off in the shower was easier and quicker than beating off in the motel room the night before. Of course that was probably because I had an even better image in my mind. My cock was angry and red looking when I was finished, and I was glad I didn't have to go out there where she could see it. She'd know immediately what I had just done. As odd as the circumstances were, I wasn't ready for them to be that odd.

When I came out of the bathroom, she was gone. I took a stroll around the lodge and found her sitting at a table with three other women. They were chatting animatedly. I looked around and saw three men sitting at a bar tucked in the corner of the room. They were drinking longnecks. The first thing I thought of was how often I'd seen bars being run by contractors on Government property, when most citizens would assume that would never happen.

"There you are, darling," Kelani cooed at me as I approached.

"This is your husband?" asked one of the women, a red head in her late twenties, who reminded me of Little Orphan Annie all grown up indeed. "Kelani, you little devil! When you said you picked a man with experience I thought maybe you meant a divorcee on the rebound, not GI Joe!"

Kelani looked at me and then back at the woman.

"He was a wild stallion, but he was the one I wanted. So I cut him from the herd and threw a rope on him."

The blonde tittered. "I wouldn't mind taking him for a ride myself." She obviously thought she was paying me a compliment.

The third woman, whose hair was as black as Kelani's, though much finer, looked at me. "Hi. Our husbands are over there," she said. She obviously expected me to join them and engage in the male version whatever was going on at the women's table.

"Not much of a drinker," I said. I pulled a chair out, flipped it around and straddled it, sitting so I could lean forward against the back of the chair. "Evening ladies. I see Kelani has flocked with birds of her feather. I sincerely hope you are all going camping in the mountains tomorrow morning."

The blonde tittered again. Little Orphan Annie licked her lips. The one with black hair said "Yes, Brad and I love to get away in nature for some intense personal time."

Good, she was putting me on notice that Brad was her man, and I wasn't welcome. That was fine with me.

Kelani said "Darling, let me introduce you to my new friends." She pointed to Annie. "This is Kathy - with a K ..." She had obviously forgotten the woman's last name.

"Tubbs," said Annie brightly. She pointed at the bar. "The one in the Dallas Cowboys hat is Steve, my husband."

Kelani gestured towards blondie next. "This is Jennifer." She didn't even try for the last name.

"Jennifer Keystone," the blonde tittered. I wondered if she ever said anything without tittering. "My husband is the one in the middle, John."

"And this is -"

"Wendy Stillson," said the one who wasn't interested. "Brad is the handsome one."

My goodness she was resisting my charms.

"How long have you two been married?" asked Kathy, who I would always think of as Annie.

"Three days after we get back from this trip, it will be our six month anniversary!" said Kelani in obvious rapture.

"You're practically honeymooners!" squealed Annie. "We'll have to make allowances for all the noise from your cabin." She grinned widely.

Kelani's dusky skin got darker and she lowered her eyelashes. I had underestimated her. She was magnificently talented at this acting thing. And she had already provided an excuse for any slipups we might make by suggesting we barely knew each other, at least compared to those who had been married for years.

Jennifer was having a giggling fit, her eyes darting from Kelani to me and back again, as if she were imagining the honeymooners making noise.

"I try to keep her happy," I said blandly. "Wouldn't want her to get bored and go exploring."

None of the women smiled. Now I was in dangerous territory.

Kelani laughed, her voice rising and falling again so naturally that I thought she was actually laughing at what I had said. She looked at me and reached out to run a finger down my thigh, her nail leaving a momentary dented line in the fabric of my pants.

"No other man will ever touch me," she said huskily.

I heard a sharp intake of breath from one of the women. I couldn't tell who.

"Oh my god," sighed Annie, answering the question. "I remember feeling that way about Steve. It seems so long ago now."

Wendy stood up. "I have to go," she said. She seemed agitated. "It's late, and we have an early start."

She started toward the drinkers.

"Me too," said Annie, standing. She was wearing a well-filled western shirt. Their banter, or Kelani's comment, had affected her so much her nipples were showing plainly through the shirt. She followed Wendy.

Jennifer wasn't giggling any more. In a flash of something that instantly told me the giggling was an act, she stood up. "Well if they're getting laid tonight ..." she looked at Kelani, "and I know you are ... then I'm climbing on that bandwagon." She looked at the bar. "If, that is, John didn't drink too much." She looked at me, giggled hysterically, and was back in character.

"Best of luck," I said, smiling.

She dropped out of character long enough to say "Thank you," and then hurried after the other two women.

Kelani turned to me. "So ... shall we retire too?"

END OF PREVIEW

<< Previous Chapter

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this preview and would like to read the rest of Inspecting the Inspector,
click the Smashwords logo below to purchase it as an ebook for just $2.99.