Author: Souvie 
Title: The Case of the Fraudulent Fish Tank 
Universe: Trudy Tolliver 
Keywords: MF, oral


"The Case of the Fraudulent Fish Tank" 
copyright January 2006 by Souvie 
souvie at mindspring dot com
Web version at:
</~Souvie/fish-tank.html>
Edited by Denny




"Tolliver, get your skinny ass in here!" 

I jumped, my hand going automatically to cover my racing heart. I
had been casually flirting with Eric, the cutest guy in the mailroom,
instead of putting the finishing touches on my "Fashion Week Gives
Area Retail a Boost" article. I considered fashion to be fluff,
something I hated covering, but if it got my name on a byline I
didn't feel I could be too picky. 

I sighed and shot Eric an apologetic smile. He smiled back, fueling
my erotic dreams for at least another night, and rolled his cart down
the aisle. I pushed a pencil behind my ear, and approached Peterson's
office, not in any hurry to get my latest butt-chewing. 

He shut the door behind me. "Could you have walked any slower?" His
stogie moved from one side of his mouth to the other as he talked. 

"Actually, yes," I answered honestly. I perched on the edge of his
desk. 

"Don't be a smart ass." He shooed me into a battered and soda-
stained chair, and then sat behind his desk. 

"If it's about the fashion article," I started, "I was about to--" 

"Fuck the fashion article; Heather can finish it. I need you for
something bigger." 

That got my attention. "Like how bigger?" 

"Big enough to make Dirk jealous." 

Oh yeah, now he was talkin'! Dirk Drummand was the closest thing to
a rival I had at the Daily Press. He was rude, crude, a chauvinist
and thought he was God's gift to women. One-upping him would not only
make my week, it'd make my entire month. "I'm all ears," I prompted. 

"Have you heard of that new marine aquarium that opened up in the
West End last year? It's called, get this, The Fish Tank. Pretty
fucking original, huh?" 

I nodded, even though I only had a vague idea what he was talking
about. Sight seeing and scientific places didn't go hand-in-hand in
my book. 

"To cut the crap, they supposedly found this extinct fish, got a
whole bunch of funding for it, and now some bigwigs in the scientific
field are challenging it, saying it's all an elaborate hoax."

"Uhhh, right. Extinct fish, not extinct. So what's the story?" 

"Shit, Tolliver! Do I have to spell everything out for you?" He
crushed the stogie into an overflowing ashtray on his desk. "I want
you to get down there and get me the story. Not the fancy pants
version they're going to feed to the press, but the behind-the-scenes
real life shit. I want to know if this fish is the real deal or not."
He tossed me a folder. "Here's all we have on this thing so far:
they've pulled the fish from display, pending the outcome of an
investigation. I want details, details, details. Take a photographer
with you, too." 

"Really, Mr. Peterson, I know how to work a camera," I protested. I
was stingy about sharing the glory with anyone. 

"Yes, I know that." He glared at me. "I still have the negatives
from last year's 'Tux and Tennis Shoes Ball.' The whole lot, double
exposed, if I remember right, and I do." 

"Okay, okay, I get the message." I didn't need a rehash of my
mistakes; I could do that perfectly fine myself. 

"I need that story the day after tomorrow, too," Peterson added. "I
want to run it before the formal inquiry starts on Monday." 

"Gee, you don't ask for much, do you?" Sarcasm laced my voice though
I tried to keep it out. I honestly did. 

He growled and I quickly shut his door behind me. I didn't want to
press my luck. 

If I had to grab a photographer, Gayle was my best bet. She'd
already proven she could handle my unorthodox methods when she didn't
blab to the whole office that she'd caught me photocopying my boobs
last month. Crap!  I never sent a copy to Eric. 

"Hey, Trudy," Melissa called out. "One of the rings around Uranus,
eight letters, starts with a 'd'." 

I wrinkled my brow trying to remember. "Try Desdmona," I answered.
Crossword puzzles were a passion of mine, the end result being that
my brain was filled with bits of obscure information. Melissa was a
friend who'd gotten hooked on them, too, and came to me on occasion
for help. 

"Thanks. And a four letter word for rectum." She smiled at me as I
walked past. "And I've already tried butt. It can't end in a 't'." 

"That one's easy," I replied. "Four letter word for rectum would be
Dirk." Several people around me snickered and I couldn't help but
join in. I was on a high. I had escaped getting my ass chewed out,
been assigned a story with front page potential, and gotten to insult
Dirk. I was on top of the world. 

