Frank Driver, Private Eye

When I didn't move, she reached behind and grabbed my softening prick. I kept my hands on her hips, shocked into paralysis. Like watching a train derailment, I couldn't take my eyes off the disaster that was about to happen. I had never thought about being... there.

She backed up against me, reducing the gap between us. Then I was touching... it. There.

I stared as the tip disappeared in a place too small for it to fit, then gawked as her body just... opened up. I watched in partial fascination, and partial amazement (and maybe a little disgust, if I'm being honest) as her body swallowed me. Her tight muscle seemed to go on forever. Every slight movement forward made me convinced that she was going to squeeze me into oblivion.

Nothing I'd experienced prepared me for the different sensation. Normally a woman's opening was tight at the very beginning, but then immediately changed. It opened up. Accommodated me. It moved around a little, let me work myself in and out immediately.

This, though, this was new. Very new. She pushed back against me and I began to wonder if I had suddenly put myself through a gun barrel. There were muscles here, but a very different set of muscles. Muscles that took me in a completely new direction.

Suddenly, I felt a little give inside her body. The head had long been consumed inside of her, but now it felt like it was spearing into some kind of breakthrough. Then, like some rockslide on a slippery slope, I slid into her to nearly my full length. I came to rest with only an inch to go.

Trixie sighed. "Theeeeere we go."

The sensation overwhelmed me. I had never felt anything like this before. It took me several moments to realize that I had been standing, frozen, with my mouth open like a neanderthal idiot.

The feeling was exquisite. There's no other word that I could think about. Her bottom gripped me smoothly, evenly across every square inch. I had no idea that this abominable act would be so incredibly gratifying.

It felt like there was a sheath wrapped tightly around the shaft, with almost nothing holding onto the head. The compression was so tight and so consistent that I began to wonder if the head would be able to be pulled out. My reptile brain found that it liked the idea of being stuck in this position forever.

For as uncomfortable as it had been before, now I was in heaven. I was afraid that if I moved I would burst.

"Yes," she hissed. "Goddamn. Yes."

She pushed back until her cheeks rested on my hips. I felt my short and curlies rest against her original wetness. Another new sensation. Nothing could override the all-encompassing experience of being inside her ass, though.

Never in my life had I ever felt such physical pleasure. Never had I felt so damn good.

My body started moving on its own. I was completely disconnected from any voluntary physical movement. I only had about an inch of play, because the head would constantly be blocked from exiting any further by her incredibly powerful sphincter.

She peered over her shoulder. "Better?" she asked.

I couldn't speak. I nodded, dumbly. She grinned. "Me too," she said. "Much better."

Even so, she coaxed me to move more, to become more assertive. I had no choice - I was simply along for the ride as my body and hers worked out their own rhythms.

"Is this... your first... time?" She asked, gasping out words in between thrusts.

"Nnn-hnn," I grunted.

"Thought so, sweetie," she said. She said it like it was a prime accomplishment for her to figure it out. "You just go ahead and enjoy my sweet ass. I know I am."

The profanity coming from her seemed entirely fitting, and yet at the same time out of place. To my amazement, she was enjoying herself.

So she had known that her body was different. Normal sex wasn't enjoyable for her, either. I couldn't help but think that she might just be in the wrong profession.

It was the last conscious thought that I had. Something took over inside of me. I was moving, but barely able to keep coherent awareness of what was going on around me. The sensations flowing from her chamber through my rod was frying my brain. Every nerve ending felt like it was humming as if I was standing next to an electrical transformer.

I couldn't speak. I couldn't blink. All I could do was ride an ever-growing escalation of pleasure. It grew and grew along with a ringing in my ears.

Somehow she had relaxed more, or I had gotten used to the ultra-sensitive head moving into and out of that tight muscle. Each thrust, each withdrawal, seemed to be natural and automatic. I found that I wanted more with each movement. When I pushed myself into her body she responded in kind, ratcheting up my excitement even more.

It peaked, and I froze. It caught me completely by surprise.

My vision slowly started to return from a pure white, something that I hadn't even noticed until I was finally able to see again. I was breathing heavy, sweat pouring down me. Her hips were kept against mine as I held onto her for stability.

