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Gunter didn’t have to wait long.  The subject was out the front door of her modern mansion in Morningwood Estates, pressing the button on the Door-O-Matic keypad nestled in the cigarette case at the bottom of her purse, and gracefully gliding into the cabin.  She was leaving the house early, just as his intel had predicted. She was traveling alone.  That would make it easier.

It was the first time Thad Gunter had laid eyes on her in person. He’d been told she was gorgeous, and she didn’t disappoint; better than even the pictures had indicated.  Truth be told, if he wasn’t working and she wasn’t the subject, Gunter figured he could easily make a move on her.  But he knew never to mix business with pleasure.  He’d learned that lesson early on and still had a long deep scar on his leg from the lesson.  “I was almost circumcised a second time by an angry husband with a machete,” he’d told friends later.  “Thank god he hit my knee cap instead.”

Gunter knew she’d be gone from the house all day.  Her husband was out at the Proving Grounds. He liked hanging out with the crowd that raced out there.  He even owned part of the team that raced a Monte Christo Grey and Rio Grande Red supercharged Penrod Pacemaker Club Coupe. Regardless of his considerable investment in the car, it failed to have ever finished in the Top Ten.  Folks commented, “Despite what he’s spent on that Wankle Turbo-Python Semi-Hemispherical V-11 engine, they can’t buy a first place finish!”

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Of course every member of the crew was more of a man than her husband was, but big bucks bought companionship and camaraderie at the track just as easily as they bought a big house in Morningwood Estates, and the woman who shared it.  Friendship with him had its benefits to those who could endure the obnoxious behaviors he exhibited.  The husband’s whereabouts made it easier for Gunter to wait till the moment was just right to approach the subject and complete the assignment.

She backed the Conastogasm out of the driveway without even glancing in the rearview mirror. Gunter was far back enough that she wouldn’t have seen him if she’d looked.  She was not a woman who ever worried about what was behind her.  Nor whom.  Gunter, a block down the street in the Pontimercrosoto DeLuxe Coupe, wondered just what motivated a woman like her.  He’d had his share of dames.  It had never taken him long to figure out exactly what they’d hitched their cart to , nor why.  Even Lucinda, who’d always been a favorite and was probably the toughest to figure out, eventually revealed signs she thought nobody would ever know.  But not the broad in the Scepter Conastogasm.  She held her cards close to her full, ample, surgically enhanced chest.

The Conestogasm wandered through town, up one street and down the other.  She would slow down in front of the Piggly Wiggly, then pull into the parking lot of the Rusty Hammer Hardware Store, turn around, and head back down Houston Street.  It was almost like she was wasting time, or trying to throw someone off the scent.  But Gunter had smelled that scent before and knew exactly what it was. He wouldn’t be thrown off.

When she pulled into the alley behind the Ben Franklin Five & Dime, Gunter took a left and cruised down Lamar Street to catch her on the other end.  The two tone green wagon never appeared.  Despite the risk of getting caught, he finally pulled down the alley and saw the Conestogasm parked in between two dumpsters right behind the dime store.  It was empty.  He looked towards the opposite end of the alley and saw her rounding the corner on foot on to San Jacinto Avenue.  He hightailed it to the end of the block to see what her next move might be.  Across the street at the gas station, she quickly opened the passenger door of a nondescript Fodge Palermo sedan.  No sooner was she inside than the driver gunned it and headed towards the highway.  This was a development Gunter hadn’t anticipated.

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The green and white Fodge Palermo was a late model car, representative of nothing other than every subdivision in Fort Stockton having a slew of them.  “Not exactly her style,” Gunter thought to himself.  But as he got closer he could tell that the amigo behind the wheel may have been the ride she was really interested in.  Out on Highway 10, it was obvious they were headed for Horseshoe Collar Bay, a tony resort community off the shores of Lake Leon.  The driver of the Fodge pulled into the gated community, Gunter barely making it in as the gates closed slowly behind him.

The three story mid century Italian-deco rococo style home at the end of the block,  right on the water, looked out of the league of someone who drove a Fodge. Either it wasn’t really his house, or the Fodge was just a decoy to throw people off.  The couple quickly darted in through the automatic garage door and disappeared from view.  But not for long.

Reaching into the air conditioned glove compartment / humidor of the Pontimercrosoto, Gunter pulled out a pair of Swarovski binoculars and his tungsten steel flask.  The initials ‘TG’ were diamond etched into the front of the flask, the ‘G’ looking like a cannon.  Taking a swing from the flask and the covers off the lens of the Swarovskis, he trained them on the third floor of the house just as the couple walked in to the master suite located on the top floor.  They were naked in an instant.  

