A Bullet for a Blonde

[Miltone]

OOC: Would she die the way she lived—hard and fast? The first murder was called an accident. Peter Cavanaugh had gone swimming and never came back. “Accidental Drowning,” they had said. Such a shame! Just a month before his 21st birthday—when he would come into his million-dollar inheritance. But there would be no mistake the second time. Sylvia Cavanaugh had just been threatened, just a month before her 21st birthday—when she would come into her inheritance. Somebody obviously wanted to be twice as rich.

But then Sylvia shows up on my doorstep in the wee hours, drunk and alone and needing my help. With her clear blue eyes and swirling honey-blonde hair and her trim young body, she crawled under my skin. I knew that she would make it my job to find out who was after her … and that was enough to keep me from letting this young beauty down—even if she might end up too dead to care …

Please feel free to read along as DangerousDarkEyes and Yours Truly tell the tale of a beautiful young rich girl whose life has just been threatened and an older jaded down-on-his-luck PI in a film noir story set in a large city of the mid 1950’s.

IC: Vince Latimer, PI

She was young and very beautiful. And very drunk.

“They’re going to kill me,” she said, her slender body swaying side-to-side in the dim yellow light of the streetlamp. The fur cape wrapped loosely around her shoulders slipped down on one side, revealing a lean stretch of clear silky skin.

I looked up and down at the noiseless city streets. No headlights, no burbling sound of exhaust, no shadows moving in the still night. Arriving home from a failed stakeout at 2 a.m. to find a lovely if glassy-eyed stranger on my doorstep doesn’t happen to me every night of the week, so I’m no expert at handling them. Especially if they are young and beautiful and as vulnerable as this doll seemed to be.

“Who’s going to kill you, honey?”

She waved with a limp slender hand. “That’s what you’re s’posed to find out. Hirin’ you right now to find out who’s going to kill me.”

This was too much. I laughed, not out loud but enough that she would have heard it—if she had been the least little bit sober. If she knew who was going to kill her then fine. Maybe we could do some business. But this was no hour for guessing games—not even with a doll like this. And then I looked at her eyes. Under the blueness and alcohol was fear, real fear. Then I felt that sappy warm feeling percolate inside my belly and knew I couldn’t turn her out. Not tonight. “Come on in,” I said begrudgingly. “I’ll make some coffee and we’ll talk it over.”

When she tripped climbing up the single flight of stairs, I reached for her arm. She tried to wave me off, but when I took a firm hold of her, she glanced up at me.

“Thanks,” she said, lucid for just a brief moment.

I slipped the key into the lock and opened the door. The girl sashayed inside like she owned the place, like she had been here before, more than once. The scent of her perfume was as intoxicating as the clear moonlit night sky. All blue eyes gleaming and creamy pale skin glowing as she passed by me. I snapped on the floor lamp and watched as she collapsed onto my favorite armchair, and for the moment, I didn’t know what to do but play along. Following her drifting scent, I went to the kitchen, turned on the gas and got the coffee brewing. A few minutes later, when I carried two hot cups of Joe out to the living room, I half expected to see her gone, but she wasn’t. She slumped back in the armchair like it belonged to her, gazing vacantly at the opposite wall.

“Cezanne, isn’t it?” she said absently, her eyes heavy lidded and lowering.

“Yeah,” I replied, my interest piqued by her interest in my favorite print that hung proudly on the wall.

“So mush better in the original,” she commented, her words slurred slovenly.

“Look, honey, it’s late and this happens to be my apartment, not my office.”

“You’re a private inveshtigator, aren’t you? Y’name’s Vince Latimer, isn’t it?”

“Sure, that’s me, honey, and tell you what. You finish your coffee there and be on your way. You can come down to my office tomorrow and we’ll talk it all over. How’s that?”

Not good enough, apparently. She shook her sleek little honey-colored head and waggled an unsteady forefinger in my general direction. “Can’t wait. My birthday’s next month.”

“Happy birthday,” I said; and then, against my better judgment, added warily, “What’s that got to do with it?”

She leaned forward and attempted to bring me into focus long enough to deliver a patient and weightily mysterious look. “Well—it happened to Peter just before his birthday, didden it?” she asked solemnly.

This was getting too complicated to be worth the effort. Peter—whomever the fuck he was—didn’t even matter. I was tired and wanted to get to bed. I smothered my third yawn.

“I wouldn’t know, honey. Now listen, be a good girl. This isn’t getting us anywhere. You go home and sleep it off and we’ll talk about it tomorrow, huh?”

“Wait—” She opened her purse and began fumbling through its contents. “Money,” she announced grandly, “ ‘s no objeck—no objeck atall.”

Apparently it wasn’t. Because the purse suddenly slipped from her lap and as it fell bills went sailing in every direction. Lots and lots and lots of bills.

Fuck! Good old honest Vince. That’s me. I knelt down and retrieved all that alluring lettuce and wadded it back into her purse and put the purse firmly back in her hands.

“Honey,” I said. “I’m just not for hire tonight. Get that through your pretty little bean, will you? If you want to talk business, see me tomorrow.” I took hold of her arm and hoisted her to her feet. “Come on now—you’re going home.”

“Home?” she asked her voice dull and confused.

“You’ve got one, haven’t you?” You know—a place where you live. House, apartment, room, hovel—”

The hovel was pretty unlikely. Looks, clothes, the dough in her purse, and something indefinable in her manner despite the alcoholic shape she was in—it all smacked of money, lots of money.

She stood there, swaying uncertainly, looking around like I’d disappeared. One strap of her turquoise evening gown slipped down a creamy shoulder, and for a minute events promised to be more revealing, but she hitched it up in time. I retrieved the fur cape she’d let slide to the floor and put it around her shoulders.

She made another try at locating me and bringing me into focus. “Don’t want the job, huh?”

“Not tonight, honey.”

I wasn’t sure that I’d ever want it, or that there even was one. It sounded like a vodka-dream to me. Probably her boyfriend had threatened to wring her neck and she’d taken it seriously. While I was thinking this she suddenly reeled against me, and it occurred to me she wasn’t above passing out, and then I would have something on my hands.

“Where’s your car?” I asked hastily.

“Car?”

“You know. What you came in. Car, gas buggy, moving vehicle—”

“Oh, that. Left it … left it … red and white B-Buick …converable …”

I groaned. “Honey,” I said, “why did you have to happen to me?”

There didn’t seem to be any answer to that; she didn’t even try. She simply fell into my arms, her arms falling around my shoulders, her firm slender body pressing against mine, her honey-colored hair brushing against my cheek, her sweet delicate perfume tantalizing me.

“Not happnin’ … not tonight …”

Her blue eyes finally found their focus for a moment, right on my dark browns, as if she was trying to tell me something. Then she pressed forward and her lips brushed against mine. She moaned and kissed me hard and urgently and I felt a deep stirring register in my loins. God! I had been without for so long and wanted her so badly. But as my kisses spread to her cheek and neck, she moaned deeply and then her body went limp.

Shit! Just my god dammed luck! With one arm around her shoulders my other swept down below the firm curves of her sweet little ass and I lifted her up. Not the couch, I thought. This broad’s too classy for that, so I carried her to the bedroom and lay her down on the bedcovers. I slipped off her pumps; turquoise to match her dress, pointed toes, stiletto heels, very sexy. Very expensive. Stockings too, sheer and silky, not cheap by any stretch. I stood up and looked down at her.

Damn! Why this broad? Why now? My life was already fucked up as it was. Why did I need her to wrangle her pretty way into my apartment at three fucking a.m.? Then I could see the gown chafing at her creamy, sleek skin, so I rolled her onto her side and worked the zipper down. Parting the satin fabric and slipping it down along her slender dreamy body almost made me forget about my gentleman’s code. But I didn’t, fool that I am. I left her in her skimpy silken panties and stockings, afraid that my high-minded resolve would melt if I had just a glimpse of the heaven that resided underneath.

I pulled a soft plush blanket from the closet and tucked it around her sleeping form, covering up the pert pink nipples that seemed to be pointing directly at me, the sensuous flair of her hips, and the long trim lines of her legs. Shit! I hadn’t even learned her name. Some kind of private dick I am! I doused the light and returned to the living room, making up my bed on the couch.

Such a fucking sap I am, I thought. All it takes is a pretty face with a good sob story and I’m hooked like a big ole small mouth bass on opening day. At least she had some dough—for a change. Lots and lots of dough. I crushed out my last Camel of the night and switched off the lights. Fuck! Where was this going to take me?

 

[DangerousDarkEyes]

Sylvia Cavanaugh

“But who? Please, tell me,” I mumbled as the dream began fading and I finally stirred from my drunken slumber.

The sun was just starting to peek in thru the bedroom curtains immediately causing me to groan and close my eyes. My head was pounding, which was nothing new for me lately, nor was waking up in a strange place. Slowly I sat up and looked around, trying to recall the events of the night before in order to figure out where I was. The blanket had slipped down to my waist, allowing me to see myself naked from the waist up in the dresser mirror. It was then that I noticed my dress nicely lying across the chair in the corner of the room, my heels on the floor below the dress.

God Damn Syl, you’d think you’d have enough with someone trying to kill you, let alone passing out night after night, waking up God knows where…Shit! And practically naked…what have I got myself into now! Hmmmm, so where is he? Hell, who is he and what happened?

I spotted a door to the right and hoped it was the bathroom, needing some cold water splashed on my face and my teeth brushed before the stench alone permeated the entire place. When I got up, I spotted my purse with bills falling out on the nightstand. It was then that I had to smile, whoever he was, didn’t look like he was out for my money anyway. Sure hope we at least had a good time, I thought, grabbing my purse, grinning and made my way to the bathroom.

“OH GAWD!!!!” I gasped at the person staring back at me in the bathroom mirror.

The dark circles under my eyes with the black mascara below my eyes was the only evidence left that I had worn any make up, and my hair was a tangled mess. I dug in my purse, spilling much of the contents on the counter until I found my tooth brush, never leave home with out it was my motto. Without having to investigate too much further, there was a used tube of toothpaste on the ledge of the sink, another smile, he even squeezes from the bottom up, who is this guy?

I quickly splashed water on my face, the cool feeling a nice relief to my throbbing forehead, as was ridding my mouth of the tobacco and alcohol taste that had infested in it. After drying my face on the towel, I saw that there was a robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door. I lifted it off it’s hook, naturally seeing that it was a man’s robe and much too big for my small frame. Deciding that we obviously had become acquainted enough for me to be partly naked, I didn’t see in harm in stripping off the rest of my clothes and having a quick shower.

Soon I was standing with his dark blue robe wrapped around me, the sleeves hanging way past my hands, the length almost trailing the floor. I towel dried my hair, put a brush thru it and went to find the owner of the robe and whose bed I slept in. It didn’t take me long before I spotted him asleep on the couch, with a blanket barely covering him, most of which was now on the floor. I could only stare at this man, his broad shoulders, the muscles in his forearms looking so taut, noticing how the dark hairs on his bare chest seemed to be calling for finger nails to rake thru, not to mention that slight lift where the blanket covered his groin.

While I quietly watched him sleep, noticing a grin crease his face as if he were dreaming, I remember who he was and why I had sought him out. Then recalling the kiss we shared before I must have passed out, I felt a shiver run down my spine from head to toe. Well, I thought, there would be time for business later, no harm in finishing what we started. Without hesitating, I silently walked to the couch and knelt on the floor, slowly pulling the remaining part of the blanket from his body.

“Mmmmm, yes, first things first,” I whispered, bending my head down and with the flat of my tongue, licked the length of his semi erect shaft, up one side, circled the head and then back down.

“OH YEAH!” It was more of a mumbled groan that came out, the man still asleep, but that smile on his face said it all.

“Yes indeed…” Again I whispered before licking back up his hardening shaft and slowly going down on him, his cock growing in my mouth, at the same time, raising my hand to stroke the hairs on his chest.

“OH Gawd!” he growled, then jumped when my finger flicked across his nipple instantly making it hard. “ What the hell…”

“Nothing like passing out at the most inappropriate time, thought I might make it up to you,” I replied seductively, lifting my head off his erection for a brief moment to smile at him.

 

[Miltone]

Vince Latimer, PI

It was a dream—a beautiful dream. A balmy day, a beautiful young broad, an endless bottle of wine, a lush romantic ballad playing, Crosby crooning in the background—no, it was Sinatra’s voice, it would have to be Sinatra with Nelson Riddle’s orchestra. Yeah, everything is going my way. The little broad and I walk, we talk, we dine and dance, we make love—yeah, that’s the best part, making love. Except this girl was different; she is young, real young, and eager and willing to try new things and aggressive even. But as her fingernails scratch across my chest, I jump and my eyes split open faster than popcorn on a hot stove. This was no goddamned dream; this was the real fucking thing!

It was morning, heat and steamy already. I looked down at the young broad of my dream, a trim and petite real life honey, all big blue eyes and smooth creamy skin and natural blonde hair, her delicate fingers curled around my tool, her lips parted and smiling, her tongue lashing out at the tip of my manhood. Oh, fuck! She was wearing my robe for Christ sakes! Wait a minute! It all came back to me, coming home drunk and disillusioned from a wasted night to find her on my doorstep, stumbling around, saying something about someone trying to kill her. Shit!

“Nothing like passing out at the most inappropriate time … thought I might make it up to you,” she says and then engulfs my long hard rod again and I am powerless to stop her for the next several moments of sheer pleasure.

I feel the warmth of her mouth and the heat of her tongue all the way down. This broad may be young, but she has learned what a man really wants, and isn’t afraid to give it to him in spades. I reach down to stroke her hair, still a bit damp from the shower, and feel the energy of her youth and desire. She takes me into her mouth, feeding on the force and feeling that is welling up inside me.

I glance down at her, her trim little body crouched on the floor beside the couch, wrapped in my cavernous bathrobe, sleeves rolled up, belt cinched tight, but not tight enough to conceal a small firm little breast that bobbed delectably in my sight. I reach for the pink tipped mound and pull at the tip. She moans and I can feel her suction and pressure increase and I am swamped by the pleasure of the moment. Then my mind kicks in gear.

I have all these rules about clients, a list of do’s and don’ts. This is definitely one of the don’ts. But it’s been so long since I’ve felt the touch of a pretty woman—hell, the touch of any woman. It has been such a long time since I have wanted the touch of a woman. Having a heartless bitch for an ex-wife can do that even to a man with most loving of intentions. As my hips begin to rock beyond my control, I reach for her face, lifting it from my throbbing member. She looks at me with a slightly puzzled glance.

“Come on, doll, let’s do this right,” I say, and pull her up from the floor.

With a flick of my wrist the robe is opened and her gorgeous trim little body is laid bare. She eagerly climbs on top of me and guides me to the center of her heat and wetness. I watch as the long pink shaft of my love glides up into the blonde shrouded muff of her sex. She settles onto my hips and tosses off the robe. Then her hands fall down to my chest, her nails gripping my pecs, and she begins to move, rocking her hips up and down. She tosses her head back, her honey blonde hair all a-swirl.

We don’t speak. There is no talk of storybook love and romance. This is all about a pure want and a simple need and a sheer desire. She rides me for a while until I feel her body quiver and see her tasty pink nipples grow taut and hard. Then we roll off the couch and fall down onto the carpet and I take her hard and fast and urgently. She lies back and lets me have my way, her face a blissful mix of flushed cheeks and a soft smile. And for some reason, I’m not finished yet. We pause and shift position, she rolls onto her side and I slip up behind her. The force of my thrusts roll her onto her tummy and I raise her up onto her knees and take her from behind. Whatever the move, she is ready and willing. Finally she looks back over her shoulder and calls out to me.

“Come on, baby! You can do it! Come on! Fuck me!”

And I do. I humped her hard and fast until every ounce of strength in me was sapped and we had collapsed onto the carpet in a hot sweaty tangle of arms and legs and heaving torsos. Then I lit a cigarette and we shared it, quietly at first but then there were questions that needed to be asked and answered.

“So who’s trying to kill you, baby?” I asked, still not knowing her name.

“I don’t know,” she answered matter of factly. “That’s why I came here to ask you for help.”

“By the way, I don’t know your name,” I interjected, almost ashamed of the oversight.

“Sylvia … Sylvia Cavanaugh. You know, Cavanaugh Mining and Industrial.”

“I’ve heard of your family. An army buddy of mine used to work for your old man a lifetime ago.”

“Everybody knows us.”

“So why do you think that somebody is trying to kill you?”

She looked at me for a moment, then picked herself up off the floor and sauntered into the bedroom. She returned a moment later with her purse and a note she had pulled from inside the bag. By this time I had boosted my hairy ass up onto the couch. She seemed perfectly at ease to be naked around me. Sometimes broads are so finicky about such things, they have to cover up for some goddamned reason. But not this one. She didn’t seem to mind that I kept my eye on her; in fact she seemed to enjoy it, making sure that I got an eyeful of every mouthwatering feature of her trim and petite little blonde body. I accepted the note and looked it over.

Happy birthday sweet cheeks! Make sure you celebrate early!

That was all it said in heavy block lettering, number two pencil on cheap notepaper, which probably couldn’t be traced. A note folded in half and placed in an envelope with her name written on the outside in the same lettering.

“Any idea who dropped this off?” I asked.

She shook her pretty little head and flashed her big blue eyes at me. She had this appealing china doll kind of look going for her, clear smooth skin and big eyes, and each feature of her body seemed so delicate and fragile. She sat next to me, one leg curled up underneath her, her body turned to face me halfway. Her pink tipped breasts seemed to wink at me in their pert perfection. She took a long drag from the cigarette and blew it out in smoke rings. I wasn’t surprised since I had already learned first hand about her talented tongue.

“Who’s Peter?” I asked before taking the Camel back from her. “You mentioned him last night.”

“He is … was my brother,” she said looking away from me, her eyes turning cloudy and distant. “He died about a month before his twenty-first birthday. They said it was an accident, but I don’t believe that … I’m turning 21 next month.” Then she turned back to me. I caught that look of fear in her big blue eyes again, just like last night, a deep pure fear of something that you can’t control.

“You have a boyfriend?”

She glared at me. “A fiancé.”

“Oh, really?” I could tell from her look that I had nothing to worry about. I’ve heard about rich broads and their husbands and marriages of convenience. Maybe this was one in the making. “You know anybody who would want to see you six feet under?”

“I’m nice to everybody,” she grinned, her chill look melting a few degrees, her eyes dropping down to glance at my spent tool, her tongue licking her lips tauntingly. But when she lifted her gaze again, she was all business. “I can’t imagine who it would be …” Then that vacant stare out toward the windows reappeared.

“You’re probably going to come into a lot of dough next month,” I stated coolly, before taking one last drag and handing it back to her. Sylvia looked back at me, her eyes narrowing critically. “Who’s in line to cash in?”

“Only my sister, Naomi, but she wouldn’t …” her soft little girl voice trailed off.

“At this point anyone would, honey,” I replied. She didn’t like that. Who knows she probably wouldn’t like a whole lot of other things that I would have to say before this was all over. “You’ll have to give me names and addresses and phone numbers … if I’m gonna take your case.”

“If?” she asked with a little laugh. “If?” Sylvia took one more drag from the cigarette and reached over across me to stub it out in the ashtray. The tips of her breasts raked against my flaccid tool lying in my lap. “If you take my case? I thought that there was no question about it.” She knelt fully on the couch beside me and slowly raked her fingernails up the inside of my thighs. By the time she reached the top I was sporting an impressive hard-on. “You’ll take my case, Mr. Latimer …”

“Vince … call me Vince,” I said with a growling tinge to my voice.

“Ok, Mr. Vince Latimer,” she said crouching low and letting her warm breath fan over my lap as her hands drew near to my maleness. “What say, you take my case … and I take care of you?”

I felt her warm wet lips swab the still hungry head of my dick and the hot tip of her tongue circled it inside the heated cavern of her mouth. Oh, Christ! She was good! She was real good! And she knew it. She hummed and purred and drove her mouth hard up and down the length of my shaft, sucking and licking so fiercely that I thought she would suck the slipcover up my ass. One part of me wanted to stop her, wanted to tell her about my list of do’s and don’ts, tell her how this was wrong, dead wrong, but that other part of me didn’t give a shit.

When a deep snarl rumbled from my chest, she looked up at me, her big blue eyes leaden with a filthy lust. She climbed up onto my lap, straddled my hips and guided me toward her hot wet center, taking me into her tight little blonde sex, settling her petite body down onto me, her arms resting on my shoulders, her face a breath away from mine. She ground her body onto mine.

Our eyes met and locked onto one another as she rode me like I was a raw young bull on the opening night of the rodeo season. And I just didn’t sit there and watch. I rocked my hips and slammed up into her despite every reason that I had to push her away. The next time I would … hell, there wouldn’t be a next time, there couldn’t, not if I was to take this job. But for now, this morning, this moment, our bodies were wedded together, both seeking a single selfish satisfaction.

I could feel her body tense up, her drenched sex clenching tightly around me, her body warm and rosy as it rubbed against mine. We kissed heatedly; we clutched each other tightly; we nipped and bit hungrily, and drove each other crazy until we reached that final simultaneous spasm, and I felt every frustration of every unquenched desire leave my body as I thrust up into her, my seed filling her.

“Yes, baby! Yes!” she cried out. “Oh, fuck yes!”

 

[DangerousDarkEyes]

Sylvia

“Oh fuck yeah!” Vince growled, his voice thick with lust, thrusting up harder.

“Aaarrrgggghhhh,” was all I managed to moan, the pleasure rising rapidly feeling his rather large fingers digging into the hot flesh of my ass cheeks, his seed shooting deep inside me.

My head went back, eyes closed pure joy on my face while moaning louder, my hands squeezing my swollen breasts. My hard little nipples were begging for attention while I ground my dripping sex against him. Obviously he noticed this too with them practically reaching out to touch him and let out another growl before sinking his teeth into one pink perky bud.

“OH Gawd yessss!” I cried out, cumming harder than I had in quite a long while. This man may be a bit older, but god damn if he didn’t feel better than most of the young men I’d been with, and not hard on the eyes either.

I collapsed on his chest with my hot breath at his neck, his hands still cupping my butt cheeks while both of us remained silent, trying to calm down. After a bit, our bodies sticky with sweat, I felt him relax, moving some, making me giggle.

“Mmmmm, I think we are going to get along just fine, don‘t you?” I said teasingly as I sat up some.

What ever it was about that look in a man’s eyes after great sex, it had me blushing, feeling warm all over again and I smiled down at him. Our eyes locked, my own letting him know the pleasure was mutual. Then before he had a chance to say anything, I lifted up, feeling his limp cock slip from its warm wet protection and got up. .

“Guess I should write down a few names and address‘s for you to look into,” I said turning my back and bent down to pick up my purse to get my address book out of it. I could almost feel the heat of his stare on me and couldn’t resist the temptation. I twisted my neck, cocking my head to look up at him and flashed him one of my sexiest smiles. “Unless of course you might want to go at it again?”

“You sure you’re not the killer, cause I damn well know that doing that again any time soon just might kill me,” he quickly answered at the same time his eyes were taking in every inch of the view just inches away. Then suddenly he shook his head and added on a more serious tone. “Besides I haven’t accepted the job yet, but if I do, there are a few things you’ll need to know about me and how I work….”

“Baby, I already know how you work,” I replied with obvious approval and purposely sached my ass about before I stood back up, turning slowly to face him. “I‘ll give you my address book, it’s practically everyone I know.”

After digging deep down in my leather purse, letting my breasts sway a bit in front of him teasingly, I pulled out a white book and handed it to him. By the look on his face I couldn’t tell whether he was shocked or just mocking me when he saw it. It was then I noticed the clock on top of the small tv.

“Oh shit! I hadn’t realized it was getting this late. I was supposed to be at Eric’s house well over an hour ago.” I quickly walked to the bedroom to slip my dress on, not bothering with putting on the rest.

“Miss Cavanaugh there are a few things that need to be understood…” Vince said, startling me having come up right behind me, his warm breath teasing my shoulder.

“Vince, honey, later, I really have got to go and if you don’t mind, I‘ll need a ride,“ I turned putting my hands on his shoulders and smiling into his dark sexy eyes, sweetly added, “sooo could you please hurry and get dressed.” I planted a soft lingering kiss his lips, then turned to step into my dress. After several what seemed long minutes and me having the dress half way up on my hips I heard him mumbling something in a deep voice, I couldn’t understand what he said, but had a good idea. “We can talk about all that stuff on the way, and the number you can reach me is in that book too, so you can get me just about any time you want to, anytime,” I called out.

 

[Miltone]

Vince Latimer, PI

“Honey, there are some things that have to be crystal clear between us before I’ll take your case,” I said to Sylvia as I stepped into my pants and zipped them up. “All that has gone on between us up till now is let’s just say, between friends, all right?” I pulled on my dress shirt over my undershirt and began to button it up. Sylvia had managed to get halfway into her dress and was standing by the nightstand completely oblivious to what I had been saying. Seeing the half-naked curves of her backside from across the room and the reflection of her front side in the mirror, sent a jangling tingle straight to my loins. Everything about her seemed to exude sex. Her blue eyes, the blonde hair with just the right balance of curl and wave to it, the seductive shape of her trim little pale body all seemed to conspire against my better judgment.

“We can talk about all that stuff on the way,” she called over to me, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “And the number you can reach me is in that book too, so you can get me just about any time you want to, anytime. We have to get a move on.”

“Yeah, sure, doll,” I said drolly, moving over to stand behind her as she pulled her dress up farther, trying to slip her arms into the straps. She may have been used to always getting her way, especially with men—rich broads are like that—but she had never messed around with a bum like me. When my palms settled on the sleek skin of her bare shoulders, she paused in pulling her dress up and our eyes met in their reflection in the mirror. “We have to get going, don’t we?”

“Yeah, baby,” she said softly. “Can you zip me?”

“Sure, doll,” I muttered. My fingers reached for the tab of the zipper and moved it up a little. She drew in a deep breath as the zipper pulled the turquoise satin together. Halfway up, I paused.

“What’s the matter, baby?” she asked looking back over her trim little shoulder.

“Zipper is … stuck,” I said, and then yanked it back down, the turquoise fabric parting to reveal her clear smooth skin again. I slid the zipper all the way down and the dress began to fall completely away from her body. “Hmm, a shame to cover up such a thing of beauty,” I remarked coolly. I let go of the zipper and the dress fell down past her hips. I ran my fingers up over her back, seeing her skin grow taut in the process.

“But baby we have to get going. I’m already running way too late,” she protested.

“Oh, that is a shame, isn’t it?” I replied and followed with a deep sigh. My fingers ran up over her shoulders and then down over her pert and firm little tits. I drank in the sight of her tender young body like it was the finest aged scotch a man could taste.

“But what about it killing you?” Sylvia laughed nervously as my fingers delved down over the fine soft downy muff between her legs. She twitched and shivered as my fingers ran along the moist slit of her sex.

“Yeah, that’d be a shame, wouldn’t it?” I remarked. “Pretty hard for a society girl like you to explain once the newspapers found out you’d been at a dead man’s walk up.”

“Who says they’d find out?” she countered, leaning back against me and placing her hands on top of mine, trying to guide my touch to where she wanted.

I resisted her move and when satisfied that I had gotten my fill of feeling up her body, I brushed her hands away and reached for her dress, pulling it up again. Her look in the mirror was definitely one of disappointment. “They won’t, cause it ain’t gonna happen,” I answered, pulling up the zipper in one fell swoop. It was easy to read her look of surprise through the flush of her arousal.

“So, what was that all about?” she asked, her voice sounding just a bit flustered.

“Just wanted to get one more eyeful before deciding to take your case,” I said, stepping back to finish dressing myself.

“So you’re going to take my case?” she said, slipping the dainty straps of her dress up over her shoulders. “I knew you would.”

I laughed at her comment and so did she, but for a different reason. The drive over to her fiancé’s house in my trusty old Hudson Hornet coupe was short and sweet. I explained my list of do’s and don’ts to her. I charge by the day with expenses and am paid weekly. I don’t mess around with the clients. I expect the truth, all of it, and nothing but. If she wants my best work, I expect her full disclosure. I don’t do anything illegal, well almost. There were some others but they didn’t seem important. Pulling up in front of her boy’s studio apartment, I shut off the Twin H-power Six. She counted out a wad of dough and handed it to me.

“Here’s your first week’s retainer,” she said smugly. “Along with some expense money.”

“Not bad,” I said, thumbing through the stack of Jacksons.

“Call me,” she said, reaching for the door handle.

“I will,” I answered. She paused and looked at me. Tentatively she leaned back across the wide broadcloth seat of the Hudson and kissed me, a light sweet kiss that lingered teasingly a few moments longer than I certainly expected.

“Just a little something so you won’t forget me,” she whispered. Then she was gone, her trim figure swathed in turquoise satin and a dark fur cape sashaying across the sidewalk and disappearing into the doorway of the building.

Forget her? She knew that I could never do that, just like every other sap that had come into her life for as long as she would have them. But forget her I would the moment this case was closed. I could get involved with the details of her case, but I just couldn’t get involved with her. Going that far would only spell trouble, just like it had for Jimmy Duggan, my old buddy, “Sweet” Jimmy Duggan. He took the bullet meant for the girl he fell for, and I swore that would never happen to me.

But I had a lot on my plate and the morning was already half over. I sat in the Hudson for a few minutes and thumbed through her little black—er, white book. My fingers felt the fine leather binding. This was no dime store phone pad. This was straight from New York. Class, yeah, class, all the class that money can buy, but underneath it all is a hot sexy girl with a libido that doesn’t quit.

There were dozens of names and it would take a steam shovel a week to plow through all of them. Under the listings for the letter C was what must be her sister’s name, Naomi Cavanaugh, with an address listed on Forrester Boulevard. That was a ritzy, high-class neighborhood that I rarely visited without an engraved invitation. Lots of wealthy people who never had to work hard mixed in with a few who had to work their asses off just to get there. There were a hundred more that I had to look over before I made my first move. The Hudson’s straight six roared to life when I punched the starter and I pulled away and headed back to the office.

* * * * *

The day was hot and my second floor office in the Mountain States Building is not exactly a canvas cabana on a windswept beach. I opened the only window, put the circulating fan on the ledge and turned it on. Then I went back to the desk and dialed up Grant Johnson over at the Daily Tribune. Grant and I had done our overseas stint together and ever since we had played a lot of ball together. Occasionally it pays off for the both of us.

“Listen Grant,” I asked. “Know anything about a dame called Sylvia Cavanaugh?”

I could almost hear him rummaging through his mental pigeonholes. There isn’t much of anything or anybody in this city that Grant doesn’t have filed away in his head. That’s his job. My job is to figure out how it all fits together.

“Let’s see,” he mused. His words came slowly but with the verve of richly recalled meaning. “Sylvia Cavanaugh. Socialite heiress, daughter of Peter Cavanaugh, II, deceased. Only one of his children left, I guess. Nope—wait, I think there’s a married sister.”

“Naomi?”

“Yeah, that’s right. How’d you know?”

“A lucky guess you could say.”

“You old dog,” Grant laughed. “You’re holding out on me!”

“Not me, old friend. Go on, this was just getting good.”

“Oh yeah?” Grant cleared his voice and I could hear him take a long drink of whatever it was newspapermen drink at eleven o’clock in the morning, and I knew it wasn’t tea.

“Tell you what,” I said calmly knowing how deep Grant’s files, mental and otherwise could run. “Dig up everything on the whole tribe and meet me for lunch at the El Dorado.”

“Will do. But what’s the pitch, Vince?”

“Dunno yet. We’ll see.”

My next call went to Naomi Cavanaugh. Someone else, perhaps an assistant of some description, answered it. It wasn’t until I explained my reason for calling that the cool dark voice agreed that I could make an appointment for after lunch. Mentioning Sylvia Cavanaugh’s name was already opening up doors. I liked that.

The rest of the morning trickled away as placidly as the old millstream. Nobody opened the reception room door, but that’s the way it goes in this game. You’re busy as a fly swatter in the middle of August for a couple of weeks, and then you have to sit around cooling your heels while someone else develops an unpleasant problem. If there are other kinds of problems, they never find their way to me. At straight up twelve, I snugged up my tie, closed the window, and shut off the fan. It was time for lunch.

* * * * * *

The El Dorado isn’t all the name implies, but my pantry juices get along just fine with the cuisine. Plus, it’s a hangout for all the Tribune dogs who can be pretty useful to a PI with problems. Grant was there in one of the back booths, lifting a gin cooler, his orange hair a vivid note in the murky gloom of the place.

“How’s it by you, Vince?”

“Dim … hoping you can cast a little light.”

“Will try.” Grant stoked his pipe and pulled out his shorthand jottings. “Sylvia Cavanaugh’s sister is now Mrs. Jack Kroll, married two … three years.”

That didn’t surprise me much. “Who’s Jack Kroll?”

“Occupation: playboy. Used to fool around with securities, you know, stocks and bonds, but married money and seems to have relaxed.”

“Okay, what about the Cavanaugh tribe in general?”

