Confessions of a Private Eye.

I collapsed in the ripped leather chair behind the scratch wooden table, I called a desk. The Jack Daniels from the night before, was making my head hurt and I cursed myself for letting the bottle get the better of me. From the pack of Lucky’s I pulled out another cancer-stick and stuck it between my teeth. Lying back in the chair, I watched the smoke circle its way to the yellow stained ceiling. My daily planner laid open in front of me and from reclined position, I could see there were no appointments – another day of sitting on my ass. I flipped the book closed, stood and ambled over to the window. The dirty, wet streets of a black and white decadent city lay spread out before me – rain falling from the grey sky. Hundreds of people carrying umbrellas or dressed in long raincoats, hurried along the sidewalk below the window. Drivers in vehicles of different sizes, cramped the road, cursing each other through rainswept glass. I dropped the ripped lace curtain and moved back to the leather chair.

The knock was light – hardly noticeable. I sat forward and reopened the daily planner – confirming I had no appointments. 

“Yeah! come on in!” I called, while pulling on my jacket covering the shoulder-holster

She stepped into the room. A large hat covered her head, hiding most of her face.

“I need…..I need a private eye,” she said cautiously.

“Well,” I replied, waving her to a chair,” that’s what I am.”

I watched as she glided across the room to the one chair in front of my desk. She took off the large hat and shook her long blond hair loose. Her fingers fondled the buttons of the black raincoat and she let it fall from her shoulders. I took it from her and hung it on the coat tree next to the desk. I beckoned her to sit and as she elegantly lowered her gorgeous figure to the chair, I followed suit.

“Mind if I smoke?” she asked in a teasing sort of way.

“Fine. I could use one myself.”

I lifted the car-piston ashtray across the desk and placed in front of her. She removed a silver cigarette holder from some hidden pocket, opened it and fingered out a white roll of tobacco. With a gold lighter, she ficked the flame and sucked in nicotine. With a slight smile and a tilt of her head, she blew smoke into the air. Her smile told me oral care was something she cared about.

“You’ve been recommended,” she said, “thorough, I’m told.”

I shifted in the leather, feeling my face flush. “Who recommended me?”

“Oh, that’s not important. What is important is that you’re recommended.”

I regarded her for a long minute. She was beautiful. Her long blond hair seem to dance on the top of her head. A small face with a smooth complexion – make-up unnecessary.The deep blue eyes showed confidence mixed with mischief. Under the deep green dress, I could see the rising and falling of firm, round breasts – true fun-bags for any virile male. She broke into my thoughts.

“I need a man……….that is also discreet,” she smiled ever so slightly.

I leaned back in my leather chair and thought to myself, if only I wasn’t gay.

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