I knew I had my climax. Aside from the heavy breathing, I felt calmer, satisfied. Pleasured. It was as if every ounce of tension had been pulled out of my body through one teeny tiny opening and released it into her beautiful behind. My body and my mind were completely detached. I just didn't remember it happening.

My faculties slowly refocused like a camera lens. Once again I looked down at our junction, still amazed that I was actually inside her ass. What's more, I wasn't disgusted any longer, no, not at all. Now that I understood what heaven lay beyond that back door, all I wanted was to do it over and over. And I was still deep inside her.

My body, though, wasn't having any of it. My orgasm had been so all-encompassing, so complete, that I apparently had overextended my energy levels. Miraculously, I was still rock hard. It didn't want to leave her body. Maybe it was the tightness around me that kept me so rigid. Either way, she was still impaled upon me.

I started to pull out. Trixie took a hint and pulled away from me faster than my body could compensate. The experience had been the most intense of my life, but now so was the sensitivity.

The head rejected the idea of being pulled back through her muscular cavity. The hypersensitive signals assaulting my pelvis and my brain at the same time. I felt it all the way up from my spine to my ears as she released me. I doubled over, unprepared for this betrayal of my senses.

At that point, my legs failed. I collapsed on the floor and waited for my breathing to catch up. She straightened up, and then moved over to me and crouched down.

"Did you like that?" she asked rhetorically. "I normally charge $100 for that."

A hundred. Ten days work for me. Probably only ten minutes of work for her. I had been wrong, she wasn't in the wrong business, I was.

The mental and physical break had been something I needed, but thoughts of what Tammi was doing with a potential murderer crashed back into my hazy brain. Trixie studied me for a moment.

"I told you," she said, reading my mind. "He's not going to hurt her."

I focused upon her. "Believe me, right now he's got more to fear from her than the other way around," she commented. "I've seen her attitude."

She looked thoughtful. She knew the plan. "Be careful tomorrow, though."

Chapter 9

The next day, Tammi and I played our parts better than any Hollywood couple. She stood on the corner next to Moleface, preening for potential customers.

Even made up to look like a ridiculous Chinese doll, Tammi made Moleface look like a rat. It's no wonder the woman was such a cow. Even looking like a circus clown, Tammi still looked far more appealing than her competition. Pixie and Trixie must have taken all the jobs. Anyone standing next to her would have had a better chance of getting business. Hell, I looked better than her.

I stood in the shadows and watched, hoping to get my timing right. Too soon and we wouldn't be able to entice our mark. Too late and he would come and try to pick up Tammi again. I couldn't let that happen. That is, if my hunch was correct. If not, I had a backup plan, but hoped that I wouldn't have to use it.

The late Sunday afternoon crowd was sparse and unpredictable. No men coming home from work, no regular evening cadence to count on. The rain was certainly not helping my case. My - our - main hope was that our man worked his regular shift on the weekends. If I was right, and he was a cop, we still had a chance.

In a perfect world, I'd be able to see him coming and then jump in line in front of him, act like I didn't see him, and get to Tammi first. That would probably have been a lot more likely if I actually knew who I was looking for.

Dammit.

Marcus wasn't with me today. I had sent him on another mission. At first he was disappointed, but when I told him what I wanted him to do, his eyes lit up like firecrackers. I had a hunch, and if it panned out then I needed to be in two places at the same time, and Marcus could be my second "me." And he'd be safe.

A couple of guys approached Tammi and gave her the once over. I felt my heart jump a little thinking that I might have waited too long, but relaxed as she rejected their overtures. Moleface tried to swoop in and grab the leftovers like some sort of rabid vulture, but the men simply turned and walked away as if she didn't exist.

I almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

As the time marched onward I felt more and more antsy. I looked at my watch. It was now fifteen minutes later than yesterday's encounter. When I felt I couldn't wait any longer, I made my move and hoped that I wasn't jumping the gun.

I approached the two women, trying to act nervous and less confident. For perhaps the only time in my life, I actually knew what the outcome would be as I tried to pick up a woman.

Too bad it had to be like this.

"I, uh," I forced a stammer as I approached Tammi.

