Let the Fates Decide

[darrenfate]

OOC:

This is a closed thread for now. The idea is to explore making a new start. Self determination versus predestination. Which do you believe?

"Everything is determined, the beginning as well as the end, by forces over which we have no control. It is determined for insects as well as for the stars. Human beings, vegetables or cosmic dust, we all dance to a mysterious tune, intoned in the distance by an invisible piper."
-- Albert Einstein (1875-1955)


"The world is round and the place which may seem like the end, May also be the beginning."
-- Ivy Baker Priest, Treasurer of the US

 

[darrenfate]

DORIAN

It was a short article, folded neatly into precise squares and tucked away in his wallet. The 14 point Helvetica type headline read :

Local businessman loses everything in fire.

It goes onto say that “faulty wiring” was to blame, and under insurance covered only what he owed the bank. Cool verbs like conflagration (building), searing (heat), and stupidity (his) were liberally sprinkled throughout the remainder of the article.

Escape from the pending cold winter sounded good so he had made his way south down I 75 until he couldn’t drive any more. Not quite broke, not quite happy and not quite ready to start over.

“You been sitting there staring at people coming in and out for the last three hours. Its obvious you aren’t waiting for anybody – your disinterested eyes give that away. You want to talk – I’m here. It’ll help my tip when you cash out. So what’s your story Mac? Looks to me like you need a friend.“

“The name is Dorian. And you are right my bartending friend. I do need to talk – but you are not my type. I’ll tip you, never fear. Tell you what, the next woman that walks through those doors alone, you buy her a drink on me. We’ll let the fates decide who that will be. “

The bartender grinned, and slapped him on the back.

“Taking chances eh? Very good! I can smell a great story comin on! Let’s see what the future brings to your door then. “

They didn’t have long to wait.

 

[chanaud]

Claire

Nature is at work.. Character and destiny are her handiwork. She gives us love and hate, jealousy and reverence. All that is ours is the power to choose which impulse we shall follow. ~David Seabury

It was obvious she didn’t belong. Not in a sleazy bar named “Joe’s Saloon” with paint faded so badly, it read, “ Joe’s Saloo ”, nor anywhere off the beaten path from Duval Street. In fact she didn’t belong anywhere on Duval Street. Her short robin’s egg pleated tennis skirt, topped with a crisp white sleeveless golf shirt, salon cut chestnut bob, and her porcelain face unmarred by the sun or any form of hardship belong far from Key West, far from A!A, more suitable for Palm Beach.

Clutching in her hand was a piece of paper, worn with wear and smudged from either the heavy humidity or her sweaty palms. She looked at the address, surveyed the desolate surroundings, glanced back at the address again, and grimaced. When she spotted the only two live heartbeats at the bar, she took a deep breath of courage and walked over to them with long even runway strides.

“Pardon me, I’m here to see Charlie,” she asked, her voice crisp and businesslike.

Silence sliced between Claire and the two men. They were smiling strangely at her, making her shift uncomfortably. The only sound she heard was the wild thumping in her chest which she was sure all of Key West heard. She wondered, what possibly could be so amusing when she had such important matters to handle. And how was she to know which one is Charlie!

“I see you have a guest, Chuckie ole boy!” The bartender’s boomed loudly. “Care for a drink, m’am?”

“No thank you…I won’t be here long.” She answered.

The bartender nodded, and disappeared quickly behind a door.

“Charlie, we’ve finally met. I’m Claire.” She whispered an introduction.

 

[darrenfate]

DORIAN

Charlie. The babe called him Charlie. Well, for a knockout like HER he could be Charlie or a Tom, Dick or Harry. Just so long as she took him to her bed. Dorian smirked as he appraised her body. Fuckable. Absolutely fuckable. Even sober (which he wasn't) she would be hot. Somehow this thinking like a horny teenager made him feel better. Alive for the first time in weeks.