________________________________________


The next morning, decked out in my one and only business suit, my
hair in a bun and glasses perched on my nose, I met Gayle down in the
West End of Dallas, about a block from The Fish Tank. I'd done a bit
of research the previous evening, and filled Gayle in as much as I
thought she needed to know. She had her camera tucked into her
shoulder bag and as we walked to the aquarium, I briefed her on our
cover story and handed her her fake badge. It wasn't too complicated,
and as long as we kept it simple I figured we'd be okay. 

I timed our arrival for lunch hour. The fewer people we had to deal
with the better. And if we lucked out and got some brainless lackey,
our job would be like taking candy from a baby. I crossed my fingers
as I crossed the entryway of the aquarium. 

"Wow," Gayle said from behind me. 

I stopped to take stock of my surroundings. She had pretty much
summed it up. We were surrounded on all sides by huge floor to
ceiling tanks, each filled with fish of all shape, size and color. A
few I recognized: lionfish, clownfish, dogfaced puffers, trigger
fish, seahorses, and eels. I was impressed. 

But I still had a story to get. 

"Come on," I said, walking to where a door marked "Employees Only"
beckoned. I squared my shoulders and assumed my best I'm- supposed-to-
be-here attitude. 

The door led to a hallway with doors branching off it on either
side. Each one was marked, thankfully, which saved me having to ask
directions and further complicating things. 

Near the end of the corridor I found what I was looking for. Marked
with a small plaque that read 'Quarantine Room: Authorized Personnel
Only,' the door had a sophisticated looking electronic lock that
quashed my hopes of a quick entry. I sighed with frustration, and
turned to Gayle, "Guess it's time to think of Plan B." 

"We were so close."

"We could always just try the door, see if it opens," I suggested
half-heartedly.

"Are you kidding? It probably locks automatically."

She had an excellent point, but for the hell of it, I reached out
and tried the handle. It turned, the door opening a fraction of an
inch. 

"Holy shit!" Gayle whispered exactly what I was thinking.

Talk about your dumb luck. As I pushed the door the rest of the way
open and we slipped inside, I sent a silent 'thank you' to all the
good fortune deities I could think of.

The room looked as I'd imagined any other marine biology lab to look
- large tanks, some filled with water and others empty, cabinets
lined one wall, two stainless steel tables, one holding an elaborate
computer set up. &&& (end) if you mean the computer is set up, 2
words; if you refer to the computer and peripherals, it's 'setup' 

The only occupant of the room was a sharklike fish, pacing the
length of its tank. I held my breath. If this was the fish in
question, I would be almost tempted to lean over the tank and kiss
its scaly little head. Or skin, in this case. 

I smiled at Gayle and walked over to the tank, the sound of my heels
on the cool tile echoing off the walls. 

"Hey! This area is off limits." A young man walked into the lab from
a door that was partially hidden behind a tall cabinet. His dark hair
was disheveled and looked like it hadn't seen a pair of clippers in
at least a month. His glasses had slipped down to the end of his nose
- or maybe that's the way he normally wore them - giving him a
schoolmarm appearance. All that was offset by the lean and very
masculine body under his lab coat that flashed into view with every
step he took. I had sudden urge to back away so he'd have farther to
walk. I blamed it on the setting: I'd had fantasies of getting it on
with a geeky scientific type ever since my crush on Mr. Fisher in
tenth grade biology. 

I adjusted the lapels of my suit jacket, surreptitiously unbuttoning
the top button, and assumed what I hoped was an officious air. "I'm
Dr. Honeywell from the United States Customs department. This is my
assistant, Agent Mead." Gayle and I flashed him the phony badges that
Remy, a private detective friend, had made for us. "My office called
to say I was coming. Didn't you get the message?" 

"I don't get messages around here. I'm just Dr. Trayhern's
assistant." His eyes held more than a trace of suspicion. 

"Then where is this Dr. Trayhern?" 

"He's at lunch right now." 

"Oh isn't that too bad!" I raised my eyebrows at Gayle and caught
her rubbing her nose to hide a smile. "And who are you?" 

"George. George Filbert." 

"Well, George, then maybe you can tell me why we received an
anonymous tip that The Fish Tank was smuggling fish illegally into
the country?" I tapped my foot, drawing his attention to my fishnet-
covered legs. So far my cover story was going flawlessly.

"What?!" He jerked his eyes back up to my face.  His arms started to
wave around wildly. "I don't know anything, and I mean anything,
about illegal fish." 

