Chapter 1

I watch the babe walk by my car.

She is really hot, so I won't be surprised if she is stepping out on her old man. Great long legs, with a linen skirt that flirts with her knees, but has a slit up the side all the way to heaven. Boobs that sway as she walks and the kind of long straight blonde hair that makes you think of grabbing it when you're questioning her.

Okay, maybe you don't think about that. But I'm an ex-cop and been a Private Investigator for the last fifteen years. It kind of changes the way you see the world.

Like this situation. Really pretty woman. You watch her pass and think, "Nice. I wouldn't mind getting lucky with that."

Not me. I know she's already getting lucky. My only job is finding out who's playing 'hide the wiener" with this hot chick.

Her husband hired me, last week. She's been going out, staying late, telling nothing. He wants to know where and with who. For five hundred a day and expenses, he finds out.

She turns and walks into a bar down the street. I get out of the car and follow.

I don't know this part of town as well as I should. It's pretty new, with lots of pansy bars and art galleries and that kind of shit. Not exactly my kind of neighborhood.

I see the bar she went into. The sign says BAD DOLLY'S. What the hell kind of name is that for a bar?

I follow, checking out two hot chicks heading into the same place. Nice asses in very tight pants. Looking for guys who think so too, I suspect.

One of them holds the door for me, and I step into the place.

Typical. Darker than usual, but upscale. No ferns, thank God. I'm allergic to the damned things.

My eyes adjust to the lousy lighting, and I see my target, Lila Montgomery, sitting at the bar. She's alone, so far.

I walk across the room, checking out the customers. Must be Lady's Night. Almost every customer is female. And there were some real lookers among them.

I get the feeling tailing Mrs. Montgomery this evening won't be too unpleasant.

I sit at the bar. The bartender's a Spanish chick, very pretty, about five four and real nice. She's obviously braless, and has nice full knockers under her thin sweater. I order a Chivas and she goes to fetch it.

I look over at Lila. Hot looking woman. After meeting the asshole she's married to, I can't really blame her for looking around. Lance is a corporate type, all ambition with no real balls to make it happen. Lila probably wanted a guy with a big prick, and ended up with a big prick who was a guy.

Another group of women come through the door. Shit, are they giving drinks away if you're female? There's a couple of guys in a booth, and another setting up the Karaoki machine. And, of course, me. But that's about it for the Testosterone set.

So I sit and check out the bartender. She's major foxy, a real Mexican firecracker. Those full tits swing nicely when she bends down to get a beer out of the cooler. And that shows off her ass. She has on skin tight pants that lace up the sides, and she ain't wearing panties under there, cause you can see smooth brown skin all the way up.

Now that's a woman. Sexy, and doesn't care who knows. I wonder what she's doing when she gets off, cause I sure wouldn't mind getting her off when she's done.

I see movement, and glance over at Lila. Someone sits beside her, but it's a another woman, a raven-haired vixen with those come-hither lips and eyes.

Lila says something to her, and they chat quietly. Maybe this girl is the go between or something. I sure wouldn't mind going between her legs. Having taco for dinner, if you get my drift.

Jack's getting pretty happy here. Hell, I thought I was gonna have a boring night sitting in my car, following this woman around, and here I am, drinking good Scotch in a bar full of pussy.

Jack is waking up and checking out the situation.

I'm being remiss, here. I know Lila is hot, but that doesn't give her justice.

This babe is fantastic. Lila Montgomery is five eleven, natural blonde, blue eyes, big knockers, slender, athletic body. Jesus, I'd fuck her if I got the chance. No wonder her husband, Lance, who I call the Boy Wonder, was nervous she was checking out other brands.

I watch her with her friend. Lila's hand slides over the dark-haired girl's and they whisper about something. They obviously know each other. Their body language is just too close, too familiar.

Lila laughs at something the girl says. Then Lila puts her arms around her and kisses her.

Really kisses her.

This isn't one of those pansy air-kisses or a peck on the lips. This is a real kiss: A passionate, open mouthed, wet, tongue wrestling, I want to suck your uvula kind of kiss.

Jesus, that wakes Jack right up. He is at attention in a second. Jack, in case you hadn't figured it out, is my partner, my back-up, my constant companion.

Yeah, Jack is my penis.

I try not to stare. Then I realize no one else is staring either. These two babes are not just kissing now, but are petting up a fucking storm.

The dark-haired girl is trying to burrow into Lila's twat right through her slacks, and nobody even gives it a second thought.

The hot bartender glances over, then looks my way. She smiles.

It hits me. Christ, I should have known right off.

I should know a Lesbian bar when I see one.

Lila and her friend stop the show. Damn. Raven-Hair wipes her wet lips on her napkin demurely and sips from her martini. Lila just sits, a secret little smile on her face.

