The Client

The Client

Chapter 1 - Dizzy with a dame.

It was late; I was on my last cup of joe before I would have to switch to something a little more appropriate for the hour. The day had been quiet; the month had been quiet, no clients mean no money and my rent was due at the end of this week. I picked up the packet of Gauloise cigarettes and with a practised flip I caught the cigarette between my lips, striking a match from a booklet that had been lying on my desk.

The smoke billowed restlessly about the office, stirred by the slow rotation of the fan resting on the filing cabinet in the corner, relaxing back, hands in my pockets, the butt stuck to my lips burning away, while I regarded my office door, stained dark wood with frosted glass that let in light from the hallway, the gold-painted sign saying Richard Beavers, that was me, a Shamus a Private Detective For Hire.

Picking up my java to take a sip, forgetting that the coffin nail sticking to my lip, it did not improve the taste at all, gagging a little before spitting it into the cup. Just then, I heard a clacking in the hall, someone walking down the boards, Sitting back, hands again in my pockets, I regarded the door once more, waiting to see the silhouette pass by and hoping that whoever it was would stop at my door this time.

The clacking of heels, a dame I thought, they stopped in front of my door; I guess today was my day after all. Regarding the silhouette shape to confirm it was indeed a broad, tall, hair up, I could make out the outline of some interesting curves. Relaxed now, waiting for them to knock, yet instead, they just entered. This told me they were serious and determined of mind.

She entered the room, still silhouetted by the light in the hall, Looking up at her I used my detective skills to assess (ok leer at) her, she was a quite broad, all gams and curves, in a tight pencil skirt, white blouse (barely containing a full bosom) suicide blond hair, pinned up on her head. Her lips were full and red, almost as full as those breasts I thought to myself.

She came in, the door swinging back into place, with a nod and a raised eyebrow I gestured to the chair across from me, indicating with a smile for her to sit.

She sat crossing her legs, exposing heels and calves that made my fingers twitch in my pocket. Withdrawing a pack of cigarillos from her purse, placing one between those cherry-red lips, and gave me an appraising look, waiting. Not being slow of mind, I picked up the booklet and stuck a match, offering her a light. She sucked deeply getting golden glow going on the end of the stick, this did interesting things behind her blouse, I noticed because I am a detective and it’s my job (honest) she was a dish, a dolly, a real kitten. Best be careful, I told myself, could end up dizzy for this dame.

Sitting back, waiting for her to start, the possibilities of the job running through my mind, but I was sure this was going to be another cheating husband (the dingus).

“You come highly recommended by an acquaintance,” she said, her voice full of southern inflexions (not a local then) “they said you were the best dick town” (dick is what some call Detectives)

“Detective mam, I prefer the term if you don’t mind. Suppose you tell me all about it and what you are looking for me to do for you,” I said, being all courteous and professional. I took another sip of my coffee, coughed, then pretended not to notice the butt floating in the brew.

If she noticed the colour drain from my face (it really tasted bad) she did not show it, I indicated for her to continue with a hand gesture.

“As you say, detective, you come highly recommended by my friend, you apparently did her a great service and I would like to hire you for a few days,” she said, I could see a tear forming as she said this.

I enquired if this was about her husband, and saw her crack a little more, I stood and went over to the filing cabinet removing a box of tissues, placing them in front of her.

“Thank you, most kind,” she said slight sob breaking the honeydew of her southern accent.

“Bette,” she said, I glommed that to mean her name.

She showed me a photo of some boozehound looking fella telling me this was her husband and laid it all out then, sobbing occasionally, abuse, drinking, and now absent for days on end with no excuse given, she wanted me to make like a gumshoe and find dope she needed to get a divorce…

I sat there, listening, making a few notes, but my thoughts were drifting to other things, I had had a few cases like this, and without fail the dames were always very happy with my services, often very appreciative in more ways than just money and recommendations (if you follow my meaning).