“Long story. Ready?” Grant puffed on his pipe and blew the dirt straight across to me. The story was long but made good sense. Peter Cavanaugh I, the grandfather, had died in the 1930’s, leaving a fortune in mining investments. His only son, Peter, a widower, had done all right too, and on his passing to his reward in ’49 had left a nice pile in trust for his three kids, each of whom was to come into his share at the age of twenty-one. A daughter named Naomi had inherited three years later and that same year married Jack Kroll. Seems that Peter Cavanaugh III hadn’t been so lucky. Early last summer the society pages had flamed with his engagement to Karen Heath, secretary to the president of a large local insurance company. In July, a month before his twenty-first birthday, Peter III had met his accidental death at the Cavanaugh mountain lodge.

“Got any details on that?” I asked.

Grant nodded. “What few there are. Seems he disappeared one afternoon while taking a walk along the shore of a nearby lake. Hours later they found his clothes on a high rocky bank about a mile from the lodge. He’d decided to take a swim and dove from there and the water was full of submerged rocks. He struck one of the rocks when he dived; it stunned him and he drowned. Took them three day to recover his body. The inquest called it accidental death.”

“Anything more?”

“Nothing up until about six weeks ago when the society page had it that Sylvia Cavanaugh got herself engaged to Eric Mason, an artist-type who lives over in Plum Hollow.”

I nodded. “Well, that seems to wrap it up pretty good.”

“Oh yeah—one other thing. I understand that this Sylvia Cavanaugh dame is something of a lush.”

I looked at him. “You’re telling me,” I said grimly.

We lunched on the barbecued spare ribs and kraut—the El Dorado Wednesday special. At one thirty I left Grant and punted over to the Cavanaugh place on Forrester Boulevard. It was one of those huge old spreads, fifty years old or more, with a gated stone entrance, a long brick drive, and an impressive marble entrance way. A middle-aged woman in a maid’s cap let me in, parked me in a sitting room, and said she would call Mrs. Kroll. I looked around while she was gone. It was some kind of wigwam all right—inside as well as out; though, myself, I don’t go for this modern glittering chrome and leather and glass modern crap. After about five minutes a girl appeared in the doorway.

“Mr. Latimer?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Karen Heath, Mrs. Kroll’s secretary.”

Not bad, I thought. Sleek black hair, ivory skin, brown eyes in a slender oval face. A white nylon blouse molded to nice breasts and a sleek dark skirt molded to lean but not too lean hips. She could come over and play at my house any time.

I asked, “Did you say Karen Heath?”

“Yes.” Her eyebrows went up slightly. “Why?”

“Nothing,” I remarked casually. From what Grant Johnson had just told me over lunch, Karen Heath had been engaged to Mrs. Kroll’s brother who’d met an unfortunate accidental death. But I probably didn’t have to tell her that and she let it pass.

“Mrs. Kroll would like you to come upstairs, Mr. Latimer. She isn’t feeling well, but insisted upon meeting you … given the nature of your business.”

She turned on her heels and moved briskly toward the hall. I fell into step behind her, lengthening my stride to keep up. It was a long way to the stairs and the stairs were endless, but a pair of very neat legs just ahead of me relieved the monotony of the trip. The corridor of the second floor was broad and carpeted and we proceeded briskly to a door on which she tapped just once. Then she opened it.

“Mr. Latimer,” she announced, and stood aside to let me enter.

If Naomi Kroll wasn’t feeling well, she managed to look better feeling poorly than most women look feeling top-drawer. She sat facing me on a divan in front of the fireplace. She was tall and redheaded and sheathed from throat to ankle in a sea green housecoat that fit her the way icing fits a cake. It was pretty delectable cake too. The flaw in the picture, if any, was the cold remoteness of her expression, the ice-colored eyes that went over you like you were a spoiled rutabaga on a penniless peddlar’s cart. They were going over me like that right now, but I’m not a sensitive plant and I managed not to wilt.

Without moving she said, “Mr. Latimer. Sit down, please.”

I lowered myself into an armchair facing the lounge.

“Will you have a cigarette?”

“No thanks.”

She took one from a cloisonné box on the table at her side. I went over with my lighter and fired it up for her and sat back down again. She exhaled smoke, eyed me in a speculative silence for half a minute, and then said, “You’re a private detective, Mr. Latimer.”

“Yes.”

“I understand that my sister, Sylvia, has consulted with you.”

I decided at this point that it wouldn’t hurt to be just a little evasive, in fact there wasn’t much in detail that I wanted to reveal to her anyway. Not that there were many details to begin with.

“As a matter of fact, Mrs. Kroll, Sylvia didn’t consult with me as such,” I elaborated. “We met—uh—in a bar and talked a bit, and she hinted that she might need my services on a business matter sometime.”

The ice-colored eyes explored me for a moment, and then she sighed. “In a bar. I see. That explains it. Then she didn’t go into this business matter? So why are you here?”

“Actually, she did,” I stated. “And that’s why I’m here.”

There was a short silence. Naomi got up suddenly from the divan and began to walk around the room, picking things up, laying them down again, biting at her lower lip, and acting as fidgety as a shadow on a windy night.

“I … I know that Sylvia is troubled … our brother drowned last year … horribly.” She sniffled sadly. “She has been wandering, like a lost sailor from port to port looking for God only knows what.” Then she paused and drew herself up and looked directly at me. “So just why has she hired you?”

“Sylvia believes that someone is out to murder her.”

It could have been an H-bomb that I dropped at that moment. Naomi Kroll reached for the edge of the table that was nearest her and held on for dear life until her knuckles turned white.

“My god! Who?” she asked with a desperate tremor in her voice.

“I don’t have a clue,” I said. “That’s why I asked to talk to you.”

“Oh, I see,” she said looking relieved and sinking into the plush naugahyde chair beside the table. “I … I … I was afraid that you …”

Her voice trailed off and the ice-colored eyes glared off into the distance, to someplace far beyond where I was sitting.

“Afraid of what, Mrs. Kroll?”

She shook her head side-to-side and breathed deeply. She didn’t look back at me for a minute or two, her eyes closed. And then when they opened she looked at everything in the room before she glanced in my direction.

“I was afraid that Jack—my Jack—and Sylvia were somehow … involved.”

I stifled a laugh but eyed the elegant attractive woman sitting just a few feet away from me. Here I was checking out a life and death kind of threat and this rich broad can only be concerned about her husband catting around on her. Maybe a light-hearted comment might break this ridiculous tension.

“I specialize in unpleasant affairs, Mrs. Kroll,” I began, uncertain of where this line might lead. “But this has nothing to do with your husband and Sylvia.”

“Funny how one can think up such things,” Naomi replied. “Silly … silly … silly …”

I eyed her. The first thing that I thought was that Jack Kroll must be nuts if he was out playing the field when he had this beauty waiting at home; but on second thought, I had to concede that maybe her value was purely decorative. If she was as cold as she looked, maybe a man might have to go afield to keep from freezing to death. And little Sylvia—well obviously Sylvia was a completely different sort.

“You think that they are having an affair? That means that you don’t exactly have proof, right?”

“No. Not the sort of proof that would stand up in court.” She turned her cigarette between her fingers and stared at the tip of it as if the smoldering ash was something completely captivating. “You must think of me as petty and selfish, all worried about my philandering husband when my little sister’s life had been threatened.”

“Ma’am, I don’t make judgments. That’s for a higher authority than me. I’m just looking for someone who might have it in for Sylvia.”

She looked at me and now I noticed that there were dark bruise-like circles under the ice-colored eyes, as though she had been losing a lot of sleep lately.

“My husband has always philandered,” she went on in a low bleak voice. “I stopped caring a long, long time ago. But when I thought that this time it might be Sylvia, then it became a different story.”

I started to interrupt her, but she paid no attention to me and kept on talking.

“Sylvia is very young and troubled. Ever since Peter died last year she had been drinking too much and throwing herself from one man to the next. Now she’s engaged to be married and her whole life could be ruined by an indiscretion of this kind. For her sake I’ve got to stop it.”

That stung. Sharply. To the core of my senses. I studied her in silence. It was hard to evaluate her the way I like to evaluate everyone I interview while on a case. The decorative values of her attractive appearance kept interfering with my sound and reasoned judgment. Suddenly she leaned forward and unexpected vehemence flashed into her eyes and voice.

“Don’t you see? I’ve got to get her back here and find out the truth about what’s going on—before Eric finds out.”

“Eric? Her fiancé?”

“Yes.”

“Mrs. Kroll, I just left her off at Eric’s apartment a couple hours ago. I’m sure that they are just fine.”

“Oh?” The ice-colored eyes flashed at me and I could feel the sharp chill from across the room. I felt like I was being scrutinized the way that any of Sylvia’s common barfly conquests might have been. But, hell? Was I really any different? All of a sudden the incredible moment of pleasure of this morning seemed to be so meaningless and trivial. Good fucking thing that I wasn’t going to get involved with Sylvia Cavanaugh. “Then we have nothing else to talk about.”

“Not unless you have any idea who might want to see your little sister laying on a stone slab at the coroner’s office.”

“Everyone loves Sylvia,” Naomi said haltingly. There was just the slightest flicker of warmth behind the ice-colored eyes. “She is a happy carefree child at heart. Always has been. I can’t think of a soul who would want to see her dead.”

The look in her eyes told me that this interview was over. I watched as she stubbed out her cigarette and then I got up from my seat.

“Thank you for your time, Mrs. Kroll,” I said moving slowly toward her and pulling out my calling card. “If you think of anything that might help us find out who’s pestering your sister, please give me a call.”

Naomi Kroll smiled weakly and accepted my card and said, “My secretary will show you out.”

I reached for my hat. Omnisciently the secretary knew that I was leaving and met me on the other side of the open door. As she led me down the heart-shaped circular staircase I couldn’t help but slow and take in the gallery of portraits that lined the stairwell.

“That’s Mr. Kroll,” Karen pointed out as I admired a formal portrait of a what the ladies might call a hunk of a man, tall and broad shouldered, flowing blond hair, deep set eyes, boyishly crooked smile. Even if he was a philanderer, was this the kind of man about whom Mrs. Kroll could really stop caring?

“Is he really the chaser his wife seems to think that he is?” I asked.

“I really wouldn’t know,” Karen replied impersonally as she ran a slim hand over her dark hair.

“How long have they been married?”

“Three … almost four years.”

“Any trouble?”

“Trouble?”

“I wouldn’t think if they got along that Mrs. Kroll would be suspicious unless there was trouble of some kind.”

She let that one lie and we proceeded further down the stairs until I reached a gorgeous studio shot of Sylvia. This was my little blonde all right, looking even more luscious than she had just a few hours before. Honey-colored hair in a short helmet-like bob with a v-shaped bang above blue eyes. Warmth and youthful eagerness, youthful boldness in those big eyes, and in the full sensuous mouth, and in the very tilt of her head on the lovely naked shoulders. Maybe Jack Kroll wasn’t so nuts to chase after this one. Fuck, I had been sucked in, figuratively and literally. I looked away from the photo in the direction of Miss Heath.

“She is very pretty, don’t you think?”

Ah, the green tint of jealousy! And that from someone who had just as much going for her, except that it wasn’t quite so much in spades.

“Does she spend much time here?” I asked. “With a teepee this big, you might think that there’d be room here in the inn.”

“She has her own apartment … you know how independent young women like to be this day and age.”

“Perhaps she and Mrs. Kroll don’t get along so well,” I suggested.

The dark eyes considered me carefully. “You’re a very curious man, Mr. Latimer.”

“Nosey curious or peculiar curious?”

“Nosey.”

I smiled cheerfully. “Occupational hazard, honey. Sure, I’m nosey. It’s my job. But having said that, I’m only asking about half the questions that are on my mind.”

Something not quite so impersonal wandered into her eyes, like it shouldn’t be there, but what the hell? “Really?” she asked. “What else is on your mind?”

“I’m asking myself if I could interest you in dinner tomorrow night?”

“Then why don’t you ask me?”

“So I will. Could I interest you in dinner tomorrow night?”

“Sorry I have a previous engagement.”

“Well ain’t that the way it goes,” I said casually with a shrug of my broad shoulders.

She flashed a weak grin and sent me on my way.

“One last thing,” I said once we had reached the foyer and stood near the front door.

“What could that be?” Karen asked with just a trace of exasperation in her voice.

“Where might I find Mr. Kroll this time of day?”

“How would I know?” she asked defensively, then brightened. “This being the middle of the week, I have heard that Mr. Kroll likes to spend a day up at the lodge fishing.”

“And just where would I find the lodge?”

“Just a minute, I can find you a map,” she said and strutted into a small cozy room off the foyer with a desk and chairs, obviously an office of some kind, perhaps even hers. She looked startled when she stood up after retrieving the map, as if she didn’t expect to see me standing beside her. The map crackled smartly as she unfolded it onto the desk. I caught a whiff of a clean spicy scent as I leaned over the map with her.

“Take Highway 23 out to Thaxter. There’s this secondary road north out of there that will take you to the little town of Moose Rapids. Turn left at the Standard station in town, keep going straight and you’ll find yourself on a dirt road. It’s rough going, full of hairpin turns, so watch out. After about six miles you’ll come to a branch. Take the left turn and about three miles should bring you to Duck Lake. When the road ends, that’s it. You’ll be in the back yard of the lodge. The caretaker’s cabin is just beyond. Can you remember all this or should I write it down?”

“The memory’s fine,” I said. “This caretaker now—”

“Yes, Cliff Nielson. He’s there the year around and you’ll have to be careful not to run into him or you’ll have no excuse to get into the house. However his cabin is some distance from the lodge on the other side of a slight knoll, and chances are he won’t see you drive in.”

“Any other lodges in the neighborhood?”

“Several across the lake, but no others on that side. It’s pretty isolated.” She started to fold up the map. It didn’t fold right. It folded terrible. I reached over and took it from her.

“Women never know about these things,” I said. “Let an expert try. Sure you’re tied up for tomorrow night?”

“Quite sure.”

“Us private eyes make good money,” I bragged. “When we work, us private eyes take a girl out in style.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“And now, I suppose you’ve got lots of work waiting for you and you really must say good afternoon.”

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” she replied.

“Very well, Miss Heath. Good afternoon.” At the door to her office I turned. She was still standing there by the desk and our eyes met. “The trouble is, you’re a damned handsome filly, as the Kentucky colonel would say. What if we leave it like this? If you change your mind about that dinner you’ll call me.”

She smiled then. It happened sort of accidentally, and it was gone fast, but it had been there. “All right,” she replied. “We’ll leave it like that.”

The foyer was empty and silent. I walked across the stark marble floor and opened the front door. Nobody came to say good-bye. I let myself out and climbed into the Hudson and rolled down the drive. All you could say was that I was on the job. Solidly.

 

[DangerousDarkEyes]

Sylvia

“Never mind, she just came in,” Eric said indignantly into the phone receiver before slamming it down. “Well?”

“That’s what I was just about to say to you,” I said, quickly scanning the dark basement as I walked downstairs.

Eric had turned the basement into his studio with not much furniture other than a couple chairs, small wooden table and the rest was filled with painted and unpainted canvas’s, paints, easels, and brushes. Sectioned off in the far back were where the coal burning furnace, washer, clothes line and room for storing things were hidden from view.

His studio was everything a young inspiring artist needed; the fact that it was dark, damp and held that musty odor had advantage’s as well when painting, allowing the paint to dry slowly so he didn’t have to rush. What surprised me was I had never seen it in such a mess before. It looked like someone had just thrown a major temper tantrum and by the scowl on his unshaven face, he was a little more than upset that I was late.

“Never mind me Sylvia, where the hell have you been? You were supposed to be here almost two hours ago.” Eric retorted, glaring at me adding with sarcasm, “Or had you forgotten that I have a very important client coming to have her portrait painted in less than hour.” Without waiting for my answer, he turned and started picking up his brushes and things that had been swept off the table.

Although I had only known him about six months or so, it was the first time I ever seen him quite so angry, unexpectedly causing an icy chill to rush down my spine. That feeling left just as quickly when he turned around and bent over. The view of him with his dark wet hair pasted to his bare back and his black trousers outlining perfectly that tight bottom of his took my breath away.

“Awwwww, now sweetie,” I drew in a deep breath, exhaling, hot and steamy air across his shoulder. Already having slid my dress off while walking up behind him, I wrapped my arms around him pressing the palms of my hands against his breasts. “I’m here now and we still have some time…”

“The only thing I have time for is a shave before I finishing getting dressed,” he said, although dropping the scowl, he remained unmoving.

“Well then, if you’re going to stay mad…” I said soft and slowly, hinting at my disappointment but gliding the tip of my tongue across his shoulder. “I might as well call a cab and…” I let my words trail and backed away from him.

“Might as well…” he started to say until he turned around and saw me standing there naked, wearing only the smile he had become very familiar with in such a short time. “Then again…” Eric said with a deep throaty voice and reaching his hands out, slowly circling my pink perky nipples with his fingers.

“Yes?”

“Oh yeah!” He answered, quickly swooping me up in his strong muscular arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Although a quick love making session, but intense, I managed to leave before his client showed up. I arrived back at my apartment after picking up my car a little afternoon, exhausted. Once inside and alone, my anxiety built as I moved through the rather large living room, scanning for anything that might be say that someone had been here. Even though I saw nothing out of the ordinary, I still couldn’t shake the fear welling up inside.

Why was it that every time I came home I had the distinct feeling that someone was watching me? And after getting that note I kept getting the creeps just unlocking my own door. I just couldn’t imagine anyone in my life hating me enough to kill me, but then when it came to money, I knew some people would do just about anything to get it.

I went to the kitchen, continuously looking over my shoulder while I poured myself a stiff drink, downing it quickly and poured another. I noticed the fresh flowers in a face in the center of the kitchen table and grinned, letting go of some of the tension. I had forgotten that it was the day the house keeping service came and seeing that they had been here already, relieved my mind only a little.

Carrying my drink, along with the bottle, I walked down the dark hallway, tossed the bag with my things on my bed and continued to the bathroom. I set the drink and bottle down on the small tray next to the white porcelain bathtub, giving a quick glance beneath its legs. Come on Syl, you really think anyone could fit underneath that tub? Think you might be getting a little carried away…

After another drink waiting for the tub to fill, I finally sunk down in the warm soothing water, letting the bubbles tickle my nose. Once the alcohol started taking effect and I began to relax, thoughts of this morning and Vince played in my mind. I had heard he was pretty good after checking around. Now that I had met him, a smile creased my lips. I just hoped he was as good at solving mysteries as he was between the sheets. Was he really serious about not mixing business with pleasure?

 

[Miltone]

Vince Latimer, PI

State Highway 23 out of the city is straight as a taut string until you hit the foothills. I pulled into Thaxter a little after four, stopped for a cup of Joe, and then hit over to Moose Rapids. Miss Karen Heath had been right; it was tough going, and I don’t think that I met two cars the whole way. The scenery made up for it though. This was high country and every mile was taking me higher, through pine-covered hills toward distant ragged peaks. The air was appreciably cooler than down in the valley—thin, pine needle sharp, heady. And the way to the edge of the graveled road kept dropping away to plain nothing on the hairpin curves was even headier at moments.

Around five-ten I pulled into Moose Rapids, which consisted of a couple of dusty streets lined with a few drab unpainted frame houses, a bar and a general store. The Standard station was a gas pump in front of a rusting Quonset hut at the end of the main drag. I turned left there per Miss Heath’s instructions and found myself on the promised dirt road. In two minutes even the rear view mirror of the Hudson had forgotten Moose Rapids.

After that, nothing. I didn’t meet a car and didn’t pass a human habitation; there was just me and the Hudson winding up and up through the tunnels of tall pine, and then presently dropping through more tunnels of tall pine, and then the bare rock of the road not even dirt coated in spots. Then finally there was the branch, which at least made me feel like I was getting somewhere, and the road became even narrower and stonier from then on, but I knew it wasn’t too much farther now. And finally an open gate and beyond it a big peeled-log building squatting among lodge-pole pines at the edge of a lake.

I drove in as far as I could, stopped, cut the ignition. Daylight was fading fast up here in the hills; a chill gloomy sort of light lay over everything. I could hear the sound of water lapping on the rocks, and a wind had come up and was groaning and whining through the tops of the pines. All in all, it just wasn’t very cheerful, somehow.

I got out anyway, and the wind cut through my summer-weight clothes like they weren’t there. I looked at the building. It definitely had the closed-up look of nobody at home, but there was a carport at the south end and a bright red Cadillac convertible was pulled up snug under it. Jack Kroll’s car I figured.

I padded across a pine needle carpet to the rear door. The swing windows across the back were closed and probably locked; the door behind the screen was closed, too. I acted the part of a lost tourist, not a house-breaker, and I opened the screen and rapped smartly. Nothing happened. I pounded lustily next time and nothing happened some more. Just silence and that feeling of nobody at home rolling out at me.

But somebody had to be there. The Caddy said so; and so had Karen Heath. Then—God knows why—I reached for the knob and turned it. The door gave without any trouble at all, and I found myself in a short, narrow, pine-paneled hall. There was a closed door at my left, probably leading into a kitchen, and another partly ajar at the end of the hall. Not a sound, nothing—except an eerie feeling of emptiness.

After a moment I moved down the hall and into the room at the end of it. It was an immense room, swing windows all across the side that overlooked the lake. Indian rugs on the polished pine floor, colorful padded outdoor furniture, sporting prints on the paneled walls, a huge stone fireplace at the north end. Very lodge-y and woodsy. And very still and empty.

I moved a little way into the room and looked around. There were three doors opening off it at the back. One into the kitchen, I supposed, the other two into bedrooms. I went over and opened one. Empty except for a handsome expensive suitcase lying opened up on the large double bed, the contents slightly ruffled through. A finely tailored suit rested on a hanger in the open closet and a pair of alligator oxfords lie below on the floor. Otherwise the room was empty and undisturbed. Neat and tidy. Recently cleaned. Nosing through the other bedroom, I found it filled with dust and a stale dank odor of disuse. I chuckled to see some primitive drawings hung proudly on the walls, crayon and pencil sketches of a child, drawn up maybe ten or fifteen years ago.

I went back to the large room overlooking the lake. That was when I made out the flicker of lights down on the lake and heard the ripple of a boat motor breaking into the steady moan of the wind. Stepping out into the growing chill of the evening I heard the sound of happy and drunken voices echoing up from the lake as the boat motor shut off and the hull bumped errantly against the dock.

“Whup-ho-hay!” came one deep voice voice merrily.

“Wastsh your step, Nels,” sounded another voice, a deep but drunkenly besotted voice.

Looking down from the porch that lined the back of the lodge I could see in the lingering last light of the day two dark figures clambering up from a nice-sized fishing boat, carrying their fishing gear and a measly stringer of what looked like middling sized panfish. It took them a while to clean their catch. I could hear them laughing and joking down in the fish house as they fumbled with the chore. Eventually they reached the stairs leading up to the lodge and stumbled their way to the top. If Mrs. Kroll was afraid of her husband having some kind of affair, she was sadly mistaken. Unless Mr. Kroll went for tall burly Finns.

“What the?” said the big barrel-chested man when he saw me posted near the top of the stairs.

“Who’re you?” said the other one who had to be Jack Kroll. Even stone drunk he struck a handsome figure, tall and broad shouldered, wavy blond hair tucked under a stinky old fishing hat, deep-set eyes, and a boyishly crooked smile.

“Latimer, Vince Latimer,” I said strongly. “Mr. Jack Kroll I presume?”

“Suppose that depends on who’s doing the presuming,” Kroll replied. “You’re not a process server are you?”

“No, I’m not,” I answered straightforward. “I’ve been hired by Sylvia Cavanaugh to look into a … a … let’s say, a threat on her life.”

“A threat? Sylvia? You gotta be kidding!” Kroll exclaimed with a laugh and not anything halfway close to the outrage I expected. But there was a leering tone to his voice that wasn’t just the liquor speaking when he added, “I can think of many things with Sylvia, many things, believe me, but murder isn’t one of them.” I could have sworn that he winked at me.

“Easily understood,” I said, moving to the side so that the two men could land fully on the porch and cross to the house. “I have some questions for you, Mr. Kroll.”

“Say, you a sportsman?” Kroll asked, weaving back and forth as he ambled toward the lodge.

“Mostly indoor sports,” I answered honestly.

“Kinda figured,” Kroll mumbled. “Tell you what, Nels here and I were about to have us a little old-fashioned fish fry. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like. Freshest catch in the county!”

“Thank you,” I said mulling over the offer and weighing it against having the evening special at the El Dorado once I made it back to town. And that was two hours away and the night breeze was rising. “Might be nice to have a home-cooked meal for a change.”

Kroll chuckled and waved me inside and thus I joined them for dinner. A couple glasses of cheap hooch on the rocks and I was feeling close to their level of inebriation. Actually Kroll warmed up to me pretty well. Nielson was the one who worried me. He kept his light colored eyes trained on me the whole time, warily watching my every move. While they prepared their repast I had plenty of time to yak them up with small talk and questions.

Like, “You know of anyone who might want to see Sylvia Cavanaugh join her brother?” I asked.

“You mean kill her? Hell no,” Kroll huffed. Nielson continued to eye me closely. “Sylvia is a sweet kid, a little loose when she liquors up but a decent kid. If I wasn’t married to her sister, I might be tempted …” His words trailed off as he caught himself about to disclose the location of the unprotected family jewels. Kroll then just shook his head.

“How about you?” I asked Nielson. “Anybody you know of have it in for her?”

“Nah,” Nielson grunted, shaking his head and turning the potatoes that were frying in the pan with a decided vigilance.

I had to admit that their cooking was pleasing, not something that I would want to confess to Harold, the cook at the El Dorado. We sat around like we were old friends, passing around a bottle of Seven Star as we picked clean the bones of the smattering of sunfish and bluegills and perch and rock bass.

“Ya know,” Kroll said kicking back from the table. “The only sonofabitch I ever heard say anything bad about sweet little Sylvia was … was … was, what the fuck was his name Nels?”

“Mitchell, his name was Mitchell.”

The overhead light was blaring brightly, casting a distracting sheen on Kroll’s blond hair.

“Right, their dear old Uncle Mitchell on the night of my wedding … my fucking wedding … told her that she was a whore and a slut and would never amount to anything … she was a fucking kid at the time … she ran from the hall bawling her eyes out … Naomi had to go comfort her … took for fucking ever to get out of there and downtown to the Statler Hilton … you know, my God Damned wedding night … whatever happened to that bastard, anyway, Nels?”

“Who knows? Who cares?”

“Right, who fucking cares?” Kroll ranted on.

“Well, I need to be getting back to the city,” I said rising uneasily to my feet.

“Hell, you ain’t going anywhere,” Kroll said, smacking the table with his hand. “You can sleep it off in the spare room, right, Nels?”

“Nah, I’m fine,” I drawled, only a touch more lucid than these two who had been drinking since god knows when. “A nice slow drive down to the valley will freshen me up.” I stumbled toward the door. Kroll got up and followed me over to the door, weaving and bobbing beside me as the fresh mountain air hit him. “Say, you wouldn’t have any idea why your wife might think that you were cheating on her, would ya?”

“What? What the fuck?”

“Nah, nothing … just a stab in the dark,” I said turning to go.

“Wait,” Kroll said, grabbing the sleeve of my jacket. “What Naomi say?” Suddenly he seemed sober as all get out.

Nothing really,” I said. “Just that she thought you might be fooling around with Sylvia. And I kind of got the impression that she thought you might be up here with her tonight.”

“Get that, would ya, Nels!” Kroll exclaimed. “Me and Sylvia! In my fucking dreams!” Kroll laughed, the sound rolling noisily as I excused myself and left the lodge. The pine needles crunched underneath my Thom McAns as I staggered toward the Hudson. This was fucking great. Here I am, stone ass drunk and a narrow mountain trail to lead me back to civilization. But somehow the old trusty Hudson and me made it back. Back down from the mountains and through the pines to Moose Rapids and Thaxter and finally down into the city … my city, my town.

The cool mountain air helped to sober me up as I drove along with the windows rolled down. Hard to say what I thought of Kroll and Nielson, much less Naomi Kroll and Karen Heath. But Sylvia … hell, Sylvia was definitely on my mind when I rolled into the city. And when I fell into my place at the end of the line--it was nearly midnight--I found that she had left a calling card. There on my dresser was the pale pink pair of French-cut panties she had been wearing the night before. As I fingered them fondly I remembered the night before and the morning after.

Sylvia was young and beautiful and rich and everything that I had always wanted in a girl up till now. But she was a job, a case, a … a … oh, what the fuck do they call it in business? A client! Yeah, she was my client, my goddamned client, and I had to keep some goddamned rules about not fucking around with clients. Hell, I know what I would have done right then if she had been here with me, and it wouldn't have involved playing a hearty game of Old Maid. I fell onto the sheets, her silky panties in my hand and lurid, lascivious thoughts of Sylvia Cavanaugh on my mind …

 

[DangerousDarkEyes]

Sylvia

The dull ringing of the telephone echoed throughout the apartment, six, seven times then silence, only to start again.

“Allllright! I’m coming,” I called out lazily from the bathtub.

Again the phone rang, this time practically booming inside my head now that I was awake. Stepping out of the tub, I was tickled from the droplets of water shimmering down the length of my trim little body, several dripping off my pert nipples. The instant I feet that chilly air hit the warmth of my flesh, those tiny little goose bumps were spring up all over my body. Shivering, I wrapped a pink terry bath towel around myself and quickly went to answer the phone.
Right before the kitchen entrance, the telephone sat on top of the cherry wood foyer table standing against the wall and opposite that of my living room. I warmed at the view of the moonlight filtering thru the glass picture window just as I picked up the phone receiver only to hear the long dull hum of the line going dead.

“Well god damn, all that fuss again, just to hang up.”

With the towel around me and tucked tightly against my breasts, I went to close the drapes. I stood there for several minutes looking out as I did often, taking it all in with a lingering sigh being a romantic at heart and always an admirer of a full moon. The parking lot below had already started filling up for the night and other than a shadow of what looked to be a man passing under the streetlamp, all was still. I pulled the drapes together, my silhouette now shadowing the view outside if anyone were glancing up when I turned and walked back towards to my room.

Letting the towel fall away from my slim form, I sat down at the edge of my double bed and hanging my head down between my knees, dried my hair.

Those phone calls were really starting to unnerve me and I thought perhaps I might mention this to Mr. Latimer. A devilish spark shown in my eyes, recalling once again our first meeting and I even giggled softly when those thoughts sent the tingling sensation of desire right to my warm sex. With the sound of my giggles echoing the walls of my apartment and breaking thru the eerie silence that was hanging in the air, I suddenly felt my tensions of the day give way.

I fell back against the quilt spread covering my bed, laughing almost to the point of hysterics. My face lit up, smiling from cheek to cheek while tears just ran and I shook practically uncontrollably with the laughter and the more I pictured if someone were to walk in on me right now, the more I laughed. Maybe that was it I started to wonder, could it be someone trying to kill me by driving me totally insane.

The phone rang again, causing me to jump and pull myself together. I rolled over across the bed, picking up the receiver from the phone sitting on my nightstand next to the bed. This time I was quick, thinking it was the same jerk that kept hanging up on me and answered allowing my aggravation come out in my voice.

“OK YOU JERK, WHO EVER THE FUCK YOU ARE, I HAD JUST ABOUT ENOUGH…”

“Enough of what? Sure you don’t mean not getting enough sister dear, is that a hint of frustration in your voice?”

Finally recognizing the sound of Naomi’s voice filled with that all so ever present sweet sarcasm stopped me short. It wasn’t until I heard her repeat herself that finally I took a breath and held back my tongue, glad I didn’t have to pretend to smile as well.

“Sorry Naomi, I thought you were…well never mind, so how are you? Everything alright, it’s not like you to call late like this.” I replied in my sweet sisterly voice, we both understood, ignoring her remark completely.

“Late? I shouldn’t have to be calling at all, that is if you hadn’t left the house so early the other day, disappearing again for god knows where. Do you know how…”

“If this is another lecture, please spare me,” I interrupted her and sat up, lying against several fluffy pillows stacked against the headboard of my bed. “So what’s the urgency, must be something important when you call me after the sun goes down.” I added, laughing a bit and reached over to take a cigarette from my pack on the night stand.

“Well, I was just worried,” Naomi stuttered some, she never was any good at beating around the bush, and finally I could almost feel the spit on my end of the phone as she spat out what the hell was I thinking, hiring a private, and on and on I listened to her until she exhausted herself and had to stop just to breath.

It didn’t take me long to give her a brief summary, making light of the entire reason for hiring Mr. Vince Latimer. Who by the way she didn’t resist giving me the run down on what she thought about him. A wicked smile came across my face, particularly upon hearing her vivid description of him, naturally assuming he was another one of my male friends at first glance. After talking to her for a little while longer, I hurried to end the conversation so that I could dress for the night.

Several hours later and after a few strong drinks at the local tavern I frequented occasionally, I sat on the bar stool talking to a very nice gentleman. We had been talking for quite some time and I had noticed more than once his eyes gazing at the low center between my breasts. The sleek black taffetta dress I had on fit smug against my figure, outlining every curve while even I seemed more voluptuous with my breasts practically spilling from there confines. So to say that I wasn’t a bit shocked, surprised as well as disappointed having a nice warm, arousing buzz going only to be rudely interrupted by none other than my gentleman friends wife.