She put one hand on her hip and smiled as she snapped her gum. "What is it, sweetie?" she asked in a manner you'd expect one to address a small child. "You lost, honey?"

"No, I, uh," I said, suddenly unsure of what to say. I wanted to simply say, 'Let's go,' but I need to play my part for Moleface's benefit and for anyone else who may be watching.

Speaking of the cow, I glanced over to Moleface to see her seething at Tammi. Even though we had spoken just two nights ago, she didn't recognize me at all. As if to answer my unthought question, she wavered a little on her heels. Drunk again.

Mercifully, Tammi put me out of my misery. "Do you want some company, sweetie?" she asked.

I nodded, and she slipped her arm inside mine. "Well, then," she said pulling me in the direction of our rented room. "How about a nice game of Parcheesi?"

I shot her a look. Smartass.

We walked down the street.

"You know she's staring at us, right?" I said.

"Yup. Trying to burn holes into our backs with her eyes."

I nodded. "Kind of tickles."

Tammi threw her head back and laughed. It was genuine laughter, but she added in a bit of extra gusto for Moleface's benefit, I'm sure.

Once inside the apartment, I stood at the window looking out over the street. From the angle, it was difficult to see the corner, but I could see Moleface pacing in and out of view.

The pattern was predictable. Stop pacing. Approach someone. Rejection. Pace again. Moleface played against the law of averages. Usually lost.

A few minutes later, she stormed off the corner. Alone.

"Nice performance," Tammi said, breaking the silence.

"Hmm?"

"Out there, when you 'picked' me up. Nice performance. You could be the next Cary Grant."

I grunted. Fat chance.

Several minutes passed by. Thirty or so. Stakeouts suck. I stayed focused on the street below, but there was very little movement. Tammi was growing restless. She wasn't used to the tedium of stakeouts. I wasn't sure I'd ever be, either.

"He wasn't bad, you know," Tammi said behind me, breaking our silence.

"Cary Grant?"

"No, our 'guy'" she clarified.

I didn't want to hear it, and said so.

"He cried."

I turned to look at her. "He what?"

She shrugged. "He cried, afterwards."

"Did he say anything?"

"Yeah," she said, bored. "He said he was sorry. 'Real men don't cry,' he said."

I frowned. I wasn't sure how to process this information. I didn't want to think of the Slicer-Dicer as vulnerable. It didn't make a difference, but I didn't want to do it.

She sidled up to me and looked out the window as well. "You wouldn't cry, would you Frank?" she asked softly. She placed her hand on the small of my back and began to trace her fingers of her other hand across my chest.

"No."

I felt her hand rise to the back of my neck. "I didn't think so."

She said nothing for a moment. "You know, Frank," she said, quietly, "we are supposed to make him jealous."

Her other hand dropped to my hip and slid forward.

"Tammi..." Dammit, I was trying to concentrate.

Her finger found their mark and my throat tightened, squeezing off any more words. My body responded, and her fingers arced to meet my rising arousal.

"Oh, Frank!" she whispered approvingly. I felt her hand on my neck pull me downward and in her direction. I resisted weakly, but then I felt her supple lips against mine. In an instant, Tammi's aggression took over. She hurried, before I realized what was happening and stopped her.

I felt my belt buckle loosen, and then my zipper pulled down. Then I was free. In her hand.

"Tammi," I croaked, breaking her kiss.

"Don't," she warned. "Just... don't."

At that, she bent at the waist and took me in her mouth. It wasn't the kind of thing that nice girls did. But Tammi wasn't exactly a nice girl. At least she didn't want to be.

She held me upright with one hand, the other wrapping around my waist to keep me steady. Or locked in. I wasn't sure.

She held me in her hands so that she could get her mouth around me. Her tongue worked wonders as it danced across me like a ballerina twirling and leaping on stage. Before I could stop myself, I placed a hand on the top of her head, encouraging her.

Two nights ago I had a movie starlet lookalike wrap her ruby red lips around me in my office. Every guy's wet dream. A blowjob from a pinup. I thought it was the pinnacle of my sexual fantasies.

Now, though, Tammi's enthusiasm and insistence kicked Mrs. Walker's performance to a distance second place. Maybe it was the awkward position - I'd never had someone take me in her mouth from beside me in a standing position before - or maybe she was just that good. All I knew is that I was harder than Chinese arithmetic and straining to drive myself further into her mouth.