“My fees are paid in advance, $50 a day plus expenses, 3-day minimum” (that would cover my rent and bar bill I thought) I will start tonight mam, where can I find your husband?”

“He frequents Johnny’s bar, I found several matchbooks in his suit pockets when I took them to the cleaners, maybe you can start there,” she suggested.

A bar I thought, on her tab as well, hell things are looking up for today. Smiling my warmest smile, the one I reserve for the ladies, I asked if there was anything else that she needed taking care of, looking to while I was on her dime?

She looked down and said, “my acquaintance also mentioned that you were quite thorough in your investigations and that you left no stone unmolested as she put it,” she stubbed out the butt and stood.

Sitting back and watching as a very familiar scene unfolded before my eyes (I did have a rep with the ladies about town) with one hand she reached for the fasteners on her skirt, mesmerised by this scene, watching as she slowly unfastened each hook, before letting go and letting the skirt drop to the floor.

Giving her another appraising look, my own hand adjusting my weapon to the side, to fit more comfortably in my pants. Fine legs, long and she was wearing sheer silk stocking, white suspenders and camisole knickers.

Standing, an appreciative growl issuing from my lips, I went to stand behind her,

“Well, figure I would not want to ruin my reputation and never let it be said that Richard Beavers, did not offer help to a lady in distress,” as I said this, I leaned in closer to get a good whiff of her scent from the back of her neck, breathing out slightly so she could feel my closeness.

I leaned into her, pressing her down to the desktop, my hands sliding down then up, getting a good feel of her gams. Slipping my hand into my slacks, I withdrew my rod, running it down the side of her breasts before placing it on the desk (what did you think I meant?)

Where she could see it. Then pressing my much more impressive weapon against her fine and firm caboose…

She lowered her own panties with a wiggle, then pressing back in a manner that left no doubt that she was hungry for some attention. Freeing myself from my pants, I pressed my own tool up and then into her wet waiting pussy, pushing it in hard (the only way I go) as my hand pressed down on the back of her neck, pushing her head to the top of my desk.

“My friend was right, you are the best private dick in town,” she said, the sentence breathy and broken as I thrust my dick into her again and again.

I thought to myself, distracting my thoughts to delay the trigger, that her husband must be some sort of palooka to step out on this dish this fine.

Feeling the time was close, I grabbed the dame’s tosh, digging in hard, and increased my thrusting, as I blew my stack in the chippy’s fur purse.

I stopping to pick up her skirt and hand it to her, pocketing her bloomers, she did not seem to notice as she donned the skirt again. She started to get all teary-eyed again, dames and the waterworks, I thought. Digging into my desk, I extracted another pack of coffin nails,

“Shall we just a have a cigarette on it, and cut the waterworks doll,” I said all professional again. “I’ll be looking into this putz for you, find out if he is on the level or into something hinky, you want photos of him and his moll. I will drop a dime when I have your evidence.”

Pulling the panties from my pocket, leaning over to pick up my shooter and wrapping it in them, I said,

“I will return these when I drop off the pictures,” putting the item back in my pocket.

She drew on the butt, lighting her face up by the glow of the ember, her eyes tearless now (of course)

“Sure thing hon, you are definitely the right dick for this job, I can tell and when you do there might be a little bonus for you,” with that she got up, wiggled that window maker of a bottom, and left my office.

The door closed, I walked over to the filing cabinet, pulled a bottle of Jonny and a single glass, just the one I thought, Dick was on a case.

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The Client:

Chapter 2 – Shamus

I downed the glass of Dutch, grabbed my shoulder rig, my hat and slipped on my jacket and headed out the door, making my way to the street. It had rained earlier, and pools of water were visible on the uneven street. Hailing a cab, giving the cabby the address of the bar, I sat back and enjoyed the journey.