With the help of the bartender, my sweet disposition and sincere apologies, along with buying the happy couple dinner, the situation was resolved. But unfortunately that left me alone, feeling very amorous and not wanting to spend the rest of the evening without a warm body, or worse having to think about…

“Kenny, honey, could I have some change for the phone?” I smiled flirtingly, leaning my elbow on the bar and bending forward with my hand held out.

Kenny the bartender smiled, a flush coming into his cheeks and handed me a nickel for the phone. His eyes never moved above the pearl necklace hanging nicely around my neck. I flashed my eyelashes at him, thanking him and after asking for another drink, I went to the back of the building where the pay booth was. It took me several minutes, rummaging thru my purse before I found the number I was looking for. I sat on the stool in front of the phone with my legs crossed and dropped the money in a slot and dialed. I was about to hang up after hearing it ring several times but then a gruff voice answered, obviously haven been asleep.

“This better be important waking me up at this hour of the morning.”

“Well if a pretty young female finds herself sitting all alone at a bar wanting only that of the company of some nice young…say private investigator to…say to speak with, perhaps buy her another drink, would you say that was important?” I softly purred into the phone, that look of desire well showing in my eyes and heard in my voice. “It would be my treat of course, or expense if you’d rather call it a business meeting. And I do think I need to talk to you about these strange phone calls I have been recently getting.” My grin increased, wondering if seeing me dressed like this when he got here, he might perhaps be a bit distracted from business.

 

[Miltone]

Vince Latimer, PI

The petite sexy girl nestles her body down between my legs, her lips parting, sweetly sucking my dick deep into her mouth … “Oh Baby! Stop! I can’t … I told you before… goddamn, no! Stop it, baby … oh fuck that feels good!” … but the damned bell wouldn’t stop ringing. Damn it! … “Don’t answer the phone,” Sylvia says … but the bell won't stop its ringing sharply in my ears … briiinnng! briiinnng! briiinnng!

Fuck! I sat straight up on the bed startled by the ringing of the phone. I reached for the phone through the moonlit darkness of my room.

“This had better be important waking me up at this hour of the morning,” I grunted into the receiver with a surly disposition. I hated being woken up from a great dream.

“Well if a pretty young female finds herself sitting all alone at a bar wanting only that of the company of some nice young … say private investigator to … say to speak with, perhaps buy her another drink, would you say that was important?”

The voice was unmistakably Sylvia Cavanaugh’s. The way she purred into the phone would have melted a frozen Hershey bar. She sure knew how to work it, and I had to admit I didn’t mind her working it on me.

“It would be my treat of course, or expense if you’d rather call it a business meeting,” she went on, the voice deep and sweet and husky. “And I do think I need to talk to you about these strange phone calls I have been recently getting.”

“Phone calls you say?” I asked, jolted alive by her revelation.

“Yes, phone calls,” Sylvia sighed. “They call and let it ring for as long as it takes me to answer, then hang up and call back a few minutes later. I get so cross when that happens.”

“I can imagine.”

“So about that drink?”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at Eddie’s Bar & Grill down on 34th Street,” she replied. “I’ll be waiting.”

Then the phone went dead. She hadn’t just hung up on me, had she? Or had she? As I reset the phone onto the cradle I saw the silky French cut panties lying on my bed. I lifted them up and took a nice sniff. Expensive perfume and the sweet smell of sex! And then I felt my dick twinge painfully and had to reach down into my pants to straighten it out. God, just the sound of her voice and the memory of our first “business meeting” could do the trick, making me stand up harder that a cue stick. But I have my do’s and don’ts. If Sylvia had a list it had mostly do’s on it.

Fifteen minutes later, fool that I am, found me pulling the Hudson up in front of Eddie’s, a quiet little dive nestled downtown near the big hotels, a cozy place where men with no name came to meet women with no reputation. I crushed out my Camel in the ashtray of the Hudson and walked into the bar. The place wasn’t filled but wasn’t empty either. The lights were dim, the jukebox music cheesy, and the atmosphere filled with the tang of cigarettes and cheap booze. Sylvia was sitting at the bar looking straight ahead.

“I knew you’d come,” she said, not turning to look in my direction, preferring instead to watch me in the large mirror behind the bar while she finished her cigarette.

“Someone has to look out for your best interests,” I replied. The barkeep approached with a cocktail napkin and a question mark painted on his face. I kept my eye on Sylvia. “I’ll be drinking with one of my favorite relatives tonight. Maybe you’ve heard of him? Jack Daniels?”

The barkeep nodded and looked over at Sylvia. She grinned at him, tossed down the last of her drink and set it on the bar.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” I chutted. It was such a shame to see someone so young and beautiful drink herself to death. But when she looked over at me with those startling blue eyes, the rosy high round cheekbones, and that gorgeous mouth full of beautiful white teeth, I knew that anything I could say about her drinking wouldn’t be listened to anyway. And did it fucking matter? I wasn’t her Daddy—although the nasty thought that I might want to be had a strong appeal. “So what’s this business about phone calls, doll?”

Sylvia leaned toward me, her pale little blonde body looked like two scoops of vanilla ice cream packed into a black taffeta cone, and part of me wanted to lick her until she melted. She lifted an arm up to rest it on my shoulder.

“Someone keeps calling me, especially late at night, and just when I answer they hang up.”

“Man, woman?”

“Don’t know. They never say anything.”

“Maybe a little heavy breathing?”

“Nope, nothing.”

“Any sounds in the background?”

She looked at me for a moment like I was a baboon in the city zoo. Then she cocked her head to think for a minute.

“Sometimes, I hear a voice in the background, not like someone’s there, but maybe like on the radio.”

“Or the TV?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, maybe the TV.” Sylvia pulled out another cigarette from a fresh pack of smokes. I couldn’t resist the way she dangled it from her slender fingers, and produced my 1st Infantry souvenir Zippo. Her hand rested lightly on mine as she leaned in to catch the light. Even after her cigarette caught fire and she drew in a long drag, her hand remained on mine. “You were in the war?”

“Yeah, from North Africa through when the Rhine was crossed.”

“Then you’re older than I thought,” Sylvia remarked, her hand finally slipping away from mine.

“And that’s a problem for you?”

“No, not for me … never for me,” she said slowly, taking a deep drag and letting it loose. “I have a thing for older guys.”

“Older guys, eh? Like Jack Kroll?”

She gave me the baboon look again and laughed. “You can’t be serious! Jack? Sure he’s had his eye on me since the day we met. But I was only fifteen at the time and even though it was kind of flattering for a young girl, you know, he is a pretty handsome man.” Then her laugh faded and her eyes grew narrow and serious. “But, no, I never had any interest in him. Not that he wouldn’t do in a pinch or anything, but after all he belongs to Naomi and she never liked to share her toys with me at all.” Sylvia looked at me closely. “Why do you ask about Jack?”

“Because Naomi thinks that there’s something going on between you two.”

Another laugh. Damn! She looked so goddamned good when she laughed, round cheeks and white teeth and the sound, rich and husky and full.

“Jack has been fooling around with some girl or other ever since I’ve known him,” Sylvia said. “Naomi knows all about it. I used to tell her when I ‘d see him out at some club or other, but after a while I stopped saying anything because it just seemed to bring her down so much. Then maybe about a year or two ago, things seemed to change. Jack stopped catting around, at least I didn’t see him at any of the clubs he used to frequent. He even stopped trying to pick up on me, didn’t seem to be straying too far from the nest, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do,” I said, belting down a raw slug of Jack. “So tell me, how are things with you and your fiancé?”

“I don’t see where that’s any of your business,” Sylvia said defiantly.

“That’s where you’re wrong, doll,” I said, setting the glass of Jack down on the bar. “Especially after what happened between us.”

“So what do you want to know?” she asked, her head still tilted up proudly.

“Are you two ‘on’ or ‘off’ or what?”

“Eric and me? We’re all right,” Sylvia replied.

“When’s the happy day?”

“We haven’t set a date. He wants to wait until his next big showing before setting the date.”

“Sounds like he’s looking for an excuse to back out.”

“Eric? Hardly. He loves me so much. I’m sure that if I asked him to, that he’d walk through hot coals and never flinch. He’s just this temperamental artist. Nothing can come between him and his art. And that doesn’t bother me at all. Sort of gives me some time for the things that I like.” She reached her hand back over to rest on top of mine. “And I like you.”

“I told you that I don’t play around with clients.”

“Yes, you told me that already,” she said coolly. “But somehow the way you look at me says something else … besides it’s not like we’re complete strangers.”

“That was … was … a mistake, an aberration. It won’t happen again.”

“Why don’t I believe that?”

“Because you’re used to breaking the rules, you’re used to getting your way, you’re used to always getting what you want, when you want it. That doesn’t play well in my book, doll.”

“So,” Sylvia sighed. “Any ideas on who might be threatening me.”

“Not yet,” I replied with a shake of my head after a slug of Jack. “Just been on the case for a day. Everybody is a suspect at this point.”

“I just know that you’ll find out, Vince,” she said squeezing my hand tightly.

We talked till closing time and the bottle of Jack Daniels was nearly empty. Sylvia was a hearty little trouper, keeping up with me every shot of the way. I pumped her for more information about her family and friends. And especially about Cliff Nielson. There was something about him that left me uneasy. Maybe it was because he was so quiet all the time and just kept giving me those dark penetrating looks.

“Cliff is so sweet, you can’t think anything bad of him,” Sylvia proclaimed. “He’s like this big bear, very gentle, very quiet, never bothers anybody. He was like a father to me when Daddy died. I spent the whole summer that year up at the lodge. He helped me a lot just by being there.”

The barkeep approached. “Closing time, folks,” he said.

“Thanks, Kenny,” Sylvia said, pulling out a Jackson and laying it on the bar. No wonder she got such service. “Can you give me a ride, Vince?”

I walked her out to the Hudson and held the door for her to step down inside. When I went around and got inside the driver’s door, Sylvia slipped over across the plush broadcloth seat and snuggled beside me.

“I’m cold,” she said when I stiffened up beside her. “That’s all.” She looped her arm through mine and held on as we pulled away from the curb.

But as we drove to her apartment, I felt her hand creep down and come to rest on my thigh. Her fingernails scratched lightly through my summer weight slacks as she began to rub up against me. Her presence beside me and her hand on my lap was starting to have a very telling effect on me and the big guy who lives in my pants. When she strayed too close to him I reached down to take hold of her hand and pull it away. But she intercepted me and guided my hand between her legs. I felt a silky expanse of stocking and supple thigh beneath my palm.

As I drew lazy circles with my fingertips, I felt her hand settle onto my leg again, very near the top. Thankfully I was just a left turn around the corner from her apartment and I turned the wheel of the Hudson sharply peeling her away from me momentarily. But as we pulled to a stop Sylvia grew even cozier snuggling up to me, her hand finding the one place to rest from which I wouldn’t want to remove it.

“So do you want to come in for a nightcap?” she asked sweetly, her young voice oozing sex.

“I think I had better not,” I replied.

“Well the least you can do is walk me to the door,” she said, her hands gliding up over my chest. “I mean, you are a gentleman after all and it’s so late and so dark out tonight. A girl just never knows when a stranger could jump out from the bushes.”

She had me and she knew it, in more ways than one. Sylvia latched onto my lapels and pulled herself closer to me, her face just a nose away from mine. Her clear blue eyes were filled with a different look tonight, and it wasn’t something she was afraid of. Then she kissed me, a violent sharp kiss that cut right through me. By an instinct that was far from gentlemanly, my arms surrounded her, moving up and down her back. Her wrap fell away from her shoulders as we kissed, my hands soon discovered the pert mounds of her breasts. It didn’t take much to pull her dress down and let her tits spill into my eager hands.

“Yes, Vince, yes!” she said as I squeezed her breasts and raked my fingers over her taut pink nipples. Her own hands fell quickly to my lap and tugged at my fly. Nimble fingers reached inside and pulled my throbbing dick out. “Oh, god Vince,” she cooed as she stroked my heated manhood.

Sylvia leaned down and took me into her mouth, her lips and tongue bringing me an instant pleasure. This was so wrong, sitting here in the front seat of my Hudson Hornet, beneath the glow of a streetlamp, the pert head of my newest client bobbing up and down on my dick.

“Wait … no … stop!” I called out, finding the strength to take hold of her head and lift it from me. Her lipstick was smeared over the pout of her lips and her eyes looked at me with a huge question. “Not here, not tonight.”

Maybe she misunderstood what I meant. Sylvia pulled her wrap around her shoulders, not even bothering to pull her dress up, and reached for the door handle. “Come on, Vince,” she laughed, clutching her wrap about her nakedness as she scampered up to her building. When she turned back to the curb and didn’t see me following her, she frowned, her pouty lips curled downward for a moment. Then she lowered her wrap, letting the fur stole slip down over the pert curves of her breasts, exposing them briefly in the glow of the streetlamp. Sylvia grinned and blew me a kiss. Growling with a desire that was hard to tame, I reluctantly tucked my dick into my pants and slid across the big wide front seat, and made my way out of the car and up the walk to her apartment building.

The building was new, a four-story pastel brick affair with a smart new canopy from curb to main entrance. The foyer was deserted. We skipped the self-service elevator and took to the stairs. Despite the late hour, Sylvia giggled loudly as I chased her up the stairs; maybe the neighbors were used to this sort of escapade. This little broad could run fast in her high heels; maybe she was used to this sort of escapade too.

Dim pinkish lights burned on the third-floor corridor. The walls were a dark rose and the carpeting was a deep forest green. No one was wandering around. I followed her quickly down the hall. She had left the door swinging open and I stepped inside. Closing the door, I was standing in a small square foyer. A step or two took me into the living room.

Unlikely colors elbowed each other; so did a lot of blond functional furniture. There were some showy abstractions on the walls and some fantastic bits of sculpture standing around. You know the type of thing: where something called “Madonna” or “Crouching Lion” looks like a branch blown off a crab-apple tree. One whole wall was covered with the most violent looking drapes I’ve ever seen.

But I didn’t waste much time on the décor. There were other points of interest. Like Sylvia standing in the middle of the living room, her wrap tossed over the arm of a chair, her hand fumbling with the zipper of her skintight black dress. Her breasts bobbed like fishing lures as she struggled to pull the zipper down.

“I think it’s stuck,” she giggled helplessly, throwing her arms up.

As I stepped toward her, she turned to present the offending zipper to me. Grabbing the tang, I pulled it easily down and watched the black taffeta part and fall away from her pale blonde body. A pair of black silken panties and stockings was all that she wore underneath.

“Thank you, Vince,” Sylvia cooed as she stepped out of the dress and laid it over the chair with her wrap. “You’re such a gentleman … and I haven’t been meeting many lately.”

“Maybe you’re looking in all the wrong places,” I said as she fell against me.

“Well, I think I’ve looked in at least one right place lately,” she replied, her delicate little hands stroking at my chest. “Don’t ya think?”

“That’s my problem, doll,” I said taking hold of her hands. “I think too much.”

“That’s not a problem for me, cause I need a man who can do the thinking for me,” she said, backing away from my grasp and turned her back toward me. “I’m not the smartest girl on the block … I know that.” Her voice sounded sad and resigned. “I’m scared to death and I don’t know who I can count on to help me.”

“I’m here, doll,” I said. Two steps brought me up close behind her. My hands reached instinctively for her shoulders. As I touched the warm soft flesh of her shoulders, I felt Sylvia lean back into my grasp. The way she was playing me, I thought that maybe she was smarter than she was willing to give herself credit. She leaned back against me, her blonde head falling against my shoulder. She took my hands and guided them to her breasts. Her hard nipples burned into my palms and I could feel her body tremble.

She turned around to face me and leaned up to kiss me. I grabbed her shoulders to push her away, but my arms didn’t cooperate. I crushed her body against mine and our arms encircled each other producing a desperate clinch. I was a lot like her maybe, I certainly wasn’t the smartest private eye around, given the flying lip lock that I was giving this gorgeous little client, and I certainly had no one I could count on … except for her, right here and right now. But this was wrong, way wrong and I struggled to part my lips from hers and back away.

“What’sa matter, Vince?” Sylvia asked, startled by my rejection. “Don’t you like me?”

“Oh, I like you plenty, doll.”

“Vince,” she said in that little husky appealingly sexy voice of hers. “I need something tonight … I need … a man.”

She backed a few steps away from me toward what must be her bedroom. Then she turned around and glanced over her shoulder at me as she bent over and slowly pulled her panties down. I could feel my pulse begin to race at the sight of her trim round ass and the blonde muff between her legs. I was a fucking violin and she was playing me like she was Paganini. She stood up and turned back around to toss her panties at me. I caught them with a one-hand stab like Johnny Hodges scooping up an errant throw at first base. They were warm and soft and filled with the scent of her sex. When I didn’t make a move, she sauntered toward me.

“Come on, Vince,” she purred. “You know what I want.” Her hands slipped south of my belt and rubbed against my throbbing dick. “Mmm, and I can tell that you’re just the guy to give it to me.”

 

[DangerousDarkEyes]

Sylvia

“Is that so?” Vince asked, the only movement coming from him was his stiff dick pushing at the material of his trousers while clutched in my hand. “Aren’t you forgetting one thing doll, that little ole rule I have,’ he added with a grin, sounding almost as if he was truly going to stop now. But the hunger I spotted in his eyes told me otherwise as did next move taken quickly and surprising me when I felt the flick of his nail across my erect nipple.

“And that little number was your way of telling me you’re not going to break it?” I said with a sexy little giggle and looked from his eyes down the length of his body. Being this close to him now, I inhaled his masculine scent, feeling the heat of my own desire building feverishly. “Now why do you suppose I’m having such a hard time believing that?”

Without giving him much of a chance to say anything, my arm went around his neck and I pulled his head down, crushing his lips to mine. My bare breasts were smashed against his chest with the pointy tips of my nipples getting harder rubbing against the material of his shirt. I felt his fingers comb thru the back my hair and press my head harder to him while his other hand slid sensually all the way down the middle of my spine to rest on the warm flesh of my buttocks. I moaned into our kiss. The light torrid touch of his fingers on my inflamed flesh was awakening every nerve in my body.

“Maybe because no one’s ever turned you down before,” he remarked with the heat of his breath on my neck making me trembling.

“Hmmm, that could be,” I said smiling, then a seductive tease flashed in my eyes as I backed away from him, letting his hands slip off my body. “I guess if you are so dead set against messing around with your clients…” My words trailed off while I had continued to back up to where my bed was and sat down facing him while leaning back on my elbows.

“Baby, it’s a little too late for stopping now.”

Vince’s attention immediately fell directly to my blonde snatch and the black garter belt lying across my pale thigh hooked to my black stocking. His hands were already busy unfastening his belt and pulling the zipper down on his trousers, freeing his rock hard dick at last. He stroked himself as his lust filled eyes devoured my petite form. I spread my legs farther apart, my short blonde hairs parting to show off the pink folds of my pussy already glistening with warm moisture anticipating more of his touch. With a sexy grin and using my index finger, I ran it teasingly up my wet slit, getting it nice and juicy then brought it to my lips.

“Mmmm, I knew you were the guy that could take care of what I needed,” I hummed and licked the juices from my finger and stared at his hardon while watching him remove his clothes.

“Oh and is this what you think you need?” Vince said huskily walking over to stand in front of me, his dick in hand pointing at me.

God I was so turned on I could barely stand it, seeing him naked, stroking his cock with that wanton look in his eyes. All I could do was shake my head in agreement while my body quivered and I lay back on the bed spreading my legs open wide, already imaging him deep inside me. With my eyes closed and my hands covering my breasts, squeezing and kneading them, I gasped loudly when his hands clutched the inside flesh of my thighs spreading them and his tongue stroke my wet slit up and back several times.

“Don’t mind if I have a taste do you?”

Vince didn’t need my answer because as soon as he stopped talking, I was moaning, panting and squirming about with his face buried against my hot sex. His tongue drove me wild, slowly licking up and down my moistened slit, teasing my clit by flicking his tongue across it now and then. His thumbs spread my pink puffy lips wider, forcing my clit from its hiding place by teasing and tormenting my clit circling and licking slowly at first, faster as it swelled and became more sensitive. He would stop and lap up my juices, darting his tongue in and out of my sopping wet channel and even teasing my dark little opening.

“Oh my god…” I cried out, grabbing a handful of his hair and smashing his face against my pussy and wrapping my legs around his head. “Oh baby yesssss, yesssss, oh god I need you to fuck me, now,” I panted, feeling my orgasm getting close, my body felt on fire.

“Mmmmm, I plan on it, but first,” he remarked, coming up for air with my hands now trying to grab his shoulders and pull him up. His head went back and his mouth clasped onto my clit sucking it, flicking his tongue quickly back and forth against it and then he slipped two fingers deep in my warmth.

“Ohhhhhhhhhh yesssssssss!!!” I screamed with my thighs quickly clamping against his head and my hands clutching at the blanket underneath me.

My juices flooded his face and I shook the bed from the intense spasms that rocked my body. And when he stood, grabbed my ankles, spread my legs and lifted them up and over his shoulders, both of us moaned with pleasure when he thrust his cock deep inside my pussy. Several fast hard thrusts and I was coming again, crying out with pleasure, his dick filling me completely.

“God you are so tight, you feel so damn good…”

“Fuck me faster honey, faster, you’re soooo good,” I moaned moving my hips in time with his, tightly squeezing his cock with my pussy.

It didn’t take him long at this fast pace and he cried out, his body jerked several times and he came, shooting his seed inside me. We were moaning, panting, sweating and trembling all over, until finally spent, we collapsed on the bed wrapped in each others arms. There wasn’t a need for words, neither one of us could have spoken if we wanted to, but the satisfaction shown on both our smiles as we lay there, drifting off to sleep within minutes.

 

[Miltone]

Vince Latimer, PI

I woke up early, which isn’t all that unusual for me, not having enjoyed too many good nights of sleep in the past few years. But then I woke up with a beautiful young woman in my bed, which is unusual, especially given the sticky sweet smell of sex that permeated the bed sheets. Sylvia dozed peacefully as I extracted myself from between the covers. Fuck! She looked like such a kid lying there, all warm and innocent, curled up with the sweetest smile on her face. Knowing that my dick had been buried deep inside her the last two nights didn’t help my guilt factor. I had crossed the line with this one, a line that I had always held sacred.

I needed to get a grip on what was going on, so I pulled on my shorts, rummaged for my smokes in the pocket of my suit coat and went out to the living room to sit down and think this through. I had never messed with a dame—a dame client—before, even though there had been a few tempting beauties in my past. I had always been able to hold myself above the water line, but there was something about this one despite all her boozy woozy tendencies, something that set her apart, made her different from all the rest that just sank me deep. I just couldn’t quite put my finger on it. So I settled onto the divan in the darkened room and smoked my Camel and thought about what I knew and what I didn’t know.

Who would be trying to kill Sylvia Cavanaugh? She didn’t seem to have a true enemy in the world, and except for the vague note and her report of the phone calls, maybe she didn’t. Maybe this was just some mixed up kid looking for attention and getting it from the wrong kind of guy. But shit! She had been getting something from me lately, and in spades!

There were still some names on my list to be heard from, topped by her fiancé, Eric. I needed to do some digging around the old family company burial grounds. Maybe there was a disgruntled overlooked and under appreciated soul, primed for some sort of twisted revenge, who could be pried out of the woodwork. Maybe some shirttail relative who wants to improve their chances at a piece of the family fortune.

But of all that I knew—and even what I didn’t know—nothing seemed to add up. Why threaten her? If you’re really going to do it, then you’ll just do it, no threats, no late night phone calls, no bull crap, just a beautiful dead body turning up on someone’s watch, and hopefully, it would not be mine.

Crushing out the stub of my smoke, the telephone stand caught my eye. I knew I should just beg off, but my inbred curiosity was getting the better of me. So I got up from the couch and ambled over to the telephone stand. I tried the drawer; nothing but junk in it. There was a paper pad for messages alongside the telephone. I tore off the top page and held it up to the dim light coming from the kitchen. There were some indentations on it, but they didn’t add up to any words that I could make out.

There was nothing else in the roomy living room, so I tried the small kitchen. There wasn’t any evidence of recent supping, lunching or whatever. I went through the cupboards and drawers without learning much except that Sylvia wasn’t been one to let her liquor supply run low. That was okay by me; there isn’t any better time to live the high life than when you are young and beautiful and the whole world is your oyster.

The back door was bolted from inside. I shot the bolt and peered out into a narrow hall, very dimly lit. The service stairs would go down to some sort of courtyard or alley below. I didn’t see why that needed to interest me, so I closed the door and slid the bolt with a heavy thunk.

I went back to the bedroom. Sylvia was still sleeping it off. Damn! She looked gorgeous in her sleep. Just gazing at her for a second pitched a tent in my shorts. Now that I had a chance to look around, her room looked orderly, like a maid had recently had a go at it, all except for the double bed with its rumpled plum-colored spread and I knew all about the cause of that.

There was a dressing table and a highboy and on the highboy a large colored pic of Sylvia’s fiancé, Eric Mason. I went silently through the drawers of both dressing table and highboy. They didn’t yield anything but feminine frillies. I turned to the closet. Nothing I didn’t expect; rows of clothes, banks of shoes. Overhead was a shelf holding a couple of hatboxes and two matched blue and cream traveling bags. I hauled them down. The hatboxes held hats, the bags held nothing. Just as I slipped them back on the shelf I heard a stirring from the bed.

“Vince? Vince?” I heard Sylvia call out sleepily. “What are you doing?”

I turned toward her and smiled.

“Just checking your underwear drawers,” I cracked. “Making sure that everything is in order.”

“I keep everything in order, Vince, color … fabric … size … time of the month … everything …”

“So I can see,” I replied, disarmed by her sleepy but incise response. I moved toward the bed.

“Are you getting ready to leave me?” she asked, sitting up and letting the sheet fall away from her form shamelessly. I nearly groaned when her pert pink nipples began to wink at me again. She was now completely naked having removed her stockings somewhere along the way. Every lush inch of her body was exposed in its pale beauty, her alabaster skin like finely polished marble, perfect in every way.

“No doll,” I answered, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching over to stroke her cheek lightly. “Just trying to think this all through.”

Sylvia looked up at me with her big blue eyes open wide and glistening.

“I’m glad you’re here, Vince,” she confessed, reaching her trim little arm around my waist. She pulled her body up close to mine. “I feel safe around you … really safe.” I felt her mouth press against the backside of my shoulder. She kissed her way up toward my neck. As her lips moved north, her hand headed south and gripped my dick with a sure fisted desire. She was good, oh, she was good! I was completely convinced that Sylvia had always had her way every time with every body. Maybe it was time for someone to tell her, “No!”

I reached for her hand as it surrounded my dick and yanked on it. All right, maybe I left it there for a few sweet seconds that gave me a second thought or two, but I managed the strength to pull it away.

“Look, doll,” I began to say, setting her hand back in her lap and looking deeply into her sleepy big blue eyes. “If someone is out there looking to … to … to kill you, then we can’t be doing this. Know what I mean?”

I knew it; she knew it; that was indisputable. But when my hand retained its grip on her wrist, we looked at each other and our eyes did all the talking, along with our libidos. Sylvia leaned toward me, her pouty pink lips brushing against mine. Her tiny hand snaked through the opening of my shorts and found my rampant manhood ready and very willing, despite my best intentions. She pulled it out and lowered her sweet lips down to kiss and suckle it. Oh, god! I felt … felt what? Felt weak! I guess when a man has gone as long as I have without the loving touch of a woman, perhaps it isn’t a case of weakness exactly. But just when my head started reeling from the salacious kisses she was bestowing on my greedy manhood, the phone rang. Once, twice, thrice until I reached for the receiver and lifted it to my ear. Sylvia rose up and moved her ear toward the phone. I held it so we both could hear. I gestured to her to answer the call.

“Hello?” she said tentatively.

There was no response. I listened attentively but there was nothing to lend a trace of identity.

“Hello? Who is this?” she asked again, a more strident and demanding tone in her voice. Sylvia looked at me in disgust as I listened closely. She appeared almost ready to hang up when a voice crackled over the line.

“Your time is short and you do nothing to save yourself. The Lord knows what you’ve done … and so do I …”

There was a long pause. It was a man’s voice or at least sounded like.

“Who are you … what do you want from me?” Sylvia demanded. Her voice was strong but there was a definite ripple of fear that trembled through.

I heard a deep breath and a decided exhale as if they were about to speak but decided against it. Then there was a harsh click and the line went dead. We’d lost him. I rested the phone in its cradle and looked at Sylvia. I could feel her body trembling as she looked at me with an intense fear cast in her eyes.

“Who was that? What should I do?” she asked fearfully, her eyes damp with tears. I felt a shudder shimmer through her body and slipped my arm around her, pulling her up onto my lap and holding her tightly and kissing her—any part of her my lips could reach until she pulled my lips away and looked at me intently. “I am so scared, Vince.”

“Now Sylvia, did you recognize the voice?” I asked, trying to calm her with gentle strokes of my hand on her bare back.

“No—not at all,” she responded. Sylvia took my other hand and placed it firmly between her breasts, over her heart. I instantly felt her pulse throbbing hard and fast. I could feel the warmth of damp perspiration flooding her skin, brought on by an extreme fear of the unknown. This child, this woman, had everything to live for and everything to lose, and some creep had it in his mind that she was not going to see it all come true. I couldn’t let that happen. Deep down in my soul I could never live with myself to see her life crushed out by someone unknown, unseen, unrealized.

“It’s gonna be all right, Sylvia,” I said lifting her hand to my lips. I kissed them and pressed the back of her hand against my mouth. “Believe me, we’re gonna find this guy, and we’re gonna deal with him, okay?” Sylvia tilted her head to the side a bit. I let go of her hand and cradled her face with both hands. “I’m gonna get this creep, Sylvia … or else.”

Sylvia collapsed against me, her warm tears running down her cheeks and trickling onto my chest. Her arms snaked around my shoulders and she clung to me tightly. I held her close to me, one arm around her trembling shoulders, the other around her hips. She curled up within the circle of my embrace and cried, long hard sobbing whimpers that cut right into the quick of me. I held her tightly and stroked her head, my fingers running through the blonde silk of her hair, until she finally calmed down.

“Vince,” she said, lifting her head from my chest. “I believe you.” Sylvia brought her hands to my cheeks, stroking me ever so slightly and ever so gently. “Make me feel safe … make me feel secure … make me feel …”

“Baby,” I replied. “I can’t make you anything … I can only do a few things.”

“Then do what you can,” she replied.

I felt her body move against mine, the firm cheeks of her ass rubbing against me, her hands caressing me with a fierce intensity, her lips finding mine in a heated flurry of deep wet kisses. Sylvia reached down and practically ripped away my shorts. I was so ready for her, and she took me inside so eagerly. She rose and fell against my lap with a surging passion that reached down inside me and brought out a strong animal side that I had always kept deeply buried. I thrust my hips up madly against her and watched her body bounce high into the air only to crash back hard against me. She whimpered each time we met, the whimpers turning to moans, then to cries of serious passion.

“Fuck me, Vince!” she called out. “Fuck me hard!”

And I did. Shamelessly, without conscience, without rules, for the first time in my life without thinking a second moment about what was right or wrong, what was against the rules or in favor, I fucked her because it felt so good, so real, so right. We ended up on the floor, her legs wrapped tightly around my hips, her heels digging into my ass, my arms wrapped around her back, my hands gripping her shoulders, and my dick stuffed deeply inside her needy sex.

“Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Oooh!” Sylvia cried out as I pounded her sweet ass into the carpet. Then I felt my own explosion and thrust hard and deep into her, releasing my own fears and misgivings in a moment of pure ecstatic passion. An hour later we were still covered with sweat and cooing on the carpet. “Vince, Vince, Vince …” she said, her hand stroking my cheek. “I feel so safe with you. We are going to find this … this … whoever it is.”

“Yeah, doll. I’m gonna nail his ass if it’s the last thing I do.”

Sylvia rose up and looked down at me, smiling. “You know, Vince Latimer … I believe you.”

“That’s a first,” I laughed, but I believed her too.

We made it back into the bedroom and fell back asleep quickly. The next time I woke up was well after ten o’clock but I didn’t feel the least bit guilty. If anything, I felt more resolved. We showered together and shared a breakfast with yours truly doing the cooking while Sylvia idled herself fixing her hair and her nails and mixing in frequent visits to the kitchen to goose the unsuspecting cook with a happy laugh. That I might have had something to do with making for the happiness made me feel good inside.

“Where you going?” she asked as I knotted up my tie.

“To pay a little visit to your fiancé,” I replied. “Then to the Cavanaugh Mining Corporation to do a little poking around. So where might I find your loving fiancé? Where I dropped you off the other day?”

“Probably,” Sylvia answered quickly.

“That isn’t the best neighborhood,” I commented, remembering where I had dropped her off there the day before and where Coronado Street was located.

“But surely you know about artist types,” Sylvia said running her hands up over my chest and then straightening my tie. “There’s several others who live down there … they love that kind of stark squalid environment surrounding them. Some weird inspiration thing.”

“I’m no artist,” I said easing my hands around her naked waist and pulling her belly against me. “But you look like all the inspiration a good artist would need.”

