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Message-ID: <40246asstr$1041646225@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: jimmy@jimmy-hat.com (Jimmy Hat)
Subject: {ASSM} The Gift of the Maytag 2/4 (wife MMF MF oral ice)  
Date: Fri,  3 Jan 2003 21:10:25 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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"No, I don't. We have an appointment to talk to the City Editor
of the Duluth Free Press this afternoon. If the press really is
Free, we'll get some better information from her. Plus, don't you
think we should try to meet this man and ask him a few questions
ourselves?" 

Stanton did not answer, and Maytag led the way back to their
rental car. 

No one answered at Ron Gustafson's apartment, so Maytag and
Stanton made a stop at the Silver Dollar Casino in downtown
Duluth, favorite haunt of Ron Juan. The manager, John River of
the Lakota Sioux band, agreed to speak with them. 

"Ron is a nice guy," John said from behind his large desk,
"everyone at the casino likes him." A bank of video monitors
stood to the right of the desk, and John River snuck a glance
towards them during the gaps in the conversation. "Is he in some
sort of trouble?" 

"No," said Maytag, "We're just asking a few questions. How do you
know Ron Gustafson?" 

"He moved in right next door when he retired. Nice old townhouse
he has there. He did a little consulting for us, helped out with
the water system. He's a chemical engineer, you know. An expert." 

"Do you have any problems with his romantic behavior?" Maytag
asked. 

"Hey," said John, "He tips the waiters, he gambles while he's
here, the ladies like to come here to see him. And men like to be
here when the ladies like to be here. So what could I possibly
have to complain about?" 

"Does he run up a big gambling tab?" asked Stanton. She might not
have been convinced of a case, but her investigative nature took
note of how he answered the question. 

"Not excessively, if that's what you mean. Sure, sometimes the
women front his gaming for the night, but that just seems like a
fair deal. Plenty of guys bring dates and give them chips." 

"Can we meet him?" asked Maytag. 

"I'm sure you could introduce yourselves. He usually gets here
around seven and starts in the bar. Then he plays a few hands of
blackjack, has dinner, and blends in with the crowd." 

Maytag looked at the video monitors and said, "I doubt that's
possible here, Mr. River." 

John River chuckled and said, "No, I suppose it isn't. I hope I
was able to help." 

"Thanks for your time," said Stanton as she and Maytag prepared
to leave. 

"No problem. Please, stop by the casino tonight," John said with
a smile as he showed them out of his office, "Ron Juan isn't the
only attraction here at the Silver Dollar." 

After a quick lunch, Maytag and Stanton headed for the Free Press
building. The city of Duluth sits on a hill overlooking Lake
Superior. Although the city plowed regularly and salted heavily,
driving on steep roads covered with ice and snow was not easy,
especially for the visiting agents. 

Driving uphill towards the newspaper's offices, Maytag stopped
too close to the car in front of him. When the car slid back
before engaging first gear, it bumped into the rental car's
fender. 

Maytag could not imagine that any damage had been done, but on
went the blinkers of the car in front as it pulled into the Free
Press parking lot. Maytag did likewise. 

"Sorry about getting so close," Maytag said, as he jumped out of
the car and advanced towards the other driver. It could not have
been more than fifteen degrees out, and Maytag soon regretted
leaving his ear muffs in the car. 

"It happens," said the woman from within her fur-lined hood.
"Let's look at the damage." 

The light collision had not so much as knocked off all the packed
snow from the car's bumpers. Maytag shrugged his shoulders to
indicate that he saw nothing that caused concern. 

"We should exchange information, anyway," said the woman. Maytag
was chilled by this point, and wondering if perhaps Stanton was
not correct about his poor choice of timing. 

He retrieved the rental agreement from the glove compartment as
Stanton shook her head in a mock scolding manner. He scribbled
down some relevant information, added his name and driver's
license number, and returned to the cold outdoors. 

He exchanged pieces of paper with the hooded woman, who looked at
his information and said, "Oh Jeez." 

"What's that?" asked Maytag. 

"Well, I think I have an appointment to meet you this afternoon." 

"So you're Cynthia Petersen," Maytag said. 

"Sure am. I just hope I'm not in trouble with the FBI now!" 

Inside Cynthia Petersen's office, Maytag apologized again for
coming too close to her car. Stanton remarked that he was getting
on everyone's good side today, and Cynthia asked what she meant
by that. 

The two explained what happened that morning, and Cynthia nodded
in acknowledgement. "Those two are very close. In fact, Breyer
has a lot of pull around here. I'm sure that Ron, and probably a
lot of other people, already know about you two. I have to admit,
I do find the whole Ron Juan phenomenon weird, but I don't know
what you hope to find. I haven't heard anything about any illegal
doings." 

Disappointed as he was that the city editor had no salacious
information for him, Maytag found himself enamored with the woman
herself. Blonde hair, pale blue eyes, and fair skin made her a
Minnesota stereotype, and they combined in her for classic
farmland good looks. She seemed very young to hold a city editor
position as well, and Maytag took that as a sign she was rather
exceptional. 