Arriving at the bar, I handed the driver 2 dollars and exited the cab. Straightening up my clothes, I assessed the entrance: The bar was situated on a poorly lit side street, and down several steps, a solid door barred my way so I rapped upon the frame a few times and waited for the viewing hatch to be slid open. The hatch (a holdover from the days when the bar was a speakeasy) slid open. A pair of eyes viewed me suspiciously, I jawed to the goon, and handed him a couple of bucks to grease the hinges. The door swung open.

“No trouble, or else,” He said in a gravelly voice. I assured him that I would not cause trouble: he was a big guy, flat schnozzle, cauliflower ears, boxer, enforcer, hired muscle; not someone to fuck with. Seemed a bit over the top for this gin joint.

The joint was hardly what you would call hopping, decorated in old west saloon style, light but not brightly and circular ceiling fans stir the smoke that hung heavily in the air. Sawdust on the floor, soaking up spilt booze and maybe blood. Round wooden tables, a long bar ran down one side and a white shirted barkeep tended the bar. I quickly checked the clientele looking for my mark but only recognising a couple of trouble boys (gangsters) and the local Shylock (loan shark) my mark was either not here yet or not coming today. Still it was her dime, I might as well get a drink while I wait.

Sidling up to the bar, I ordered a drink, and chatted idly to the barkeep,

“Quiet tonight, Joe,” I said.

“The moniker is Mac,” said the barkeep.

“That’s alright Joe, I won’t remember your name, and you won’t remember my face,” I said handing him a sawbuck.

He took the money; it vanished in a well-practised flick of his wrist, an understanding reached, I showed him the marks photo,

“Has he been here tonight?” I asked.

“Usually later,” he replied.

“Alone?” said I.

“Usually, yes,” he replied again.

Disappointed, I asked, “No dames, broads, or a regular doll?”

“Don’t be a bunny buddy (dummy), he uses the cathouse out back,” said the barkeep, this time his voice low, all conspiratorial like.

“Ahh he likes the pro skirt then,” I smiled and handed him another sawbuck for the info, paid for a packet of chesterfields and took the bottle and a glass and went and settled in a corner to wait.

Finding a table with my back to the wall, facing the entrance, took a seat, poured myself a shot, lit a stick and sat back to wait. Watching the comings and goings, noting a few broads hanging about now, and guys disappearing out the side door with them, now and then. I blew off the attentions of a few dollies telling them I just came to catch the canary (singer) all the time wondering how I was to get the dope on the mark without getting my features rearranged or a case of lead poisoning.

I spotted the rube, after waiting two hours and a 3rd of a bottle, watched him go to the bar, buy a bottle and take himself off to a seat. Was not long til to one of the pro skirts approached and took a seat next to him, sharing in his bottle, he was a big lug, a real knuckle dragger, I wondered how Betty ended up with this lug. Not my problem though, get the dope on him and she will be a free agent. This bought a smile to my face; I was sure she would show her appreciation and need some consoling after I handed her the scoop on this putz.

I smoked a cigarette, pretending to mind my business, while keeping my peepers open for a way to get the dope on dope. They seemed to know each other. Maybe a regular customer, I guessed. She was different to Betty as chalk and cheese, dark where she is blond, short where she is tall, and had a hell of a keister on her, I was betting you could bounce a quarter off. After a few shots, I watched as she led the mark out the side door. To the parlour rooms, I guessed, probably a few rooms out the back with beds for entertaining the guests.

I needed to get back there somehow, get a few photos of him being adulterous with the young lady. Raising an eye to one of the dolls, I indicated a seat next to me,

“Hi handsome, you are looking for company,” she enquired.

She was getting on in years, or at least for this business, still a hot bit of skirt, but probably would not be working this joint much longer, I guessed. Pouring a shot into the glass, I offered it to the frau, leaning forward to whisper to her.

“Listen, sweetheart, that door there, I need to get behind there for some business, see.” Pausing to assess her reaction, then continuing, “see there’s a rube back there, whose wife wants some pictures of him being imprudent to grease the wheels of a divorce, you help me, I will see you ok?”

