Chapter 1: In The Beginning

There are those of us who still remember the Private Investigator of old like Phillip Marlow and Sam Spade. For those to young it's a pity for you certainly missed one of the most golden of eras when a Private Eye was tough. He gave no quarter and expected even less for himself. It's my hope for the older generation to turn back the clock a few years so they may remember those wonderful days past. As for the younger ones, I hope to bring them some of the joy we felt. I will now apologize if my meager attempts aren't quite up to the writers past. Now in the beginning...

It's a small corner office situated on the third floor of a dilapidated rundown building. Outside the grimy windows one could see the dirty street, papers moving along the curb pushed by gusts of wind and a few steel hulls that were once the pride of Detroit. It didn't make any difference which window your gaze happened upon, the view was the same either way.

The day was warm as I sat with my feet propped up on my desk going through my files, all six of them. Even though it was stuffy I refused to open a window and let the dusty stench invade, so I made do with a fan blowing the stale air around. It was Monday. God I hate Mondays because it comes before Tuesday. The small clock chimed nine just as the door creaked open. I look up and saw a woman rush in and quickly close the door. She leaned her back against it and sighed. Oh, wow, when she sighed she really got my attention. Let me put it another way, I was sure two of the buttons in the front of her snug blouse would pop off, but of course they didn't. Now you know one reason I hate Mondays.

"You're Mr. Stud?" her small voice quivered.

"That's what it says on the door, lady. What can I do for you?" I know what I would have liked to do, but figured getting her name first would be polite. "First tell me who you are."

"Smith, yeah, Joan Smith."

"OK, Joan Smith, now what's on your mind?" Uh huh, Smith and I was Rockefeller.

"I need help, protection. You do protect people don't you? How much will it cost me?"

"Yup and it's a hundred a day plus expenses." She was young and pretty and very scared. I saw her face drop as she opened the door.

"Oh. I can't afford that much," she all but whispered rushing out before I could mention working something out.

Well, you win some, you loose some. I don't know why but I looked out the window and saw her leave the building. Her head didn't move to look as she stepped off the corner. She got about half way across the street when I heard the squealing of tires and saw the big black car. Smith's head spun towards the sound just in time to see the chrome bumper and the hood. Her body must have flown twenty feet before hitting the ground. As she lay crumpled in the gutter I saw the car gaining speed followed by a cloud of dust. It wouldn't take a genius to know she was dead, but I went down anyway. Yup, dead as last week's news but still pretty.

Well the cops came, asking a bunch of stupid questions. They wanted to know what I knew but I wasn't talking. There was something I had seen in her eyes that said keep quiet. The cops left shortly after being their usual sloppy selves. It never seemed to occur to them she might have been going to her car. Only one was left that could have run and I checked it out. Inside was a small handbag with a drivers license. It was her, Joan Smith, but the wasn't her real name. The picture matched and her name was Joan Sanders. Well it was fairly close I suppose.

I decided it was time to return to my office and think about this. My mind moved slowly trying to remember if there was anything Ms. Sanders might have said that would give me a clue, but there didn't seem to be anything. I was looking through the phone directory hoping she might be listed when the door opened again. Looking over the edge of my desk I saw a well turned ankle leading to a very shapely calf. It's twin joined the first looking every bit as nice. Couldn't tell you about the feet being they were contained inside a pair of black high heeled shoes, but I did know they were rather small.

It was natural I wanted to see more as my eyes slowly moved higher. By now the legs became attached to a body wearing a, how best to say it, painted on dress with slits on both sides. When the legs moved the slits opened baring quite a bit of thigh and nice thighs they were, too. In turn they were joined to hips that swelled gently outward just below a very trim waist. There wasn't much to see above that being covered by a thick large fur piece, I think it's called a stole. When my eyes saw the face my feet, again propped on top my desk, hit the floor with a thud. It was her, Joan Sanders, or so my brain said, but she was freshly dead.

"She was my twin sister," the silken sultry voice said. Her ruby red lips remained slightly parted showing brilliant white teeth. "I'm Sandy Sanders."

"Pleased to meet you Ms. Sanders," I replied as calmly regaining my composure. I sat back down resting my feet back on my desk.

"Are you a dick?" she asked smiling.

"My friends don't think so, only my enemies. If you mean a Private Investigator the answer is yes, just like it says on the door."

"Then that makes you a Private Dick and with a name like Stud you must really be something," she all but cooed. Her lovely buttocks rested on the only chair besides mine one leg over the other allowing a fabulous showing of her thigh. "And I'm a Miss, not a Ms. Just for the record I prefer to be called Sandy."

"OK, Sandy it is, but don't you think it's a bit warm to be wearing a dead animal?" I asked referring to her aforementioned stole.

"A lady has to be careful these days. I wanted to make sure you were for real."

Casually she slipped the garment from her shoulders revealing her milky skin. As she pulled it onto her lap she exposed what had been previously hidden. Her shoulders were covered but not much else. The bodice was very low in cut allowing her more than ample charms to be exposed. The valley of her cleavage would rival that of the Grand Canyon. Instant erection and I was positive if a dollar bill was sandwiched between those mounds nothing short of a large crane could have pulled it loose.

"I know my sister was here earlier, I followed her. If it wouldn't be to much trouble can you tell me what she wanted?" Sandy uncrossed and recrossed her legs making sure she had my attention.

"Normally that would be confidential information, but since I wasn't hired I can tell you. She wanted protection, but from who or what I don't know. My prices were just a little much and she left." I couldn't help but think how different the two women were. Joan was dressed very nicely in a simple conservative skirt and blouse while her sister, on the other hand, exuded her obvious sensual sexuality.