Sylvia laughed and patted my chest. “Oh, you are the flatterer, aren’t you?”

“No, doll. Just a guy who’s too honest to be a cop,” I replied.

“Well, good luck,” Sylvia said planting a long deep wet kiss on my lips. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

Would she? I didn’t know for sure and didn’t really care to be honest. This was a puzzle and I was determined to learn the solution. But as I paused by her front window and looked out, the figure of a man in a tan suit caught my eye. Everyone else on the busy street was passing by, just Mr. Tan Suit stood near a lamppost having a smoke, looking nowhere in particular. Suspicious as hell, I slipped the bolt on the back door and went down the stairway onto the courtyard. There was an iron gate that latched from the inside and I passed through down the alley way to the street. There was the lamppost but Mr. Tan Suit was long gone. Maybe he was just a figment of my suspicious nature, but I couldn’t be sure.

As I had noticed the day before, Coronado was as tough a street as you’ll find anywhere, typical Skid Row. Squalid and noisy and congested, lined with battered old row houses where half a dozen people live in a filthy, airless room, over the sucker traps, the hock shops, and the hook shops, the cheap bars and the garish night clubs.

I edged the Hudson into the littered curb in front of a fruit stand. Across the street two side-burned toughs were decorating the doorway of a ten-cent flophouse. They eyed the Hudson and me sleepily. Anything can happen on Coronado Street, even in broad daylight. I locked the Hudson and hoped the chrome would still be there when I got back.

2226 was what I was looking for. I found it a few doors down from the fruit stand and climbed a short flight of steps to a double door. The dirt on the glass was as effective as a coat of paint. I went in. A narrow hall with peeling paint and a rubber-treaded staircase leading upstairs. No mailboxes, and no names on the doors.

I picked one, knocked. A frowsy-headed woman wrapped in a rebozo blinked out at me. I said I was looking for Eric Mason. She jerked a thumb toward the stairs. “Downstairs,” she snapped and slammed the door in my face.

I glanced at the stair, littered with gum and candy wrappers, matches and cigarettes, assorted bits of garbage. Some kids came tearing down the stairs from above and rushed past me, squabbling and yelling. A woman shot out into the hallway above and screamed at them. Doors banged. Pipes rattled. An old man came out of one of the rooms and shuffled past me, fingering his fly and muttering to himself.

I descended the stairs and saw a door with a placard. Eric Mason’s name was printed on it in neat lettering. I knocked. No answer. No answer to the next knock either. I got out my handy locksmith’s helper and helped myself to the lock. Less than ten seconds later I was inside.

I stepped inside and looked around. The room was surprisingly big, filled with frames and canvases and all the other paraphernalia of an artist. A dirty window dripped dirty light. Off to one side a door stood partly open. I went over and had a look. It was a small bedroom. The bed was made, clothes hung up in an open closet. It looked neat, even clean. There was a large shabby chiffonier. Things like that fascinate me. I started opening drawers, rummaging through their contents. Socks, shirts, shorts, sweaters—all was as it should be. Except for the pearl necklace tucked away in the folds of a blue sweater.

I lifted it out. I’m no connoisseur, but they looked like very large and expensive pearls to me. And I doubted if Eric Mason was in the habit of wearing very large and expensive pearls. I weighed them in my hand for a moment, then dropped them into my pocket. You never knew … until you found out.

I retreated to the studio. There were two easels with unfinished canvases on them. One was an abstraction and I didn’t try to figure it out. The other wasn’t hard to figure out. It was a portrait of Naomi Kroll. I studied it thoughtfully. It looked finished to me, just standing there to dry. And it was a good portrait, except that it gave her a warmth and a softness that I had never noticed, a warmth and softness that I didn’t think she had. That’s what interested me. The Naomi Kroll that Mason was painting was a different Naomi Kroll from the one I knew.

Well, artists do that, don’t they? Shortened noses, softened wrinkles, rosied sallow complexions. All to flatter the sitter and cinch the commission. So maybe that’s all Mason had been doing. Giving Naomi Kroll her money’s worth, fixing her up with a human look, consolidating family relations.

I turned away, moved to a long table covered with buckets and brushes and tubes of paint and tools. Also a half empty sack of potato chips, a sticky glass and a dead fifth of Old Taylor. I made sure that it was dead and ate a handful of chips. And was just chewing the last one down when I heard a sound behind me. I turned.

The door was flung open and Eric Mason stood glowering at me. He had on slacks and a t-shirt that emphasized his powerful upper build.

“Who the fuck are you?” he snapped.

I figured a soft answer might soften his anger.

“Latimer, Vince Latimer,” I answered calmly. “I’m working for Sylvia Cavanaugh, trying to figure out this stalking business.”

He laughed. “I told her it was a prank, nothing more,” he replied. “So why the hell would that bring you snooping around here?”

“Didn’t mean to be snooping,” I said. “But I wanted to talk to you and you weren’t here, so I just thought I’d wait.”

“How’d you get in?”

“The door wasn’t locked.”

“The hell it wasn’t!”

On some other occasion he might have pitched a fight, but today his heart was only half in it. He looked rugged. He hadn’t shaved recently and his pale blue eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with dark smudges, like he hadn’t slept. He came slowly across the room and wasn’t even looking at me. He reached past me and picked up the bottle of Old Taylor.

“It’s dead,” I said.

He threw it down and looked at me belligerently. “What do you want from me?”

“I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“The answer is no, it’s not me who’s been bugging her.” He walked to one of the easels and stared at the canvas on it. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Sylvia.”

“What’s there to say? I have no clue about who might be tailing her. I told her to take it to the cops, but she doesn’t want any part of that. Says she doesn’t trust them.”

“So you don’t have an idea about who it might be?”

He shook his head as he stared at the canvas. It was the portrait of Naomi Kroll. “So why come poking around here? I’ve got no reason … she’s worth more to me alive than she is dead.”

“Guess you could say that’s one thing that you and I have in common then,” I said with a smirk. But he glared at me like a tough audience on a cold night in the Catskills. Guess he didn’t much appreciate my brand of humor. I pulled my notepad from my jacket pocket and flipped through a few pages for effect. “Can you tell me where you were about seven o’clock this morning?”

“Seven?” he said, obviously mulling over his answer. “Let’s see … um, eating breakfast.”

“Where?”

“I … I don’t remember,” he said vaguely almost as if stalling. “Some diner over on Forest Avenue. Why?”

“Just curious, that’s all,” I replied. “I’m curious about a lot of things. Like, what about her, the one in the painting?” I asked.

“Naomi? What about her?”

“Sylvia’s sister … how do you see those two?”

“She and Sylvia are at each other’s throat half the time, if that means anything.”

“Is it just a couple of sisters bickering—or more serious?”

He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “They rub each other the wrong way once in a while, but I don’t think it goes very deep.” He paused. “Come to think of it, Sylvia and Karen Heath don’t hit it off, either. They hardly speak to each other. It can get pretty awkward at times, what with Karen sort of being in the family and all.”

“What was the trouble with them?”

He shrugged. “Sylvia never talks about it. Maybe—well, maybe she feels that Karen always takes Naomi’s side and that the two of them sort of gang up on her. You know—when there’s trouble over the drinking and the money and so on.”

“Is there trouble over money?”

“Sylvia has no money sense and drinking takes money. She ends up broke and then Naomi blows her top.”

“Why does Sylvia drink like that?”

He opened the palms of his hands and looked at them as if they held the answer. His blue eyes were troubled. “She isn’t happy,” he said slowly. “She is just a kid, but—she isn’t happy. I don’t know why. I thought maybe—well, that being in love would help gradually. It hasn’t helped—and I guess it never will. She is kind of like on the skids you know, and doesn’t seem to be able to change anything. Guess I’m just trying to kid myself about it—ought to know better.”

“Is drinking all of it?”

He looked at me. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

His gaze fell and his mouth tightened. “You mean the men—other men? How would I know? We sort of have this unspoken arrangement; if you don’t want to hear the answer, don’t ask the questions. I never ask her anything about that, but I can’t help having suspicions.” Mason took a deep breath and looked up at me. “But when she drinks like that—how does anyone know, really know?”

I bit my tongue and nodded. Then I said, “But you know about Kroll, don’t you?”

He shoved to his feet, the muscles bunching at the corners of his mouth. “Sylvia and Kroll? What makes you think that?”

“I know Naomi does. I figured you did too.”

“Can you prove it?” His voice was hard and challenging.

I let that pass. “I’ve got another more important question,” I said. “And give it a good think before you answer. Has Sylvia ever told you that deep down she’s in fear for her life? That this isn’t just some weirdo stalking her, but that she thinks someone is out to kill her?”

His face went slack. He gaped at me. “Are you serious?”

“I’m serious.”

“But—”

“But what?”

“I just don’t get it.”

Mason didn’t look like he had ever considered that possibility. I tried to piece it together for him. “As you know, she’s going to be twenty-one next month and is going to come into her share of the Cavanaugh dough. Maybe if you really stretched your mind you could figure out that somebody doesn’t want her to get that money. And maybe Sylvia is just smart enough to realize it.”

He looked at me for a long time like this was a new revelation. Then he said carefully, “That would be Naomi, wouldn’t it? I mean, who else but Naomi would profit if Sylvia doesn’t get her share?”

“A lot of people—indirectly,” I said. “Her husband, for one, of course; he lives on her. Karen Heath, for another—at least she seems to think Mrs. Kroll has done a lot for her, and maybe feels that more could be done. You, we might even say.”

His blue eyes narrowed, the muscles at the corners of his mouth bunched again. “Just how would we say that?”

“Well, a woman in her position could be a mighty big help to a struggling young guy in your position, if she liked him and fancied he was … oh, maybe a misunderstood genius or something. Let’s just say.”

He walked over and leaned his face into mine. “Look gumshoe,” he said evenly. “I’m engaged to Sylvia.”

I couldn’t help but notice that through our entire conversation he hadn’t said anything about love. I wasn’t too surprised, so I continued. “Sure, and let’s be honest, Sylvia is also a little lush you know damn well isn’t going to shape up into any kind of wife—financially or otherwise. So maybe you’re getting other ideas, and maybe Naomi is helping you get ‘em—if she likes you and fancies you were a misunderstood genius or something. Let’s just say.” I paused. “Only, what the hell to do with the little lush? And the husband.”

He moved fast; I’ll say that for him—and his fist landed hard, right under my jaw. I bounced back over the worktable, scattering paint tubes and brushes and potato chips. It scattered me a bit, too. But I rallied and kept my temper. In a way, I’d kind of had it coming egging him on like that. It’s not like I really believed all that about him or Sylvia.

“We’ll overlook that one,” I said rubbing my jaw and picking up the notepad that his blow had knocked from my hand.

He was breathing hard and glowering at me. He wanted to do it again. He wanted to do it again real bad.

“Don’t press your luck,” I said.

He opened his hands with an effort, let them drop and turned away. I watched him cross the room to one of the windows looking up at the noisy street. He lit a cigarette and stared out.

“Why the hell,” he said dully, “don’t you just go away?”

I fingered the pearls in my pocket. But somehow I didn’t feel this was quite the right time to spring them on him. He wasn’t in the mood for giving—or even caring. I wouldn’t get a worthwhile reaction.

I sighed. “Well, if you feel that strongly about it, maybe I will,” I said.

I helped myself to a couple more potato chips and sauntered to the door. With my hand on the knob I turned.

“Oh, yeah—I almost forgot. That restaurant where you were having your late breakfast, remember which one it was?”

Without turning he snarled, “To hell with you, shamus.”

I shrugged and went out and climbed the stairs to the street. It hadn’t improved any while I was gone. A couple of old gals with their heads shrouded in rebozos despite the heat of the day were gossiping on the steps. A cop ambled by and stopped at the fruit stand to finger the oranges.

I strolled back to the Hudson and got in and after a moment thought to lock the pearls in the glove box. Just in case they were as expensive as I thought they were I didn’t want to be carrying them around in my pocket.

After that I was just reaching for the ignition when a green and beige Caddy swooshed by me and edged toward the curb up ahead, maneuvering for a parking space. I waited and watched. The Caddy squeezed in about three cars ahead of me, and in a moment a familiar form sprang out and darted hastily across the sidewalk.

It was Naomi Kroll, looking very alluring in an orchid-colored dress with a wide flaring skirt and a big white straw hat. And looking very hot and hurried. She ran up the steps of 2226 and vanished inside. I’d have given a lot to be a fly on the wall of Eric Mason’s studio for the next fifteen minutes, but it didn’t seem to be a set-up I was going to be able to arrange, so I started up the Hudson and pulled away. Next stop Cavanaugh Mining Corporation.

 

[DangerousDarkEyes]

Sylvia

“Your time is short and you do nothing to save yourself. The Lord knows what you’ve done … and so do I …”

I stood with the closet door open, glancing at my over abundant wardrobe without really seeing it at all. The moment Vince left me, those words rang out over and over in my head, along with all the questions. Did what? Who are you? Save myself from what and how? The longer I listened to those voices, the louder they grew until I couldn’t take it anymore. My fingers pulled at my hair close to my scalp, my head was splitting and that warm safe feeling I had when Vince was there now was replaced again with trepidation.

I slammed the door shut, pulling my robe tight around me and went back to the kitchen, taking down a bottle of old Scotch I had that was stout enough to cure anything ailment. After opening the bottle, I filled the shot glass that always sat on the counter next to the sink, to the rim. The portly odor hit my nostrils immediately causing them to flare long before I brought the glass to my parched lips. I took a healthy swig, draining the glass quickly, refilling it just as fast.

“Your time is short and you do nothing to save yourself. The Lord knows what you’ve done … and so do I …”

“Dammit to hell! Quiet! No more thinking, please…” I lashed out in the eerie quiet of my apartment, my words echoing off the walls, the anguish in my voice ringing out as I thru the glass down in frustration.

“Sylvia, it’s me, let me in! What’s going on?” Naomi’s harsh voice coming thru the door, jarred me back to reality, sounding more disturbed at hearing my outbreak than fearful.

I stepped over the broken glass, more worried about getting a run in my hose if I stepped on it without my heels than in the possibility I could have cut myself. I had no idea what had brought her to my apartment, never understanding how I could live in such a ‘dump’ according to her. But whatever it was, you could bet it wasn’t anything good and after I opened the door seeing her eyes squished together, her bottom lip overlaying the upper one in a sullen manner, my first thought was just slam the door, grab my bottle and go back to bed.

“Why Naomi, come on in. What brings you to this side of town? Surely it’s not just a social visit, knowing how much you abhor leaving that fancy mansion of yours.” I remarked with a tiny smirk across my lips while holding the door open allowing her to march thru it.

She walked around eyeing my attire along with the mess on the kitchen floor as she strutted past it to the kitchen table throwing a stack of papers on top of it. She picked up the bottle of scotch, shook her head in disgust and held the bottle up.

“Am I intruding on something, or have I luckily walked in after your playtime?” Her voice was thick with sarcasm and cold enough to sharpen glass. Without waiting for my reply, she set the bottle back down, put her hands on her hips and glared at me. “So can you explain why I’m getting these credit card bills after I just gave you your monthly allowance?”

“What? Do you think I suddenly became a bookkeeper?” I asked, instantly angry while I stooped down, picking up the broken glass. “Dammit Noami, why don’t you just be honest and tell me why you’re here, you could have asked me about those bills when I came by this weekend. Hell you could have phoned me and asked me. So what’s shakin?”

The fact that she had to give me an allowance was enough to charge me up. But that tone that always came with her questions concerning my spending was what really did it. How I detested the fact that she seemed to enjoy holding this above my head, god if for no other reason than not to have her overseeing every penny I spent, I couldn’t wait until I got my inheritance.

After what seemed like forever staring at me while I cleaned up my mess, she finally sat down, impatiently strumming her fingers on the table letting me know she waited for me to sit as well. An hour or so and several more shots later I watched her leave my apartment picking up the bills to take with her, grunting heatedly when she left. At least I had the pleasure of seeing her a bit skittish while she revealed to me the conversation she had had with Vince Latimer. The more she had told me, the harder it had taken me to control myself, really wanting to laugh at just how phony her worrisome self sounded. Why this all seemed to make her more nervous about me than worried about my situation, I still hadn’t a clue by the time she left.

My explanation about giving Eric my checkbook to take care of the bills only seemed to make her more unsettled which actually surprised me. Of all the people that could possibly want me dead, most of all her, Noami was the only one I seemed sure wouldn’t ever hurt me no matter how bad we got along. Had Vince noticed anything, I wondered, or was this just her usual bought for control over me, my life and the people in it?

“Awww fuck it!” I sighed, stumbling a bit when I stood up, the drinks now beginning to have a noticeable effect on me and it was still early yet.

Carrying the bottle with me, this time much relaxed and letting the alcohol chase away my fears some, I went to get dressed. I had several late afternoon appointments concerning wedding plans, not that a date had been set or anything, but with Eric pushing a little, I figured if he saw me planning a wedding, that might ease his mind a bit.

I slipped on a light chiffon dress on, sleeveless with a low but appropriate neckline and smooth fitting along the curves of my hips. The afternoon was looking like it was to be rather warm so I neglected to bring a sweater with me. Hours later, it was getting rather dark when I left my last appointment which was just down the street from our families corporate offices and having had a couple more drinks made my way to the parking lot, stumbling a little, hiccupped, giggled and looked around for my cab ride.

“Don’t do anything, don’t say a word, scream, move, nothing and I wont hurt you,” a low masculine voice growled into my ear while a hand came up covering my mouth and I was pulled back, the side of the building blocking anyone from seeing me.

Scared out of my mind, sounds came from me but were muffled by my attacker’s hand as he repeated his statement. I had no idea who he was, what he wanted and didn’t even recognize the voice, but I felt myself perspiring, fear for my life causing me to shake from head to toe.

“You’re time is short you little slut!! And don’t you be playing Miss Innocent Bitch, not now after all this, you know exactly what this is about and what I want.”

I started to shake my head, wanting to tell him I had no idea who he was let alone what he wanted. But his hand had me locked in place and as he used more pressure to keep me from moving, I felt his other hand reach under my dress and rub my panty covered ass, between my legs and roughly cup my sex. Now I was more than scared and although slightly intoxicated, this was quickly sobering me up and I knew I needed to do something.

Quickly I kicked back, my heel meeting the middle of his calf straight on, shocking him at the same time he groaned and I felt him let go of me. I ran, not bothering to look back, my only thought was to get away from him. I was extremely relieved my cab was pulling up and I flew to it, shaking, crying, almost hysterical as I got in. By the time I calmed down and the cab driver understood what happened, neither of us saw anyone else in the parking lot, apparently the attacker luckily got away.

“You want to call the police lady?”

“NO, of course not, no just…just drop me off at Eddies Bar and Grill on…”

“I know where it is. You sure you don’t want…”

“No, I just need a stiff drink and…” I leaned up getting really close up behind him, the heat of my breath on his neck and whispered in his ear exactly what I wanted.

“Mam, excuse me, but are you,” he began to say in a quiet, but shocked voice, turning his head to look into my eyes.

“Well if you’re not interested, then I guess you can take me straight to Eddies.”

It was well after 10:00 pm when I walked in, or rather stumbled in, sitting down at the bar. Kenny poured my usual, eyeing me and shaking his head back and forth, chuckling.

“That’s all you’re getting from me doll, looks like you’ve had plenty already. You want me to call someone or would you like to wait and I’ll drive you home myself?” Kenny asked.

I smiled at him, lit a cigarette and sipped my drink.

 

[Miltone]

Vince Latimer, PI

I was on my way to pay a call on the Cavanaugh Mining Corporation, but on the way I passed the county unemployment office. Seeing the sign out front reminded me that I had helped a clerk who worked there bag his former old lady with the milkman and he still owed me some dough. Maybe a favor could go a little way toward clearing up that standing debt and save me having to fake my way into the Cavanaugh company personnel office.

Harold Braswell was a frumpy older man, balding and pudgy, mostly nondescript but undecidedly happy—at least since I had helped him successfully ditch his old lady. Harold was only too happy to do a little digging for me in the files and came up with a short but fat list of recent employees who been axed by the Cavanaugh family business. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t mean to make fun of some poor bum who’s just had the rug pulled out from under him. But in this line of work, you have to put the pinch on anyone who’s caught short; the poorest members of the choir usually sing the loudest. That’s why the list, gladly typed up by Braswell, gave me a few more interesting doors to knock at. So I took the list and started making my social calls. There were three people on this batting order.

First up was Betty Randall, an older gray-haired widow from accounts payable who had been caught skimming a few extra bucks from petty cash. We sat in her cozy little cottage behind the picket fence, the windows shaded with stiff lace curtains and a hot pot of tea sitting nearby. Betty herself wasn’t much to look at and had even less to contribute. She was apologetic and contrite and was packing up to move to Pittsburgh to live with her spinster sister. She couldn’t really offer up anything about Sylvia that I didn’t already know. Only thing of note was her observation about Jack Kroll when I asked about the other members of the Cavanaugh family.

“He is just the handsomest man, and so nice. He always bought me flowers on my birthday.”

“I thought he didn’t have anything to do with the family business.”

“Not officially, of course. But he keeps a small office there and comes in with Miss Heath about once or twice a month. Likes to look over the books. Keeping track of things for Naomi, he says. She isn’t very well liked at the company, you know. She wanted to sell her shares in the company the moment she got her inheritance, but found out that the terms of her father’s will forces her to keep it for twenty years.”

She didn’t have much else to offer beside weak tea. I could tell that Betty couldn’t hit a curveball to save her life, so I gave her an intentional pass.

Batting second was Billy McDonald, a good-looking kid with a bit of the bad boy punk look to him, long dirty blond hair worn in a greasy ducktail, a young buck who apparently couldn’t much envision his future in shipping and receiving and had sloughed off too much. He lived in the finished attic of his parents’ house over on the west side, one of those new tract homes that had been popping up ever since the War was over. He lounged casually in a living room armchair smoking a Chesterfield. His sleeveless undershirt showed off the anchor tattoo on his left arm.

“Service man?” I asked.

“Two years on the USS Carolina in the Sea of Japan,” he answered. “Best years of my life, given the way the last couple have gone.” His laugh was genuine and so was the pain I could hear lying underneath.

“So things didn’t work out for the better at Cavanaugh Mining?”

“Hardly. Every day was such a drag. Worse than the service. Not only was somebody was always on my case, telling me what to do, but I busted my butt every day for the first couple of months. Then they give me this 60-day review and a lousy 5 cent an hour raise. 5 lousy cents—two bucks a week? Can you believe that? After that I figured they owed me.”

“Two bucks? That’s a six pack and a carton of smokes isn’t it?” I chipped in but he didn’t swing at my slider. “So you sandbagged the rest of the way?”

“I guess you could say that. I figured it was only a matter of time.”

“So what about the family? You ever see them around?”

“Nah. Just the one guy. Kroll is it? Kind of a ladies man. Always talking to the broads, all of ‘em. Even the old ones. Don’t think he ever said more than two words to me the whole time I was there.”

“Did you ever meet Sylvia Cavanaugh?”

“Not exactly,” he said, a big smile brightening his face. “But saw her a couple of times.”

“When?”

“This one time I was bringing a load of office supplies up front and she was there with her sister, Kroll’s old lady. They were meeting with the GM about something or other. I sees her and thinks, what a dish! Stopped me in my tracks. Prettiest little thing I ever did see. Later on, the other guys filled me in on who she was. Told me that hitching up with her would be my fast track out of the mailroom. So then I see her a couple weeks later at a club over on Caldwell Street, making nice with some straight-faced moody looking guy.”

“You do anything about it?”

“Yeah. When the stiff goes to the john, I goes over and introduces myself and she is like really sweet. Maybe a little loaded, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah. I‘ve heard.”

“So there I am making time with her when the guy comes back. Turns out it’s her fiancé and he gets this bad attitude about me. Gets all defensive and grabs her arm and wants to leave, and she is not part of that at all.”

“What happened then?”

“Nothing, I didn’t want to make no scene, you see. Might hurt my chances. So I just make myself scarce and leave the two love birds on their own.” He paused to chuckle. “Funny thing, the guy gets all angry and storms out and she’s still sitting there at the bar eying the crowd. Kind of gives me this look, you know, that kind of look? So I goes into the men’s room to make myself real presentable but by the time I come back out, she’s gone. Guess that’s what I get for wanting to touch up my Brilliantine.” He shook his head sadly.

“You ever see her again?”

“Nope. Why all the questions about her?”

“Someone’s made a threat on her life and I’m trying to find out who.”

“You don’t think that I would—I don’t hardly know the doll.”

“No, I don’t think that. I’m just checking out anyone who might have a grudge against the family, and seeing your recent employment record …”

Billy glowered at me. He looked like he was about to say something when his mother called out from the kitchen.

“Billy! Supper’s ready!”

“Look I gotta go,” he said, pushing himself up from the armchair. Billy McDonald was a good-looking kid and maybe under the right circumstances he might have had a chance with someone like Sylvia. But then again, with her wide-open preferences, just about any guy with two legs and a stiff dick stood a chance—even if he was lacking the legs.

“Thanks, Billy,” I said, before excusing myself. Mrs. McDonald was nice enough to invite me to dinner and the smells of home cooking coming from the kitchen were making my mouth water. But I told her “No thanks.” I wasn’t ready to give way to the bullpen and gave Billy credit for a sharp single to leftfield and got ready for the next batter.

Hitting third was Hiram Best, an older guy whose position in surveying had been eliminated. Nothing much in his file. A scientific type who had been working for the company only a couple of years. Unlike the other two, Hiram hadn’t filed for unemployment compensation. Must have taken his two weeks pay and split. I drove by his place, a second floor walkup on the corner of Beech and Daly, but there was no one home. I knocked on a couple of neighboring doors, but no one had seen him in days. Since the super wasn’t around, I backtracked to his door and, while no one was looking, let myself in. There was a stale musty odor permeating the place. Just a few sticks of furniture were set around the cramped rooms. The bedroom closet was bare and the dresser nearly empty. No valuables of any description were around. Looked like Hiram Best had cleared out giving me a strikeout. Made me wonder who the clean-up hitter would be.

I stepped down into the Hudson and drove around to the El Dorado for talk with myself over a bottle or two of ale and a steak sandwich. While the chilled ale moistened my parched throat, I tried fitting the pieces together. First there was Sylvia, a beautiful and troubled girl with a decided drinking problem, who probably should have been spending time on a psychiatrist’s couch not a bartender’s stool. I just couldn’t get her out of my head. Second there was some unknown creep who was making all kinds of threats against her. Each door I opened to find out who it was, seemed to open more doors and very few were closing. I needed to find him whoever the fuck he was.

Then there was the love-hate thing with her sister Naomi, bits and pieces about brother in law Jack, her open engagement with Eric the sullen artist, her late brother’s fiancée Karen. I pulled out Sylvia’s address book and thumbed through. There were a few numbers that I added to my list. I was closing the book and stuffing it into my pocket when a folded up slip of paper fell out. Inside was written in pencil:

Call me
Kenwood 52310

Curious, I pulled a dime from my pocket and went to the pay phone in back. The line rang and rang but with no answer. I slipped the note back into her book and returned to my stool to finish the last of my ale. This case was like trying to figure out a loose thread on a tapestry. The more I picked around, the more loose threads there were and they all lead in different directions. I finished my ale and a smoke and stepped back down into the Hudson. It was still hot out even as the evening was growing old. With all the windows rolled down the drive home was tolerable.

But on my way home I decided to drive past Sylvia’s place, remembering how she said she’d be waiting for me. Pulling up across the street from her apartment, I look up and see a light on in her window. Maybe she was true to her word. I was debating whether or not to go inside when I see a shadow appear on the drapes. It was a head, a man’s head wearing a hat. I laugh at myself. Looks like Sylvia has herself a new dick du jour and I’m probably as welcome as yesterday’s mashed potatoes. I’m thinking about beating a quick retreat when the shadow disappears and the light goes out. Maybe Sylvia and her gentleman caller are heading out to catch last call at some favorite dive.

Just curious to see what Sylvia looks like on Mr. Wonderful’s arm, I crush out my Camel and hang around for a few. But Sylvia doesn’t leave the building, only Mr. Hat. He is carrying a small box and is in one helluva hurry. When I look closer I see that it’s actually Mr. Tan Suit from this morning. Looking frantically over both shoulders, he darts across the street to a beat up old Desoto coupe, starts it up in a flash and peels away from the curb. For a second, my head is thinking that I should go up and see if Sylvia is okay, but my gut tells me to tail this guy—and I always listen to my gut.

So I swing the Hudson around and rip off after Mr. Tan Suit. Maybe I’ve found my clean-up hitter. It didn’t take long to see just where he was headed. A couple miles away was the Palmer Arms, which before the depression was a swanky apartment building, but now just another down on its luck shack and surviving only because of its proximity to the neighboring State College. Keeping a safe distance, I watch as Mr. Tan Suit screeches to a halt and hustles with the box up to the building like he was Pee Wee Reese rounding third base with the winning score.

I move quickly and follow him inside. His heavy footsteps lead me up to the third floor and down the hallway. I look around the corner and see him fumbling with the keys. He seemed so distracted that he didn’t even notice me coming up behind him until he had the door open. By the time he looked up to see me, I was on top of him, grabbing his arm, pulling it behind his back, and forcing him into the room.

“All right, who the fuck are you and what were you doing in Sylvia Cavanaugh’s apartment?” I say, strong-arming the guy up against the wall. He was tall but slight of build and couldn’t counter the extra sixty pounds I had on him. His eyes looked small and beady in the big glasses that he wore.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mister,” he says in this shallow squeaky voice, trying to clutch the box close to his body.

“You damn well know what I mean,” I said, pinning him harder against the wall. “I saw you in her apartment. I saw you leave. What’s in the box?”

He didn’t try to resist but he didn’t say a word, so I hold him up against the wall with on hand and rip the box away from him with the other.

“Please don’t … wait … I’ll tell you,” he said real weasily as I pop the lid on the box. “It’s nothing really, harmless actually …”

The lid popped off and fell to the floor and all I can see inside the box are pink and white female frillies, panties mostly, and I recognized the pair on top as being what Sylvia had been wearing the night before. Talk about your dirty laundry, huh?

“What the fuck?” I say tossing the box aside and jamming him harder against the wall. “Just what kind of sick fuck are you?”

“Look! I … I … I can explain,” he begged. “Just let me go and I … I … I can explain everything.”

“All right. But no funny stuff,” I say warily, turning him loose. He shakes off my hands and straightens his suit jacket. Then he dives down to pick up the box and lid and closes it up. “So what is it, you pervert? Let me guess … you’re in the laundry business.”

“No, it’s not like that at all,” he says quickly. “I… I … I’m Metzger, Jules Metzger. I’m a photographer at Hudson’s department store … baby photographer. I’m a … I’m a … I’m a friend of Sylvia.”

“Yeah, and I’m J. Edgar Hoover,” I laugh as he clutches the box closely. He was an older guy, more like my age or more, and looked like he was about to piss his pants. “Come on spill it. I ain’t had a good laugh all day.”

“It’s true. I … I … I … uh, once dated Sylvia,” he said nervously.

“And that gives you reason to skulk around stealing her dirty undies? Real smooth slick. Real smooth.”

“Really. We dated. We did,” Metzger insisted. “Well, it was a few months back and I … I … I haven’t seen her in a while, but we were the real deal.”

“I’ll bet you were, just like every other Tom, Dick and Harry in this town it would seem,” I cracked. As I settled down I began to look around the room. A whole wall of the living room was covered with pictures. Not just any pictures, but pictures of Sylvia. On the street, at the park, going in and out of doorways. And there were more. Candid pictures of Sylvia partially dressed in her living room and her bedroom, even sunbathing in the nude on a beach somewhere. “Now, I’ll buy the photographer bit. What’s your problem, pal? You got a thing about Sylvia?”

“Well, yeah. Who wouldn’t?” he said slumping into the chair beside the telephone stand. “I mean she’s so young and pretty, I … I … I couldn’t help falling in love with her. The camera just loves her. She should be a model.”

“But maybe the question is, does she love the camera—or more directly, your camera?” I asked. The closer I looked at the pictures plastered all over the wall, the angrier I became. Then I saw a group of photographs of Sylvia with some men, sitting in restaurants, making out in the front seat of a car, in her apartment with their hands up fishing around underneath her sweater, on her knees blowing the lucky bastards, in her bedroom screwing their socks off. “You sick motherfucker!” I called out, turning on him. “Does she know you’re doing this?” I grabbed him by his tie and was ready to pound his sweaty mug to a pulp.

“No! No! Don’t hurt me! Don’t hurt me! She doesn’t know anything about this!” he pleaded. “I can explain.”

I held my fist at the ready. “Then start explaining. Now! And make it good!”

“I … I … met her at a bar on the east side a few months ago. She was drinking by herself so I joined her and bought her a few rounds. I couldn’t help it, she seemed so beautiful and vulnerable. I … I … took her home and we … uh, spent the night together, you know. I was in love. I would have given anything to stay with her. I called her a million times but she never called back. Then one day I read in the society pages that she’s getting married to some artist guy. I couldn’t believe it. I … I … I loved her so much!”