Tammi took my approval to heart, and on her next downstroke I found myself completely consumed in her throat. Not many girls could do that. I felt Tammi's weight shift, adjusting her position. She wrapped an arm around my waist for leverage.

Then she went to town.

I felt the push-pull of her mouth and hands working in concert. My mind screamed at me that this wasn't professional. I was on the clock. We had a job to do.

Heh. "Job."

Dammit.

Try as I might, I couldn't find the willpower to get her to stop. Each time she came up for air it felt like she was yanking me closer to orgasm. I wanted to stop her. Wanted to focus.

I wanted to explode.

Without releasing me, she got down on her knees. That in and of itself was impressive. From her new position, I could watch all the action. In. Out. In. Out.

A voice screamed inside my head to just let go. Give her the reward so we could get back to the stakeout. Sirens were going off, warning me of the danger we were in. If we were caught with my pants down around my ankles - literally - we could both get killed. We were, after all, dealing with a murderer. These were life-and-death stakes.

That's when it struck me. The clarity was almost a shock as I realized with a start what was happening. How could I have missed it all along?

Tammi got off on the danger of it all. The girl was excited by risk.

Suddenly the escapade in my office made complete sense. She had chosen that location for her tryst with the sailor hoping that I would come back and catch her in the act. How many times had she done that before? How many times had she taken a lover there, hoping that I - or maybe a client - would walk in?

"So thick," she said to herself, so low I could barely hear.

Her voice snapped something in the back of my primate brain. She was completely absorbed in what she was doing. I had thought that she may have had a crush, but now I realized it wasn't me she wanted. Well, not all of me.

None of that mattered now. The risk was real. The danger was real. It was driving her onward with more intensity and fury. She was on a mission. I was that mission.

She had me gripped fiercely in both hands. She was wildly moving her head back and forth. I could feel her hot breath on my slick skin. Every once in a while she would lick instead of suck, like cleaning butter off a corn on the cob.

I had to stop this. I needed to extricate myself from her mouth. I tried to grip the first thing I came into contact with - her hair - and she moaned in encouragement. Mistaking my frantic grabs as enthusiasm, she redoubled her efforts.

I failed to prevent what happened next. She had control over my midsection entirely. I felt my thighs begin to vibrate uncontrollably. A familiar ringing started in my ears, a low whine that rapidly started to become a high pitched squeal.

My mouth opened and closed like a fish.

"Oh god," I managed to croak.

She deep throated me.

I exploded. My hips jerked forwards, and the only thing that prevented me from choking her was her firm grip with both hands. Once the first jets hit her tongue, she seemed to kick it up another few notches. Her face was all over me, rubbing her cheek against my rod as it continued to launch sticky white liquid. Then I was back inside her warm mouth feeling her tongue dance the Foxtrot.

She sat back and looked up at me. A smirk played upon her lips, an expression I couldn't completely read. I had added to her makeup with my own mix, smearing what was there into a profane mess.

I suddenly felt stupid. I was standing there in front of her, exposed. She had me in her hands still, stroking and playing with slow, mesmerizing movements.

She smiled up at me, a broad grin flashing her white teeth. Just as I was about to say something, she grabbed the waistband of my boxers and tried to tuck me back in.

A noise startled us. We both turned and saw a figure standing in the front door, a bouquet of flowers coming to a rest at his feet. The elastic of my waistband snapped against my stomach, a comical punchline to our situation.

My first thought was that my fears of being unprepared were coming true. We were going to die because I had no room to maneuver. Then I saw the figure's face, and the fear was replaced with relief. And confusion.

"You?" He asked. "You!?"

"Murph?" I asked, dumbfounded. "What are you doing here? You're going to ruin-"

Tammi's face snapped up to look at me from her kneeling position. Her eyes were wide with fear. I looked at her, confused. In my post orgasmic-brain, pieces of the puzzle were not fitting together.

My sense of time was askew. I turned my head to look back at Murphy, to tell him that he was going to scare away the Slicer-Dicer. I was on a stakeout, and if he was here, then the perp wouldn't fall for the bait.