Most of what took place next was nothing Gunter hadn’t ever seen before; it was pretty much routine whittling the love branch.  “The guy has a certain amount of style though, I’ll give him that,” Gunter mumbled to himself.  However, at one point when he thought the session was about to come to a finish, the dark stranger swung her around, flipped her on her side, and with a high degree of tubular wedging, was able to put the two ball in the middle pocket.  Gunter reached into the center console, pulled out his personalized llama skinned memorandum, and jotted down some notes.  Drawing several stick figures assured that he wouldn’t forget the details.  

The Swarovskis were fogged by the time he put his pen down.

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Morning turned into afternoon. Afternoon turned into dusk.  It seemed that with each movement of the sun across the horizon there was a new session of taking the bald headed gnome for a stroll in the misty forest on the third floor.  Several of the couplings required additional notes in Gunter’s memorandum.  By the time the sun had set, Gunter had a new respect for the stranger in the Fodge and more insight into exactly what made the woman tick.  It might complicate the assignment, but in the end knowledge was power. He knew that despite her constant pronouncements of independence and equality, this was a woman who sought to be dominated and controlled by a man who knew how to do both.

When darkness finally set in, the couple put their rumpled clothes back on and made their way downstairs and out the front door to the green Fodge sedan. Gunter knew where they were heading and guided the Pontimercrosoto through the backroads back to town and down the alley at the back of the Ben Franklin. He cut the lights and waited. 

Minutes later, the Fodge pulled up alongside the dumpster.  From down the alley, in the glow of muffled moonlight, Gunter watched the two of them exit the sedan and embrace. It looked like the stranger’s tongue was soon tickling her tonsils. Gunter thought the two of them may have one more round of bumping fuzz right there on the front fender of the Fodge. Eventually she looked at her watch, pulled away, and got into the Conestogasm. Her dark companion, standing back up in a fully erect position, darted back into the Fodge and sped away so as not to be discovered. 

Before she could cut the wheels of the wagon and hit the accelerator, Gunter pulled up alongside the massive wagon in the dark alley and blocked her in.   He got out of his car and walked over to the driver’s side of the car. She rolled down the window, showing no fear whatsoever. 

“I’m here to help you,” Gunter said. “Don’t be alarmed.”

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He needn’t have issued that statement. There was no sign of alarm on her face, though that was not what Gunter was looking at. She still said nothing, just arched her eyebrows and looked up at him impatiently.  She was one icy dame.

“My name is Thad Gunter. I am here at the request of a consortium of interested and concerned people who care about you. They have employed my services to help you “

“Help me what?” She asked, not having a clue as to what was taking place. Her disgust for Gunter almost dripped from her lips, although it was dark. It could have been something else from earlier in the evening.

“Help you escape. Get out of Fort Stockton. Away from the cruel and abusive husband who has you under his thumb. To rid yourself of the pain.”  Gunter couldn’t tell if she was understanding what he was saying. “I have a full extraction team waiting at the airport to get you out of town. A team of former Canadian Mounted Navy Walruses is on standby just outside Morningwood to get what you need out of the house and meet us at the Fort Stockton Municipal Airport & Feedlot. We have eyes on your son and can pick him up to go with you. You can be wheels up in less than an hour.”

She looked down at her lap, as though she was taking it all in. 

“You’ll have a new name. Live far away from here. Put all this behind you,” Gunter tried to assure her. 

She slowly looked up at him. Her eyes met his. She was peering into his soul. She smiled. The smile turned into a chuckle, then a full blown laugh. Gunter was confused, but said nothing. Eventually there were tears rolling down her cheeks. But they were not tears of relief, nor tears of joy. She doubled over as she laughed for what seemed like several minutes. She finally regained her composure and looked back into Gunter’s eyes again. 

“Escape?” She asked. “Leave Fort Stockton?  Have you lost your effing mind Gunter, if that’s your real name?”

Gunter was shocked, and he was not a man given to such emotions. 

“This is the perfect life. It took me years to achieve what I have. Why on earth would you think I would walk away from everything I’ve worked for?” She smiled again, but there was a twist to her lips and a look on her eye Gunter didn’t understand. “Now back the hell up and get away from my car, Spy-Boy. I need to get home before my husband does.”

Gunter backed up as she turned the key and started the Conestogasm.  He lit a Lucky and looked at her one last time. 

“As you wish, Mrs. Goodman,” he said. “As you wish.”

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