I started to feel sorry for the poor sap and his sick twisted mind. Broads can do that to you, crawl under your skin so deep, get you so wound up inside that you don’t realize how weird and sick your actions are. I threw him back down into the chair.

“Did you know that someone is out to kill Sylvia?” I asked, still standing tall over him.

“Oh, no! That’s terrible! Kill her?”

I nodded.

“Well, I … I … I couldn’t,” he pleaded, cowering in the chair. “I love her!”

“Hate to clue you in so late in the game, pally,” I said turning away to look at his wall of pictures. “But from what I see here, this ain’t love. I don’t know for sure what it is, but it ain’t love. I know that.” There wasn’t a pose that he had missed. There was Sylvia smiling in a cute little tennis outfit at a country club; there was Sylvia in black velvet at some gala evening event; there was Sylvia naked as a jaybird and dripping wet stepping out of the shower; there was Sylvia half-dressed on top of some slob, humping away.

“Oh, I’m so ashamed,” he whined, fighting back his tears. “You … you … you … aren’t going to tell, are you? I … I … I could lose my job.”

“That and a whole lot of your freedom in the process, pally,” I remarked as I walked along and checked his shameful wall of fame. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about you …”

“Please don’t tell anyone! Please Mister! I … I … I’ll do anything! Anything!”

“What the fuck!” I exclaimed and turned back to the poor twisted sap. “Tell you what, I want you to take down all these pictures, got it? And then I want you to get out all the negatives, okay?”

“O … O … Okay,” he answered nervously. I swear it smelled like he had peed his pants.

“Then I want you to box them all up and give them to me so that I can return them to her, got it?”

“But …” he protested.

“No buts, Metzger. Do it! Do it now!”

“But …”

“But no, pally. You’re one phone call from being sent upstate and you know what those big old nasty fellas up there will do that skinny little ass of yours behind a locked cell door, right?”

At that point, it didn’t take too long for him to peel down the photos. He stopped several times to plead his case, but I insisted that he continue. I looked them over as he went. At least there weren’t any prints with Yours Truly. The pictures made quite a collection. He found a good-sized box and carefully tucked the prints inside.

“Now the negs, Metzger.”

Reluctantly he went to a large storage cabinet and opened the drawer. He added the dozens of manila envelopes to the box.

“Is that all of them?”

“Y … Y … Yes, all of them.” He looked around furtively.

“You sure?”

“Y … y … yes.” He still looked nervous and agitated. I wound up as if to slug him and he blurted out, “All except this one. Please Mister. Let me keep just this one.”

I took the envelope from him and opened it up. Holding the neg up to the light I could see that it was a full nude of Sylvia, in her apartment. It looked almost as if it had been a posed picture, despite the blur of the telephoto lens. She looked so fucking beautiful. I could see what he saw in her and why he felt the way that he did, even though I obviously had no kind of artist’s eye for composition and form.

“All right, just this one,” I relented. “But I’d better not see this one showing up in some rag, got it?”

“Y … y … yes, I got it.” Metzger clung to the folder like it was worth a million bucks. Maybe in his sick perverted mind it was.

“And I don’t want to see you trailing around after her anymore, got it?”

“Y … y … yes.”

I scooped up the box of photos and negs. Looking down at the poor sap, I saw he was still holding onto the box of soiled panties.

“Oh, yeah,” I said scooping the box from his hands and placing it on top of the box of photos. “And I’m returning these to their rightful owner.”

Metzger cowered away from me when I threatened to rough him up again. Then I saw his camera on a table and set the box down. I picked up the camera and opened the back, yanking the exposed film out.

“N … n … no, don’t!” he protested but I wasn’t buying his plea.

I threw down the camera and picked up the box.

“I don’t want to see you anywhere near Sylvia Cavanaugh, got it?” I warned him, my fist at the ready just inches from his sad mug.

Metzger nodded, his beady little eyes twice their normal width with fear. He had pissed his pants, the poor sad fuck. Then I turned and left his apartment feeling like I had just struck out the side. I felt sorry for the poor bastard, but beautiful broads can do that even to a stronger, smarter man. I knew that all too well.

I locked the box in the trunk of the Hudson and was ready to head home. But while crossing 34th Street I saw the flashing lights of Eddie’s Bar and Grill and stopped in for a nitecap. As usual, the place was half filled with men who didn’t ask and women who didn’t tell. And smack dab in the middle of the hubbub sat Sylvia Cavanaugh, stirring a tall glass of amber liquor. I sidled up to the barstool next to her and sat down.

“Somehow I had a feeling that you’d be here,” I remarked glancing at her lovely reflection in the mirror behind the bar.

She looked over at me with those big blue eyes. They were a little glazed over from all the booze but I could see the flicker of recognition inside.

“And somehow I knew that you’d show up, Vince,” Sylvia said, managing to get a sentence out without slurring a single syllable.

“Been waiting long?” I asked.

“My whole life for you, handsome,” she said, leaning toward me drunkenly and resting her hand on my shoulder. “I need man like you to protect me from the creeps that want to grab at me.”

“What do you mean?” I looked at her closely. There was that air of nonchalance in her posture, but a glint of deep fear in her eyes buried under the fog of the booze.

“Like tonight, I was coming out of this bakery … getting prices on wedding cakes … and some guy grabs me … threatens me … was trying to do something with me … until I fought him off.”

“Was it the same guy who called this morning?”

“Coulda been … I dunno.”

“Did you go to the police?”

“No, I came here …”

“Some creep jumps you—maybe even the guy threatening your life—and you come here?”

“Why else would I be here except to try and forget … and wait for you?”

The way she sat unsteadily at the bar, heavily sauced, almost made me feel sorry for her. She was drinking to cover up some deep-seated fears and the booze was clouding her judgment. With someone obviously out to get her, it was time to sober her up. Up till now, Sylvia had been getting by on her beauty and youth, but the booze was bringing her down and that had to stop. Maybe I was the guy to do it. When the bartender stopped by, I waved him off and stood up, taking Sylvia’s hand and pulling her to her feet.

“All right, I think it’s time for me to get you out of here, young lady,” I said.

Sylvia protested every step of the way up until I loaded her safely into the Hudson. Once I was situated behind the wheel, she leaned heavily against me and rested her head on my shoulder, just as if we were made to fit each other. Here I am trying to play Mr. Nice Guy when her hand clumsily pawed over my lap trying to find my throbbing Mr. Incredible, but I brushed her away. She was far too loaded for that right now. I helped her up to her apartment and managed to get her inside without waking the neighbors. When I pointed her toward the bedroom she laughed and kicked off her shoes, fumbling for the zipper on her light chiffon dress. She was drunk, stumbling, bumbling, dumb-ass drunk, and I wasn’t about to take advantage.

“Come on, Vince,” she said looking back toward me. “Help get me naked so we can have some fun.” She struggled to pull down the zipper and I was certain that she was going to rip the dress so I did the honors. She squealed with liquored joy as I parted the chiffon and bared her sleek pale body. She turned around and shimmied the dress to the floor. Wearing just a dainty pair of panties, garter and stockings, she fell against me, kissing me ineptly from her stupor. “Come on, Vince,” she pleaded drunkenly.

“No, doll, not when you’re stewed like this.” I took her hand and led her to the bathroom.

“Ooo, kinky,” she giggled when I started to strip off what remained of her clothes, stockings, garter, panties unsnapped and slipped off, the sound of silk against her skin filling me with illicit desire that I had to stifle again and again. Once she was fully naked, Sylvia fell against me, her little hands raking against my chest and reaching for my dick.

“No, baby,” I said and reached in to start up the shower. “You’ve got some sobering up to do, before I can touch you.”

She laughed. I’m not sure what she expected when I shoved her into the shower stall but it certainly wasn’t the hard spray of cold water. She screamed loud enough to wake the dead and tried to claw her way out calling me every dirty name in the book, but I managed to keep her inside for several minutes and not get myself too wet in the process. Then I let some warm water in so that she could wash off her makeup. By the time she finished washing up, she seemed a lot more sober.

And she looked gorgeous, her body so flushed and aroused from the cold shower, her perky nipples standing out in all their puckered beauty. When I got her out and wrapped her in a large fluffy towel, I walked her to the bedroom and laid her down under the sheets. She looked up at me with pleading eyes, so I lay down beside her on the bed and just held her until her hair was dry and she had warmed up. Then I got up to leave.

“Vince, please don’t go,” Sylvia asked, her big blue eyes pleading with me. “Don’t leave me alone. Please?”

“I should go.”

“Pleeeeease?” Sylvia sat up in the bed, the sheet falling away from her body to reveal the towel still wrapped around her. She held out her hand to me, beckoning me to join her. “I’ll be a good girl, I promise.”

“I really should go.”

“Please? Pretty please with sugar?” she begged, crawling toward me. Her towel began to unwrap itself and slipped down to her waist revealing her appetizing little breasts.

“Just for a few minutes, till you fall asleep,” I relented. “But only if you’re a good girl.”

“Oh, goodie,” she squealed and reclined back on the bed, the towel having fallen completely off her body. “You know I’m always a good girl—even when I’m being bad.”

I knew that I shouldn’t be doing this, that I should have left when I had the chance, for once she had me in her clutches I was a goner. It didn’t take her long to have my jacket off and my shirt unbuttoned. By the time she was working on my fly, I had lost all sense of resistance. Sylvia pulled out my throbbing erection, stroked it gently, and sucked it deeply into her warm and wet little mouth. Just as my eyes rolled up from the extreme pleasure, she surprised me by climbing up on top.

“Come on Vince, you do it just the way I like it,” Sylvia cooed, straddling my lap and rubbing her tender blonde cunt on my long hard dick. “Hard and fast and rough.”

“We shouldn’t … I shouldn’t … not tonight …” I protested, but her magic was too strong and I knew that I had just struck out.

Sylvia drew me up into her warm center. I could feel her body shiver with pleasure as she settled down against me. She rested her hands on my shoulders and began to rock gently, riding up and down my stiff dick with her snug little twat. I closed my eyes as the first waves of enjoyment swept over me. Then I felt her body press down onto mine. Sylvia exhaled and fell limp. If not for her heavy deep breath on my neck I might have thought she had expired. But she had only passed out.

How embarrassing for the both of us. I lifted her up from me, letting my stiff dick slip from her warm wet sex. I laid her out on the bed and got up and fixed my clothes. Looking down at her pale trim little sexy body sent a rush of lust through my veins. Just like the first night we met, a lot of other cats would have banged her silly at this point, and certainly an obvious part of my anatomy was well prepared to do so right here and now. But that isn’t my style. If I’m going to fuck her silly, I want her awake and alive and able to fully enjoy it. So I tucked the covers around her sleeping form and slipped out of the room.

I saw the empty liquor bottles and glasses in the kitchen and living room. After putting them away and cleaning up a bit, I decided to stay the night. It wasn’t enough that I put her safely to bed. If left on her own tomorrow, it would be back to her usual habits and I couldn’t let that happen. Someone had to be around to help Sylvia take charge of her life. I glanced out through the front window drapes at the empty street. There was some creep out there somewhere who had to be stopped. Besides I had a bunch of questions for her that needed answers and I might need all day to get them all out of her. I scrounged an extra pillow out of the linen closet and settled onto her sofa for some shuteye. It was big and soft and comfortable and I sank deeply into it. It made me chuckle, cause I realized that just like the sofa, I was sinking deeper and deeper into this case and falling deeper and deeper for Sylvia.

 

[DangerousDarkEyes]

Sylvia

Running, running, out of breath, looking back into the darkness, I can’t see anyone, but know someone is there, following me, getting closer, closer and then….

“NO STOP!!! LET ME GO!!!!” I yelled, instantly sitting straight up in bed, emotionally racked with fear looking around the darkened room.

It took me several minutes before I realized I was in my own bed and it all had been a dream. Once fully awake I sat with my blanket having slipped down leaving me naked from the waist up and rubbing my throbbing head. Before I had enough time to even recall the evening past, my bedroom door bolted open with Vince standing there, trousers on, bare feet with his shirt open showing off his bare chest.

“Syl, you alright? What on earth is….” Vince asked, gasping for breath, looking around with his chest heaving, obviously having run to my room startled awake by my outburst. But he stopped in mid sentence, his mouth having dropped to near his chin when his eyes focused on me sitting there, bare breasted and my nipples having come fully erect from the cool morning chill poking straight at him.

At first I just stared surprised and wide eyed at him with a warm flush washing over me. Did he know just how sexy he looked like that, with his hair must up, looking half awake, barely dressed? Then I saw the expression on his face change when his eyes lowered to the nipples pointing at him. Instantly I felt that familiar warm tingling sensation in my tummy that I feel every time I’m turned on by a guy, but without letting him see that, lowered my eyes while holding back a sexy grin.

“Oh Vince, I was soooo scared, I thought you left and…” I said softly, wiping away a tear that had traveled down my cheek while trying to keep down the strong emotions to jump his bones if he came any closer. “I was having this awful nightmare…” I added, sniffing a bit.

“I haven’t gone anywhere doll,” he replied sweetly walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed beside me. “There’s nothin’ to be afraid of. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, you know that don’t you?” With that said, he reached his hand under my chin but before he had the chance to do or say anything else, my arms went around him and I pulled him tight, hugging him.

“I know, but I just get so scared,” I whispered at the same time shivering, although more from the warmth I felt as our bare chests were pressed together. “Just hold me, please…”

“There, there now, is this better?” he asked, the words weren’t even out of my mouth when I felt him pull me tighter, his hand wrapped around my bare back, one slightly above my ass.

“Ummmmm, yes much better,” I cooed, my breath warm on his neck while the smile on my face widened and my passion built quickly. I could feel the chilly air hitting my back and the cheeks of my ass as he pulled me even closer. “Mmmmm, you know just how to make everything alright Vince. You know what else it is I need?” I asked, this time the lust was obvious in my voice as I raised up on my knees, pulling just a bit away from him to look down into his eyes.

“Matter a fact I know exactly what you need!” he stated at the same time his hand came down on my derriere, the sound of the slap echoing in the room.

“WHY YOU!” I cried out.

SLAP SLAP SLAP

“OUCH!!! HOW COULD YOU? No one does that to me, I’m Gonna…” I cried out, squirming to free myself from his grip, surprised and outraged by his action, which only made him chuckle, hold me and give me several more cracks on the ass before letting me go.

“What’s that you’re gonna do sweetheart?” Vince said, sitting back laughing at me practically in tears as he watched me rubbing my back end. “You know, you really can’t blame me, though, it’s your own fault tempting me like that.”

“My fault? Tempting you? I was the one scared remember!” I retaliated pouting and pushed myself away from him and off the bed. Not only was my butt rather sore but my ego was now bruised from his onslaught. As I stood up that was when I spotted myself in the mirror and realized he had been watching my reactions the entire time and had not been fooled with my attempt at being scared.

“Anyone ever tell you how beautiful your ass looks all red and rosy like that? Just the way I like it too,” Vince said with some heat in his voice.

I turned, looking over my shoulder at him still sitting on the bed and notice quite a remarkable bulge in his trousers. The morning sunlight was just beginning to come thru the window shining on my rosy ass and Vince was smiling at me standing there naked while the heat of his stare was causing more than my ass to warm up. That’s when I decided he was going to pay for that little stunt, and dearly, or so I thought.

“Oh? So you like it huh?” I asked and I bent over just a little spreading my legs a bit and wiggled my ass practically in front of his nose while I picked up the blanket that had fallen to the floor. “That’s really too bad though cause,” I hesitated, pretending to ignore his desire and turned my back on him to walk stark naked to my bathroom, “cause after that you won’t be seeing it again for awhile.”

Without turning around, I heard him laugh loudly as I shut the bathroom door and biting back my tongue, I decided a shower was apparently the only release I was going to get this morning. I left the door unlocked though, hoping he might just decide to pop in on me and I might just give him an eye full. Unfortunately by the time I finished soaping down my body, gently rubbing my still pink rosy ass and Vince still had not walked in, the mood left me so I quickly finished, dried off and put on a robe. First thing on my agenda for the day was to make myself a good stiff drink to get rid of this throbbing in my head. I wasn’t going to be able to concentrate on anything else until I did that.

I suppose I thought Vince had left because when I walked in my kitchen, I was completely surprised to see him pulling things from my kitchen cabinets and the refrigerator. I smiled and stood there quietly watching him apparently making breakfast for us. He had brushed his hair and was completely dressed other than his shoes and seemed to be pretty lost in thought while he worked. The smell of fresh coffee and bacon frying was beginning to make a big hit on my stomach having realized I probably hadn’t eaten much in days.

“Landsakes, the man can cook too! Does that come with being a private dick?” I teased as I walked up behind him to look over his shoulder. “Mmmm, something is smells really good too.” I said softly with my warm breath hitting his neck just so.

“That’s probably cause you’re hungry. Here make yourself useful and set the table.” Vince said, smiling and handed me several plates and silverware. “You do know how to…”

“Yes Vince honey, there are other things I know how to do besides…”

“I’m very aware of those things, believe me.” Vince said, his tone and the look in his eyes having changed to more serious and I almost got the impression he wasn’t too happy about those other things I did, but he turned away from me quickly getting back to cooking our breakfast. “Why don’t you pour us some coffee, this should be done in just a second or two.”

“Sure, just after I make myself a drink.” I replied after setting the table and went to the cabinet where I kept the liquor. “What the hell? Ok, what did you do with it?” I asked spinning around to face him, unaware that the belt on my robe had come undone and my robe was open quite nicely.

“Look Sylvia, I’m going to be frank with you,” Vince spoke without looking at me as he dished out the food, his tone again serious. “We are going to have to get at least one thing straight and that’s no more booze. I did the honors of emptying what was here.”

“You have no right to do that, that was not part of our deal.” I said angrily, standing there now with my hands on my hips and my robe open hiding none of my nakedness beneath it. “You know I’ll just go get some more once you leave.”

“Yes, I figured you would, that’s why I’ve decided to stay by your side until this is over with.”

“What? You mean 24/7 by my side?” I asked doing my best to sound very irritated, but actually the thought of having him around like that really wasn’t bothering me at all. But then again, no drinking? I had to wonder what other ideas or rules he was going to come up with, specially after this morning’s little episode. “Does that mean you’re gonna shower and sleep with me too?” At that thought, my hand immediately went to rub my still sore bottom and I heard him giggle.

“As long as you’re not drinking, that probably won’t be necessary,” he chuckled and I could feel his eyes on my warm flesh as he seemed to be taking in every movement I made. “Besides, you keep forgetting my rules about clients.”

He then walked over to me and a smile creased my lips cause I thought he was going to pull me close and kiss me. Instead, he reached around and pulled the belt of my robe around, tying it tight, covering me completely. Without saying anything, he took my hand and walked me over to the chair, holding it out for me to sit down, which I reluctantly did.

“Sylvia, baby, you can’t keep drinking like you’re doing and not expect bad things to happen. Come on, be realistic here. Obviously someone is out to harm you and it’s hard enough for me to keep you out of danger when you are sober, let alone when you’re off drinking and…welll….”

“Well what? What’s the harm in a drink or two?” I asked as I looked over at him, again surprised by that look on his face. Almost looked as if he really cared about me, I thought to myself, but heck, he was getting paid a lot of money to care, wasn’t that it really?

“There isn’t any harm in that, but lets be honest here, that’s not what you do is it?” He asked, his words slow, soft, yet very deliberate. He then placed one hand on top of mine while grabbing my chin with the other. “How many times this week did you have more than that and exactly what were you doing then? Or should I say who?”

“WHY YOU…” Red with anger, I lashed out, slapping him hard across the face. It was as if he knew he had that coming and made no move to strike back or say anything. He just sat staring at me, waiting for me to answer and finally, I broke down burying my face in my hands as I sobbed. “I know, I know you’re right, but I just get so afraid, and then one thing leads to another and….”

“I’m not judging you, Syl, but if I have any chance of protecting you at all, its going to be up to you to stop the drinking. I know you’re scared, that’s why I said I’d I’ll stay with you as much as possible. If not, then I’ll try and make sure you’re never alone.” His words were spoken soft and I could tell he was sincere in what he was saying. For the first time in my life, I realized that here sat the only man that could help me, that seemed to care enough to help me and all he expected was me to help him by not drinking. “So, do we have an agreement?”

Vince got up from the table, leaving the room for a second only to return with a box of Kleenex from the bathroom and set it down in front of me. He took a Kleenex and dried my eyes, then asked his question again.

“Yes, at least for now I’ll agree and restrain from the drinking, but you promise, you won’t leave me alone? Ever?” How could I not agree, the more I was with him, the more I was beginning to feel some connection between us, and it was feeling a lot more than just a client relationship too.

“I’ll do my best, but I can’t make promises, besides, don’t you think your fiancée is going to be upset if I’m always there?” Vince said and smiled this time trying to lighten the subject, teasing me.

“Hmmm, I did forget about that,” I answered back with a smile, then added and flashed my eyes at him, “Ever have a 3 sum?” I couldn’t resist the comment but it didn’t matter, both of us burst out laughing, the morning tension finally easing up.

After finishing breakfast and cleaning up, I threw on a pair of short shorts and tank top, not bothering with undies and we spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon going over the names in my phone book and talking about the case. Most names were just acquaintances, people that worked for the company along with some family and a few friends. One number with the name Metzger, photograher, next to it came up and when Vince asked me about it, I sat there for the longest time trying to recall who the man was.

“Hmmm, guess he’s the man Niaomi and Jack told me to get in touch with to take pictures at my wedding. But that was quite a while back and well, lets just say he wasn’t really what I had in mind after I met him.”

We were sitting in my living room, Vince on the couch and me in the rocking chair across from him. I was leaning forward with my elbows on my knees and my top hanging open a bit where as he was getting quite a view of my tits. What was really getting to me was that I knew he was looking even if he didn’t think I did and the more he watched me, the more I couldn’t help from teasing him. Whether giving him a view down my shirt or whenever I bent over, a nice view of my ass, my cheeks barely contained in my shorts.

“Wow, do you realize we have been at this most of the day? Aren’t you getting a bit tired of just sitting here?” I asked as I got up and walked over to him. I knelt down in front of him, my elbows on his thighs holding my head up in my hands as I smiled at him. “I think we need a break, don’t you?”

 

[Miltone]

Vince Latimer, PI

“Depends on what kind of break you have in mind,” I replied smartly. This girl was good, she was saying all the right things, doing all the right things, making me feel that I was in control when she was holding onto the deck and dealing. But I had to admit that she was clever about it all. Sure, I was keeping an office on the second floor of the Mountain States Building, but I was also a poor sap living from case to case, and this case promised some big bucks, the likes of which were the stuff of dreams. She had everything going for her, looks, money—if she lived that long—status, position. Every society page editor was willing to kill for the next exclusive that featured Sylvia Cavanaugh on the front page. And here she was blowing it all on booze that cost too much and men who didn’t give a shit.

Maybe until me. Sure, I drank cheap booze, but at least I cared about her. I didn’t know her, really, not in terms of days or weeks or hours, not like her sister or her fiancé do. But there was something special about her, the way she walked and talked, the way she looked at me, the way she “innocently” let her robe open up so that I could feast on her beauty that told me she was different to me and maybe I was a little bit different for her. And here she was in the warm afternoon sun, leaning over, answering every question in the most sober state of mind she may have had in months, letting me peer down her tank top or up her short shorts. Oh, she was working it, and I was eating up every move.

“Vince, I don’t have anything in mind,” she said, leaning forward and seductively resting her elbows on her knees, brushing her slender fingers at her short blonde locks. And I almost believed her innocence.

“You know … we oughta get outa here,” I said, and her face brightened immediately. She grabbed her purse and slipped on some sandals and we piled into the Hudson and went for a drive. I wasn’t sure where we were headed at first, but with the windows rolled down and the balmy afternoon air blowing through, there seemed to be only one place to go.

There is a beautiful stretch of coastline along Highway One that heads north and makes you think you’re in a different world. Two-lane blacktop and an occasional beach house where the upscale film community bunks down. We found an abandoned mile of beach hidden from view by the steep dunes and tall grass. I left my shoes and jacket in the car and rolled up my pant legs, she left her sandals behind, and we crossed the dunes and headed straight to the ocean, not stopping until our feet met the chill of the surf. We walked a ways down looking for sand crabs and seas shells, running in and out of the crashing waves, and ended up leaning back against a warm mound of sand, Sylvia weaving something out of the long grass, and me just taking in the view and asking questions.

“So how have you been getting on with Naomi?”

“We’re all right,” Sylvia said. “I love her. She’s the best, you know. But ever since Daddy died, she’s been on me like a hawk. I can’t go anywhere or do anything without her poking her nose into it. And ever since Peter died it’s been worse.”

“Why don’t you tell me about Peter?”

“What’s there to tell?”

“What do you know about it? What do you suspect?”

At my last question, Sylvia looked at me and her whole face scrunched up, her forehead furrowing like an old woman’s. She looked down at the grass she was weaving and for a moment and then out to the ocean. The incoming afternoon breeze brushed her short blonde hair back from her pretty face.

“We were all up at the lodge, Peter, Karen, Naomi, Jack, Nels—everybody, even a few people from the company were there. We’d just had a big fish fry and were sitting around on the deck when Peter says he’s going for a walk, maybe a swim. I was kind of sleepy from the big lunch, so I went to lay down. The next thing I know is that Naomi is screaming something about Peter. They found his clothes all folded up down by the ridge but he was nowhere around. The next day they found his body floating a ways down the shoreline. They said that he hit his head on the rocks when he dived in and died right away …”

Sylvia’s voice trailed off and her eyes narrowed as she looked off into some mysterious distance. As I peered off into the same distance, I wanted to see what it was that she saw.

“Sounds like I should take a look around that ridge,” I commented. Sylvia looked at me with a strong intense look and nodded. “I’ve heard that the coroner called it accidental death. Something tells me that you don’t believe that.”

“I don’t, Vince. Peter knew that lake better than anyone. We fooled around on the ridge, threw stones off, tossed ice balls in the winter, but we never dove in. We both knew that it was too dangerous.”

“So you think that someone else had something to do with it?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sylvia said looking back at me. “And I keep getting the feeling that the same ‘someone’ is out after me. Now, can we change the subject?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Didn’t mean to—” I felt bad because this was something that she clearly didn’t want to talk about. Could I blame her? Someone who might have already had something to do with her brother’s accident might be looking to score two in a row. “Sorry.”

“I know,” she said softly and lifted her hand to my face and stroked it gently. “You’ve been a prince.”

“What’s that you’re weaving?” I asked looking down at the long flat rope that coiled up in her lap.

“Oh, this?” she said with a laugh. “Nels showed me how to weave when I was a kid. You can take this and make all kinds of things. A mat, a hat, a necklace …”

She began to weave together the ends of what she had started. When she was finished it formed a ring. Sylvia reached over and looped it around my neck. She tugged on it and pulled me toward her. I didn’t expect the move and lost my balance, bowling her over and falling onto her, our noses ending up a mere breath away. Her arms wrapped themselves up around my shoulders. She felt so small and vulnerable beneath the weight of my six-foot frame, and her little body fitted itself to mine so perfectly.

“So, um … thanks,” I managed to squeeze out.

It was a long awkward moment before either of us moved. We looked at each other, our eyes locking up. Then I pushed up from the sand and we righted ourselves. I was sure that we both were blushing.

“So, of all the people who were at the lodge that day, whom do you trust the least?” I asked.

Sylvia gave me a stern look.

“You are always on the job, aren’t you?”

“That’s what you’re paying me for, isn’t it?”

“You know Vince, I think I’d rather have you for a boyfriend than my private detective.”

“Too late for that now, you’ve already paid for my services, and I’ve spent part of the retainer.”

Sylvia groaned and waved her hand at the woven grass necklace around my neck. “Maybe I should take that back.”

“Please, don’t,” I said, grabbing onto it. “But I care about you, Syl. I really do. And if some creep is out there, somewhere, and if he killed Peter, then he wants to kill you, and I have to know everything. So tell me, whom at the lodge that day do you trust the least?”

“I know,” Sylvia said. Her big blue eyes squinted out at the ocean again. “Jack Kroll. I’ve never liked him. He tried hitting on me the first chance he had. He wants it all. I know it. He can’t stand knowing that I’ll have half of what he has coming unless something happens to me.”

“You sure?” I asked. “Those are some pretty stiff charges.”

“Who else?” she asked incredulous that I might even consider someone else. “I don’t know. At this point it could be anyone.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that she was dead right on that one. Everyone had a stake in this, and it all flowed through Naomi. It could be Jack Kroll. It could be Eric Mason. It could even be Karen Heath. Hell, it could even be someone else that we weren’t even aware of. I reached my arm out and looped it around Sylvia’s waist. At the moment she felt my touch, she fell against me and my other arm wound around her too. Her body shuddered stiffly and deeply. I was sure that she was crying. To have the world by the balls and at the same time be so absolutely fucking scared was beyond me.

All I could do was pull her close to me and hold her tightly and wait for the sobs to subside. Then I lifted her face toward mine and brushed away her tears. When a couple persisted, I kissed them off her cheeks. Sylvia lifted her hand to my chin and guided my mouth to hers. Her lips were soft and wet and trembling, and when mine brushed against them, she pulled herself into me, her lips and tongue melding with mine in a deep heated kiss that defied my understanding.

The power of her kiss was so strong that I fell back against the sand and she climbed on top of me. And there we stayed, our kiss firm and deep, our hands errant and wandering, and our bodies heated and grinding. I wanted so much for there to be no rules, no regulations, no restrictions. I wanted this beautiful little girl so much, and yet there were so many reasons why I could not take her.

Sylvia pushed herself up from me, straddling my hips. She crossed her arms over her chest, reaching up to her shoulders, and tugged the straps of her tank top down over her shoulders, revealing her pale pert breasts. She grabbed at my wrists and guided my hands to her soft but firm curves. From the way that she ground her hips against me, she could tell that I wanted her. My throbbing member lay stiff and erect on my belly just below her hot slit that rubbed hard against me. With her erect nipples pressed into my palms, her damp sex raking over my hard dick, and that look of incredible lust glazing over her eyes, I was one step from making a fatal mistake.

“No,” I said. “Not here, not now.” There was a look of sexual desperation that flooded her eyes. “We have to keep out wits about us.”

“Oh, you are so dramatic!” Sylvia said. Then she suddenly dropped down to kiss me again, but I resisted. I struggled against her, my temptation, and pushed her up. Fuck! She was so appealing. “What’s wrong, Vince? Don’t you like me?”

I wondered if there was something too poker-faced about my expression. Surely she must have been able to see what was the most obvious about my feelings about her. But then, she probably could read me like a fucking dictionary and just wanted me to say something, anything.

“Oh, come on, doll,” I replied stiffly, but I was afraid that the wrong part of me was stiff. “You know how I feel about you. It’s just that we can’t get caught up in something right now that we can’t control.” I grasped her shoulders firmly, holding her face just above mine. “Whoever it is knows all about you, probably knows all about me by now. And if they find out about us, it could even be worse, cause we don’t know anything about who they are, what they want, or what they’re up to.”

“Vince,” she said in a soft little girl voice that tore right into me. “Vince! Make love to me, right here, right now! I need you so much!” She peeled her top down to her waist, she fumbled at my pants and her shorts, and she ground her hips against me, her damp sweet cunt rubbing against the firm steady hard-on that was sticking out of my pants. “I know you want me. And I want you. Come on!”

A low deep growl rumbled through my chest and erupted from my mouth. I looked down to see the blonde curls of her sex rubbing hard against my hot pink dick emerging from the parted zipper of my pants. Then I looked up at her face, glazed over with a look of wanton desire. She wanted me as much as I needed her, but lying on this soft warm bank of sand, the late afternoon breeze washing onto us, I knew that we had to stop. Sylvia, sweet sexy Sylvia already had one boozy addiction that was hard to break, and the second was starting to show. She reached down and guided my stout firmness to her soft wetness and rubbed us together. For a sweet blissful instant I felt myself push into her. But then I withdrew. I backed off and pulled out and grabbed a hold of her shoulders firmly.

“Sylvia,” I said, hoping that she could see the resolved in my eyes. “Sylvia, at any other time in our lives I would be all over you like a cheap suit in a hurricane. You are the sweetest, sexiest girl I have ever met, anywhere, anytime. But this isn’t all fun and games right now. This is life and death, and for what it’s worth, I like the sound of life. I didn’t fight my way across the sands of Tunisia, through the hedgerows of Normandy, and the across the Rhine just to blow it right now on something that could be gone in a flash. If we’re meant to be something together, then we’ve got to beat this creep and then …”

“Then what, Vince?”

“Then we can figure something out.”

Sylvia sat up, her pale blonde body stretching up in the late afternoon sun, her pert pink nipples aroused and erect, her big blue eyes flashing down at me. Then she grinned, and she ran her hands over my bare chest and shoulders, bringing her soft warm palms to my cheeks. She patted them tenderly.

“You’re right,” she admitted. I could see the tears form in each eye and dribble down over her high rounded cheeks. “You’re absolutely fucking right, Vince.” She rolled off of me and onto her back beside me. “This makes no sense. All I’m trying to do is forget. Drink till I forget … fuck till I forget … wake up tomorrow in some place that I don’t know with someone I’ll forget the moment I step into the taxicab. I’m all messed up … it’s like the world is spinning around me and I’m all dizzy and can’t grab hold of anything to make it stop.”