"You're right. Other than looking identical my sister and I are, were, quite different," she said reading my mind. Well, that's not really hard. "I know what she was frightened of and now it looks like I might be needing your services myself."

I couldn't help but notice her emphasis on services as a broad smile coaxed my lips wider on my face.

"Hundred a day plus expenses the same I told Joan," I replied.

"I don't have any cash with me, but I'm sure my down payment will be more than adequate," she said standing.

Her body turned and I saw the back of her dress, or should I say lack. The dress barely covered her buttocks leaving her back fully exposed and without any doubt of nothing holding up those magnificent breasts. As she began to move to the side of my desk the door opened once again. I was about to throw something at the intruder when my eyes locked onto the face of Detective Jack Frazer.

"Well, Stud, things seem to be looking up for you," he growled leering at Sandy, his eyes roaming up and down her body.

"Yeah, well I get lucky once in a while. What's on your almost mind, detective." Acid dripped from my words.

"About that broad what got herself killed a couple hours ago," he commenced.

Sandy was far enough behind him he couldn't see her expression. I managed to lift a finger enough for her to notice telling her to keep quiet.

"It wasn't real nice," I said keeping my voice steady.

"The officers said you didn't see anything. Hard for me to believe what with your office windows looking right over the scene."

"Like I told them, all I heard was the squeal of tires and the sound of somebody being hit. Never saw the car." My eyes flicked towards Sandy for half a second before coming back to Frazer.

"OK, if that's your story, I'll take it like that for now. Tell, what's with the sexy broad?" he asked indicating Sandy.

"Confidential detective. She's a client and you know I can't and won't tell you anything. If you're done, why don't you go chase some wino. I'm sure you can't screw that up like you do everything else." Frazer's face turn six shades of red as he stormed out slamming the door hard enough to almost brake the glass.

"Nice," Sandy breathed exhaling. She had been holding her breath. "I take it there's no love lost between you two."

"Not since he got me fired. He was on the take and I found out. That's when he planted evidence in my locker. He's still a bad apple and he knows I know, so every chance he gets he hassles me."

"Well, I'm grateful you didn't tell him about Joan and me. Let me show you just how grateful I am," she said moving closer, lust glowing in her eyes.

My feet touched the floor but much more quietly this time. Sandy gently spread my legs and knelt between them. I knew what was coming, or should I say cumming, as her fingers deftly undid my belt. Her left hand slid over the obvious erection as the fingers of her right swiftly pulled down the zipper. Her hand slipped inside as her eyes widened finding nothing else there but me. I hate underwear and seldom have any on as her hand found my erection. I saw an expression of disbelief when her fingers began to curl themselves around my shaft.

"I'm not yet sure about the Stud part of you, but you certainly are a Dick," she all but gasped pulling me into the open. "My God," she exclaimed, "it's got to be all of ten inches."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but it's only nine and a half," I breathed huskily.

"I'm not one to quibble over a measly half inch," she retorted.

Now mind you, this isn't the first time I've been serviced orally, but I've got to admit this was one woman who knew just what she wanted and how to get it. I saw her glossed ruby lips part, her pink tongue snake out from between them to lap at the thick swollen head. How does one describe the electric feeling that coursed down only to stop in the center of my scrotum. The sharp point of her tongue delved and all but forced itself into the slit opening creating about the most exotic of feelings. Her lips parted wider slipping sensually over the ridge of the bulbous head, slowly gliding down the now pulsing shaft several inches. I felt the extreme heat of her mouth as her fingers gently cupped the heavy sack immediately below. With only a bit of difficulty I managed to lift my hips to slide my pants lower giving her more and better access.

I suppose, like most any other man, the oozing of liquid was normal and Sandy didn't hesitate for a second. Her cheeks caved in as I felt the suction drawing the pre-cum into her mouth. She slipped lower taking in just about half of me, her eyes gazing deeply into mine. Oh, I love it when a woman uses her mouth and watches me at the same time. Hey, try it, you'll love it.

"I'm already wetter than I've been in a long time," she groaned pulling off and looking at me. "You're so long and thick I'm not sure I can take it all, but there's always a first time."

I leaned back in my chair and decided to just watch. Her lips again surrounded my shaft. Sandy didn't have a generous mouth and I could feel the tightness as her lips stretched wider to accommodate. With a valiant effort she managed to spread the wider allowing her salvia to drool down my organ before they clamped around it. Her lips slipped down further as she took in more of my manhood. I could feel the tip touching the back of her throat and still she pressed downward. Sandy suddenly stopped and gulped. The feel of her throat as she swallowed nearly forced my orgasm, but thinking of Frazer I was barely able to contain myself. After all, what good would it do for me to prematurely ejaculate and spoil her fun.

Drawing her lips up to the half way point Sandy breathed deeply. Her lungs full of air, her breasts pressing tightly against her dress, she took the plunge. When I say plunge, I mean she drove her lips down over my shaft and slid the head deeply into her throat. It was a first for me feeling a woman's nose pressing hard into my pubic hair. She stopped for a moment to allow herself to become accustomed to an object buried so far inside her throat, then her head began it's long way back up again. The ridge of the head was just inside her lips being tickled before she made her way back down again. Over and over I watched as her lips, tightly pressed upon my shaft, made the trip. Every time she came up her tongue lapped and teased the underside of my glans all but bringing about my climax, but her tightening fingers prevented it from happening. She was very experienced and for that I was glad.