Stick to the case

I walked over to her. She writhed on the bed like a serpent of fire. I leaned down and our lips brushed. I felt her skin sway beneath me. Our lips touched. I felt her arc up below, and her hand reach around my neck. I slid my hand down her arm, and plucked the photos from her hand. I stood up, and tipped my hat to her.

"You know, you really are a sonuvabitch." she said, grinning on the covers. I nodded, looked away, looked back, looked away, looked down, and nodded again.

"Thanks again, Mrs Tanner. When I'm not on a case I'd be more than happy to help you with your marital troubles." She stuck her tongue out at me. I nearly lost it. Up until now, she'd been cold. Sexual, but in that depressed "I can have anyone" sort of way. I was looking at a new Mrs Tanner, a playful kitten, ready to lick and slide along skin and purr. I shook my head. The things people get off on. Rejection is definitely the rarest one of the lot.

I tucked the photos in my coat pocket and nodded to her again. I knew I couldn't look at her all playful and woman-like without compromising a very old rule. It wasn't "no sex with clients." far from it. I've got a pretty good track record with bedding my employers when the are women that meet my tastes. Some of them employ me to find their orgasm inside their tight little pussies. I don't mind. No, my rule is to not spoil a great thing later by taking a good thing now.

I walked out of the bedroom toward the door. The tight little Greek girl was leaning against a carved Pan statue, a slightly obscene "I know what you just did" leer on her cute face. I leaned over to her and pulled her close. She bit her lip and looked up at me. Without warning, I parted the towel and slid my index finger into her. She gasped, and crushed herself against me. I drove it in deep, swirling it inside her moist, hot, wet sex. I drew it out slowly, and licked my finger. She watched me, eyes full of lust.

"Yep. Tastes just like her lips." I said. She grinned. "Better finish her off. She's worked up enough." The girl nearly sprinted to the bedroom. I thought about turning back, but decided against it. If my balls got any bluer, they'd be used for special effects in movies.

I pulled the photos out as I walked back to my car. Big guy, strong, lots of muscle, lots of calm. "Toughest sonuvabitch in town" written all over him. Dame. Looker. Redhead, apparently. Tight waist, well rounded everywhere else. Third picture was the two of them together. He was throwing craps and trashed out of his mind. She was on his arm, laughing her head off. I stared at them for a minute, and stuffed the pictures back in my pocket. I faintly heard a woman's voice, shrill with pleasure, rip through the house and down the hall. I did my best not to picture what might have happened as I drove back to my rundown piece of shit office.