“I’m here, Sylvia,” I said, rolling up onto my side. “Hang onto me whenever you feel the need.” I brought my hand up to her cheek and looked down into her big tear-soaked baby blue eyes. She was the irresistible force and I felt like the vast immoveable object. We had just collided, but it didn’t end up in some cataclysmic apocalypse. Strangely enough, we just lay there in the sun and relaxed. Sylvia sighed and let her arms encircle her pretty blonde head; I did allow my hand to circulate around her body, my palm gliding over her pert little breasts before I tugged her top up to cover them, my fingertips brushing through the soft blonde curls of her sex before drawing up her shorts and fastening them.

Sylvia reached a hand up to my shoulder and pulled me down to her. She hugged me firmly, desperately, and voraciously. She buried her face into my shoulder and I felt her tears dampen my shirt. It was several minutes before we moved to leave. Arm in arm we found our way back to the Hudson and stepped down onto the plush broadcloth seats. I looped the grass necklace she had made over the rear view mirror.

On the way back to her place, we stopped at the El Dorado for some dinner. Sylvia got a kick out of my old hangout, making small talk with my old pal, Louie the chef, and Sally, my favorite hard-bitten waitress. It was pork chop night and the sauerkraut bit a little hard into Sylvia’s cultured palate, but I had to admit that she was a trouper and ate every bite. We shared a plate of warm apple pie with a slice of sharp cheddar. When a reporter from the Herald came sniffing around, I introduced her as my niece from Omaha and sent him on his way, even though he looked like he was one step away from recognizing her.

By the time we reached her apartment, it was already dark. Sylvia wanted to wash the sand off her body before settling in for the night. Of course she had to leave the bathroom door open while she showered and just passing by on the way to the kitchen afforded me a glimpse of her pale beauty through the steam that wafted out the gaping doorway. Standing at her kitchen window I could tell that it was going to be a hot night and stripped down to my shorts when camping out on her sofa. When she came into the living room wearing a light filmy robe over nothing else, I was laying on the sofa smoking my last Camel of the day.

“You don’t have to sleep out here all by yourself you know,” Sylvia said. Then she gestured toward her bedroom door. “There’s a big old bed in there and half of it is getting cold.”

I crushed out my Camel and pushed up from the sofa. She eased her arm around my waist and walked with me toward the bedroom. Just as we neared the door, she pushed me ahead and slipped away from my grasp.

“What’re you doing?” I asked pausing by the bedroom door.

“Nothing. I’ll be right in,” she said waving me onward.

I shook my head and headed toward the bed. But when I pulled back the covers and climbed onto the mattress, I heard the telltale clink of glasses and liquid pouring.

“Hey!” I called out from the kitchen door, catching her by surprise. Sylvia turned around, startled by the sound of my voice and my tall frame looming in the doorway. She tried hiding something behind her as she turned to face me. “What’re you doing?” I asked again.

“Oh, nothing, just getting a little glass of water before going to bed.” She tried using that soft husky innocent voice of hers, but I wasn’t buying.

“Yeah, right,” I said, quickly moving to her beside the sink and catching a peek of the open whiskey bottle and the three fingers of amber liquor sloshing in a short glass. “Water, eh? Looks to me like you need some work on your pipes,” I said, reaching for the glass and tossing the contents down the sink.

“Vince, please. It’s not like that,” she said, looking up at me with those big blue eyes. “It was just a sip, just a little something to help me fall asleep.”

“You don’t need this, Sylvia,” I said capping off the bottle and putting it back into the cabinet.

“But Vince, I need something,” she said reaching out for me, her tiny hands grabbing at my hips pulling me toward her. Standing in front of her, Sylvia looked so small and pink and delicate as I glanced down at her. She smelled so fresh and sweetly perfumed from her shower. The erect pink tips of her breasts protruded through her filmy robe and brushed against the bare skin of my chest; her flat firm belly pressed against my loins; her little hands raked at my back hungrily. “Just this once, just tonight, and I’ll never ask for another drop again. I promise.”

“Doll, I had a drill instructor who warned me to never take the word of a drunk, and he was right.”

“So is that what you think I am, a drunk?”

“No, Syl, you’re not a drunk, but you are under the influence, and I’m going to help you get out, okay?”

Sylvia wrapped her arms around me and clung to me firmly. I could feel her shoulders shake from the sobs that rose up from deep inside her. I hugged her tightly, feeling her little body meld with mine. And when the tears began to fade, I walked her to the bedroom. She waited and watched as I slipped beneath the sheets, then she slowly doffed her robe and climbed onto the bed, nestling down beside me, her head resting on my chest and her body lying against my side. Her hand toured my body, taking inventory. When she reached my dick, she must have liked what she felt, for her fingers spent a lot of time tracing the shape and outline and teasing it with a most incredible light touch.

“So if you aren’t going to let me have a nitecap, can I at least have a good night kiss?” Sylvia asked softly and sweetly.

“I guess that couldn’t hurt,” I answered, looking down at her as she lifted her face up toward mine. Our lips brushed together lightly for only a moment, and then Sylvia began to shimmy up along my body.

“What I had in mind was not that kind of kiss, but something special,” she said with a deep sexual hunger that made her voice tremble with desire. “A special kind of kiss, in a special place.” Sylvia straddled my chest tucking her knees up snuggly and presenting her sweet little blonde sex right in front of my face. “You’ve been to Europe, Vince, to Paris. You know what I mean by a special kiss.” The scent of her perfumed sex filled my nostrils with an intoxicating aroma. The sight of her pale body rising up before me was rousing. Sylvia ran her hand down over herself, parting the short blonde curls and spreading her labia enough to show the bright pinkness inside. “Kiss me, Vince! Kiss me!”

I didn’t think about whether I should do it or not, whether if I did this she would fall sleep sooner, nor did I ponder the relative merits of my gentleman’s code of conduct, which had all but been tossed out the window. I simply reached up and grabbed her ass and pulled her sweet sex down to my face and buried my tongue as deep inside her as it could reach. Sylvia hung onto the headboard and moaned loudly.

“Oh, god, yes! Vince, kiss me! Kiss me!”

 

[DangerousDarkEyes]

Sylvia

My moans echoed with intense pleasure rocking my sopping wet puss back and forth across his face while he worked magic with that tongue of his.

“Fuck yeah….” I cried out, throwing my head back and moaning even louder. When his fingers dug in to the cheeks of my ass and his mouth clamped down on my clit sucking it hard in the warm sweet mouth of his, my knuckles went white from holding the headboard so tightly and squirming furiously on his face.

“Mmmmm yeah baby….” Vince growled, lifting his head just a second, taking a quick breath. “Gonna make you cum…. Right…. now…”

“Ahhhhhhhh yeahhhhhhhh, Vince, honey, yes, yes…” I cried loudly.

Damn, I came like a flood as soon as his lips sucked my hard sensitive clit and he pushed several fingers deep inside my hot twat. His moans had me cumming even more while he licked and lapped at my honeypot, until finally we both needed air. I collapsed on his chest with my body still trembling all over, huffing and puffing away, just the same as he was.

“You can kiss me like that anyyyyyyy time you want to Vince. You’re a great kisser.” I finally managed to say, smiling ear to ear, arching up a bit feeling my pointy nipples brushed against his sexy bare chest.

“Awwww Mam, just trying to help you sleep better,” he said sheepishly, then with a sexy wink surprised me with a light slap on my ass. “So you think we could get some sleep now? We have a big day tomorrow.”

“Sleep? Hmmm, are you sure you’ll be able to sleep Vince?” I asked, smiling while I slowly slid my warm body down his belly, feeling his very stiff dick rub against my thigh.

“Hey now, I thought you………..ooooohhhhh BABY ..."

“Thought what Vince?” I asked grinning develishly and a soft, sensual tone in my voice. I was now lying between his legs having just used the flat of my tongue to lick slowly up his long hard shaft, saturating it in my saliva.

Before he had a chance to answer, I giggled softly and licked once again back up his entire length, this time circling the head with the tip of my tongue. He let out a loud animalistic groan instantly and the way his cock bolted straight up like it was begging for more had me as warm and wet as grass on a rainy spring night. And after several more long wet licks up and down, cupping and stroking his balls in my other hand while I saw his cock grow harder before my eyes, it took every bit of will power not to just sit my hot wet twat right on his hardness and bounce us both to that sweet place where only lovers find ecstasy.

“Mmmmm, damn you are soooo hard to resist. Are you sure you wanted to go to sleep?” I said, lifting my head, knowing full well what I was about to do and if he had even got a look in my eyes would have seen it too.

I shifted a bit where my legs were straddling his leg so that I was able to rub my wet puss on him still giving him head like he never had before. He let out a low deep growl the second my lips wrapped around the head of his dick and sucked it nice and slow, licking all around while my hand gently caressed his balls.

“Ohhhh My Goddddddd…”

Now it was his moans and groans echoing the room and ‘Oh my God was right, the more excited he was getting, damn if I wasn’t going to cum again myself. I curled my hand around the base of his shaft while slowly engulfing his hard throbbing member more and more down my throat. Faster and faster, it didn’t take him long before his hips were bucking, fucking my mouth with my head bobbing vigorously.

“OH BABY!!OH FUCK YESSSS!!!!!!!” Vince let out pushing the back of my head down on his cock.

Best as I could I sucked and swallowed when he came, exploding in my mouth damn near in buckets, leaking out the creases of my lips, even dripping down my chin. My own hand went quickly to my throbbing sex and several quick flicks of my swollen clit was all it took and I came again even harder, my moans muffled by having his cock still in my mouth. As soon as my own climax began to wind down, I finished licking him clean and crawled up into his arms smiling at him.

“Now we’ll both sleep good, don’t ya think?”

“Oh yes, although,” he replied softly, a strange smile creasing his lips while he kept starring at me.

“Although what?” I asked, trying to figure out what that look on his face meant.

His brought his hand up and softly wiped his finger across my chin then brought it to my lips. “You sure you’ve had enough yet?”

I sucked his finger in my mouth licking the cum from it and giggled along with him. “Enough? Well…maybe for the moment…but if you want,” I smiled and started to sit up.

“That’s what I thought,” Vince chuckled as he reached out and pulled me back into his arms wrapping them around me. “Sleep baby, we both need it.”

Our lips met in a deep passionate kiss after which I cuddled close with my head against his chest and him holding me close. I had to admit I was tired, but what amazed me the most was how safe and unafraid I felt at that very moment and damn, I was sober too.
“Vince are you asleep?” I said softly after several moments of silence between us, only to have him mumble a bit and hug me close. “Vince do you really think you’ll be able to catch the….well you know…stop whoever it is before…”

“Not if you don’t let me get some sleep,” he growled. Then after a moment he tipped my chin up with his hand and spoke candidly. “Sylvia, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, but it’s going to take you to trust me. Do you?”

“Yes Vince, I trust you.” I replied softly, giving him a sweet kiss before closing my eyes to sleep.

I wasn’t exactly sure what woke me up, maybe another nightmare, but I couldn’t believe it was already nearing 6:00am, it felt like we had just gone to sleep. Looking over at Vince, I smiled, lightly brushing a few strands of hair from his face. Yeah and maybe I lifted the blanket a little so I could see the rest of him feeling that naughty grin creep over me.

I didn’t get much time to enjoy because that’s when I heard something, sounded like it was coming from my kitchen. I instantly froze, all my muscles tensed.

“Vince, Vince,” I whispered right up against his ear. I wasn’t sure what to do or even what the hell I heard.

“sleep baby,’ he more or less mumbled and softly patted my ass.

The noise came again and this time my hand was at his side, fingers poking him and whispering to him.

“Vince, someone’s in the kitchen I think..”

“Just another dream babe…go back…”

Just then another noise came and Vince instantly sat up, completely awake.

“Were you expecting anyone?” Vince whispered, his detective instincts and reactions now beginning to show.

 

[Miltone]

Vince Latimer, PI

“No,” Sylvia answered in a whisper, shaking her head. Her face, normally pale to begin with, was ghostly white and I could see that familiar look of fear flickering deeply in her eyes. Then she hid behind me like a frightened child, clutching at me, pressing her naked body against me so tightly that I could feel her firm little tits mash against my back.

“Stay here. Don’t move!” I whispered and began to slip from the bed. Damn! I had left my 38 snub-nose hanging on a chair with my suit jacket. I was also as naked as a jaybird and sporting a randy hard-on, which wouldn’t exactly present the most intimidating appearance to a burglar or a stalker. I scrounged around quickly to locate my shorts, eventually finding them on the dresser where Sylvia had tossed them last night. I stepped into them and motioned for Sylvia to be quiet, then slipped silently from the bedroom. The living room floor creaked and I heard a grunt.

“God damn!” rumbled a voice.

I paused and leaned against the wall of the hallway, sneaking a look into the living room dimly lit by the sun rising slowly through the morning haze. A tall dark shadow stood beside the chair where I had laid out my clothes.

“What the fuck?!” the voice growled. It was a familiar voice. Eric Mason’s. “That motherfucker! Oh, that little bitch!”

When he moved toward the hall, I held back in the shadows until he passed me by then reached out and grabbed him from behind, an arm up around his neck and my other hand taking his wrist and pulling it around behind him. Fortunately starving artists don’t carry weapons and he hadn’t discovered my 38.

“What the hell?” he exclaimed. “Who the fuck are you?”

“What are you doing here, Mason?”

“What the fuck are you doing here, you son-of-a-bitch?”

“No need to insult my mother, Mason. I’m just keeping you from doing anything stupid,” I said, ratcheting up my vice-like grip on him as he struggled to free himself.

“Let go of me!” he demanded and continued to struggle.

“I’ll let you go once you settle down,” I said, lifting him off the ground just to show him who was boss.

“All right … all right,” he said, going limp in my grasp.

I was glad that I kept my guard up when I released him, because he turned quickly and tried to sucker punch me, but he had telegraphed the move. I blunted his blow and delivered a stiff uppercut to his jaw, sending him reeling back against the wall.

“You bastard!” he shouted, rubbing his jaw. Then he came at me again.

A right to the midsection and a left hook to the jaw dropped him to the rug. He fell like a sack of old potatoes. Then a shadow appeared at the bedroom doorway. It was Sylvia dressed in a soft shimmering robe.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Eric? Is that you?”

“Yeah, baby doll, it’s me!” Mason said rubbing his jaw and trying to get to his feet.

“What are you doing here?” Sylvia asked, going to him and helping him to his feet.

“I have every right to be here,” he said, glowering at me. “What’s this stiff doing here?”

“Vince is helping to protect me,” Sylvia said, checking him over for blood and bruises.

“Oh, yeah, I can see he’s doing a good job of that all right,” Mason said, pushing her away. “And helping himself to a taste of the candy store too, I see.”

“It’s not like that,” Sylvia protested.

Standing there in the hallway in just my skivvies, I definitely felt out of place in the middle of this lover’s quarrel.

“Maybe I should go,” I volunteered, edging toward the living room. “You two look like you have some things to talk about without me hanging around.”

“No, Vince. I want you to stay,” Sylvia said.

“Why? So he can protect you some more?” Mason said, looking directly at me shooting daggers.

I glowered at him and backed up into the living room, leaving Sylvia and Mason to sort things out. As I dressed, I could hear their voices echo down the hallway. It sounded like Sylvia was trying to apologize and Mason wasn’t buying it. I can’t say I blame him for being pissed off. I’d have been pissed off plenty if I dropped by my girl’s place only to find some guy in his shorts and my girl just climbing out of bed. I laughed. Come to think of it, I had been that very same pissed off guy a few years back, only it had been my wife and my former partner (emphasis on former). Strange how things come around. I hadn’t planned on getting involved with Sylvia. It had just sort of happened and she was awfully hard to resist once she set her mind on you. But Mason seemed to be resisting pretty well as he emerged from the hallway, still steaming mad.

“Come on, honey. Don’t be that way,” Sylvia called after Mason as he stormed to the front door.

“I don’t give a shit anymore, baby doll! I’ve had it with you and your guy friends and your pals from the bars! I’m through with you! As of now you’re out of my life!”

He grabbed the door handle with such violence I thought he’d rip it off.

“And as for you,” he snarled at me, “You’re gonna get what’s coming to you. Just wait and see!”

“But, Eric … honey!” Sylvia cried out, reaching for him. But Mason was too tipped off to want to listen any longer so he barged out the door, slamming it shut behind him. We could hear him tromping down the outside hallway to the elevator.

Sylvia sniffled softly, running the back of her hand over her cheeks to wipe away the few tears that had fallen. Crocodile tears maybe? I knotted my tie and slipped on my holster.

“I’m sorry, baby,” I said moving over toward her. Sylvia fell hard against my chest, her shoulders shuddering underneath the filmy sheer robe she was wearing. “I didn’t mean to come between you two. I should have known better.”

“It’s not your fault, Vince,” she said. “There wasn’t all that much to come between. I’ve just fucked things up so badly … sometimes I just don’t know what I’m doing.”

“It’s all right,” I said putting my arms around her. “It’s gonna be all right, Sylvia. You’ll be fine just as soon as we find out who’s stalking you.”

Sylvia lifted her face up to look at me. Tears were welling up in her eyes and her lower lip was quivering. Holding this nearly naked little girl in my arms was a pretty dangerous proposition, compounded by the threat of dealing with her tears.

“Vince … Vince … Vince,” Sylvia said slowly, as if repeating my name gave her some kind of comfort.

I held her tightly as her tears began to flow and her body quaked with deep heavy sobs. I kept holding her until eventually the tears stopped and her shoulders stopped trembling. I kissed away her tears and then I kissed her lips. When she hooked her hand around my neck, raked her fingernails through my hair, and pressed the full length of her body up against me, I knew I was a goner.

“Vince, I want you to do something,” she whispered in that dusky voice of her. She grabbed me by the lapels. “I want you to fuck me … not make love to me, but fuck me … hard and fast, just the way I like it, until the pain goes away and all that’s left is you and me.”

“I can’t do that, baby, you know as well as I do how wrong that would be,” I said trying to hold her off, but feeling the heat of her body start to melt me down.

“Just this once, Vince … just this once,” she pleaded, her tear-streaked eyes giving me a lustful gaze. “I’ll do anything for you, just make me feel good again, make me feel happy!”

Like everything else about Sylvia Cavanaugh, I hadn’t planned on this and I was desperately losing my will. She backed me up toward the sofa and I tumbled back onto the cushions. Sylvia climbed onto my lap and pulled at the tie of her robe, the diaphanous material falling open revealing her beautiful pale body to me again. Her pert nipples were rosy pink and erect. She reached down and opened my trousers. Like a faithless servant, my dick betrayed my scruples and sprang upward eagerly. She stroked it to perfection.

“I need this, Vince!” she murmured with a heady passion. “I want this so bad!”

Sylvia lifted up her body and guided my dick to her sweet little puss. She ground down against me and thrust her breasts forward toward my mouth. I kissed and suckled and nibbled on them until she shivered with pleasure. She rode me hard and fast, bouncing up and down so urgently that I thought we’d break the sofa in two.

“Fuck me, Vince! Fuck me hard!” she called out, her voice husky and thick with lust.

I thrust up to meet her every stroke, parting her tender downy muff, impaling her pale blonde body with my long thick dick. When we grew so wild that she bounced up and off me, she fell to the floor with a laugh and then pulled me down with her. I took her just as she asked, fucking her hard and fast across the living room floor. Her cries and screams would have awakened even a deaf neighbor as she thrashed about the carpeting, kicking at me, biting my shoulder, and raking her nails down my back. Finally my strong deep thrusts took their toll and Sylvia exploded and became a quivering mass of delectable pink flesh.

“Vince! Vince! Oh, god, Vince!” she squealed as her legs clamped tightly around my waist and her arms clung to me desperately.

I held onto Sylvia and continued to pump myself into her with a wild abandon until my seed gushed deep inside her, leaving both of us spent and dizzy.

“We’re not supposed to be doing this any more aren’t we?” Sylvia purred with a girlish smirk as we lay together afterward, kissing and petting each other.

“No we’re not,” I replied. I tweaked her pretty little nose. “Feeling better?”

“I feel much better, Vince. Thank you!” She stretched her body out, arms high over her head, her pale body still flushed and damp from our wild sex romp. We had fucked our way across the living room and were lying now near the front door.

I sat up and tried to straighten my clothes. My pants and shorts were tangled down around my ankles. My shirt was ripped and drops of blood from where Sylvia had scratched me had seeped through the white oxford cloth. My necktie hung like a noose around my neck. Sylvia grabbed it and pulled me to her. Then she spotted the damage to my shirt and laughed.

“Oh, my! I’m sorry. I guess I just sort of lost track of what I was doing,” she said pulling off my shirt. “But I can’t send you out looking like you’ve been caught in a cat fight! Let me wash it and fix it for you.”

“I didn’t know you were so domestic, Syl,” I chuckled. She held up my shirt and examined it for damage. As I pulled up my shorts and pants, I noticed something lying over by the front door, an envelope. I reached for it. “What the hell?”

Her name was written in heavy block letters on the front and the flap was sealed.

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Eric dropped it when he was here.” I handed the envelope to Sylvia.

“This doesn’t look like his handwriting,” she said turning the envelope over and opening it. Inside there was a single sheet of notepaper folded over. She read the note and then looked at me, handing the note back.

Hey, baby!
Just for old time’s sake, meet me at the cabin Tuesday night, and just to be safe, don’t bring any friends!
Love, Jack

“Is this Jack’s handwriting?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she replied mystified. “Could be … maybe … probably … I don’t know for sure.”

“Old time’s sake? What’s that mean?” I asked her.

She shook her head.

“You never had an affair with him?”

“Not that I know of,” she half-laughed.

“Never?”

“No, never.”

“Why would he ask you … unless he’s the one,” I spoke slowly.

“You don’t think … Jack?”

“At this point I’m not crossing anyone off the list.”

“So what should I do? The note says Tuesday night. That’s tonight. Should I go and meet him?”

“I think you should go.”

“Alone?”

“Yes, but I’ll be right behind you.”

“I’m scared, Vince.”

“Don’t be, baby, I’ve got your back.”

“You’ve got some other parts of me too, you know.”

She took my hand and guided it to her breast where I could feel her heartbeat, then dragged her hand down my belly and fondled my dick through my pants. I cupped the firm warm flesh of her breast and pinched its taut little nipple.

“I think you have that backwards, baby. It’s you who’s got parts of me.”

“We’ve got all day. Maybe we should share. What do you think?”

The girl was insatiable. Sylvia had my zipper down and my dick in her mouth in a New York minute. But even though I had just filled her twat with my spunk less than an hour ago, I was quickly ready for her again. She lie back on the plush thick carpet and spread her legs, splitting her soft blonde fur and fingering her puffy pink little sex. I shrugged and kicked off the rest of my clothes and crawled up between her legs. Sylvia looked up at me with those heavy-lidded baby blue eyes. She didn’t have to tell me what she wanted this time, I could see it written across her pretty face.

 

[DangerousDarkEyes]

Sylvia

I smiled with a twinkle in my eyes and licking my lips, feeling his warm breath so close to my wet waiting sex. It didn’t take long to put my hand on top of his head, pushing him towards my warm twat, purring in anticipation.

“A little anxious baby?” Vince said with a sexy grin, blowing streams of cool air thru blonde curls while resisting the pressure of my hand on his head a bit.

“Um hmmm,” I replied, wiggling my pussy in front of his nose, still trying to push him closer.

This only made him snicker, almost wickedly but before I could ask what that was about, he began teasing and taunting me mercilessly, kissing, licking, sucking on everything except my needy clit. At first I giggled, the sensations almost ticklish gradually driving me crazy with wanton desire. The more he did this, I was soon squirming in delight, moaning and doing my best to shove his head against my now sopping wet cunt.

“Oh my god Vince….quit teasing….eat me for Christs sake!!! Please….”

“What was that honey? Not sure I understood you,” Vince remarked, snickering again as he continued to tease more, then slipping several fingers inside me.

“Damnit, suck my clit, eat me, I can’t take this any more!!!” I begged him already teasing my own nipples, getting them nice and hard, arching and rocking my hips in need against his mouth and fingers.

“Like this you mean?”

The second his mouth clamped on my clit, sucking and flicking his tongue on it, I cried out, drenching his face with my juices, moaning with pleasure. I came hard, shaking fiercely while he lapped up my juices loudly, continuing to heighten my climax without letting up.

“Okay…Okay…” I mumbled, out of breath, still shaking and trying to push him from me.

His answer was a devilish growl, but stopping was not what he had in mind as his face ground against my pussy. He grabbed my wrists in one hand, keeping them away from me trying to push his head away and rolled on the carpet, taking me with him. Before I had time to even think, I was on top of him starring down at his rock hard cock while his hands were gripping the cheeks of my ass pulling my pussy to his face.

“OH FUCK!!!!!!!” I let out, his tongue again playing me like there was no tomorrow.

I was already heating up again and my mouth was practically watering starring down at his swollen dick like that. Pursing my lips and leaning down, I wrapped my lips around the head of his cock and licked and sucked at it as if it were an ice cream cone and a might tasty one at that.

“Sweet mother of…”

It was his turn to holler out, lifting his face from my shivering pussy.

Deliberately slow, with fingers curled at the base of his thick member, I started licking every inch of his cock, balls and the crack of his ass. Teasing and taunting him in the same fashion he had done to me, I was grinding my pussy on his face at the same time. Moans and wet noises grew louder, both of us were feeling the heat of our passion building fiercely.

“That’s it baby, take it… take it all…ooohhh yessss, oh my god….get ready to either swallow or move so I can fuck that sweet pussy of your!!”

The urgent need in his voice was all the encouragement I need, quickly lifting myself off his body but remaining on all fours. My soft wavy hair whisked across my back when I tossed my head and looked over my shoulder at him, passions fire glowing in my eyes.

“Come on, baby, give me that cock of yours, fuck me, fuck me good Vince,” I growled almost demanding, looking directly in his lust filled eyes, the wanton desire in my voice echoing in the room.

“OH God that ass….” he mumbled more than spoke while moving quickly.

On his knees behind me he grabbed my round derriere. I could feel his nails digging into my hot cheeks, spreading them. I pushed back just as he pulled me back and thrust his throbbing prick hard, deep, inside my dripping pussy.

“OH FUCK YEAH!!!” We cried out in unison the instant we both felt the heated pleasure of his entrance.

“God you feel so damn tight,” he groaned, thrusting long, hard and deep several times. “This what you wanted baby?” He asked grabbing a handful of my hair and pulling my head back while he slammed his pole in, out, in, faster, his balls slapping the puffy folds of my pussy.

“Yesssss honey, oh god yessss, pull my hair…slap my ass….Fuck me baby…fuck me…” I moaned, panted, rocking myself body back and forth, as we fucked like two wild animals in heat.

My apartment was filled with the sounds of cries, moans, groans, panting, the wet sloshing sound of his cock pumping in and out of my juicy cunt. Our bodies were soaked in sweat, my ass rosy, my back arched and head pulled back, his hand still tangled in my hair pulling, my fingers rubbing my encouraged clit, the smell of sex thick in the air.

“Nowwwwww Vince….I’m gonna….”

“Fuck…oh fuck…cummmmm baby….now…fuck now…”

My body rocked with orgasm after orgasm the same time his slammed my ass, my pussy grinding against his cock as he shot his jiszm, stream after stream. Our climax so intense, was as if the room suddenly when silent and white and all that was there was just pure total breathless pleasure. By the time we finally collapsed on the floor, his cock still buried in my pussy as he lay on me, neither one of us could barely breath let alone say anything.

We started to wind down, moving only enough for him to fall back on the floor wrapping his arms around me holding me to him.

“Vince, you’re not going to believe this but…” I finally managed to say turning on my side leaning against the warmth of his body.

“If you think I can do that again real quick…” he let his words drift without even looking at me.

“Good, because I think you’ve exhausted me, I don’t think I could do that again.” I replied softly, with my head in the crook of his arm, letting my eyes close.

“Oh really?” he chuckled in disbelief. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“Well at least not right away,” I giggled softly.

I must have dosed for a bit because next thing I was alone, a blanket covering me and I heard the shower running. I got up deciding to join him, noticing it was already past noon.

“Didn’t you forget something?” I purred, sliding in beside him causing him to jump only a bit before pulling me too him, giving me one hell of a passionate kiss.
“Hmmmm, I better be careful, you’re already getting to know me way too well.”

“Guess it could be considered part of the drawbacks when you do what I do, or part of the benefits…” he remarked nonchalantly before handing me the bar of soap and turning around. “Would you mind?”

“Not as long as you don’t,” I replied back, swearing I could see that grin on his face even with his back to me.

I’m sure our shower took a little longer than Vince had thought it would, considering I took my time washing every inch of his hard body, enjoying every minute of it. He also made sure I knew exactly what I had done to him when he returned the favor scrubbing and washing every inch, crease and fold before finally letting me get out to dry. We each picked up a large fluffy bath towel, quickly eyed each other, then laughing out loud and used the towels to dry ourselves, not trusting what might happen if we didn’t.

That afternoon we went out and grabbed a sandwich, choosing to ride in his Hudson rather than my car. Lunch was great and we had several giggles over both our ravenous appetites. Vince also went over a few plans about this evening’s events including stopping off at his place once we finished our late lunch so that he could pick up some things he needed.

I had taken a taxi home from his place, making sure to follow his instructions right to the T, which included what to wear, a couple things to bring and what to look for or do if there was a sign of trouble. Once I was ready and phoned him all I had to do was drive my red and white 1956 Buick convertible past where he was parked so he could follow me to the cabin.

“Of course, I’ll be fine. I’ll be okay really but are you ready to go?” I said when he answered the phone. I did my best not to let out that inside I was actually scared to death and shaking like a leaf.

I arrived at the cabin just as it was getting dark, what surprised me the most was that two cars were there. The black 1957 Chevy, one of Jack’s, but the old broken down jalopy I had never seen before, guess it looked like Jack decided to bring his own friend or so, I thought to myself making me a bit more nervous. But somehow, not really sure why, but I had the feeling that Jack was the least of my problems.

Giving Vince time like he had told me, I waited for several minutes before grabbing my small bag and going inside. I was happy to see that the place was well lit, a good advantage for Vince, being able to see most of what went on in at least the front half of the cabin.

“Damn and haven’t you grown!”

Before I could even recognize the man’s voice I was being scooped up in his arms spun around while his mouth planted a rather hard smack of a kiss on mine.

“Uncle Hiram, what the hell!” I said when he finally released me, shocked to see him standing there considering I had assumed he died. The last time I had seen him I had barely become a teenager and now with those thoughts, there was a noticeably rosy blush on my face.

“You thought I died too, huh,” he chuckled, “god so turn around, let me look at you. I knew you’d turn out to be a sexy wench when you got older, didn’t I tell always tell you that?”

“You told me a lot of things Hiram all of which I remember in fact.” I backed away from him, shaking his hands off me.

I wasn’t exactly sure why I suddenly felt nervous around him, and the way he looked at me was beginning to disgust me. Of course the fact that strange things had been occurring and suddenly dear long lost Uncle Hiram shows up, that was a good reason for being nervous. Deciding that the kitchen would be best to talk to him, maybe find out what he was up to and a good place for Vince to watch, possibly even hear some of what was going on. It also seemed to be the safest for me keep some distance between Hiram and his hands.

 

[Miltone]

Vince Latimer, PI

The twigs crackle underfoot as I sneak through the shadows up toward the lodge … Sylvia’s Buick convert parked safely under the carport next to a black sedan … a few interior lights cast an eerie amber glow out onto the porch and stairway … my snub nosed .38 in hand, I climb the stairs … I hear whispering, but it’s only the wind rustling the cedars and pines … the porch creaks as I cross it … can’t see anyone inside the house … the door is ajar so I push it open … quiet, so very quiet … not even a shadow stirring … her purse and hat and gloves lay on the dining room table … I move silently from room to room … the faint scent of her perfume … moving down the hall … the bedrooms seem empty until I reach the one at the end of the hallway …

I spy a suitcase, the polished metal trim catching a glimmering reflection … then I see her and stand still, looking down at her … even in a deep sleep, she is a beauty, her pale skin, high rounded cheekbones, honey blonde hair, the trim curves of her body resting underneath her clothes … “Sylvia! Sylvia!” I call out softly but she doesn’t stir … really tied one on, didn’t she?

I stand beside the bed in the darkened room … “Sylvia, baby!” I call out but she sleeps … I bend down to awaken her with a kiss, but her lips are cold and so is her cheek when I caress it … outside the wind gives a great big moan that seems to throb through the whole house … that’s fitting enough because she won’t ever moan again … as my eyes adjust to the darkness, I can see a neat little bullet hole in her forehead … this is an eternal sleep from which she will never wake up …

“Somebody’s going to kill me …” she had told me … she was oh, so very right … somebody had killed her … I feel a sharp pain in my midsection like I’d been kicked in the gut …

What the fuck! I sat bolt upright on the living room carpet, eyes wide open, blinking away my haunting dream. I’m stark raving naked and Sylvia is curled up beside me snoozing peacefully. Her lips and cheek are soft and warm and a gentle purring spills from her lips. Jesus! What the fuck was that all about? I kneel beside her and scoop up her sleeping form, carry her into her bedroom and lay her out on the bed, pulling a soft blanket up over her gorgeous body. She stirs for a moment but rolls onto her side and curls up like an innocent little child. But the remnants of my dream aren’t easily chased away and I feel the stinging sweat of fear gripping me. Just a dream, Latimer, just a dream!

