TheGrind
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Aug 6, 2010
- Posts
- 872
Jonathan tossed his felt hat on his desk as he shut the door behind him. His name had been printed on the distorted glass three years prior. Already seven years into the Depression and he hadn’t so much as anything lighter than a nickle leaving his pocket. But rich men and women wanted things and such people had deep pockets. That’s not to say times were always easy but sometimes a man had to drum up his own business.
The women were always the best customers. They often had nowhere else to go either because the cops were corrupt, they didn’t care or a case had just turned cold. Some were willing to pay a lot, and the poorer ones in various other ways in order to have their breadwinner returned home to them. Without an income the family would be lost for jobs in the city were impossible to come by. He’d chosen the right racket to join.
Before he sat down behind his desk he removed his revolver, placing it inside the top drawer. The holster joined its partner moments later. It hadn’t been used today, or ever. The more he stayed in the shadows the better off he was. The way they portrayed his occupation in those detective noir films just weren’t accurate. But he wasn’t about to downplay the heroism or womanizing features Dick Tracy portrayed.
One more appointment laid ahead of him before he’d end the day. Leaning forward he heard over the phone that his appointment had arrived. It was another disappearing persons case. If the police couldn’t solve them they were almost impossible but there was always hope. Jonathan returned his answer over the closed wire to send the girl on in. Within minutes he’d find out if it was worth his time and effort to take on what she was seeking.
The women were always the best customers. They often had nowhere else to go either because the cops were corrupt, they didn’t care or a case had just turned cold. Some were willing to pay a lot, and the poorer ones in various other ways in order to have their breadwinner returned home to them. Without an income the family would be lost for jobs in the city were impossible to come by. He’d chosen the right racket to join.
Before he sat down behind his desk he removed his revolver, placing it inside the top drawer. The holster joined its partner moments later. It hadn’t been used today, or ever. The more he stayed in the shadows the better off he was. The way they portrayed his occupation in those detective noir films just weren’t accurate. But he wasn’t about to downplay the heroism or womanizing features Dick Tracy portrayed.
One more appointment laid ahead of him before he’d end the day. Leaning forward he heard over the phone that his appointment had arrived. It was another disappearing persons case. If the police couldn’t solve them they were almost impossible but there was always hope. Jonathan returned his answer over the closed wire to send the girl on in. Within minutes he’d find out if it was worth his time and effort to take on what she was seeking.
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