I kept silent. 

He started pacing back and forth, just a few steps in both
directions, his hands raking through his already-rumpled hair. "First
the misidentification and the court order, now smuggling? What the
Darwin have I gotten myself into?" I let him stew for a minute more,
then cleared my throat. He stopped and looked at me, as if he'd
forgotten Gayle and I were even in the room. "Relax, George, relax."
I smiled, trying to put him at ease, unbuttoning another button on my
jacket. "We've already inspected the rest of the facility and spoke
earlier with the director, Mr. Harsk. We found no indication that
anything was out of order." I looked at Gayle and she nodded in
confirmation. It wasn't a lie, per se. 

He put his hand to his chest. "Give a guy a heart attack, why don't
you? Scaring me like that." 

"Now that we've got that straight, tell me about this guy." I
gestured to the fish in the tank behind me. 

A guarded look came over his face. "I'm really not at liberty to
discuss the animal with anyone other than Mr. Harsk or Dr. Trayhern." 

"Come now, George." I smiled again. "Do you honestly want me to
rethink the 'nothing fishy going on' report?" 

He seemed to consider his options. "I guess it won't hurt to tell
you what's already public knowledge." He walked to the tank, standing
beside me close enough to touch. I clasped my hands to resist the
temptation. 

"This little guy, and at only three feet he really is little, is
Scapanorhynchus texanus, ancestor to the modern day goblin shark, and
not seen, at least not alive, for over 110 million years." 

"Wow!" Gayle said, taking the words right out of my mouth. 

"Exactly," George replied. "He was found in the western Pacific, I'm
not sure of the precise location, Dr. Trayhern found him himself so
he would know." 

"How do you know for certain that it's this Scapa-whatever shark and
not simply some modern shark?" 

"Because of coloring, and the fact that he matches no known species
of goblin shark. We also have some fossils to compare him to." George
smiled and touched the side of the tank, almost as if he were
caressing the shark instead. "According to Dr. Trayhern's
calculations, this fellow isn't even full grown, either."

"Didn't I read recently that there was some sort of debate on
whether or not this is in fact an extinct fish? I mean, there's no
doubt that he's a goblin shark, is there?" I wanted to see how much I
could get out of him by simply asking questions. 

"There's no doubt about him being a goblin shark." George pointed to
different areas on the shark as he spoke. "All goblin sharks have
striated, fang-like teeth, a long tail with a weak lower lobe and a
long, blade-like snout. It's the elongated snout that gives them
their name." 

"Ah." I nodded my head, thankful he didn't question why, if I were a
doctor and investigating illegal fish, I knew so little about sharks.
Maybe he'd assume that they weren't my specialty. "So all the
controversy is unfounded? Dr. Trayhern can substantiate his claims
that this is in fact a Scapa - a Scapanorhynchus texanus, and not a
new species of goblin shark, right?" I raised my eyebrows
questioningly. 

Gone was the brief glimpse of total confidence he'd shown while
talking about the goblin shark. Now he squirmed uncomfortably under
my scrutiny. "Dr. Trayhern is really the person you should be talking
to, not me." 

I unbuttoned the next to last button on my suit jacket; the long
expanse of pale skin now visible attested to the fact I wasn't
wearing a blouse underneath. "Come now, George, I think we can be
honest with each other, can't we?" I ran my fingers down his arm and
he jerked it back like he'd been bitten. I smiled slowly, slipping
off my glasses and tucking them into my jacket pocket. "I just asked
one little bitty question." 

"I, um, uh," he flustered. 

"I'm sorry, George, I didn't mean to put you on the spot," I lied. I
licked my lips and reached my hands behind me, pulling my hair from
its bun. The jacket gaped open, displaying a Grand Canyon portion of
cleavage. I lowered my arms, shaking out my shoulder-length blonde
hair, sighing heavily. "If you show me Dr. Trayhern's office, I can
sit down and wait for him to return from lunch." I batted my
eyelashes, my blue eyes promising a myriad of sinful things. 

He glanced at the door he'd come through, and back to me. 

I smiled; the cat that ate the canary had nothing on me. Taking him
by the lapels of his lab coat, I urged him toward the door. "We'll be
right back," I said to Gayle. "You wait out here, Agent Mead." I
winked at her and she nodded knowingly. I had no doubt that her
camera would be snapping away while I was occupied with George. 