Maybe a strong shower will wash away my uneasiness. I’ve just about finished when the shower curtain is pulled back and Sylvia is standing there smiling. She laughs when I jump with a start and then climbs in with me. I pull her soft warm body hard against me, filling her mouth with a heavy thankful kiss of passion. And when she responds, I chide myself. Just a dream, Latimer! Just a dream! This sexy little blonde isn’t taking any bullets as long as I’m on the case!

We spent far too long in the shower, and I’m sure that I have never been cleaner in my life, especially certain strategic parts of my anatomy. Of course I saw to it that there wasn’t a single sweet little curve or crevasse of hers that wasn’t washed and rinsed squeaky clean. Once we were dressed, we drove by the El Dorado for a steak sandwich and then worked out our little plan for the evening back at my place. She lounged on the couch while I paced back and forth.

“Remember, doll,” I said solemnly. “I’ll be right behind you but forget that I’m following. I want you to act as though you’re on your own. No looking over your shoulder, got it?”

“Got it.”

“I’ll stay in the shadows until there’s any sign of trouble.”

“What should I wear? Anything special?” Sylvia tilted her head back and wiggled her shoulders back and forth like a New York model. She gave me a look like she knew how it made her breasts bob like a pair of cute little puppets on a string, playing hide and seek underneath the silky material of her halter dress.

“Something sporty … something kind of sexy … that shouldn’t be too hard for you, cause I’ll bet you could make a potato sack look pretty sexy,” I remarked with a grin. Sylvia laughed. I drew my face serious for a moment. “Baby, we want to draw this guy out whoever it is.”

“Should I carry a switchblade in my garter?” she asked, running a hand up her thigh, raising the hem of her dress to reveal her smooth silky thighs.

“Funny girl,” I shot back. “Just pack an overnight bag with what you normally might bring, the usual feminine frillies, maybe one of those filmy negligees.”

“Vince, I get the feeling that you have the idea of spending the night with me.”

“I’m joking, doll … but I just might have to spend the night with you … for your own protection, of course.”

“I love it when you protect me, Vince,” she teased. “Especially when you protect me two or three times a night.”

“I’ll bet you do,” I replied with a grin, remembering how the evening before had gone and her insatiable spirit. “Now just give me a call when you’re ready to leave. I’ll be parked out on Highway 23 right past the city limits signpost waiting for you to pass by. Just keep driving and I’ll follow at a safe distance behind. Once you’re in the cabin act like you’re right at home, like you belong there.”

“What if it’s really Jack who’s waiting?”

“Play along. See what he wants, what he’s up to. See if he know who’s been tailing you.”

“What if it’s not Jack? What if it’s some weirdo … some stranger?”

“Be careful. Don’t get too close to him. I’ll be right outside, Sylvia. At the first hint of trouble I’ll jump right in.”

“I don’t think I can do this without you, Vince,” Sylvia said softly in weak little girl voice. She reached over to rest her little hand on mine. I took hold of her hand and squeezed it. It wouldn’t have taken much to pull her up from the couch and into the bedroom and slip that light little sundress off her trim little body and have my way with her, and I was sure that she wouldn’t complain a bit. But I was a bigger man than just that, or so I thought. We had had our time for playing around; now it was time to go to work.

I led her to the door and she scooted off in a taxi so I could make ready. After her phone call, I had waited for Sylvia and watched as she breezed by in her Buick convert with the top down. I quickly pulled the Hudson into gear and followed safely behind, just close enough to keep the flashy red and white convert in sight. It wasn’t until the long drive out to the cabin that I began to be concerned as the echoes of my strange dream began to play in my head. This cute little broad was growing way too deep under my skin. What if this was some sort of trap and my dream was actually a glimpse of the future … her future?

I forced the thought out of my mind and let the miles peel away. The girl sure had a lead foot. Of course that banging Buick V8 engine might have had something to do with it. We passed Thaxter and took the two-lane blacktop to Moose Rapids. Sylvia’s Buick kicked up so much dust on the dirt road that I lost sight of her taillights. Just past Duck Lake, the road narrowed down as it neared the lodge. I pulled the Hudson over and hoofed the last half-mile up to the house. This should have given Sylvia enough time to get up and into the lodge.

The sun had mostly set so I kept to the shadows along the side of the road and slowly worked my way up toward the light. I skirted the edge of the gravel drive. The dust from Sylvia’s car had hardly settled and I could pick up the scent of the spent high-octane exhaust. There was a dark late model Chevy hardtop and a beat up old Nash parked a head of Sylvia’s Buick. The hoods were cold on both. Slowly I crept up the stairs and moved through the shadows to the house. The lights were on and the shades hadn’t been drawn. Sylvia was in the main room talking with someone, a man with a low deep voice. It sounded like she knew him.

“You told me a lot of things, Hiram, all of which I remember in fact,” Sylvia said.

I could hear what was going on but couldn’t see and moved closer to get a better look. Sylvia was walking in a slow circle around the room followed by a tall rangy older man with stringy gray hair and a few days growth of beard. His clothes, a plaid flannel shirt and dungarees, were ragged and dusty, a perfect match for the old Nash parked outside.

“So are you going to stop tramping around and marry that artist fella?” the man asked.

“I’m not a tramp, Uncle Hiram!” Sylvia said stridently. “Shame on you for saying so.”

“That’s not what I hear,” he said moving closer to her, making her retreat more quickly. “The word is that any sailor in a warm port will do for you.”

“That’s not true! I happen to be very selective about the men I date.”

I couldn’t mistake the little anxious look she shot out toward the windows, hoping that I was observing. I patted my .38 and kept down in the shadows on the porch.

“So what does your fiancé think about that?” asked Uncle Hiram, backing Sylvia up toward the couch.

“He … he’s not my fiancé any more. We broke up this week.” She managed to scramble around the couch to put it between them.

“And that will make it all the worse for you, my dear,” he laughed. “Didn’t your Momma ever tell you that a girl’s reputation is everything?”

“What do you want with me, Uncle Hiram? I don’t see you for years and now all of a sudden you pop up out of no where.”

“Now, now, little Missy. Come on, don’t you want to give your old Uncle Hiram a big old hug and kiss? He’s probably the only man you haven’t slept with inside of a hundred miles and it’s been a long, long time since he’s had a shot at a pretty little doll like you.” He moved slowly toward the end of the sofa and then darted around reaching toward Sylvia.

“No, I don’t! Now keep away from me! I’m warning you!” Sylvia screamed and ran behind a large leather upholstered armchair that looked out toward the windows. I could clearly see that her face was flushed and her eyes were filled with fear. I pulled out my .38 and edged closer to the door.

Her Uncle Hiram took a step toward Sylvia, then stopped and let out a big laugh. “What’s the matter, little Missy? You come up here all hot to trot, expecting to spend the night with your sugar Daddy only to find it’s just your horny old Uncle Hiram?”

“I don’t have a sugar Daddy,” Sylvia said managing to keep her distance as Hiram circled toward her. “I got a note from Jack Kroll asking me to come up here tonight … and besides, where is Jack?”

“I have no idea, little girl. I’ve been up here all afternoon and haven’t seen his pasty hide nor a greasy strand of his hair. So why don’t we all have us a nice little drink and relax? What do you say?”

Sylvia looked furtively toward the windows then her eyes darted back to her Uncle. “I … I … don’t drink,” she stuttered.

Hiram laughed raucously. “Don’t drink? You? Every bartender in the dammed county knows that you drink, little Missy.”

“I … I’ve quit … recently.”

“Well ain’t that cause for celebration!”

Hiram helped himself to a bottle of Jim Beam.

“Why are you here? Where did you come from all of a sudden?”

“All of a sudden? Hell, I’ve been back for a couple of years now! Even worked for the company under an assumed name for a little while. Nobody thought much to ask questions about the dusty old explorer who always seemed to know where to dig and find the good stuff.”

“I don’t have anything to do with the family business. What do you want with me? Did you leave that note?”

“Well, you sure do ask a lot of questions, little Missy,” Hiram chuckled then tossed back a double-fisted shot of bourbon. “Your Daddy never took a liking to me ever since I married his big sister. And when she took sick and died, he always kind of blamed me, even though I never had a thing to do with it. Even though I put in some hard work, he never gave me a cent of what was coming to me—what was due me. So after a few years of kicking around, trying a little of this, a little of that, I finally heard about him kicking off and figured that with him out of the way there might be some way to get a little bit of what’s been owed me.”

“So is that why you’ve been harassing me?” Sylvia asked defiantly.

“Harassing you? Me? Hell no! You mean someone has been hassling you?”

“Yes. Sending me threatening notes. Someone tried to grab me on the street the other day. And when I think about my brother Peter I started to think that maybe someone is out to get me.”

“Get you? Sweet little Sylvia? You may be a lush and a tramp, but everyone knows you’re pretty harmless. Who’d want to harm even a pretty little blonde hair on your pretty little head?”

“I’m not a lush or a tramp!” she protested defiantly. “Did you write that note and slip it under my door?”

“What note?”

“The note supposedly from Jack Kroll asking me to meet him up here.”

“Oh, that,” Hiram laughed. “I had just heard some rumors about you two and figured I’d see if it was true.”

“Those are just vicious rumors. I have never—ever had anything to do with Jack.”

“Good girl! I didn’t like him anyway.”

“So what do you want with me?” Sylvia asked.

“Well, I heard that you had a thing about older guys and figured that you and me could kinda hook up and make a little power play to take over Cavanaugh mining once and for all.”

“You … me?” Sylvia said her voice echoing the shocked expression on her face. “That wouldn’t happen in a thousand years!”

“Oh, come on now, little Missy,” he said moving closer to her. “I may be an old man, but I clean up pretty well. Besides I’m not really a blood relation, so you and me could make for a pretty good team, what do you say?”

“I say no!” Sylvia said, backing up until she was trapped against the wall by bar. Hiram approached her threateningly. “There is no way that I will ever have anything to do with you, you, you dirty old man!”

Then she looked out toward the porch. I saw that familiar look of fear fill her clear blue eyes. I reached for my .38 and pulled it. I was right next to the door and felt for the handle with my left hand. Just as I was about to twist the door handle, rise up and charge inside I heard the boards on the porch creak and turned in that direction. A large dark shadow loomed at me from out of the gathering darkness. Then I saw some stars just before my whole world went black.

The next thing I knew was the sound of an angel singing to me. I turned my head from side to side and tried to open my eyes. I saw the face of the angel. With another blink or two I saw that it wasn’t an angel, it was Sylvia and she wasn’t singing, she was talking to me.

“Vince! Vince! Are you all right? Talk to me, Vince!” Sylvia cooed soft and sweet while she mopped a cold washrag over my forehead. “That’s it, honey. I’m here for you,” she whispered.

There was a helluva biting pain on the back of my head and the stars were still circling. I looked around myself. I was inside the lodge, sprawled across the sofa. Jack Kroll was standing behind Sylvia holding my .38 on me. In the distance I could see her Uncle Hiram pacing back and forth.

“What the?” I blurted out, trying to push myself up but was slowed by the piercing pain in the back of my head.

“Not so fast, gumshoe,” Kroll said. “You’ve got a little explaining to do.”

“I told you already, Jack,” Sylvia interjected sharply. “I asked Vince to follow me so nobody would—”

“I know what you told me, babydoll,” Kroll said coldly. “Now I want to hear it from him.”

“Jesus, Kroll! What kind of lead pipe did you have to introduce me to?” I said rubbing the back of my head. Sylvia helped me sit up and mopped the cold rag over the throbbing knot on the back of my noggin. “Sylvia got a note from you asking her to meet you here for old times sake, whatever the fuck that means. I volunteered to tag along in case of trouble.”

“A lot of good you were,” Kroll laughed. “If I had really been up to something tonight, you’d all be goners.” With a shake of his head, Kroll stood back and lowered my weapon.

“Are you all right?” I asked Sylvia, extending my arm around her waist.

“I’m all right. Just a little worried about you,” Sylvia said, trying to brush my hair straight with her delicate fingers. “You were out cold for a while.”

“Sorry, doll … guess my plan backfired,” I muttered.

“I don’t think so … I’m still safe and sound,” Sylvia replied.

“Well now that our so-called hero has recovered, let’s get this party started,” called out Uncle Hiram, holding up the bottle of Jim Beam. Although Sylvia and I settled for some seltzer and ice, he and Kroll each poured a tall shot of bourbon. After a few shots and some questions and answers from everyone the stories started to come together. Uncle Hiram had dropped off the note, hoping to cook something up with Sylvia. Jack had been out fishing with the caretaker Nielson all day and had dinner at Nielson’s place and stumbled onto me crouching on the porch upon returning home. He clubbed me first and asked questions later. I had to admit that I must have looked pretty damned suspicious given all that has been going on.

As things fell into place, Kroll seemed satisfied and reluctantly handed my .38 back to me. After a few more shots he seemed to take a liking to old Uncle Hiram who was determined to reach the bottom of the bottle before turning in.

“How about a little five-card?” Kroll suggested, pulling out a deck of cards.

“I’m in,” Hiram answered readily.

“I’m out,” I said, groggily waving off their offer.

“How ‘bout you, little Missy?” Hiram asked.

“I don’t know the first thing about cards,” Sylvia laughed. “You’d only take advantage of me.”

“Not that we haven’t already thought about it,” Kroll chuckled with an evil snarl.

Sylvia just shook her head.

“I’m thinking I should head back to town,” I said standing up. When I reached my feet, my knees wobbled and Sylvia quickly stood and steadied me.

“You’re not going anywhere, Vince,” she said sternly. “Here, let me put you to bed.”

The two erstwhile card players snickered and Kroll whistled. “Sounds like the gumshoe gets lucky.”

“What does it matter, because you sure as hell aren’t,” Sylvia shot back quickly without batting an eye.

Sylvia led me down the hall to the end room and sat me on the edge of the double bed. She switched on the little rustic lamp beside the bed and slipped my jacket off my shoulders. When she began to work on my necktie, I put my hands on hers.

“Hey, doll, I’m a big enough boy to take my own clothes off,” I said holding her hands as she tried to pull the tie apart.

“After all that’s gone on tonight, can’t you let me have a little fun?”

“Just so long as you don’t take advantage of me,” I answered letting her finish the job she had started.

Sylvia grinned and slowly stripped me down to my shorts, taking her time and making sure she ran her hands over certain select parts of my body. The warmth of her gaze and the softness of her hands were having a decided effect on me, concussion or not.

“Where are you going to sleep?” I asked as she maneuvered me under the covers.

“In here with you. Where else?”

“But what about Kroll and your Uncle?”

“I don’t care what they think,” she said opening up her overnight bag. “Besides, you need someone to keep a close eye on you, like observation in the hospital, and what could be better than your own private duty nurse?”

“Hmm … in or out of uniform?”

“Definitely out of uniform,” she teased.

“I like the sound of that,” I laughed as she picked something out of her bag and scampered off to the bathroom. I lay back on the bed in the dim amber light of the bedroom and rubbed my head, letting the events of the evening sift back through my head. Although everybody’s story seemed to add up, I was still uneasy. Something wasn’t quite right. I got up and retrieved my .38 and tucked it safely under the pillow. I was just lying back down when the door opened and closed as Sylvia entered. She set her folded up clothes on the dresser and stood beside the bed, spreading her arms.

“You like?” she asked, her pale naked blonde body shimmering underneath the floor-length filmy black negligee. “Just like you suggested.” From the way she smiled at my reaction, she knew that I liked what I saw, cause I liked it … a lot!

“I was only kidding, Sylvia,” I said as she slowly approached the bed, her body shifting seductively underneath the black silky material that barely concealed her nakedness.

“Maybe you were,” she said softly, crawling onto the bed beside me. “But I’m not. And now it’s time to check your vital signs, Mr. Latimer, starting with your temperature.” Sylvia was on her hands and knees beside me, her firm little tits swaying seductively underneath the sheer black fabric of her negligee. She leaned toward me and kissed my lips warmly and wetly, her tongue pushing down into my mouth. She hummed. “Mmm … your temperature’s rising, Mr. Latimer,” she cooed.

“So what does that mean, Nurse Cavanaugh?” I asked as she kissed me on the neck and licked around my ear.

“Looks like I need to check some of your other vital signs,” she whispered.

 

[DangerousDarkEyes]

Sylvia

As the warmth of my breath drifted from the back of his ear down his neck I smiled catching just the slightest shiver that ran the length of his body and a noticeable twitching in his shorts. I slowly scooted back on the bed while continuing to lick and nibble down his neck and across his shoulder and warming up myself at every shiver and twitch I saw.

“Uhmmm, Nurse Cavanaugh, are you sure it’s my vital signs that need checking?” Vince asked while he raised his fingers to my shoulders and slowly slipped the thin straps of my nightie gently down a bit.

I giggled softly, by this time my nipples were rock hard against the sheer fabric and the way they were rubbing against his bare chest was definitely making things rise, along with both our temperatures.

“Mr. Latimer, I hope you’re not suggesting something inappropriate,” I replied lifting my head up to flash him a sexy smile and allowing him to slip the straps all the way off my arms. “I assure you, all my vital signs have checked out just fine…”

“You assure me? Well now maybe I need to…” he had started to say when I sat up and leaned back letting the gown slip down to my waist.

“You need to be still and rest Mr. Latimer,” I said in my very professional tone, pushing his hands away as he reached for my breasts, although unable to hide the glow in my eyes. “So that I can do my job without distractions. Just think how it would look if I were to miss something very important and then well…” I left a trail of kisses down his chest and heard his small gasps of pleasure when I licked and gently bit each of his nipples.

“Your distractions ? And here I thought…”

“Ssssshhhhh, I’m listening to your heart beat,” I whispered having moved and was leaning down, my ear against his chest, my breast against the warmth of his abdomen.

My own heart seemed to be thumping as hard as his and with each deep breath, the tent in his shorts grew while the wetness between my thighs increased. I mumbled softly how strong his heart sounded at the same time nibbling my way down to his navel, tickling it with the tip of my tongue.

“Oh this will never do,” I said shaking my head back and forth, a slight naughty smile starting to creep over my face. I sat up once again, loving the way his eyes immediately focused on the sway of my tits as I moved and slipped my thumbs under the waistband of his shorts slowly pulling them down.

“Nurse Cavanaugh, vital signs, there?” he said with mock sarcasm, his smile as wide as the sky.

“Vital signs and vital organs Mr. Latimer,” I replied backing off the bed, removing his shorts completely and allowing my gown to fall to the floor. I knelt back on the bed, crawling up between the spread of his legs, licking my lips at the sight of his stiff cock practically flagging me for attention.

“If I didn’t know better nurse, I’d say you were about to get unprofessional,” Vince said, the lust in his voice more than obvious.

“Hmmmm, then there is only one thing to do about that.”

A wicked smile swept across my face right before I wrapped my fingers around the base of his shaft, bent my head down and wrapped my lips around the head of his cock, sucking for several seconds.

“Not stopping I hope,” he all but whispered when I had stopped and looked up at him.

“Nope, just gotta have you getting a little unprofessional too,” I replied and without waiting for him to say anything else, I turned and straddled him with my wet pussy just a breath away from his face. Glancing back over my shoulder at him I added, “unless you’d rather I stop and…”

“Just suck my cock Nurse Cavanaugh,” he said and next thing, I was the one letting out a loud moan when his fingers dug into the cheeks of my ass pushing me down, his tongue burying in my pussy.

While I licked and sucked him as if his dick were my first ice cream cone and getting hooked for life, he was eating me like there were no tomorrow. The room was beginning to echo with the wet sounds of our sex and the moans of our desire.

“Oh my god Syl….Nurse Cavanaugh…oh fuck…I have to fuck you…now…”

While I let him slip from my mouth, we both shifted and Vince lifted me, setting me down so that his thick cock slid easily inside my hot sex.

“Oooohhhhh yesssssssssss….”

We both moaned, remaining still for seconds enjoying the tremendous pleasure of fitting together so well. And then with my back to him, we slowly started to move. Soon I was riding him hard with my ass slapping against his groin and his cock burying deep inside me. It didn’t take either of us long before we both exploded, shaking, huffing, puffing, clinging to each other from a climax unlike any other.

I moved off him only to turn around and climb back to the warmth of his arms, neither of us needing to say anything at all. Sleep came quickly for both of us that night, and although it had been a long day and night, smiles graced our faces while we slept.

I wasn’t sure what time it was when I heard the loud voices coming from the kitchen and from the sound of it something definitely was wrong. I was about to wake up Vince but he was already moving off the bed searching for his pants while motioning me to be quiet and get some clothes on myself.

“Sounds like we have some more company, and not happy ones.” Vince whispered when I came up next to him, having put a robe on and handed him his pants.

“Maybe Jack and Uncle Hiram got into it again,” I replied, making a light joke of it, but it did sound like something wasn’t exactly right out there.

 

[Miltone]

Vince Latimer, PI

I jumped into my trousers as quickly as Sylvia handed them to me. I pulled on my undershirt and grabbed my .38 from under the pillow.

“Give me a minute, okay, doll?” I said in a low firm voice. Sylvia nodded her pretty little head, went to her suitcase and pulled out a Hawaiian-print halter-top and a pair of khaki shorts. I took a nice look at her slipping into her clothes before moving out into the hallway. There were loud voices coming from the main room and shadows flashing down the hall. I recognized Jack Kroll’s and Naomi’s and then Eric Mason’s.

“So don’t you two just look real cozy showing up here in the middle of the night!” Kroll said, sounding very pissed off. “Great fucking nerve! So what is this? A little secret rendezvous?”

“You told me you were going to be in the city the rest of the week, Jack. Besides, I have every right to be here,” Naomi said defiantly. “My Grandfather built this place with his own bare hands!”

“Yeah … yeah, heard that a thousand times,” Kroll spat out, sounding just as drunk as angry. “You never let me forget where every cent of our dough comes from. What do you have to say for yourself, Junior?”

“Naomi called me,” Mason said defensively. “Told me that she needed to get away for a few days. I volunteered to drive out with her, for her safety.”

“Yeah right. And what else did you volunteer for?” Kroll shot back with a nasty laugh. “Did you know that your fiancée has been out here breaking the bedsprings with her lover boy all night?”

“What? What? What?” Mason grunted in a confused voice.

I couldn’t hover in the shadows any longer. It didn’t like they were coming to blows, so I slid my .38 into my pants pocket and stepped into the light of the room. “Well, well, well. Isn’t this just the happiest family a fella could come across!”

“You can see why I didn’t want any part of it,” Hiram laughed, throwing up his hands and staggering toward the bar.

Kroll was weaving back and forth in the middle of the room wearing his pajamas. Hiram was still dressed in his flannel shirt and filthy dungarees. Naomi was standing by the open door dressed in a very stylish and pricey sheer summer dress that left little to the imagination. Mason was standing close beside her decked out in his usual desperate artist getup.

“What do you know? Looks like Sylvia finally resuscitated her big brave hero,” Kroll laughed.

“So what’s going on?” Sylvia said emerging from the shadows of the hallway looking like a fresh orchid in the darkness of the jungle. “What are you doing here, Eric? I thought you said we were through.”

“I … uh, we … um, yes … we are,” he mumbled hesitantly, shooting an anxious furtive look toward Naomi.

“What?” said Naomi, her eyes darting over to Sylvia.

“What?” said Jack Kroll looking over at Mason.

“You heard him,” Sylvia said defiantly. “We’re through … now that I’ve found me a real man.” She stepped forward next to me and hooked her arm around mine.

“Hey, doll … what are you trying to do here?” I whispered down to her. Talking like this wasn’t going to do anything for my professional credibility, but she held her head high, glaring rebelliously at Mason and her sister.

“They’re going to find out sooner or later, darling,” Sylvia said proudly, her big blue eyes batting confidently. “You know that I don’t keep secrets from anyone, unlike some other members of my family.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Naomi asked indignantly.

“Yeah, what’s that supposed to mean?” Jack Kroll echoed.

There was an uncomfortable air in the big room, everyone eyeballing each other, waiting to see who cracked a sweat first.

“It’s late and I think everybody should have themselves a tall nightcap and settle all this malarkey in the morning,” Hiram offered waggling an empty glass of ice. “What do you say?”

“Sounds like a good idea prospector,” I said with a grin.

Fortunately, his idea broke the ice and he ended up pouring everybody a double shot of Jim Beam except for Sylvia who took a little seltzer with lemon. I loved the little glimmer in her eye that she flashed me when telling her uncle what she wanted. I felt a glimmer of hope that I had actually reached through to her. Everyone settled down with their drinks and talked about safe subjects like the weather.

“Cool and cloudy in the morning,” Hiram ventured.

“Good time for fishing,” Jack said.

“Maybe I’ll … I’ll go out with you,” Mason said, his eyes diverting toward Naomi for a moment. “My father used to take me fishing when I was a kid. Haven’t been in years.”

Kroll was completely taken by surprise.

“I didn’t figure you for the fishing type, Mason. You do know how to bait your own hook, don’t you?”

“Of course. I always use rubber worms. It’s humane and not so distasteful.”

Kroll almost convulsed from stifling his erupting laugh. The rest of us laughed too except for Naomi whose eyes shot daggers at Jack.

“If it’s going to be so nice tomorrow, maybe I can show you my favorite swimming hole,” Sylvia said to me, curling her arm around mine tightly. I nodded.

“Better be careful of what else she wants to show you,” Hiram cracked with a big grin. “Those kinds of things can be fatal.”

An uneasy truce had been demarcated through the house. It still wasn’t dawn but from the number of yawns and stretches, everyone was obviously bushed and started to find excuses for going to bed. Naomi yawned theatrically. Kroll was the first to slug down his bourbon. He stopped Naomi as she started heading down the hallway with her bag.

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

“To my room,” she said. “To our room.”

Kroll didn’t look happy. He glanced off into the distance, his eyes lost in thought. Then he glared at Mason, took Naomi’s hand firmly and led her off to their room. The rest of us heard them talking in loud agitated but undecipherable voices for a few minutes then a brief squeaking of the bedsprings before silence ensued.

“You are staying with me aren’t you?” Sylvia whispered in my ear.

I nodded even though there was something that didn’t sit well with me. Maybe it was that I hadn’t had a good dinner tonight. It was pork chop night at the El Dorado and I had missed it again. Maybe it was the fragile peace that hovered in the cabin. It felt like something was missing. Didn’t know what it was, only that it felt like sitting naked on sandpaper.

Mason stood up abruptly. “I’m turning in,” he said, glaring at Sylvia who sat beside me on the sofa, curled up cozily, her little blonde head resting on my shoulder. He stomped off to take the second twin bed in the room where Hiram was set up. Within minutes, Hiram’s head bobbed a couple of times before he staggered to his feet.

“Well I’m gonna leave you two love birds alone,” he said and then stumbled off to bed.

Sylvia snuggled closer to me, burying her head against my shoulder. I could tell that she felt safe and secure with her arms entwined around mine, her trim little body curled up beside my lanky muscular frame. But I was uneasy. There was an undercurrent to what was going on that I couldn’t trace.

“Vince,” Sylvia purred. “Come to bed with me.” She stood up and stretched sleepily. Part of me saw her and wanted to jump up from the sofa and join her. Another part of me needed some time to think.

“I’ll be in with you in a bit, okay, doll?”

“Don’t be too long, darling,” she teased. “I might just start without you.”

I chuckled softly as she padded down the hallway and disappeared into the shadows. I knew she had wiggled her ass a little extra as she walked just for me. I could see her in the room, everything … unbuckling her halter-top and stepping out of her shorts, slipping her trim little naked blonde body between the sheets, running her hand over her tender young skin one last time before falling asleep. I switched off the light and leaned back on the sofa.

