The Femme Fatale meets the Ace Dick.

"Don't leave a mess. Come in."

Argh! You mentally chastised yourself for your poor wording. What you meant to say was to be careful not to make a mess as she came in. You just got the carpet clean a week ago, and you really didn't want mud to get tracked on it so soon since you can't afford cleaning up it.

Seeing her give a relieved sigh makes you feel at ease though. At the very least, you haven't offended her or did something to piss her off.

Still, how were you going to deal with this prostitute and her overpriced goods? It's not like you can afford her or anything... You only allowed her in on a whim that something interesting might happen. What was she going to do once she learns that you were as piss poor as any homeless man on the street?

"May I sit?" She asked, bringing you out of your thoughts.

"Sit." You gestured. For a prostitute, she sure has some manners. The suspicion that she was once a rich housewife that's now fallen from grace might have been on the money then... "Need to take off your hat and coat?"

She politely declined, "Oh no, I'm fine for now. I promise I won't take too much of your time."

Take too much of your time? The insinuation that she thinks you're a man that pre-ejaculates often is insulting. However, you can't really argue otherwise, considering you've never even lost your virginity to know how long you might last. That, or she's insinuating that she's so good, she'll leave you satisfied even before she can take off her clothes. That would certainly explain the outlandish price.

Walking around, you take a seat behind your office desk and take out a clear bottle that you filled with milk. Setting up two glasses, you offered her, "Drink?"

"Oh no, thank you. I don't think I can handle something that strong." She waved away.

You raised an eyebrow at that. "It's only two percent. But if you don't want any." Whoever heard of a person that can't handle milk?

Setting one of the glasses away, you poured a drink for yourself and downed it all in one go.

She found it amazing how tolerant people are when it comes to ****. It's certainly impressive to watch as the detective was able to down an entire glass in one go without even shaking.

She's been to enough parties and weddings to know what color a White Russian looks like. She once made a mistake of thinking it was milk and drank some to cool down. It was only after she woke up in her parents closet, half-naked and with a hangover, did she learn that she was a complete lightweight and that she hated ****. Still, watching a man completely obliterate an entire glass cup without looking any worse for wear made her slightly jealous that she couldn't be born the same way. It would certainly help her out in life during situations where social drinking was involved.

As he put his beer glass away and wiped his mouth, he bluntly asked, "Do you have a name or something?"

"Is it necessary to say?" She asked. "This might sound suspicious of me, but I want to keep my identity a secret..."

It would make this whole mission a whole lot harder if he knew her identity and spoke with the wrong people. Word would get around fast if people know about her speaking with private detectives. She'd rather not have the attention if she could help it.

Sheesh, this lady is paranoid. What, was she worried you might recognize her or something? I mean, even if you did, would it really matter? It's not like the two of you have known each other before. You certainly don't know any famous or rich people on a personal level, that's for sure.

Leaning forward, you calmly told her, "I'm not really comfortable doing this with someone I don't know."

You tried to imagine what she was expecting from this, or what was going on in her mind. Was she seriously thinking that she could just have sex with you, with all of her clothes on her, and then walk away with $10,000 dollars? If that's the case, then she certainly isn't an experienced prostitute.

This level of naivety and cluelessness sort of made you feel bad for her. A woman with so much pride, she's scared to reveal her identity on the off chance that it might get tarnished. Or at least, that's how you imagined she felt.

She gave a defeated sigh, "That's fair, I suppose. I'm not in any position to argue, considering how **** I am."

At the very least, she acknowledges that she's ****. You can respect that about her.

Finally, after much hesitation, she took off her hat. Only her hat.

This prostitute has a knack for teasing, doesn't she?

Well, at the very least, you can finally see her face.

Caucasian female with short blonde hair and blue eyes. Young features suggest she's in her twenties. Slight bags under her eyes covered with excessive makeup, meaning she hasn't gotten much rest recently, yet still worries about her appearance.

You began making notes of other features that you noticed about her as she spruced up her hair to look as presentable as possible.