He made a suggestion as their meeting concluded, "Again I feel
bad about the car. Why don't you have dinner with us tonight, on
me." 

"I don't know, Agent Maytag," she said. 

"Please," he said, "I was hoping to invite Ron Gustafson to join
us, and that would be a lot easier if you're there." 

Cynthia knew a good chance to pick up on a story when she saw
one, and when Maytag mentioned Ron Juan she agreed to go.
Whatever it was they thought he was up to, she wanted to be there
when they asked him about it. 

Stanton had something else in mind as they left Ms. Petersen's
office. "You like the ice queen, don't you?" 

"You don't think it's a good idea to have her along if Gustafson
has been tipped off by Breyer?" 

"Sure, that's a good idea, but you thought of that after you
asked her to dinner, Maytag. Don't lie to me, you like her!" 

"Please, Stanton, you sound like a teenage girl." 

"Why not? We're only out here because of your grade school
hunches and sophomoric cover-up theories." 

Maytag stared at her across the top of the sedan with a look
meant to convey bewilderment at her accusations. "It's cold,
let's get in the car and go." 

Which they did, but not before Stanton heckled him. "Ha! You do
like her." 


THREE 

Cynthia met Maytag and Stanton at the bar of the Silver Dollar
after leaving work. She put her purse down, exchanged hellos and
then placed her order, scotch straight-up, no chaser. 

"Tough day at the office," Maytag suggested. 

"Helps keep you warm," she said. "Actually, I must admit I drink
that in the summer, too." 

Maytag and Stanton smiled at her joke. Maytag asked, "So tell us
again about the times you've met Ron." 

"Well, like I've said, I don't really get why so many women find
him so appealing. I've only met him in person twice. Once was
here, another at the supermarket, of all places. He was polite,
affable, but nothing special." 

"Yet some women go head over heels for him?" asked Stanton. 

"Yes, they do. Actually, let me correct what I said. There was
another time I ran into him, this past summer. It was here, at
the Silver Dollar. A friend of mine and I were drinking frozen
margaritas, and Ron wound up putting the moves on us. I have to
say, he was really charming that night, and I think he may have
fooled around with my friend. I'm a little embarrassed to say
that I drank that much, but I don't remember much from that
night. That may be why I forgot to mention it." 

"So you think maybe he just hits on women who've been drinking?"
asked Maytag. 

"Everyone drinks in here, but not everyone is drunk. I think he
just likes women to talk. If you want my opinion I'd say he's
such a hit with the ladies because he actually listens." 

Cynthia's drink arrived. She took a sip and then lifted her glass
towards the door, "Here comes ol' Ron Juan now." 

There at the door stood a man of medium build and height in a
blue suit. The suit was simple enough, but the tie was a colorful
splash of reds and oranges, and he wore a carnation in his lapel.
He surveyed the room, waved to the bartender, and took the stool
closest to the door. From that angle, the trio could make out the
bald spot in the middle of his white crown, and the slight slouch
in his posture when he sat. 

Stanton thought he looked like an usher at church. 

Cynthia took her scotch in hand, looked at the other two, and
said, "Let's go talk to him." 

The three walked over to his seat and stopped. Ron looked over
and said, "Why hello, Cynthia! How are you this evening?" He then
looked into Stanton's bright blue eyes and allowed a smile to
grow slow and wide across his face. "I'm sorry, Miss, I don't
believe we've met." He extended his hand and said, "I'm Ron
Gustafson." 

"Ron," said Cynthia, "These are Agents Stanton and Maytag of the
FBI." 

"Nice to meet you," said Stanton as she took his hand. Maytag
said the same when offered his hand. 

"FBI? How intriguing!" said Ron, "Are you in town very long, Miss
Stanton, or is it Mrs. Stanton?" 

"It's Agent Stanton," she said, "and we aren't planning on being
in Duluth much longer." 

"Actually," said Maytag, "We've heard a lot about you and we're
hoping to speak with you for a moment." 

"Oh," said Ron. He looked at Cynthia and then Heather and said,
"I would be delighted. I haven't eaten yet, would you care to
join me for dinner?" 

After they sat down and ordered, they learned more about Ron
Gustafson. He had worked at various facilities around the country
as a chemical engineer, mostly in the realm of pharmacology. He
had been married for close to twenty years when his wife died.
The plan was for the two to spend the later years together.
Tragedy made that impossible. He had returned to his hometown of
Duluth a few years ago to be with old friends in his retirement. 

"So what makes you so interested in a retired engineer?" he asked
Maytag. "And before you answer, let me say that Jim Breyer talked
to me already today, so you can save yourself the embarrassment
of lying." 

Maytag lowered his head, then took a deep breath before saying,
"We came here to meet you because your story seemed odd." 

"The FBI investigates every odd story that comes down the pipe?" 

"No, Mr. Gustafson, we don't", said Maytag, "I just considered
this a no-lose proposition. Either we uncover something, or we
meet a charming man who's a legend in his own time." 