What was it? This puzzle wasn’t all that big, but there were all these pieces that didn’t fit. First of all, her long lost Uncle Hiram shows up out of nowhere angling for a piece of the company business. Then Kroll appears, acting real testy, like he’s up to something. Then Naomi shows up with Mason, looking like they were kiddies caught with their hands in the cookie jar, or each other’s pants. So if Mason is carrying on with Naomi, that would explain their behavior and the expensive pearl necklace I had lifted from his studio. If Kroll suspected them it would explain his prickly manners. Hiram? He was just a loose cannon on the deck of the good ship Cavanaugh. I let my head fall back against the sofa and massaged the bridge of my nose. Maybe in the morning this would all make sense. I just needed a couple more deep breaths before heading off to bed. With only one more, I fell asleep.

~~~~~~~

“Baby,” whispered this sweet voice in my ear. Warm fingers closed over my eyes and wet lips brushed against my ear. “Baby, I’ve come for you just like I said I would. Do you want me as much as I want you?”

“Doll? Is that you?” I mumbled, picturing Sylvia’s sweet little body crouching behind the sofa. Maybe she got tired of waiting for me and decided to drag me off to bed herself.

“It’s me baby, and I drove all night just to see you. I’m all ready for you, just like you asked,” the voice whispered. With a sharp nibble on my ear, the fingers disappear and I blink my eyes still only half awake. In the darkened room I see a figure move out from behind the sofa. I know by now it’s not Sylvia. This one is wearing a dress with a full skirt. Her figure looks fuller, rounder, and her breasts are plumper. Her fingers move down over the front of her dress as she steps toward the windows. The moonlight through the windows backlights her curvy figure as the dress falls away from her body. She takes another step and turns around to face me. “So what do you think, Jack? See something you like?”

I reach over to the lamp and switch it on. Suddenly the incandescent flash of light fills the room. Standing before me is Karen Heath, naked as the day she was born, well, except for a pair of dark stockings and a lacy garter belt, her arms spread wide apart, posing artfully, like a New York model.

“I can’t speak for Jack, but I gotta admit that I like what I see,” I remark.

Her dark eyes pop wide open and then her arms cross over her body, attempting to cover up the spectacular curves of her full breasts, her hands meeting down between her legs to shield her dark bush. Of course one of her plump breasts pops free and her large dark nipple grows taut and erect in the chill morning air. She doesn’t scream but somehow manages to stifle it as she struggles to cover herself and recover her dress, looking around the room desperately. Not being altogether shy of a complete set of manners, I snatch her dress up off the floor and toss it to her.

“What are you doing here?” she whispers as she pulls the red fabric around her.

“Remember? You gave me the directions.”

“But … but … but where’s Jack?”

I grinned broadly.

“Oh him. He’s in the last bedroom down the hall, in bed with his wife.”

“What? Naomi is here? What’s she doing here? What are you doing here?”

“You know something, Miss Heath? I think I ought to be the one asking questions and you ought to be quick with the answers,” I snapped, standing up and moving up close to her. It was hard to conceal the grin on my face. I had to hand it to the Cavanaugh family and their relations. For such a church going Catholic family, they sure slept around a lot; Naomi and Eric Mason, Sylvia and me and everybody’s brother; and now Jack Kroll and Karen Heath. All I had to hear was Uncle Hiram and Nels Nielson getting it on in the boathouse and the picture would be complete. “But you know, Miss Heath, I don’t think I need to hear your answers to know what’s going on. Your little performance here tonight has answered a lot of my questions.”

“Y … y … y … you aren’t going to tell anyone, are you? Please Mr. Latimer. Don’t tell anyone. I beg you. Especially not Naomi. It would kill her. I’ll do anything for you, anything.” She was desperate, her big dark eyes pleading with me.

“How’s about what you were planning on doing with your boyfriend just now?”

“If … if … if you want. Okay,” she said hesitantly but took a few steps toward me, her curvaceous body straining at the red fabric of her dress held together by only a couple of buttons. Somehow I got the feeling that she would have crawled to me across the floor and barked like a bitch dog in heat if I had so much as asked. Fortunately, she caught a break because I’m not that kind of guy.

“No, thanks. I’m not interested,” I told her flat out. “You’ve found some luck tonight, baby cakes. But let’s just say that your secret is safe with me. For the time being. As long as you’re a good girl.”

Karen looked around the room. It doesn’t happen often in my life, but I love it when I’m finally holding the upper hand. And she knew it. The gentle sounds of deep sleep and snoring echoed from down the hall. She watched with great apprehension as I scrounged in the closet for some extra blankets and a pillow. Being a gentleman, I helped her make herself a comfy bed on the couch.

“I’ll be as good a girl as you want me to be, Mr. Latimer … Vince,” she said as her fingers toyed with the buttons on her dress. The red fabric parted revealing the lush curves of her breasts, then the firm, flat plateau of her tummy, and finally the mysterious and lush dark patch of fur between her legs.

“That’s okay, doll, I’ve got my own good girl waiting for me,” I said and then turned and ambled down the hallway without turning back. I slipped inside the room where I heard Sylvia sleeping soundly. I stripped off all my clothes, slipped the .38 under the pillow and my hairy ass between the sheets and snuggled up close to Sylvia’s naked body. She sighed and melted sleepily into my embrace. It wasn’t until nearly ten o’clock that either of us stirred.

 

[DangerousDarkEyes]

Sylvia

“Mmmmm,” I sighed sleepily, the aroma of fresh brewed coffee and bacon frying was waking up my sense of smell first.

I stretched a bit, then rubbed the sleep from my eyes and felt Vince’s arm around my waist pulling me back closer to him. Wiggling my butt against him, I wasn’t sure he was awake but there was a nice possibility poking me telling me he would be waking soon. The more I moved, the more he stirred and his sexy little growls of pleasure grew louder. My smile broadened by the sec while that wonderful tingling feeling started stirring in the pit of my belly.

“Mmmm, Vince honey, is that delicious aroma making you hungry too?” I asked, stifling a giggle while covering his hand with mine guiding it to my breast.

“Mmmmm, smells soooo good,” he whispered, his breath warm at the back of my neck, our hands gently squeezing my breast. So that’s what woke you up too, getting hungry?”

This time I let out the giggle when he buried his lips in the crook of my neck causing shivers up and down my body, the scent of my heat now mixing in with that of breakfast.

“As a matter of fact, I’m damn hungry.”

His hand was already caressing my breast while his fingers were toying with my pink hard nipple. I was on fire for this man, seemed no matter straight, sober, sleeping, and awake and the thought of this new addiction was making that fire hotter, much better one than the others I’ve had. I didn’t hesitate to reach between my thighs for his extremely stiff prick, just as anxious for my warmth as I was for his fire and rub it between my slick pink folds.

“Mmmm, baby,” he growled low against my ear, the vibrations giving me another delightful chill. Then abruptly, he pulled away, getting off the bed giving my ass a slap and surprised me by adding, “Come on, lets eat, I’m starving.”

“But I thought…” I turned around, kneeling up on the bed, and just the sight of him standing there, naked, that grin on his face and twinkle in his eyes took my breath away.

“I know what you thought,” he chuckled, grabbing for his pants and heading towards the bathroom. “but the moments priority call for a few other things first, including fooooddddd….besides, gives you something to think about…”

“Baby, I’ve been thinking about it!” I shot out with a sexy giggle and getting another chuckle from him. My eyes dropped to his cock just begging to be sucked I couldn’t help but lick my lips, my fingers toying with a nipple, “Vince, sweetie, I think your buddy there wants the same thing I do, don’t you think we…”

“Weren’t you ever taught about eating your meal first before dessert?” He asked, turning and disappearing into the bathroom.

“Okay, Vince, but I won’t forget this ya know,” I giggled, plopping off the bed.

His shirt was lying across the chair so I slipped it on, laughing at how it looked on me with the sleeves hanging well past my small wrists and the length just barely covering my sweet tush. I figured while Vince was cleaning up I would just take a peek outside and see who all were up. It seemed pretty quite in the kitchen to smell so damn good.

Just as I was about to walk in, I heard Jacks voice and I hesitated, peeking around the corner.

“Come on doll, with those sleeping pills she took last night she won’t be stirring till at least noon.”

“Shhhhh Jack, stop it now, why don’t you just help me make breakfast. Everyone will be getting up any time.” Karen was saying, although there was a hint in her voice that whatever was going on she didn’t want stopped.

I gasped, almost making myself known when I saw Karen at the stove, wearing a long flannel shirt that hung down past her knees, with Jack behind her. His hand was slowly moving up her thigh, lifting the shirt just enough to keep a peek of her bare bottom while. She giggled softly the more he lifted her shirt and began caressing her bottom and although she talked as if trying to stop him, she sure seemed to be enjoying it. Not only was I surprised to see Karen there, not expecting her, but from the looks of what I was seeing, this time I couldn’t tell if Jack was just being Jack, or was there something more going on here.

“God damn Karen, you know how long it’s been and mmmmm, you’re looking so hot in that shirt I found for you. Come on, just a little…” Jack was saying while his other hand had reached around her causing her to purrrrrr some more yet still trying to blow him off.

“Are we spying on someone?” Vince whispered with concern in his voice when he came up behind me, reaching around with his hand and giving my nipple a pinch. I gasped and instantly my temperature rose as he looked over my shoulder to see what I was viewing. “Why my dear, a voyeur are you, being a little naughty maybe?” he whispered, continuing to tease my nipple playfully.

“My god, do you see, are they…” I finished with a deep moan the second I felt the breeze on my ass cheeks. Vince’s hands were already lifting my shirt, caressing my bare rump while his finger ran the length of my wet slit.

Karen let out a moan herself and we couldn’t help watch the scene in front of us, the two of them obviously unaware we were there. Karen was doing her best to avoid Jack, which that seemed to being turning him on more. It was also very obvious that Vince was just as turned on as I was watching this and when I reached back, rubbing the crotch of his pants, that was all the proof I needed.

A noise coming from Naomi’s room slapped us all back to reality with Vince immediately taking my hand and pulling me back to the bedroom before anyone spotted us.

“God damn you look hot in my shirt…”

As soon as the door was shut he pulled me into his arms and we shared one of the hottest kisses ever.

“You sure it’s me and not watching those two?” I giggled with pleasure, staring into his beautiful blue eyes. “So tell me, what do you think is up with that?”

I moved away from him and went to get my yellow summer dress, lying it across the bed while I slipped out of his shirt. Vince was wearing a pair of shorts and a clean red tee shirt watching me while rubbing the bulge in his pants. When I stood there naked, I flashed him that sexy familiar smile, grabbed my dress, a matching yellow thong and turned, sashing my ass purposely and walked off to the bathroom.

“Hey naughty girl, you’re not going to just…”

“Dessert after, isn’t that what you were saying? So what do you think about those two?”

After a few disappointed comments and some words he mumbled that I didn’t hear but had a pretty good idea what he was thinking, he filled me in on what happened with Karen the night before. I listened with the bathroom door open knowing full well he was watching me dress, making sure I took my time giving him an eyeful of course.

“It was quite a scene I assure you,” he finished with a snide chuckle, now leaning against the doorframe gazing while I brushed my hair.

“Sure sounds like it was, too bad I missed it. I would have loved to see your face and….” I replied.

I pulled my hair up putting it in a ponytail and then turned around facing him.

“Okay so what do you think?” I asked with a sexy smile on my face.

“Hmmmm, I don’t know just yet…something is missing…” he said doing his best to be serious. “I’d have to see what’s underneath to be really certain you look ok?” He finally added.

“But Vince baby, good girls don’t do that do they?” I teased, blushing a bit and lifted my dress, spinning around for him.

“Only when they are naughty,” he replied moving up close to me. “And you know what happens to those naughty good girls don’t you…”

“Oh yes sir I do,” I said with a smile looping my arms around his neck and gazing into his eyes. “They make sure not to be late for breakfast.”

I took his hand with him grumbling a bit and the sexual tension between us was building like that of a tornado erupting from a storm.

Jack, Karen, Naomi, Eric and the two of us had breakfast keeping most chat to general things; all of us looked like we needed a day out in the fresh air away from the all the tension that seemed to be filtering in the air.

After everyone finished up, Naomi went back to her room, Eric was sitting around was sitting in the couch, not too sure if he should stay or go by the expression on his face. I had to stifle a giggle at his nervousness while Jack and Karen seemed to be as cool as cucumbers.

“Come on Vince, I’ll show you around some, it’s too nice to stay cooped up in here.”

We grabbed some towels and our swim suits all though if I had my way, we wouldn’t be needing those, a cooler with something to drink and Vince made sure he had what he needed, including a camera. When I looked at him questionally, he just smiled. Well hell, he was a private investigator, having a camera sure wasn’t an unusual item I thought to myself, but that look he gave me….

It was a turning out to be a beautiful day with a warm breeze blowing that kept playing with the hem of my dress. We walked down the drive some then cut away to the wooded area that ran along the lake. I could tell Vince was impressed with the beauty surrounding us, everything seemed to be blooming, the fresh scent of lavender was in the air and for a short time we just walked in silence.

“Sylvia, how about showing me the ledge that Peter jumped from, unless of course you don’t want…”

“It’s ok, you need to see it, besides it’s not far from my favorite place.” I replied cuddling up to him as we walked.

The trees were getting thicker the further we walked, but we still could see the lake and several boats on the water. I stopped, taking his hand and guiding him a little off the path down to see where Peter had jumped. Up ahead you could hear the gurgling of water on rocks and birds singing.

“This is where he jumped, right off this ledge. His clothes were laying neatly folded right here.” I said, my voice trailing off as my thoughts went back to that for a brief time.

 

[Miltone]

Vince Latimer, PI

I looked down from the ledge to the water fifteen maybe twenty feet below. The midday breeze was raising gentle waves on the water that crashed into the rocks at the base of the ledge.

“Looks kind of rocky down there,” I remarked. “Hard to believe that Peter would have jumped into the lake from here.”

“He didn’t … he wouldn’t …” Sylvia said vacantly, lost in memories of her dead brother. “We used to walk along here when we were kids and toss stones off into the water. But we would never jump in to go swimming from here, it’s too far a drop and too shallow and rocky. We’d go further down the path.” She pointed to where the trail meandered down closer to the lake.

“Did you tell the authorities about that?” I asked. Like so many other things about this case, the facts didn’t add up to the accepted conclusion, and it only added to my uneasiness.

“I told the sheriff during the investigation,” Sylvia answered, her voice still sounding like she was a million miles away. “Just like everybody else, he didn’t believe me.”

“Did they do a complete search of the area?” I asked.

Sylvia didn’t hear me. She stood with her arms crossed over her breasts as if hugging herself. She was gazing out onto the lake with a faraway look in her pretty blue eyes. I was sure that she was lost in thoughts about her brother. I snapped off a couple of photos of the ledge and the waves crashing on the rocks below. I couldn’t resist the urge to snap one of her; she looked so beautiful. At the sound of the shutter, Sylvia glanced over at me. Her eyes brightened.

“That will cost you, Mr. Latimer,” she said.

“But I’m just a dirt poor private dick, Miss Cavanaugh,” I said, holding the camera away from her lunging grasp.

“Then, maybe I’ll have to charge you using a different sort of currency,” she said with a giggle, her other hand reaching down between my legs.

“And just what kind of tender would that be?” I asked, feeling her fingers curl around the boner floating around inside my pants.

“Well, what I have in mind isn’t very tender at the moment,” she said, moving closer and squeezing my hard dick firmly.

“Then I guess it’ll be hard to pay you off,” I responded with a wince as she tugged me close to her by my hard-on.

“Yeah, it will be … hard,” she grinned. “Just the way I like it.”

Sylvia rocked up on her toes and her mouth sought out mine for a kiss, a long hard deep kiss that left us both winded and sweaty. Her hand tugged at my fly and then fished inside. The touch of her warm dainty fingers on the sensitive flesh of my dick sent a spark snapping up my spine. She looked up at me with those heavy lidded blue eyes and bit her lower lip as her fingers snaked around my rigid shaft and pulled it out through my fly.

“Sylvia, baby, you just don’t quit, do you?” I whispered hoarsely.

“I’m not gonna quit till I get what I want, Vince,” she replied and pressed her body up against me, her firm little tits rubbing against my chest through the thin fabric of her sundress and my shirt. “Coming here brings back such painful memories. Help me forget, Vince! Help me forget the way only you can do.”

Sylvia ran her hands up over my stomach and chest until she grasped my shoulders. Setting the camera down, I lowered my hands and grabbed at her ass, raising her skirt, squeezing her firm cheeks, and lifting her petite little body up into my arms. She lifted her legs up and wrapped them around my hips. I snaked my hand between her legs and pulled her panties roughly aside, letting my stiff dick poke at the slick lips of her greedy sex. With a gasp she arched her back and tried to guide the center of her heat to my throbbing rod. I felt her warmth surround me as I thrust myself inside her.

“God, yes, Vince!” she cried out sharply, a heavy shudder thundering through her little body as I penetrated her fully.

Then I heard it, the rasping sound of a motorboat out on the lake. Feeling more than a little vulnerable, I paused to look and it took Sylvia a moment or two before she realized that I had stopped.

“What’s wrong, baby?” she asked, clutching at me firmly, her sweet wet sex grinding against my pubes.

“Not sure, doll,” I said squinting down at the lake. “Looks like we might have company.”

Sylvia glanced down at the lake and groaned. She reluctantly lifted herself off my dick and dropped back to the ground, adjusting her panties and her dress while I stuffed my throbbing manhood back into my pants.

“It looks like our speedboat,” Sylvia said checking out the sharp mahogany Chris Craft trolling slowly on the sparkling lake below us.

“Looks like Jack and Naomi, doesn’t it?” I added, trying to make out the passengers. I could tell Kroll from the familiar old Captain’s hat that he was wearing. The brunette woman next to him leaned over for what looked like a kiss showing off the nicely tanned expanse of her bare back.

“Not Naomi,” Sylvia shot back. “She would never wear a halter and shorts out in the boat. She burns too easily.”

“Then it must be Karen Heath,” I said, correcting myself. From where we stood high on the ledge, we could see the boat edge into the cove and slow to a crawl. Then the motor shut off. Kroll rose up and moved to the back and tossed an anchor off the stern, snugging up the rope to a rear lanyard. “Maybe they’re going to do a little fishing.”

“Maybe,” Sylvia said nervously. “Do you think they can see us up here?”

I looked around where we stood together. With the hillside behind us as a backdrop and very few shrubs or trees around they might be able to see us if they cared to look. But given what they were doing that seemed unlikely. Kroll sat on the wide seat at the stern and Karen made her way back until she was standing right in front of him.

“If they’re fishing, I wonder what he’s going to use for bait?” I chuckled evilly. “Have a seat, darling and let’s watch the festivities.”

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Sylvia said with a guilty little giggle as we sat on the soft grass beside the path along the ledge and watched the scene below us unfold.

We could hear their voices but they were indistinct. Their actions told us everything we needed to know. Kroll opened his pants and dropped them to his ankles. Karen swayed side to side with the rocking of the boat and reached behind her to pull at the tie of her halter-top. Pulling it free of her body, she tossed it onto one of the front seats and began to slowly shimmy her shorts down from her hips. Kroll was stroking his dick and saying something to her. After she stepped out of her shorts she turned around and sat on his lap, writhing suggestively as she rubbed the cheeks of her ass on his lap. Kroll fed his hand around her waist and dipped it under the waistband of her panties.

“Man, that girl puts on some kind of show,” I said, as Karen reached up to cup her large full breasts while Kroll pulled at her panties and ripped them off her, making her squeal loudly. It didn’t take an expert private eye to know what was going to happen next.

“What do you mean? Do you like her better than me?” Sylvia asked, drawing away from me.

“Of course not, Sylvia,” I said. “You’re my wet dream come true.”

“But her boobs are lots bigger than mine,” Sylvia remarked, cupping her firm little tits with both hands. “Men like big boobs like Jayne Mansfield’s.”

“Nah, not me,” I said leaning toward her, slipping my hand around her back and reaching around to grab her flawless little breast. “Yours are perfect. Like I always say, more than a mouthful is a waste!” I bent down and kissed her body where it disappeared into the veed neckline of her dress.

“But look at her, Vince!” Sylvia said, glancing back down onto the lake where Karen was bouncing wildly up and down on Jack Kroll’s lap, tossing her head back, her cries of pleasure carrying ashore and echoing along the ledge. “Does watching her turn you on? Wouldn’t you like to have her doing that to you?”

“Doll, I would much rather have you doing that to me,” I said giving her firm little tit a squeeze.

“That can be arranged, Mr. Latimer,” she said with a sly grin as he hand found its way back down to my lap. “I mean after all, we were interrupted so rudely.”

“Yeah, we were,” I said with a growl as Sylvia’s little hand found its way inside my pants and took hold of my still hard dick. “And besides, you’re so much better at what you do than she could ever hope for,” I moaned as I felt the warmth of Sylvia’s breath begin to paint my hungry manhood.

 

[DangerousDarkEyes]

Sylvia

“Mmmm, you have no idea what you saying that does for me, Vince,” I replied softly while slowly unzipping his fly and freeing his throbbing penis.

“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea,” he hummed, stroking my blonde tresses causing little bumps of pleasure on the warmth of my skin.

With my hand still curled around his shaft, I slowly licked all around the head of his cock, hearing his soft gasps of pleasure. I felt him growing harder in my hands and seeing him getting more turned on like this had my panties wet with anticipation of what was to come.

“So they still going at it?” I asked, grinning, breaking for a sec and to look up at him.

“Like I’m really watching them now…” he managed to say smiling back at me. His face was flushed and his eyes sparkled with desire as he stared down into my own lust filled eyes.

“Oh? And who are you watching?” I giggled sexily, still pumping his cock with my hand while darting my tongue out to tease the head now and then.

That look in his eyes told me the answer even before he pushed me from him and took hold of the hem of my dress. I giggled more and glanced around, checking again if anyone could see us as he slipped my dress off and smiled at the view in front of him. His hands covered my small firm tits, squeezing and caressing them, making me squeal with delight.

We heard a few more shrill squeals coming from the boat and glanced to see Karen riding Jack hard and it didn’t take me long to slip out of my damp panties, uncaring now who might see us or not. By the desire I saw in Vince’s eyes, I didn’t have to ask what he wanted me to do. I quickly turned around and felt his hands at my waist, guiding me down on his lap.

“God babe, you feel so good,” he hummed while his encouraged cock slipped easily into the depths of my sopping wet pussy.

“Mmmmmm and you are the best, sexy, the best,” I whispered, my voice filled with wanton desire.

As soon as his entire length was buried inside me, his hands came around, cupping my breasts, giving each hard little bud a gentle tug. It didn’t take us long to build up a steady rhythm and soon the sounds of my ass slapping his thighs were echoing in the woods, just as our moans were growing louder.

“Fuck me baby, ride me hard just like you like,” he growled into my ear and with one hand reached down to rub and tease my clit.

“Oh god yes…” I moaned louder, feeling so alive with the passion that was building between us.

My tits bounced, my ass was slapping hard against his thighs and my clit felt on fire the more he played with it.

“Oh yeah baby… fuck me… gonna cum… oh fuck…cum baby…cum,”

The sound of his pleasure filled my ears and I let out a cry of pleasure, both of us cumming together right out in the middle of nature for god and anyone else to hear or see. His arms were wrapped around me, holding me to him while we let our pleasure fill us, neither of us too much in a hurry to leave.

I finally slipped off his lap, stretching my naked self out in the grass while I watched him slowly adjust his clothes. I giggled every time he looked my way, knowing full well even after what we had just enjoyed, seeing me like this was still turning him on.

“Why not just take them off and lets go for a swim?”

“Why you ask?” Vince replied then bent down and kissed me full on the lips. “Because we aren’t the only ones here, Sylvia, how’s that for starters? Haven’t had enough yet?” he chuckled.

“I only meant to swim ya know,” I teased him and after several more minutes, finally grabbed my dress, slipping it on over my head. “Hey Vince, did you see my…”

“These?” he asked, a devilish grin on his face as he held on my yellow thong.

“Yes, those, can I have them?”

“Hmmmm, I’ll think about it,” Vince said, surprising me by nonchalantly putting them in his pocket.

“And I’ll think about…” I giggled softly letting me words trail and after helping gather up our stuff, took his hand leading up the way.

Not far ahead the trees were dense and the path grew a bit narrow with the sun barely able to peek thru the tops. I had pointed out different spots where Peter, Naomi and I had played as children when we had come out here. I smiled, the memories stirring both happy and sad feelings and when I felt Vince clutch my hand tighter, I knew he understood.

We hadn’t walked long before we came to the small watering hole I had been telling him about and he was amazed at its beauty just as I had always been. The trees were like a private fence, hiding everything but the small streak of light filtering thru the trees. Flowers and bushes grew all around the glimmering water that seemed to appear from out of nowhere, yet behind much of the brush was rock and I told him of the underground spring that ran thru some of the property. I walked up to the edge, kicking my shoes off as I went and started wading thru the water.

“Come on Vince, take your shoes off and join me,” I said to him and bent down, splashing my hand in the warm water, watching for his reaction.

“Hmmm, looks a little cold to me,” he replied seriously, setting things down on the ground. “and if you’re thinking of swimming, I think you’re gonna freeze your little fanny off.”

“Oh no sweetie, come on, I’ll show you. The water’s as warm as a baby’s bath water.”

I lifted my dress off, feeling the warm breeze blow across my nipples and I giggled happily, tossing the dress over on the grass. The water was almost up to my thighs when I had walked further in and spun around to see if he was following me yet. To my surprise he had moved closer while I had been distracted and flashed a picture just as I turned around.

“Why Vince Latimer, I think you tricked me and just for that,” I turned away and dove towards the center of the small pool.

I wasn’t surprised that when I came up for air, he was right beside me and pulled me to his naked frame, our lips surrendering to each other in a deep kiss.

“That make up for the picture?” he asked confidently, with arms around my small waist and his hands cupping my firm bottom.

“Well….” I answered, putting on my best poker face and hesitated long enough to enjoy wiggling against his naked body. Then quickly giving him a quick kiss I finished, “maybe for the first one, but now, I don’t think so and just for that…” I pulled away and quickly dove back towards the ground. I stood up, glancing at him over my shoulder and saw him that he hadn’t moved. He was staring, elbow bent with his chin cupped in his hand, a gleam in his eye and just a hint of a smile on his face, as if he knew what I was about to say.

I got the towels we brought, wrapping one around myself and handed him one as he stepped from the water. It was beginning to grow very obvious that the two of us obviously enjoyed watching each other equally. We sat down, sipping on the drinks we had brought, chatting about everything and nothing it seemed. The strangest thing was that although the state of our undress, being out in the woods in broad daylight, and even with all the problems that had surrounded our lives of late, the emotions between us now felt more comforting, safe and something else I quite couldn’t put a name on. Somehow I knew though, staring into those sexy eyes of his that everything was going to work out fine and for some reason, what ever I had been running or hiding from, my search had ended.

Although we flirted and taunted some more while we dried off, we kept a safe distance from each other. I jokingly told him he wasn’t allowed to touch me any more the rest of the day, just for those pictures he took. After we dressed, he still hadn’t returned my panties and I still wasn’t letting him touch, we started back for the cabin, both of us admitting we were getting a bit hungry.

No one was outside when we walked up to the door, but the closer we got we could hear several voices low coming from in the cabin. We both looked at each other, grinning and quietly approached the door, wondering if Karen and Jack were back at it. This time I was the one surprised to hear Eric’s voice along with rather loud moans that sounded like Naomi.

“Oh my god, Vince…that’s Eric and my sister, what do you…how long do you…”

“Sssshhhhh, let’s not assume anything just yet and damn, that reminds me,” Vince said, quickly grabbing my hand and pulling me towards his Hudson.

“Now, you’re thinking about getting it on in your car now,” I remarked rather confused. He didn’t answer me just growled a bit; I wasn’t sure if he was irked or turned on by my comment but then he dropped my hand, opened his car door and started looking for something. I in turn was watching his ass, enjoying how well the shorts fit so nice and snug on his backside, quickly distracted me from what I had heard. “not that that doesn’t sound hot.” I added rubbing my hand across the seat of his pants.

“Here, take a look at this for me,” he said, not giving me any mind really but when he stood up and held out his hand I understood.

“Vince, that’s Naomi’s necklace, how did you get it?” I asked, completely taken back seeing him holding that.

“I found it at Eric’s place when I was checking him out. Actually until just now I wasn’t sure whose it was, although I was thinking it was yours at first.” Vince said, and started to explain to me about how he came to have the necklace.
Suddenly there was a loud scream that came from the boat house scaring me right into Vince’s arms.

“Vince?” I asked, the eerie scream sending a cold chill right down to my toes and I looked at him, not really sure what to do.

 

[Miltone]

Vince Latimer, PI

“What the—?” I blurted out as Sylvia clung desperately to me. There was another shout, in a man’s voice, from the boathouse and I took a step in that direction.

“Vince?” Sylvia said, her voice tremulous with fear. “I’m scared.”

“I know, doll. Just stick with me, okay?”

She nodded and squeezed my hand tightly. I slipped Naomi’s pearl necklace into my pocket and led the way down the path toward the boathouse. Eric Mason was scrambling down the stairway from the house, pulling up his trousers and fastening his belt. The moment he heard our footsteps on the gravel path, he looked in our direction and froze for a second, his eyes darting guiltily back up toward the lodge. Sylvia and I continued down to the boathouse with Mason following close behind us.

Once inside, Jack Kroll was crouching down on the walkway reaching down into the water; Karen Heath stood beside him, her hands on her face. The Chris Craft was docked nearby.

“Gimme a hand!” Kroll barked out when he saw my figure in the doorway. He was struggling to pull something from the water. A body, a large body. When I joined him and grabbed onto the legs I saw that it was Cliff Nielson. We managed to get his heavy body up onto the dock and Kroll tried to resuscitate him.

“It’s no use. He’s a goner,” I said bleakly. Kroll tried a couple more times to breath some air into Nielson’s inert body but finally gave up.

“You bastard, Nels!” he said angrily. “Why’d you have to go and do this?”

“What’s going on?” Mason called out as he entered the boathouse.

Kroll stood up and shook his head. “I don’t know exactly,” he said, looking down at Nielson’s lifeless body. “Karen and I came back from a little cruise around the lake and bumped into something when we pulled up to dock. Thought it might be some driftwood or something. Didn’t expect to see Nels floating face down.”

“Someone needs to call the sheriff,” I said, bending over the body. The body was cool and wet, not bloated, and there were no signs of trauma that I could tell. The color of the body made me think he had drowned. I stood up and eyed Kroll.

“Why don’t you go ahead and make the call,” Kroll said to me. “The number should be by the phone in the lodge.”

Karen and Sylvia had embraced and held onto each other. “It’s all right, honey,” Karen said calmly, trying to soothe Sylvia’s sobbing.

Sylvia looked at me with tears streaming down both cheeks. I brushed her tears away with my hand. It was light enough with the huge bay doors on the lakeside wide open, so I took the camera from Sylvia and snapped off a couple of photos.

“Don’t anybody touch anything else until the sheriff gets here,” I warned as I headed toward the door. “I’ll go make the call.”

“I’ll go with you,” Sylvia said, fighting away her tears.

She clung to me heavily as we walked up the path to the house, Mason following close behind like a little lost puppy.

“You knew him well?” I asked.

“Oh, yes,” Sylvia said with a sniffle. “I was real close to Nels. I used to spend the summers here when I was little. Daddy was always so busy in his work that I hardly ever saw him. So Nels was kind of like a father figure to me.”

“Wonder what really happened,” Mason said from behind. “Maybe he slipped and fell in.”

”I don’t know,” Sylvia said. “He knew this place so well. I can’t imagine that he would have just fallen in.”

“That’s for the sheriff and the county coroner to decide,” I commented.

When we reached the lodge, Naomi was just coming out of the shower, a towel around her head, a heavy bathrobe around her body. I found it curious the way she and Mason tried to avoid each other after an initial telling glance. Sylvia filled her in on what had happened down by the water. Remarkably, Naomi didn’t seem particularly affected. By the time I had finished making my call to the sheriff’s office, the others had returned from the boathouse. It was going to be a long afternoon, I was sure.

I waited for the authorities down by the road, leaning against the side of my Hudson puffing a Camel. I leaned back and looked up into the tall cedars lining the drive and stuffed both hands into my pockets, In one, I felt Sylvia’s panties and in the other my snub nose .38. The juxtaposition made me chuckle. I took a final drag from my Camel and tossed the butt aside. Then I heard footsteps on the gravel drive and looked up to see Sylvia trotting down from the lodge, still wearing that yellow dress and still looking completely scrumptious.

“I missed you,” she said, sliding into my arms and resting her cheek on my chest. “I need a hug real bad.”

“You can get all you want from me, doll,” I replied, wrapping my arms around her.

“Do you think this has got something to do with me?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I was just thinking that with my birthday coming up and all the threats, that Nels’s drowning might be related.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” I said, dropping my head down so that my chin rested on the top of her head. “Something’s certainly going on … and your family! Talk about something out of whack! Everybody’s in bed with someone they don’t belong with. I don’t get it.”

“I thought you knew everything, Vince,” Sylvia remarked, looking up at me and smiling.

“I don’t know much, doll,” I admitted. “I just know what to do.”

“So what do you do now?” she asked, her warm little body still laying hard against me.

“For now, wait for the cops,” I said. “And maybe find a way to kill the time.” I let my hands slip down from her waist to the firm curves of her ass. It was easy to tell that she still hadn’t put on a pair of panties.

“Now, Vince,” Sylvia warned, reaching back to grab my wrists. “I warned you about no touching. Not after you snuck that naked picture of me.”

“I was hoping that you would have forgotten about that by now.”

“I have a memory like an elephant,” Sylvia said, struggling to remove my hands from her luscious ass. “But I will let you kiss me.”

“I guess a hard bitten private dick like me has to take what he’s offered and be happy with it,” I said, running my hands up her back. Sylvia slipped her hands up to my shoulders and tilted her face upward for a kiss. It was a long, slow, deep wet kiss, with lots of tongue and moaning. And just when it was getting good, the sound of a Ford Police Interceptor rumbled up the road and a black and white Sheriff’s car pulled into view. A balding round faced man rolled down the window and looked up at me.

“You the one who reported an accident?” he asked in a gruff voice.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I said. Sylvia and I broke apart and I moved toward the police car. “It happened up at the boathouse just up the road ahead. The boathouse is just down from the lodge.”

“I know where it is,” the man replied with a snarl.

The Ford pealed out, spitting gravel as it churned up the road. Sylvia and I walked up behind them and waited in the lodge with the others while Jack took the sheriff and his deputy down to the boathouse. Shortly the deputy came running up to the lodge and asked for the phone so he could call the coroner. For the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, while Nielson’s body was carted away, the sheriff interviewed everyone separately, taking lots of time with Kroll and Karen and saving me for last.

“So what do you know?” I asked him, hoping he might spill something that would help me understand all that had happened.

“I’m asking the questions, bub,” he said curtly, giving me a fish eye. “So what’s your tie in with the family?”

“I’m investigating threads on the life of Miss Cavanaugh,” I answered.

“Yeah, right!” he chortled. “I saw you investigating her eye teeth on the way in!” He sneered at me uneasily. “Did you know Nielson?”

“Met him once, a few nights ago. Up here. Didn’t share more than a few words with him the whole night.”

“When’d you get here this time?”

“Last night around five p.m.”

“Where’d you go and who did you see all day today?”

“Spent the day with Miss Cavanaugh. She wanted to show me around.”

“I’ll bet,” he said with a harsh voice. “I’d like her to show me around that sweet little body of hers.”

“Hey, watch it!” I said loud enough that the others sitting out on the porch could hear.

“Look, I’ll level with you,” the sheriff remarked, eyeing me closely. “I got nothing on you or any one else here right now. I’ll have to wait for the coroner’s exam and the results of our forensics team before I decide on anything. So just be a good little dick and don’t leave town unexpectedly, like your type is prone to do.”

“And just what is my type?”

“Let me put it this way, Latimer,” he said moving in close to me, wagging his finger in my face. “I don’t like you. Something about a cheap-ass gumshoe like you hanging all over a pretty little rich gal like Sylvia Cavanaugh that peeves me. But at this point, I got nothing. But I’m gonna be watching you, real close. Get it?”

“Got it,” I said, raising my hand up and brushing his finger away from my face. The Sheriff headed toward the door. “Say, Sheriff. Were you the one who investigated Peter Cavanaugh’s death a couple years back?”

He stopped and turned back. “Yeah. What about it?” His look turned defensive.

“You really think Peter Cavanaugh would have been stupid enough to jump off that ledge for a swim when he knew how shallow and rocky it was down below?”

“What’s this got to do with you, Latimer?” He was not pleased with my question. “That case was closed as soon as it was opened. We found footprints that placed him there, his clothes, and no signs of a struggle. Wasn’t much mystery about it all.”

“I’m just thinking that it may be linked to this one,” I said slowly. “Whoever had enough motive to bump Peter off that ledge might have enough motive to take out Nielson. Two apparent drownings, two years apart.”

“Or maybe you just want to deflect attention from your own guilty self,” he growled. “Just don’t make yourself too scarce, you hear?”

“Loud and clear chief,” I replied sarcastically.

The Sheriff and his deputy went back outside to check in with the plainclothes investigators working the scene. They packed up and left shortly after dark. Those who stayed behind were mixed bunch. Mason was his usual moody self; Hiram was a little sad but a commiserative and accommodating bartender; Naomi remained remotely cool and unaffected; Kroll was surly and sour and fidgeted endlessly; Karen Heath was darkly serene and quiet.

Sylvia was the bright spot for me. After a good cry and a long shower, the color returned to her face. She seemed to have put it all aside and worked with me on fixing up some supper for everyone. There were a couple moments when she got a sad, faraway look in her eye and I went to her and held her until her mood lightened. Each time she came into my arms, I had to struggle with my carnal urges. The feel of her warm little body underneath the soft sweater and tight slacks she had put on teased my raging desires, but I was determined not to let my animal instincts screw up the best thing I had going for me. The threats on her life weren’t just a case for me, they were becoming personal; Sylvia wasn’t just my client anymore, I was falling in love with her. And from the way she leaned back against me, maybe she knew it.