"Perhaps it's for the best if you knew who I was anyway... I would have preferred having my identity hidden should something awry happen in the future, but it can't be helped." She shrugged defeatedly. "My name is Alice Bellarose. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Detective Doe."

"Are you embarrassed?" You asked bluntly. You can only imagine what was going on in her mind or what she prepared herself to do, all in the name of $10,000.

"I'm not sure. I suppose you could say that." She chuckled, casually leaning back in her seat. "Frankly, for my situation, I don't think I have the luxury of worrying about pride or embarrassment."

"Hm... I suppose." You nodded thoughtfully.

You can see months worth of stress and fatigue in her eyes. Whatever problems she's been **** to tackle these past few weeks or months, it must have been hard on her.

Perhaps it's stupid of you, but you don't think it'll be good on your conscious if you were to lead her on and let her leave with nothing for her efforts. Overpriced she may be, the chivalrous gentleman within you just cannot allow yourself to ignore this poor maiden in her hour of need.

With a sigh, you told her, "Wait here."

She watches you curiously as you stood up and stepped inside your restroom. Pulling up a floor tile that acted as a hidden panel to hide away your valuables, which you admit that you barely have any, you pulled out a lockbox.

Bringing it back to your desk, you opened the lockbox to reveal a savings of $200, a silver spoon made from actual silver, and a certificate that degrees you ownership of exactly one stock of a defunct Disco Radio station.

You handed over the lockbox to her, knowing that this will be all you can do to help her avoid starvation for the time being.

The girl looked over the lockbox in confusion, turning it over to observe each corner as if she was studying a museum piece.

"I... don't understand the significance of this?" She told you, unsure how to respond.

"Despite my occupation as a private detective, I'm sad to say that I do not have $10,000 to pay for your services. As alluring and tantilizing as you look, I'm barely scraping by as it is. However, I understand that you're in a dire situation, so I couldn't turn a blind eye to a girl in suffering. This is all the assets I've saved up until now. The silver spoon might be worth $50 dollars, maybe. I'm not sure what the conversion rate is. The stock certificate might be worthless though. I've only held onto it for so long because I thought the disco genre might come back in full swing one day. It may come in handy to you one day in case it ever does raise in value. Use it in order to regain control of your life." You explained.

She blinked stupidly, "Wat."

"I know it's not what you expected, especially since it seems like you're used to much more luxurious commodities. But I hope that it will do for now. All I ask in return is a kiss and bright smile to see that their might be hope in your future."

"..." She seemed stunned speechless over my generosity.

Allowing this random strange girl who you've never even met before today to gain ownership of all of your assets that you've saved up for the past few months, it will surely bite you in the ass later in the future. But for now though, knowing that you'll be helping out a maiden in need get her life back on track gave you an overwhelming sense of pride and accomplishment.

Glancing back at the lockbox before looking back at you, she suddenly said, "I think we may have gone through a misunderstanding."

"Wait, so you're not a **** prostitute who was once formerly a wealthy housewife that's fallen from grace, **** to accost men from the streets in order to provide a decent living for yourself?"

She could barely hold back her laughter as tears formed in her eyes. "No! What gave you that astounding impression? And why such an elaborate and specific backstory?"

"You were banging my door and pleading for me to pay ten thousand dollars! You even told me to negotiate the price beforehand! Plus, with you wearing that oversized coat and hat to hide under, it made you look like a street hooker trying not to get attention and failing miserably at it!" You tried to defend yourself, doing your best to hide your embarrassment.

"Oh god, I can't even believe it!" She laughed even harder after I said that, covering her mouth and clutching her sides so tightly. "And for a moment, I was worried that I was going to be dealing with a hard-ass detective with a chip in his shoulder! Haha!"

You sighed as you waited patiently for this fancy noblewoman to stop laughing at your expense.

Seriously, how were you supposed to know she was just another client with a case? Everything she did and said was so vague, it was only natural that you misconstrued a few details.

