The Beast in Control, Ch. 2
2003-06-13
In continuing this tale, I need not describe the innumerable days, evenings and nights that I spent in secluded places, cars, buses, parks, stores, restaurants, bars, clubs and even churches observing the idiosyncrasies of my five targets. Allow it to suffice that I learned many otherwise-unobservable things about each of them. I spent countless hours in computer research detailing everything they had purchased, every site they had visited, every tiny crack in their otherwise normal facades. It is truly amazing what a person will tell another on the telephone when the caller professes to be a representative of a particularly well-known research and polling organization. Their personal existences were no longer personal, except that they had no idea of this condition. I knew as much about them as they did, themselves. Night vision goggles and an aptitude for climbing fences and trees provided views of the private areas of their homes and apartments that anyone else could not hope for. Physical abilities honed in private on my own personal training machines provided for stealth and secrecy when observing them outside their homes. Copies of outdated CIA/FBI training manuals obtained through the Freedom of Information Act delivered techniques and procedures for following them so they suspected absolutely nothing over that long span of time. There were times when I was within six feet of them and they never knew I was anywhere present. The lengths to which I went in learning to observe behavior and compile statistics were most likely unmatched outside of the covert operations theater. I actually became good at what I was doing. One particular incident that bears re-telling here involves Miss Ramada, the English teacher I spoke of earlier. I had been watching her for more than a month at that particular moment and knew her routines quite well, simply because they were routine. She rarely did anything differently at any time of the month. Each day was exactly like that same in the previous week.
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But one Friday morning as I was watching from my hiding spot, I noticed she took extra effort in cleaning up her kitchen, picking up everything that had been strewn about the night before, and even changed the sheets on her bed – something she had never done on a Friday before. She checked the contents of her refrigerator and cupboard several times before she left for work. I searched my notes for some clue as to what might make her change her routine so drastically. I had watched her do her regular shopping the evening before and nothing seemed amiss at that point. She had spoken to several people in the local market, as she always does. Most of them were lily-white liberals from the suburbs who most likely figured it was politically correct to engage one of the few black customers in some sort of conversation. To her credit, Miss Ramada never allowed what were probably her true feelings, to show on her face. She was polite and cordial to everyone who spoke to her. But, yes, there it was; she had spoken to a stranger in the store – a very large black man had approached her near the produce bins and had engaged her in conversation for some ten or twelve minutes. How had I missed that? Stupid! A drastic change in her routine! Had she invited him to her apartment? For what purpose? She never dated. She never went out with anyone, except two other teachers from the English department on their bi-weekly payday excursion to a local Italian eatery. This was worth looking into. Within three minutes of the time she left her apartment for CHS, I was inside, searching for the smallest of clues that might point me in the direction of what had caused this alteration of my quarry's routine. It was not my eyes that found the clue, it was my nose. Within minutes I noted a strong aroma of a spicy nature and followed the lead of my olfactory sense to the large crock-pot on the counter in the kitchen.Escort agency representing highly selective ladies in Greece.
I could see through the glass lid that Miss Ramada had prepared a rather large quantity of a red sauce.Welcome To Greece Escort Service
This was not the first time I had been here. I reminisced about the fact that I have visited the apartments and homes of each of my targets several times in the past sixteen months. Entrance was ridiculously easy and I have always been careful not to disturb anything in the process of investigating, so no one has ever suspected that anything was amiss. I do suppose it is apropos of me to provide a bit of confession here. Yes, I have sneaked into the targets' bedrooms; and, yes I have gone through bureau drawers and closets to find what sort of underwear and lingerie they wear; and, yes I have often masturbated with some of the more silky or lacy items I have found; but I have never removed anything from any of their residences. That would have been too chancy. I have found teddies that would shock the general public if they knew their elected officials and educators were wearing them under their otherwise demure outer clothing. I have located panties that amounted to nothing more than a tiny triangle connected by a few silken strings. I have seen items that are euphemistically called 'marital aids' in all of the targets' homes except for Miss Ramada. Vibrators of extremely varied lengths and girths; dildos of different colors, textures and sizes; leather apparel designed to titillate even the dullest libidos – all these are the property of four of the five who are destined to be my partners in a grand experiment in the very near future. But I can keep a secret. And I have, until now. Bringing myself back to the present and the chore at hand, I wondered how I might defuse the evening to cause Miss Ramada some of the embarrassment and perhaps discomfort that I had experienced at her hands over the years. I needed to return to my own lodging quickly to secure the proper tools, but the plan was already formulating in my mind and had nearly reached its conclusion as I climbed down the service elevator shaft to leave through the basement. It was not even an hour later that I found myself back in her kitchen with the equipment I needed to set up the scenario for the evening.escort hellas
I have not gone into any specific detail as to my sources of supply for some of the items I shall describe in this missive, because there is some question of the legality of some of the things I have obtained as well as the manner in which they were obtained. I did have two very good friends through the past few years, but who would rarely ever consent to being seen with me. One was a middle-aged hooker with quite a large chemical dependency, which I could assist her with in return for her 'favors.-
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