I kick myself for being so stupid. No wonder Lance The Boy Wonder couldn't find come stains in her panties (yeah, the asshole checked). And he had me check out all the guys at her work, but never though to have me check out the women she was working with.

A second girl shows up and sits on the other side of Lila. This one's a Redhead, short, voluptuous and very arousing. She wears her sexuality like she wears her thin dress, like a second skin. Jesus, I can see her hard nipples through the thin fabric of her dress, which is so low cut I can see the spray of freckles across those soft, white breasts.

Jack is ready. He's throbbing, letting me know that if I need him, he's there and ready for duty.

Lila smiles at the Redhead and they flirt, openly, even though her girlfriend is right there with her.

Then Lila kisses the dark-haired girl and gets up, offering her hand to the Redhead. The Redhead smiles and takes her hand. They head for the exit, then stop and talk a moment.

Lila comes back, whispers something to the dark-haired girl, and she gets up and all three women leave the bar.

Son of a bitch! I throw a bill on the bar and follow, trying not to seem anxious. I don't want to lose them.

I go out the exit and see the foxy little trio disappearing around a corner. I wait for a moment, then walk to the corner and carefully look around it.

Cars are parked at an angle along the side of the building, and beside a red Corvette are the three girls. They are all involved in a group kiss. Jesus, that doesn't describe it. Three beautiful women hugging each other, all kissing and licking and sucking at each other's mouths and groping each other's bodies, all at the same time.

Their bodies are so close I couldn't get my hand between them, though I have to admit I'd like to try. I watch, shocked and awed (yeah, War isn't the only thing that can shock and awe you!) as they kiss.

Then the kiss breaks up. The Redhead gets behind the wheel of the 'Vette, and Lila slides into the passenger's seat, with Raven-hair on her lap. As Raven-Hair sits down on Lila's lap, Lila slips her hand under her ass, and cups her twat comfortably.

Raven-hair looks at Lila and smiles.

The door closes and the 'Vette backs out, revving off into the night.

Shit! Lila Montgomery is a very interesting surveillance target indeed. As I walk back to my car, I find myself idly wondering how many nights at Bad Dolly's I can charge off to the Boy Wonder. Hey, it's my job and he pays for my drinks, my food, whatever it takes to get the job done.

There was only one real job I wanted to do that night, or actually, three of them, and they left in the red Corvette.

Then the hot little bartender comes to mind and I stop and look back at the bar. Hey, chat her up and maybe I would get lucky. My P.I. brain is thinking I might get some good info, but my other brain, the one in my pants, doesn't care about that.

Jack wants to meet the bartender, up close and personal.

With a sigh, I head back into the bar.

Well, I didn't get lucky that night, but I got some information. The bartender's name was Teresa and she was 22, working her way through college, majoring in art. Lila's dark- haired friend was Patrica. Teresa didn't know her last name. She went by Trish, and was a fairly regular customer.

The other girl was Maggie Collins. She was new to the bar, but knew Teresa from college. She was a real party girl and swung both ways.

Teresa was friendly, but that was about it. I didn't push things, though I would have loved to have slipped my hand under those laced pants and gotten myself...

Oh, hell. I knew better. Here I am, pushing fifty. I'm out of shape and going grey, and I'm lusting after this twenty two year old Hispanic wet dream. Fat chance. To her, I was just an old guy that was in the bar, checking out the action and wishing I was young enough (and, as it turned out, woman enough) to be a part of it.

Anyway, I got enough dirt to lay a nice foundation for my case.

And, if last night was any indication, I'd have enough dirt to completely bury Mrs. Montgomery in very short order.

Now, I don't want to come off soft or anything. I'm not. I do my job and fuck the morality. Someone hires me to dig up shit, that's what I do. And if I find shit, that's what I give them.

But I felt kind of bad exposing Lila Montgomery. Hell, she found something a lot better than Lance, the Boy Wonder. Jesus, I'd like half the action she was getting.

But a job's a job. And, as I got out my cameras and telephoto lenses and laid them out on the kitchen table in my crappy little apartment, I decided one thing.

If I got any good incriminating photos, I was keeping copies.

Lance called me that afternoon. Lila came in late this morning and he was pissed off. He thought she showered before she came home, because her hair was damp.

And then she told him not to expect her home tonight, because she's "going out with the girls" and will just stay the night with one of them.

He wanted to know what I've found out.

I didn't tell him. I've never done that with a client before. I just said I saw her with a female friend and that's about it.

Lance told me he wants to nail her, hard. He was all heated up, knowing she is fucking some other guy.