Dorian could see the bartender moving away to give them space. Dorian knew that he wouldn't be giving him away - so he became Charlie. He had no idea who he was supposed to be, and he had to come up with something generic enough to get a clue about why babealicious here was meeting him.

Dorian took a deep breath, and spoke -

"Nice to meet you - any trouble finding this place?"

"No, I can certainly see why you wanted to meet here, none of my friends would ever come into this kind of place, that's for sure."

He led her to a secluded corner table, one that would have given them space even if other people were here, which there weren't.

"So what do you think of my case? Will you take it? "

Ooooo Charlie was a private eye! I'll be your private Dick ma'am. My my my. Things just got a helluva lot more interesting.

Just at that moment, a burly man walked in, and looking around for a moment sat at a table facing the door and checked his watch. The real Charlie, no doubt. Damn.

Undaunted, Dorian smiled and said -

"Your case? Not so fast. I want to be sure I have all the facts. Start over from the beginning, and go slowly leaving nothing out. Let me get you a drink first. The Pusser's rum here is good. I don't trust people who don't drink. "

"Oh, well alright, sure."

Dorian skated up to the bar, placed the order and extended two twentys.

"One's for you, ones for Charlie over there. Tell the guy that some broad came in, and left a message saying the deal was off. The $20 is for his trouble. Got that? "

"Hell yes!"

Dorian took the drinks back to the table. He saw the bartender get up and talk to Charlie. As Charlie grabbed the twenty he headed out the door Dorian heard him loudly say

"Bitch"

Then he was gone. An old commercial popped to mind.

Starkist likes tunas that taste good, not tunas with good taste.
Sorry Charlie!

Snapping back to reality, Dorian leaned back in his chair.

"OK, doll" Dorian said in his best gumshoe impersonation,

"Take it from the top, start with your full legal name."

 

[chanaud]

There was something wrong with this guy. Definitely wrong. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what’s wrong. It was obvious though, that he was trying too hard. Claire wanted so desperately to walk away from him, this so called Charlie person, and the seedy joint he insisted on meeting at. Still he came highly recommended and was promised the highest discretion. A professional, you’ll get your moneys worth, her friend had commented.

A long dramatic paused danced between them. Charlie’s dark non wavering eyes were fixated on hers, while Claire’s danced nervously. Her fingers played on her lap. The sound of paper being scratched were heard. Charlie followed the noise and found Claire holding a thick manila envelope.

Blushing, Claire started, “As I told you on the phone…my name is Claire Underwood…I’ve come to require your services because…”

Her eyes flickered around the desolate bar. Satisfied that they were alone, she continued in a low whispery voice. “Somebody is trying to persecute me with false information.”

Again she paused, awaiting a shocked expression. When none came her way, she continued again. “You see…it started about a month ago. I’ve received several pieces of mail…falsely accusing me of being somebody else..who holds a…ummm ..quite a colorful past. At first I had ignored it, because it didn’t pertain to me..but this last package that I received has my name and description…and is in publication right now. This person wrote that it’ll be released to the public end of next month.”

Now that the information was out there, Claire slipped the package on the table. Charlie glanced down at it and asked, “I assume that’s the book?”

“Yes.”

“Does it hold any truth?”

“No! This person is obviously mistaken me for somebody else. Possibly someone with the same name.”

“If it’s not the truth, why do you care?”

“Mr… Charlie, I have a respectable reputation to protect. I sit on several non profit boards, chair fundraisers, and I also have my husband’s reputation to hold, too. This book…falsely accused book of my so called life can bankrupt not only his business…but every respect we’ve built in our community.”

“Do you know who’s behind this?”

“No, I don’t.. That’s why I require your service. Charlie…I need this book stopped. It can’t be released to the public. And I need to know who’s behind this. And why he or she insists on damaging my life and my husband’s. I can pay, Charlie. A lot of money. Just name your price.”

Large droplets of tears threatened to pour from her cinnamon eyes. Charlie’s face struggled with a decision. He opened his mouth, but Claire stopped him.

