This is the ongoing story of Chris Gunn, Private Eye and the Deadly Bombshell.
When Chris got to her door, she heard a moan. Pulling her pistol, she opened the door slowly. She closed it behind her and inhaled. The smell of sex still lingered in the air, even this long after her tryst. She smiled when she heard the panting and the rhythmic, wet noises coming from the direction of her couch. She rounded into the little alcove and slid her weapon back in its holster.
Fran lay on the couch, legs spread wide. Three fingers on her right hand were buried to their hilt in the delicious valley between the blond woman’s legs. The index finger on her left hand was busy rubbing the little nub just above it. Her face was screwed up in painful ecstasy.
“Shall I help you out?” Chris closed the distance between them and bent to her knees. She inhaled more deeply and moaned at the intoxicating aroma.
“You could. Or you could just watch.” The words were breathy and her voice husky. “Either way I’m almost home.”
The detective bent forward and moved Fran’s left hand. She placed her lips where the finger had been and sucked the stiffened pearl into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it as she did.
Fran clamped her hand on the back of Chris’s head and pushed the stocky woman’s face into the treasure.
The angle was a challenge, as Chris was beside her legs, not between them, but she was equal to the challenge. Within a minute, the chained bombshell was screeching out the filthiest language. Chris was too busy following instructions like “eat me out” and “keep sucking on my bud, you cunt loving bitch” to think about how the socialite learned such language.
When Fran pulled her fingers free from her swollen lips, she sighed. Her feet were still twitching and the sweat covered flesh of her belly and thighs quivered. “Oh, yeah.”
Chris stopped long enough to suck the woman’s fingers clean and then moved those long, lovely legs so she could drink directly from the source more easily. She lapped and sucked at the swollen folds which were still giving up quite a bit of honey.
“Stop. Oh god, that’s torture. I can’t… I can’t… Oh fuck, don’t…” Fran panted out the words.
Chris didn’t stop, intending to continue this sweet, sweet cruelty until her own thirst was slaked. She pushed her fingers in, where her tongue had been. The muscles of those slick walls were still clenching and seemed to greedily suck in the detective’s thicker digits. “You’ve been a bad girl, Fran.”
“What, what are you talking about?” Fran looked down her body to the woman between her legs. “Oh god, please stop. I can’t focus.”
“I don’t want you to focus. I want you to tell me the truth and I’ll fuck it out of you if I have to.” Chris stretched her three fingers out and then worked in her pinky. “I’ll bury my arm up to my shoulder if I have to.” She grinned wickedly.
Fran moaned and thrashed her head back and forth. “Oh that hurts so good, baby. What do you need to know.”
Chris looked up from biting Fran’s mound after admiring the indentations her teeth left. “You were staying over with your fiance’s partner. I found evidence.”
“Oh my god, oh my god oh fuck.” She panted and groaned. “You went over to his…” She let out a panting screech. “His place.”
“Are you going to tell me what really happened?” Chris folded her thumb over and turned her hand. Slowly, she worked her whole hand into Fran’s slick entrance. Chris wanted to rip her own clothes off. She was as hot and sweaty as Fran. Maybe she’d sit on the blond’s face once this was all done. She had built up her own desire and was ready to let someone else take care of her needs for once.
“Yes. Yes, stop breaking me in two and I’ll tell you, but let me come first.” Her blue eyes blazed into Chris’s. “Will you do that for me?”
Chris shook her head and pulled her hand out, wiping it on a nearby blanket. “No. Not yet.”
Fran balled up a fist, or tried to. She was too weak to really do anything about the sudden void left behind. “God damn you.” She weakly smacked at the couch.
Chris stood and smiled, smugly satisfied. “Talk to me, when you get your breath back.” She produced the handcuff key and unshackled Fran, dancing out of the way of another weak blow.
Fran looked at her with just a hint of murder in those blue eyes. “Fuck.”
Chris brought the chair over from her desk. She wouldn’t sit within arm’s reach of Fran for while. “Yes, I think I’ve established that you’re good at that. You fucked your fiance. You fucked his partner. You tried to fuck me.”
“Water?” Fran looked around.
“I’ll get you water in a little bit. I’m not feeling very magnanimous.” Chris tapped the butt of her pistol.
They sat there in relative silence, Fran’s ragged breathing eventually normalizing. “Yes, I slept with him, at least a few times a month. I suspect Monte knew about it for a long time. He got possessive of me and made stupid threats. Drew didn’t take very kindly to that. They fought.”
“Over you?” Chris grinned and shook her head.
Fran chuckled. “No. I wish I was more than a plaything for either of them.” The sadness in her voice seemed legitimate. “It was over the business. There’s something illegal in what they’re doing. I don’t know what it is. I just know Monte had threatened to go to the police. They fought and Drew killed him.”
“Why frame you for it?” Chris was sure she knew the answer.
“Convenience as much as anything, I suppose.I was there and as much as Drew loved me in the sack, he can find another.” Tears started to flow down Fran’s cheeks.
Chris drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair. She wasn’t buying any of this, but hopefully her contact would be able to tell her something about the ledger. He wouldn’t be available until tomorrow at the soonest. “Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to go check into a hotel. One where no one but you and me is aware of. We’re gonna eat room service and then tomorrow I’m going to find out what your boys were up to. I’m going to get enough evidence to put Drew away and clear you if you can be cleared.”
Fran started to stand up, but couldn’t quite make it.
“And then, once this is all over, you’re gonna pay me. I’m sure your man has left you some money. Then I don’t think I want to see you again.” That last bit wasn’t true. As much trouble as Fran was and was in, there was something about a girl in trouble that always got Chris and tied her in knots. “Now get dressed.”
Fran stood, finally able to do so without looking top pitiful.
Chris watched her dress, and then the pair walked into the waning afternoon light.