"We did have to come to Duluth in December," quipped Stanton, "So
I don't consider that entirely a no-lose proposition." 

The table laughed, and Cynthia replied, "This is nothing. You
should stop by in early February." 

Dinner came, the four of them ate, and the plates were cleared
away. Ron was charming, polite, and quick witted. He was also an
excellent listener. Maytag could see how he might be popular, but
Ron Juan seemed out of the question. Perhaps the talk surrounding
the man had grown to mythic proportions. 

"Anyone mind if I smoke?" Ron asked. 

Go right ahead, they told him. He removed a cigarette case, of
all things, from his jacket pocket, drew a cigarette from one of
the elastic straps and lit up. Blue smoke rose from the crackling
end of the cigarette, and a bright unexpected fragrance filled
the air. 

"Is that a clove cigarette?" asked Maytag. 

"Yes it is," said Ron. 

"It's his trademark," said Cynthia, "The downtown tobacconist
gets them just for him." 

"And a few U-M-Duluth students," said Ron with a smile after
blowing a cloud of the sweet smelling smoke into the air. 

"I love the smell of clove cigarettes," said Stanton, as she
leaned in towards Ron. 

"I didn't know that," said Maytag. 

The cigarette served as a handheld campfire. Stanton and Ron
seemed content to stare at the burning edge of the paper; Cynthia
looked across the cigarette at the other members of the camp.
Maytag felt the need to tell a ghost story. 

What he found eerie, though, was how his partner seemed to warm
to the dinner party when she had been curt, even rude, earlier in
the evening. 

Maytag was sure that Stanton wanted to end the evening as soon as
possible, but it was Stanton that flagged down the waitress and
asked about dessert. 

"I think I could do with something sweet," she said. 

Over coffee and dessert she smiled and laughed at the others'
jokes. She wallowed in each forkful of her chocolate cheesecake,
and went so far as to offer Ron a bite. Maytag pondered whether
this was the work of Ron Juan, or merely the magic of chocolate. 

Heather finished her cake, and took the last sip of her coffee.
Ron asked her if it was entirely necessary that they return to
Washington so quickly. 

"I'm afraid so," Maytag remarked, "My partner doesn't care much
for the ice and snow." 

"That's not necessarily true," replied Heather. "Ice isn't all
bad. Take this glass for instance: the ice keeps the water nice
and cold." At that, Stanton lifted her glass, sipped audibly and
then mmmm'd loudly. 

"Is that all the ice is good for?" Ron asked. 

"It's good for other things, too." Again Stanton brought the
glass to her lips. Instead of sipping, she took a large gulp, and
held a block of ice in her mouth. She pushed it out into her
hand, and then rubbed it under her chin while looking into Ron's
eyes and saying, "Funny how it can warm things up, too." 

Heather moved the ice further down her neck, and then started to
bring it back to her chin. "Are you feeling ok, Stanton?" asked
Maytag. Cynthia looked almost as puzzled as he did. 

"Just fine," Heather replied without taking her blue eyes off of
Ron. She lifted the ice to his lips and pushed the slippery cube
past them and into his mouth, "How about you, Ron?" 

"Oh, I'm getting a little warm myself," he said. 

"Is that ice making you hot?" Stanton teased. 

"Yes, it is. I might have to take a walk outside." 

Maytag turned to Cynthia and whispered, "What the hell is going
on here?" Cynthia shook her head and shrugged her shoulders in
response. 

"I'd enjoy a nice walk if it meant getting out of these stuffy-"
Stanton paused a second before finishing "-surroundings." 

Ron Juan rose from his chair and offered Heather his arm. She
used it to lift herself from her seat, and the two left the
restaurant and headed for the coat room. 

"That man is amazing," said Cynthia. 

"That man just stuck us with the check," added Maytag. 


FOUR 

Outside the casino, Heather leaned into Ron as he led the way to
his townhouse. Once there he fumbled with the keys while Heather
opened her coat and pushed her chest against his forearm, and
then rubbed up and down. "We'll be inside in a moment," said Ron. 

Heather moved away from him, bent down and took a handful of snow
from the ground. "Watch this," she called. Heather clasped a
finger of her glove and pulled it off, then unbuttoned her blouse
with the exposed hand. She pushed the snow to her chest, and slid
it over her breast. A quick spasm ran through her upper body and
Heather struggled for air before collapsing against the wall and
grinning. The shock had passed and she embraced the freezing
sensation. 

Distracted, Ron fumbled with the key. After repeated attempts to
keep his attention on the Stanton icecapades and unlock the door
at the same time, he broke down and looked at the work at hand.
The door swung open, and Stanton pushed herself away from the
wall and approached the entry. Playfully, she flicked the
remaining snow in her hand at Ron before darting into the
townhouse. 

* * * 

Back at the Silver Dollar casino, Maytag wondered aloud, "What
the hell just happened here?" 

"Ron Juan at it again," Cynthia answered. 

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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