I opened the office door and backed inside, my hands still holding
onto George's lab coat. When he was safely inside, I kicked the door
shut with my foot and backed him up against it. 

"Wha?" he uttered as my hands flew to his waistband and fumbled for
the zipper of his slacks. 

"Lean back and enjoy the ride, George," I said as I knelt in front
of him. My hands felt the bulge in his briefs. "My my, I do believe
I've found a fossil." 

George moaned as I pulled his briefs down and exposed his already
erect cock. I stuck out my tongue and licked from the base of his
balls to the tip. "Mmmmmmmm."  

I bounced his cock against my boobs a couple of times, rubbing the
head around my nipples, teasing the both of us. Then my mouth and
hands went to work: my hands cupped and caressed his balls while my
mouth slid up and down his small, but thick, cock. I used my tongue
to swirl around it as I sucked, my lips creating pressure and
mimicking my nether lips. It was like my high-school fantasy come to
life. A few years too late, maybe, but still titillating.

He moaned again, low and deep in his throat. I looked up: his head
was tilted backward, eyes closed, brows wrinkled in concentration. He
looked as far from a "geeky lab rat" as could be.

I closed my eyes, concentrating on getting him off. I pulled my lips
back to where they barely circled the head and hummed. 

Just like that, he came. No warning, nothing. One second nothing,
and then the next he's pumping his hips like crazy and there's hot
come filling my mouth and running down my chin. 

"Everything okay in here?" Gayle stuck her head in the door. She
took in the scene and grinned ruefully. "Story of my life: I'm late
to everything."

I saw George's eyes take in the camera in her hands. I expected him
to start asking questions, bust us, but all he said was, "Uh.. do you
think you could take some pictures? I mean," he blushed, "the guys
won't believe me--"

She started clicking away. I put his cock back in my mouth, sucked
it clean, making sure Gayle got some quality shots. I also made sure
to keep my face hidden by my hair.

Gayle lowered her camera and I suggested, "Maybe George would like
his picture taken in the lab. Posing with his 'equipment'?"

He pulled his pants up as far as his knees and shuffled out of the
office. As Gayle closed the door behind them, I could hear her say,
"Why Mr. Filbert, what a big 'test tube' you have there."


I got to my feet and buttoned my jacket, grateful that come strains
weren't permanent. Tidying my hair as best I could without a mirror
or comb, I started rifling through Trayhern's desk.  

________________________________________


"Fish Tank Director and Chief Biologist Conspire to Commit Fraud."
Mr. Peterson shook the paper in his hand at me and beamed. Going back
to the article he continued, "Papers uncovered reveal that the
alleged extinct goblin shark that was found by Dr. Emil Trayhern and
purchased by The Fish Tank, was in reality a new species of the
modern day goblin shark. The documents also implicate The Fish Tank
director, Edward Harsk, in the cover up and attempted fraud." 

Peterson tossed the paper down onto his desk, evidently finished
going over my article for at least the third time. "So Harsk cooked
up this whole scheme to bring in publicity and funding for The Fish
Tank, huh?" 

"That's what the diary said that I found in Treyhern's desk. He
wanted to announce the discovery of the new species, but Harsk,
Treyhern's old roommate from college, thought that it'd be much more
profitable if they passed it off as an extinct species instead." 

"Except that one of Trayhern's colleagues got suspicious, and called
for an investigation." 

"Right," I said. "And why Trayhern wrote everything down. He was
probably afraid that if they got caught, Harsk would claim innocence
and lay all the blame at his feet." I twirled in my chair. "He was
either stupid or careless enough to leave all the incriminating
documents in an unlocked drawer of his desk." 

"Damn, you're good, Tolliver!" 

I replied smugly, "Yeah, I know." 

"The pictures turned out great, too. You can tell Gayle I said that." 

Mr. Peterson reached for a cigar on his desk and then shook his
head. "Want to get some lunch? My treat." 

Hell, he was such a tightwad he brought sandwiches from home from
lunch - every day. If he was offering to buy I was not going to pass
up the opportunity. It probably wouldn't ever come again. 

"Sure thing, boss," I said. I'd gotten the story I'd been sent after
and it'd made the front page, much to my delight and Dirk's
annoyance. I had a new friend, Gayle, and I got to play out my
"seducing the geeky lab assistant" fantasy. I had every reason in the
world to celebrate. 

"Where do you want to go?" Peterson asked, locking his desk and
grabbing his jacket. 

I followed him out the door. "Anything but sushi, please." 

THE END