She drank, I poured her another, while she pondered my words. She indicated to the glass once more, I filled the tumbler once again. She sipped this time though and leaned in close.

“Ok honey, I can help, but it will cost you, a yard ($100) I won’t be working here much longer anyways hon, so that will pay my fare back home.”

I nodded, and indicated to the camera I was holding under the table, she shook her head, and indicated for me to follow

“Don’t worry sugar, you can have all the pictures of me you want, it’s your dime,” she said and winked.

Guessing this meant for me to follow, I picked up what was left of my bottle and followed her to the side door. The bouncer at the door eyed me, but I guess my request was not too unusual, and she knew what to say to keep him from being all suspicious like.

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The Client:

Chapter 3 – French postcard and the sleepy time girl.

I followed the skirt to a room; she unlocked it, opened the door and gestured for me to enter. She followed closing and locking the door behind us. Wondering how I was supposed to get a photo of my mark in flagrante delicto as they say if we were locked in this room. Looking over at the sleepy time girl and raised an eyebrow; she took my meaning.

“There’s a vent up there by the ceiling, it connects with the next room, that is where your mark is, you should be able to get a good view from there sweetie, I’ll make some noise to cover your movements and so as not to arouse any suspicion from my boss,” With that she bounced back on to the bed and started laughing, giggling and then slapping her thighs.

Dragging a cabinet over so it was below the vent and clambering up and slid the vent door over and peeked inside, it occurred to me that these were perfect for spying on customers and wondered if that was their real purpose.

What I saw: Now I am travelled man, I spent time in Siam in the 30s, I had heard of such things but never has I laid peepers on such a scene as was being played out before me. Still, it was undoubtedly the mark no matter what he was wearing, and these photos should give the client the leverage she requires. I looked behind me and the skirt was still making noises and bouncing on the bed; I raised a quizzical eyebrow. She seemed to get my drift.

“She caters for a very specific clientele, not my cup of joe, though I guess they pay well, and that lug comes back regular like so must enjoy it,” she said.

Lifting my camera and clicked away, he would not notice that was for sure, happy with the photos I took one more peek, still amazed that a gorilla like that would wear that and could take something that big, and where do you find a diaper that size? I closed the vent, clambered down and as quiet as possible dragged the cabinet back into place.

The skirt was still bouncing on the bed, but I also noticed her dugs had escaped from the confines of her dress and they were bouncing in a rhythm of their own. Flipping open my billfold, I withdrew the century for the floozy, and tossed it on to the cabinet, then I removed another fin, and added that to the pile. Might as well enjoy my evening, it was her dime after all.

I withdrew my piece and gestured to the floor in front of me,

“Come here doll face,” she stopped and hopped off the bed, not adjusting her dress, just letting those titties dangle. The dress was held up now just by her hips. She had a fine body even if she had too many miles on the clock. “kneel,” I said, as I pressed the muzzle of my 45 to her painted lips.

She did as she was told, parting her lips to take the muzzle of my weapon into her mouth, I looked down watching as she sucked the end of my 1911, glad to see she knew her business.

“Undo my pants, you clearly know what to do, so do it,” I said voice firm, broking no argument (not that I would get one from this joy girl)

I removed the gun, and wiped the muzzle down the side of her face, as she expertly sucked in my own personal gun, she was now newbie that was for sure, she sucked my cock down her through in practised swallows, all the way down to the boys. Good job I had the safety on , that for sure, may have blown more than my stack when she did that.

Mind going back to what I had viewed through that vent, I decided to give her a little taste, so seating myself on the edge of the bed, I pulled her down across my knee and raising her dress; I proceeded to spank her bottom.

Time up, I pulled another few bills from my fold and adding them to the pile, thanking her, I unlocked the door and headed back to the bar. Asked Joe for another for the road, downed this in one and left the bar before my mark could return.