I told him I had not a shred of proof that his wife is humping some dude, which was completely true. But he said to follow her tonight and, if I got photographic proof, there would be a ten grand bonus.

Then he hung up.

Christ.

I kicked myself. You don't let your feelings get involved in the work! It's the number one rule of P.I. work, and reality drives it in your heart every chance it gets. You don't let yourself care about the target or the client.

But I liked this woman.

Hell, for all I knew she could be a total bitch, but if she's getting more pussy than I've had in the last five years, (yeah, the two women last night had me beat by one, right off the bat) more power to her.

But ten grand! It would get me out of the shitty little apartment I live in. Two murders within fifty yards of the place in the past year, the plumbing backing up at least once a month and the cockroaches having a block party every night. With that kind of money, I could get a real place.

All I'd have to do is my job.

I never felt like a rapist before. But that was what it seemed like: I was going to strip this woman totally naked and really fuck her over.

I didn't like the feeling. Not a bit.

When Lila Montgomery comes out of her house I'm waiting for her, parked just up the street. She pulls out in her little Porsche Boxter and takes off, driving past me. I give it ten seconds, then follow.

She doesn't go to the bar. In fact, she gets on the highway and heads out of town. Luckily, the distinctive tail lights on the Porsche make it easy to follow, even seven or eight cars back.

She drives out into the country. Well, what used to be country. Now it's crawling with subdivisions, with stupid faux names like Glenn Meadows and Summit Ridge.

I follow her as she takes an exit and heads up the hill into a ritzy neighborhood. There's not much traffic here. I hang way back so she doesn't make the tail.

She turns off on a side street and I speed up, turning down the same street she did just in time to see her make a left and pull up to a house in a small cul-de-sac. There are lots of other cars there. I just drive past the circle, as if I was a local heading to my home further up the way.

I turn the car around and park it on the side street. I put my cameras in their bag and get out, slipping the camera bag over my shoulder.

Then I walk jauntily toward the cul-de-sac, as if I had every right to be there.

I check out the place. There are four big houses on the circular drive and several chicks walking into the middle one, some with arms around each other.

Looks like a pussy party, and I'm the tomcat that showed up uninvited.

There is a hill behind the house, a great place to check out the back of the house from. The front drapes are drawn, so I'm not going to see anything from here anyway.

I walk past the cul-de-sac, just an crusty old dude out for a walk, carrying his gym bag with him.

Fifteen minutes later I'm on the hill behind the house, and boy am I getting an eyeful.

The back of the house has a tall wooden fence, but I'm high enough on the hill to see right in. There is a raised deck and a grassy area, and this is apparently Party Central. The yard is lit with Tiki torches and yard lamps and light pours out of the open French doors that lead into the house, so I can see real good.

The place is full of pussy. Jesus, I haven't seen so much hot meat since the Fireman's Barbecue!

A really foxy Oriental girl, wearing a tiny leather skirt, high heels, and nothing else, is serving drinks in the back yard. Her little tits have tiny golden rings through their nipples. Nah, my eyes aren't that good, but the telephoto lens zooms right in on them.

I snap a shot of them, just in case.

Lila comes out on the patio. She has her arm around a major babe, and I recognize Teresa, the bartender from Bad Dolly's. Teresa has on skin tight leather pants that were so low cut her cunt hair is peeking out the top, and a short top that shows off both her flat belly and the bottom half her very round tits.

Lila is in a pajama set, only someone lost the top. Her delicious boobs are just hanging out, looking around like they have a right to.

Jack is awake, and telling me he wants to play.

I get a shot of the two of them together. Tall, lissome Lila, in nothing but satin pajama bottoms and her shorter, duskier companion, wearing full out girl-slut gear. Jesus, that Hispanic singer Shakira has nothing on Teresa.

Women are dancing together, kissing one another and feeling each other up. Soon they are shedding what is left of both their clothes and their inhibitions. Fingers cup naked pussies, tongues lick tongues, nipples and pussys. Lila is right in the middle, not paying particular attention to any one woman, but enjoying them all and being enjoyed. Someone slips Lila's pajama bottoms off and she's naked, and they are all group groping each other, eating pussy and tits and mouths and anything else that's handy.

I snap three rolls of film, knowing that hubby is going to go wild over this.

And I'm going to have lots of pocket change for a while.

And Lila: Jesus Christ! Right now she has two babes eating her out as she munches on the hot little bartender's twat, who is squatting naked over her (yeah, I got some pictures as her pants were pulled off, her giggling and struggling). She is sucking the breasts of another hot babe and just going wild.

I'm snapping pictures of her and of Lila while realizing how incriminating these shots are going be in court.

Lila is gonna take a fall.

Hard.

