Hunt for a new MILF to enjoy

Three days later, George sat in his van outside a popular yoga studio, watching as women in tight leggings entered and exited the building. He'd discovered that fitness centers and yoga studios were prime hunting grounds—women there were already focused on their bodies, making the transition to his "physical assessments" somewhat smoother.

His phone buzzed with a text message. It was Rebecca, as he'd expected: "Need to schedule intervention. Available tomorrow?"

George smiled to himself. They always came back. His manipulation ensured it—once the seed of doubt was planted, it grew like a weed in their minds, **** out rational thought.

"Tomorrow, 2 PM. Same location," he texted back. "Wear a skirt, no underwear. Standard protocol for intervention efficiency."

He knew she would comply. The fear of being classified as "resistant to intervention" would override any hesitation.

Returning his attention to the yoga studio, George noticed a petite blonde woman exiting the building alone. She appeared to be in her early thirties, with the toned physique of a dedicated yoga practitioner. What caught his attention most, however, was the prominent diamond ring on her left hand—another married woman, perfect for his particular brand of manipulation.

George climbed out of his van and intercepted her path to the parking lot.

"Excuse me," he called, putting on his most professional expression. "I hope you don't mind my approaching you. I'm conducting infidelity risk assessments in this area, and we've found fitness enthusiasts have some of the highest vulnerability factors."

The woman stopped, her water bottle halfway to her lips. "I'm sorry, infidelity what?"

"Infidelity risk assessment," George repeated, producing his fake credentials. "George Pullman, Department of Marital Integrity. We provide free screenings to help identify and prevent potential marital instability."

The woman—Heather, as he would soon learn—squinted at his ID card with the same mixture of confusion and curiosity that had worked so well on Rebecca.

"I've never heard of anything like that," she said, but didn't immediately walk away.

"It's a relatively new initiative," George explained smoothly. "The program started after studies showed that nearly 70% of extramarital affairs begin without any conscious intention to be unfaithful. We help identify **** vulnerability factors before they lead to relationship damage."

Heather's expression shifted subtly—the mention of "**** vulnerability" had caught her attention. George had learned that this was key: plant the idea that they might be **** without knowing it, and curiosity often overcame skepticism.

"And why approach me specifically?" Heather asked, her tone more intrigued than offended.

"Statistical targeting," George replied without hesitation. "Fitness-focused married women between 25-40 show the highest infidelity vulnerability in our datasets. It's nothing personal—purely demographic."

Heather seemed to consider this, absently twisting her wedding ring as she thought. "What does this 'assessment' involve?"

George had her. The question indicated interest rather than dismissal.

"It's a multi-phase evaluation," he explained. "Begins with a simple questionnaire, followed by physiological response measurements to various stimuli. Takes about an hour, completely confidential, and gives you valuable insights into potential vulnerabilities you might not be aware of."

"And it's free?" Heather asked, the skepticism in her voice weakening.

"Completely," George confirmed. "The program is funded through a federal marriage stability initiative. No cost to participants."

The lie flowed easily from his lips, made believable by his ability to manipulate perception.

"I should probably discuss it with my husband first," Heather mused, but her tone suggested she was already considering it.

"Of course," George nodded understandingly. "Though I should mention that pre-discussion sometimes skews results. The assessment measures natural, unprimed responses. Once you discuss it, your answers become consciously filtered."

Heather bit her lip, considering. "When would this assessment take place?"

"I have an opening right now, actually," George offered. "Our mobile assessment unit is just in the parking lot. You could be done before dinner, with complete peace of mind."

The manipulation was working—George could see it in her eyes, the way she weighed perceived benefits against minimal perceived risks.

"Well... I suppose it couldn't hurt," Heather finally conceded. "My husband's working late tonight anyway."

"Excellent decision," George smiled, gesturing toward his van. "Right this way."

As he led another unsuspecting woman to his makeshift "examination room," George felt the familiar surge of power and arousal. The Infidelity Inspector was about to conduct another thorough "assessment."