“Please…don’t make a decision just yet. Read this tonight, and let’s meet here tomorrow..same time.”

She stood up. Charlie’s neck strained to look up at her. Damn she has long legs! Long, thin and strong. Tanned, too. A real tan. Not the fake bake orange tan that seems to be the fad recently. Everything about the woman seems to be real. Real tits. Real hair. At least that’s what Charlie thought. But what does he know about women? His own track record is the reason why he’s single now.

Charlie sighed…

 

[darrenfate]

Dorian

He watched her go, sashaying across the room knowing full well that his eyes were riveted on her ass. She had that sexy swaying stride that only years of practice could perfect. Then she was gone, the only proof that she had ever been there was the lingering scent of a sweet jasmine perfume.

"Wow, that is some broad" the bartender intoned.

"Its ironic. Her name is Claire. Her name's Latin roots mean bright and clear. From her story, I'd say very little in her life is clear. Time to go, Mac. Here's another twenty for your trouble. "

"Hey wait - tell me that story ...."

" Later " then Dorian was gone.

He blinked in the bright sunlight. Still a few hours until dusk. He felt inspired as he made his way down to the marina. He waved to the harbormaster as he made his way to the cabin cruiser.

He felt a bit like Travis Mcgee, and while the Bayliner was no houseboat, he could rename the "NHB" to the "Busted Flush" if that kept this lady in his life.

Grabbing a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels Black, he pulled out the little book that Clair had given him earlier.

He skimmed the book fast, and after just a few minutes he gave a long low whistle.

"Damn, somebody really hates Clair Underwood."

The author claimed that she was once associated with a prominent mob figure- one Nicky the Nose Cecchini - OK that was one thing. But claiming this upper crust society woman was once a high class call girl - now he could see why she wanted so desperately to keep this quiet.

He read the book thoroughly, taking notes as he went. It was all here in lurid details, names, dates, hell this author even had her rates and her hooker specialties. Dorian had never had a ice cube blowjob before - and if it took spending $500 an hour to get one he wasn't likely to anytime soon. Still the thought of the lovely Claire on her knees servicing his cock made him hard.

This dame is real trouble. He could smell it, feel it. He locked the book in his safe and tried going to sleep. It wasn't until he found his handgun, loaded it and stuck it under his pillow that he fell off in a fitful slumber.

Dorian was in the bar at the appointed time. He felt alive for the first time in weeks. The handgun was slung in an underarm holster just like cops wear.

Claire made a grand entrance - eyes straight ahead and locked on him from the moment she entered the door. She sat and crossed her supple legs, showing fine black silk stockings.

"Lets get right to brass tacks, Mrs. Underwood. I'll take your case. My retainer is $ 25,000, due tomorrow. A small price to pay for saving your lofty reputation. I take it that this David Arnot is a nom de guerre. " She nodded, her ascent.

The 25Gs didn't outwardly phase her. Damn, he should have asked for 50.

"Look. I need to know how much is true. All of it. This is confidential only between us."

He waited for her reply ...

 

[chanaud]

Claire Underwood

Upon entering Joe’s Saloon, Claire couldn’t help grimacing again. Something about the place, about Charlie, and even the sleazy looking bartender with hungry eyes gave her the creeps. But she had no choice. This had to be handled with the highest discretion. And Charlie came highly recommended by Betsy who Claire knew held a color reputation and was not so discreet about it.

Claire walked in wearing a classic black suit, last seen at Calvin Klein’s runway, a laced camisole and silk stockings. You would think it was midwinter and she should be sweating like a stuck pig. But Claire looked cool as ever, not a hair out of place as she removed her Givenchy glasses and surveyed him with eyes the color of the delicious Cuban coffee he loved so much.

The 25 grand price surprised Claire. She was expecting to pay the standard 50 that Betsy had warned her of. Possibly the other 25 was due at the end. Possibly.

Looking at him directly, she answered him. “None of it is true. None of it. Except…”

Aha! Charlie thought. The truth comes out now. He leaned forward, waiting eagerly.