Calming down and wiping the tears away, she sat up and gave you a sweet smile. "Thank you. I haven't had the chance to relax these past few weeks, so I needed that. But now that misunderstandings have been cleared up, I believe it's only necessary to redo introductions again."

With lax motion, she pulled a cigar and lighter from her pocket before lighting the cig for a smoke. As she took a deep breath to inhale all that unhealthy nicotine, she sighed and let out a wave of smoke.

"I'm not sure if you know who I am, considering we're on different social standings, but my name is Alice Bellarose, a noble lady of the Bellarose estate. My father is one of many directors in the United States Board of Education, while my mother is an archeologist. Me, I'm personally just a dabbler in entrepreneurship, nothing further. It's a pleasure to meet you." She leaned back with a smooth grin.

You raised an eyebrow at the girl's shift in personality, changing from on edge and **** into this experienced and confident persona.

"So you're an aristocrat then? Here, in America?" You asked her.

"Well, when I call myself a noble lady, I meant it more as a personal self-indulged title rather than to suggest that I have actual noble blood in me. In other countries though, the title would perhaps be legitimate." She giggled, "But never mind that for now. I have important business to discuss, and I mean no offense to you, but we have definitely wasted enough time as it is with our recent shenanigans."

Ah, finally getting into the meat of things.

"Right." You nodded, before asking the first question, "What does a self-proclaimed noble lady want with a bottom of the barrel P.I.? I'm assuming you're not here to ask me to help find some kind of expensive Persian kitten that ran away from home?"

Actually, now that you think about it, that would be a very decent and easy case to solve. Especially with a $10,000 price tag, because holy balls, that's probably enough to keep you from living frugally for the next year or two.

Taking another puff of her cigar, she suddenly asked me, "Are you aware of the new religious group calling themselves the Affectionates?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’d have to be living under a rock to not know who they are. They’re the talk of the century. It’s like a bandwagon that nobody stops talking about.”

“Quite so. Celebrities, politicians, it seems that the more people join, the more influence they have over world.” She looked around for bit, before asking, “Ashtray?”

You pulled out your milk drinking glass and set it up in front of you, “I don’t smoke, so just set the ashes in here. I’ll clean it up later.”

Setting the ashes in the cup, it almost looked like she was looking at something above my head. She seemed to internally debate on something, before laughing condescendingly at you. “Don’t tell me you're one of those hippies that believe the hogwash about smoking causing lung cancer and being bad for you?”

Sigh, you see she’s one of those people who’s in denial about the Surgeon General reports about the hazardous side effects of cigarette smoking.

You’d rather not have an argument about that right now, especially when you were about to be hired for a new case which could give you enough money to buy actual food on the table.

“Nothing in life that feels good for you is actually good for you. I hope you realize that someday soon.” You replied simply, hoping that would be the end of that before she started something else.

Instead of being disgruntled at your reply like you expected, she instead took another look at something above you before grinning gleefully. "Quite so, quite so. Very aptly put. You’ve convince me, I shan’t ever smoke again!”

With gusto, she suddenly dumped her entire cigar into the glass cup and gave it back to you.

Well then... that was a rather quick change of heart.

Leaning back with the same grin, she told you, “Each passing second I interact with you, it gives me more and more confidence that you may be the only man for the job.”

She looks above your head again for the third time, and this time your curiosity caused you to try to follow her line of sight. Only, you see nothing out of the ordinary.

Before you could ask her what she was looking at, she already went back on topic.

"Truly remarkable how a religious group could somehow become so popular in the span of a few months, isn’t it? Half a year ago, they never even existed, and yet now it’s as if they’ve always been here since forever.”

Deciding to ignore the other topic for now, you resumed to the conversation as well. “Yes... I’ve had my own curiosity with the group as well. On my off time when I’m not working, I usually did my own investigations on them to learn more of how they came to be and how they became so popular in the first place.

“You have? What have you come up with on your investigations?” She asked with sudden intense interest.