I get up to leave as the babe orgy began to slow down. I've almost made the crest of the hill when I hear a shout and turn to see a naked chick pointing at me.

The mass of naked babes starts moving, throwing on clothes. A couple are already climbing the back fence to give chase.

I run.

Shit, ya gotta remember I'm nearly fifty, and P.I work isn't like police work, where you chase suspects on foot and gotta keep in shape.

I'm breathing really hard by the time I reach the road, and I begin to jog back to the car, trying to look inconspicuous.

I know there's going to be trouble when I see all the chicks on the street. One is talking on a cell phone and she looks up the road at me and points.

"There he is!" she yells. "Get him!"

I head for my car, ready to bulldoze my way through these little lesbian linebackers lining up in front of me. I almost make it, too. I slam past several of them (feeling their bodies slide against me as I go past) when someone kicks my knees out from under me and I go down.

Instantly, I have pussy all over me like hot wax. Unfortunately, it isn't nice, tame, friendly pussy.

It has it's claws out.

I get kicked and hit from every direction. Some muscled Butch babe gets me in a choke hold, and they all drag me to my feet and toward the house.

I'm sitting in a chair, my hands secured behind me with duct tape and my ankles taped to the chair legs. The girls are all going through my wallet and camera bag.

Lila comes up with my shield and looks over at me.

"You're a private detective," she says.

I nod. Hell, no way I'm gonna talk my way out of this one.

"My husband hired you." It's not a question so I don't bother to answer.

She looks sad. Oh, Jeeze, this is the last reaction I want to see. If she'd been angry or afraid or one of the million other reactions I've seen, I could handle it.

But she just looks at my shield and shakes her head sadly.

"You were at the club last night," she says softly.

I nod. No reason to lie now.

She looks up at me, her eyes moist.

"What have you told Lance?" she asks.

I shake my head.

"I haven't told him anything yet," I admit.

"You must have talked to him today," she says, looking puzzled. "Or did you learn about this party somewhere else?"

"Nah, I talked to him," I tell her.

"What did you tell him about last night?" she asks.

I shrug.

"I told him you met a girlfriend for a drink," I tell her.

"That's it?" she asks.

I nod.

"You seemed to be having a great time," I tell her. "And hey, I've met the Boy Wonder."

She grins at my nickname for him.

"Anyway," I go on, "I told him I hadn't seen you with any guy you might be having an affair with. Hell, it was the truth. I just left out the part about you kissing the girls and being in a lesbian bar."

She approaches me, her eyes curious now.

"So you didn't tell Lance?"

I shake my head.

"I was gonna," I admit. "He offered me a ten grand bonus today if I came up with some good dirt on you."

Now she looks mad. Really mad.

"That fucking little cock-sucker," she hisses. "Paying you with my money to follow me, then offering a bonus out of my accounts when you hit pay-dirt."

She shakes her head angrily.

"That little shit," she says.

"Your money?" I ask her. This is getting interesting.

She nods and walks toward me.

"Yes," she says, "my money. Lance has nothing. When I married Lance, I was rich and stupid. He talked me into a pre- nup that said if I cheated, he got half my net worth. I was in love and incredibly foolish. I signed it."

"So Lance gets proof, he gets a big chunk of change?" I ask.

"Yes, half. That's several million dollars."

I let out a low whistle.

"No wonder he's so hot to catch you," I say. "The little asshole sees you as his cash cow."

She nods, looking sadly down at me.

"He always has. He didn't love me. In fact, sex stopped right after the honeymoon. It was like he was pushing me to go elsewhere, so he could catch me at it and have half my money all to himself, without me there fucking up the deal."

I nod. It doesn't really surprise me. You're in this line of work long enough, nothing does.

"Why don't you just divorce him?" I ask.

She frowns.

"The prenup. I sue for divorce, I have to give him 50%." She looks at me with those smoldering eyes.

"I was naive and in love," she says. "Lance made it sound like it would somehow protect me."

I nod. I've seen enough slick characters twist someone up like a pretzel, making them believe that black was white and up was down and there really was a Santa Claus.

It happens more often than you might think.

"The pictures are in my camera," I tell her. "Take em and destroy em. I'll tell him I came up empty."

She look at me curiously.

"What about your bonus?" she asks.

I shrug.

"Fuck it," I tell her. "I could really use the money, but I don't need it. It would be like fucking you over for the cash. I'm a P.I., but I'm not that desperate."

I feel kind of stupid, pulling the "noble P.I." crap. But I'd told her the truth.

I would have had the ten grand, but I certainly wouldn't have enjoyed it.

She looks at me thoughtfully.

"You're not that noble," she says. I shrug. Let her think what she wants. Hell, I've been tailing her and photographing her and checking out her friends. She's got no reason to like me.