“the my name and my address and everything about my current life is true. Somebody is using my current life and connecting it to somebody’s past. Somebody else, that is.”

“Do you have proof that you’re not the same Claire?” Charlie asked, thinking this will be the easiest 25 g’s he’s ever made. “School records, family history, anything?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t.”

Charlie looked perplexed. “Nothing?”

“Well.. I grew up in an orphanage… a Catholic orphanage.. .Redeemer of Holy Names… worked as a secretary for a law firm and that’s where I met my husband, David. David Underwood, the fifth. He was a client at the time, who was using their services for a particular project. After he no longer needed their services, David asked me to lunch. A month later, we eloped to Paradise Island. His parents were upset, of course. I wasn’t exactly the debutante girl they had hoped for a daughter in law, but they’ve eventually accepted me as one of their own.”

The pain of early marriage was evident. Charlie remained silent, watching the story unfold in her eyes. A few long seconds passed, she cleared her throat, and continued. “The orphanage is no longer. The church and the home was burned down long ago. Most of the nuns had passed away. They were old when I was a young girl. Or so I was told. So, I don’t know how I could possibly prove my past. That’s why I need your help, Charlie. You have to stop the presses, the book from being released. You’re my last resort… Otherwise I’m finished, I’m a done woman.”

“But surely your husband will understand.”

“Not when there’s a thirty million dollar trust fund at stake. My in laws may accept me as a daughter, but a scandal like this will disown me as quickly as…”

She couldn’t finish. Her eyes closed. Her breasts rose sharply, as she tried to control her cool demeanor.

“I have to run. I’ve a meeting to buy a house for my housekeeper’s mother. Long story, don’t ask. Can we meet later tonight? Possibly for dinner? I really don’t know anyone around here.”

How could he say no, Charlie mused. With 25g’s playing at his fingertips, he couldn’t possibly. And there was something about Claire, he needed to know. Something she hadn’t told him, yet. His left ear itched. That was usually a bad omen. A sign trouble was brewing ahead. He ignored it as he nodded.

“What about the entrance of Mallory Square at 8? I’ll treat you to the finest cuisine in Key West.”

A wide smile emerged from nowhere. Her eyes sparkled lighting the dingy bar. Charlie found himself returning the same sappy smile. He couldn’t help it. He wondered if she wouldn’t be put off by having dinner on his boat. Oh god, the damn ear was itching like mad!

 

[darrenfate]

The internet is the greatest research tool ever invented. Dorian sat down on the NHB's high speed connection and let his fingers fly.

Nicky the Nose dame's name was Molly Piccollo. Now a famous mobster like Nicky got his share of press. The question was - did any photos of Molly exist? If so, they could prove if she really was Claire or not.

After sifting through the aptly named "morgue" (newspaper archives) of the New York tabloids, Dorian got lucky.

There in fair clarity was a photo aboard a yacht toasting the 4th of July was Nicky and his entire entourage. Front and center curled up on a chaise lounge was a woman, who looked a lot like a brunette Claire. He couldn't be 100% sure - but it was a helluva likeness if it wasn't her.

Wait a second .... what was that?

Dorian leaned forward, staring at her photo. One leg was curved over the other, showing off her shapely ass. There on her right cheek was a black butterfly tattoo.

Bingo!

Dorian just had to figure out how to get Claire's pants off to find out once and for all. If Claire was Molly, he'd still string this out and if she wasn't, well, at least he'd know for sure. He printed the grainy photo.

Several more hours passed as he gathered information on the book’s author, one David Arnot. Unlike Molly, this guy left little trail. In fact, he burst on the literary scene only five years ago. There was a ton of info on him since then, and Dorian carefully gathered it all in.

Glancing at his watch he realized that he only had 90 minutes before Claire came.

Dimitri owed him a favor, and an elegant take out dinner complete with a red and white checked tablecloth was soon on the way. Dorian took off for Tommy Bahamas. The dinner and Dorian both arrived back on the NHB just before she did.

