Something about her set off warning bells in my head: stuff having to do with deceit, a whiff of murder—heartbreaker to the bone—I stuck close to her shadow like glue.
Nobody I’d enquired from knew her real name. She had numerous aliases, but the one most people knew her by was Red. Why Red? Was it the red dress she often wore or the fiery red that was her shoulder-length hair? Or was it something sinister . . . something dark and ugly?
I was on a case and I had to know, thus I trailed after her. Me being Morris Stevens, ace Private Eye.
It was a Friday night in the heart of the city. The air was balmy and sensuous, a quarter moon hung above in the sky; cars raced busily on the streets. Bebop jazz blared out of the doors of sleazy nightclubs and gloomy speakeasy joints.
I watched Red step out of the revolving doors of the Emperor Hotel and slip into a taxi. I followed in my Chevy, keeping a minimum distance.
Her cab deposited her at some high-class joint along Rodeo Boulevard. The kind of place that serves top shelf liquor, no watered-down nonsense. It was the sort of place that would mistake someone like me for a bum. But what the hell, I came all the way from downtown for her and I wasn’t leaving on a whim. I slipped my wheels into a parking space, then walked to the club; I held onto my hat from the wind that threatened to whisk it away.
The joint’s interior was rich and cosy and quiet; it reeked of expensive perfume and Cuban cigars. Almost every table was occupied by gals and gents, all looking good for the evening. I felt like throwing up—this definitely wasn’t my kind of place.
Red was at the bar with her back towards me. She was like a deer in the headlights in her red dress. You could almost spot a halo above her head. I pulled up an empty stool beside her and ordered a martini on the rocks. I glanced at her as if by accident and tipped my Trilby hat at her.
“Good evening,” I said after taking a sip of my drink.
Her head turned towards me and she fixed me with a pair of the loveliest eyes I’d seen in a long time. Her lips rolled in a pout as she responded with a “Hello.”
“You come here often?”
She didn’t answer. The bartender appeared and placed a drink before her.
“What are you drinking?” I asked.
“What’s it to you, gumshoe?”
“You look like one. Why the question?”
“Just wondering if I can buy you another.”
“Whatever makes you think you can impress someone like me with that corny line?”
“My charming good looks.”
That got her laughing.
“Tell me,” she said, “are all gumshoes as funny as you are?”
“You should see me on Sundays, then maybe you’d know.”
“Whatever, gumshoe. Best try your skills with someone else. The night is young and who knows, you might get lucky.”
“I’m a private detective,” I said. “I’ve been on your tail all day. That’s why I’m here.”
That knocked some attention into her senses. “Why? Are you a pervert or something?”
“A client told me to look into you. Said you’ve been up to no good. I’d like to think otherwise.”
“This fellow who hired you, has he got a name?”
“Sorry,” I picked up my drink. “You’re going to have to try harder if you want to get that info out of me.”
“All right then. How about you hook me with a ride.”
“Not so fast, gumshoe. Finish your drink, then I’ll tell you.”
She was a tough player alright. But so was I.
We got into my car and drove to the hotel where she was staying. The rich dude she was seeing—the same guy who hired me—figured she was two-timing him with someone else but had no clue as to who. My assignment was to get as much dirt on her as I could, by whatever means I chose to use. But between the club and the ride to her hotel and then up in the elevator to her floor, I’d thrown all caution out of my mind.
We went down a narrow corridor to her door. She handed me her room key and I unlocked the door for her as any gentleman would.
Into the bedroom we went . . . and that was when things took a different direction.
She shoved me against the wall like cop about to give me a frisk. I kept my calm and only jumped when her hand slid down my pants and grasped my manhood. She sneered at me then drew forward and our lips melted in a kiss. My hands worked the zipper behind her back and loosened her dress, which then slipped to her feet. Her bra and panties were red too. I lifted her onto the bed; she tipped my hat to fall off my head.
She laughed when I threw her on the bed. She craved rough sex, I could tell. Her rich man didn’t have the mechanics to tackle the broad. I worked to get out of my clothes; she came to the bed’s edge to lend a hand.
“Come on, gumshoe. You’ve got me all hot and fired up, I’m so ready for you.”
Sweet music to my ears. My pants fell to my ankles. My cock slipped out of my briefs and into her mouth it went. She gave it some lengthy tug. She stopped to run her tongue down my nuts, then came back to attack my cock. Her mouth made these delightful smacking sounds as she went on giving me such amazing head. I kept pushing her hair off her face, wanting to view the lust in her eyes.
She stopped to stroke my shaft and said, “How about you come and lie on the bed, gumshoe.”
I kicked my feet out of my briefs and pants, then did as I was told. She sat over my face and resumed attacking my cock with her mouth while I ate her pussy and stuck my finger in her ass. I pushed her off me afterwards—I wanted to enjoy some of that pussy my way. I fell on top of her and held her legs apart so I could dive-bomb that pussy of hers with my tongue. She tasted so fucking good, better than anything I’d enjoyed in weeks. I spread her labia with my fingers, forcing her clit outward, looking like a pink knob. I flicked my tongue over it and locked my lips on her cunt. It drove her wild, I tell you. She thrashed all over the bed, squealing and moaning like crazy. Her body squirmed outrageously like she got the shivers.
“Ohhhh . . . God!” She hollered. “Ooohh fuck . . . oh fuck . . . you motherfuckin’ gumshoe! You just made me cum. Aaawwhhh fuck, you made me cum so bad.”
“That’s what I intended,” I said, licking her cum off my lips.
“How about you bring that cock of yours over here and fuck me with it.”
I drew forward and got to kissing her. Her hips rose against my pelvis. She reached for my cock and it slipped into her pussy like a knife through butter; we both trembled from the contact. I dug my knees beside her hips, slipped my hands under her butt and got busy fucking her hard. Our thighs made sensuous music as did our breathing. She locked her hands on my shoulders, making intense eye contact. She went on rocking her hips the more I got into the groove of stretching her out with maximum effort on my part.
“Oh yeah . . . oh yes, gumshoe . . . Ohh God, I love it. Don’t stop, gumshoe. Don’t stop fucking me!”
Listening to her voice . . . the sound of her gasps . . . the feel of her nails scratching my back enhanced my intoxication for her.
I fucked the bitch harder. I hammered her pussy with every fibre of strength I had, but slowed my pace when I felt the onset of cramp in my calves.
We rolled over and she settled on top of me and I felt grateful letting her do all the work this time. She balanced herself on the balls of her feet, held my cock like a sword and lowered herself on it, then went up and down like a piston. After a while she dropped to her knees and rode me even harder this time. I grasped her ass cheeks and smacked her butt. She appeared to like that. I went on smacking her and that got her bucking on my cock like a wild racing stallion.
I felt myself approaching my climax. She rested on top of me, grinding her pussy muscles hard. I pumped my hips to match her power. I was groaning along with her when eventually I emptied myself inside her.
We lay in a cuddle, not saying a word. Just luxuriating in the silent moment in the room.
She tapped my arm. “Honey? Honey, are you awake?”
“Uh-huh,” I yawned. “How did you like my roleplay as a private eye?”
“You look terrific being a private eye. That was so Humphrey Bogart, the way you talked at the bar. I’d swear you’ve been taking acting lessons.”
“You looked gorgeous in that red dress. I caught some eyes staring at you.”
“A good thing you didn’t slip out of character, honey.” She laid her head on my chest. “It’s been a long time since we had such fun. We really ought to do this more often, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, we should. As long as the kids don’t find out.”
She laughed. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, darling.” I kissed her.
“Happy Valentine’s day to you, too, my love.” She kissed me back.