It was typical Key West weather, hot and humid.

Claire was on time, just like Dorian expected her to be. She was dressed in an all white linen suit, and as he helped her aboard he could see her perfectly shaped nipples straining against her silk blouse. He saw the look of disdain on her face when she saw the diminutive size of his beloved Bayliner.

"Welcome aboard Claire. I’ve got a lot to tell you about. “

She sat down, and removed her sunglasses. Those brown eyes made Dorian’s knees weak. To say that Claire was formidable was an understatement. Claire was devastatingly beautiful.

“But first, a toast. Welcome aboard the NHB. May we solve your problem in the way that you deserve! ”

Ignoring the nuance in that statement, Claire replied –

“Yes,” May that bastard Arnot meet his just fate. “

“Before we go on Claire, I have a request. There’s too many inquiring eyes at the dock, I thought it best that we motor out for a sunset dinner cruise. I took the liberty of buying you swimsuit. We need to blend in around here. You can change below. "

Dorian handed her the slim bag containing the white thong suit.

“I’ll start the engines and get underway …"

 

[chanaud]

Nodding, Claire headed down to the main stateroom. She opened the pink Burdines shopping bag and gasped. Tiny strings resembling a web fell down her arm. Perplexed at the tangled mess, she turned it over several times. When she realized it what it was, she blushed. The bare threads which he had chosen would not only just barely cover her nipples, but her derriere would be totally exposed for all of Key West to see. Oh sure, she’s not a stranger to tiny suits such as the one she’s holding, but they were usually worn in the privacy of her tropical backyard, or at a spa where one never has to fear of being photographed.

Drunken laughter was heard from a distance. Claire peeked out the window and noticed young nubile women and bronzed men were partying on a large stinkpot next to them. She noticed how some suits were similar to hers, some even smaller, as if that was even possible!

A few moments later, she stepped onto the deck wearing her white linen blouse over the bikini. Dorian’s eyes were on her legs and traveled slowly upwards. From the glow of his eyes, Claire knew he approved. But when he saw her linen blouse covered the minuscule suit, he frowned.

“Care for a drink?”

“Sure.”

Dorian reached into a cooler posing as a seat and retrieved two cans of Bud Light. He opened both of them and handed her one.

“Here’s to a success outcome to this case.” Doran toasted while leaning back in his Captain’s chair..

“Yes, let’s set this bastard straight.”

Claire took a long sip and let out a loud sigh. The cool sip felt refreshing good going down, and she allowed the initial sip to relax her inner being. Doran had already relaxed. He was leaning back with both legs up over the Captain’s wheel.

The sun was still shining brightly. There was some serious partiers next door to them. But none of it fazed him in the least bit. His eyes were half closed, and was watching Claire with a lazy smile. She smiled back. Then it struck her. Dorian is handsome. Ruggedly handsome. His yellow Columbian fisherman’s shirt was open, revealing a solid tanned chest. Despite the athletic built, he somehow had an intellectual air about him that stated he was more to him than just a lazy detective hanging out at dives.

“What?” She asked. Dorian was looking at her with the most peculiar look on his face.

“I’m shocked.”

“Oh? What of?”

“You didn’t turn your nose at the beer, let alone it being in a can. ”

“I can let my hair down with the rest of them.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Why don’t I what?”

“Let your hair down.”

Claire giggled. She felt young and daring, while drinking beer with this handsome stranger. It’s been a long time.

“I’m a married woman.”

“No. I mean… let your hair down. I bet your hair is gorgeous.”

He reached out. Claire thought he was going to touch her face. But his hand continued past her face and played with the back of her ponytail. A few scant seconds later, she felt a release and her soft mane flowed down her back.

“Just as I thought. Beautiful.”

Blushing, Claire looked away and pretended to concentrate on the sea sparkling like stars against the sunlight. Dorian jumped up and started playing with the boat’s instruments.

“Ready to set sail, lady?”

“I’m ready whenever you are.”