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The Client:

Chapter 4 – The frau’s Lowdown

Heading out of the side street, I spotted a cab and hailed with a whistle. The cabbie must have heard or seen the gesture, pulling up a few feet from where I stood. I appreciated that he managed to avoid the puddle that was just in front of where I stood. I gave him the address of a friendly chemist I knew that would develop the film no questions asked. Sat back bumping gums with the driver to pass the time.

I told the cabbie to wait, went into the all-night chemist, paid the extra to have them expressed and delivered to my office in the morning. Then took the cab back to my apartment to get some well-earned shuteye.

Arriving in my office at 10 am–I spotted the manila envelope on the floor of my office, slid under the door no doubt. I opened it examined and again wondered at the depravity of some folks minds, I could make a bundle selling these back to the mark but I had taken the case and when dick was on the job, he always finished the job right, plus I was sure she would show her appreciation in some interesting ways.

Picking up the blower, I dial the number she had left, and told her I had what she asked for,

“Already, that was fast,” she said before adding, “I’ll be right over.”

Picking up the daily, I read and smoked a few while I waited, did not seem to take her long, I was hardly halfway through the paper when my door swung open. She was a knockout in the daylight, Smoke billowing from her mouth as she smiled and came over and sat down, wearing a matching skirt and jacket, hair pinned up again, exposing a long neck sporting a pearl neckless.

I pushed the envelope over the desk and waited while she viewed the evidence, if she was shocked she did not show it, I guess if you’re married to a schmoe you have to be aware of their peculiarities in some way. Maybe he had tried this with her and she had refused, it would explain the professional he was seeing.

“Thank you, I do declare you are as my friend advised, very efficient, your work is exemplary, He will agree to the divorce I am sure he would not want these to get out,”

At that, I passed over my bill for the job, 3 days and expenses, she viewed this briefly, then pulling out several large bills from her purse she again thanked me for my work.

“There is a small bonus as well. You have made my day sir, I will be rid of this lummox soon I think,” she said this with a warm smile that made me tingle all over.

I was disappointed though as she stood, bid me good day and hurried out of the office, not even picking up her cigarillo from the admittedly overflowing ashtray. I picked up the bills, counting and was happy very happy, an extra G on top of my bill. She sure wanted rid of that guy.

Putting the money away, keeping some for fun, I went out to grab some eats and a cup of java. Killing the day, paid some bills, had my shoes shined, flap lips with a few of the guys at the track. Winning a few, losing a few but came out ahead so left with a jaunty stride.

My phone was ringing when I arrived back at my office around six to pick up any messages, there were a few but I ignored those and picked up the phone,

“Dick here, jaw to me,” I said into the receiver.

“Thank god, I have been calling all day, he knows about the photos (sniffle) I’ve never seen him so angry; I’m scared…… please!!” she was crying now, I never could stand a woman crying.

“Where are you?, I will be right there,” I asked her, trying to reassure her with my calm voice.

She told me an address across town; I jotted it down and assuring her I would be right there. I ran out of the office as soon as I hung up, but not before collecting my tools, I had a feeling I might be needing them.

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The Client:

Chapter 5 – Put the wind up a hard case.

Hailing a cabbie, I give him the address and a sawbuck to make it fast.

“I want to be there yesterday I tell him,” All business now, the cabbie does as he is told and floors the wagon.

We pull up, I toss the driver another sawbuck and don’t wait for a thank you. Running up to the house and straight through the already open doorway, noting the splintered frame as I do so… Clearly someone had wanted in and was not taking no for an answer.

I called her name, hearing a reply from the back of the house , I rushed to the kitchen; she was sat at the table; I spotted the knife by her hand first but then my face hardened as I saw what he had done to her.

The Damaged: Split lip, her eye swollen and shiner already forming, her jacket torn, buttons missing, blouse open, exposing those magnificent breasts (mind on the job Dick, I told myself) He had roughed her up good, my blood was boiling now.

“ he knew about the pictures, someone must have seen you or talked, he was so angry I was scared he would kill me, he took them, said he would kill me before divorcing me!!” she sobbed this story out, dabbing a wet towel to her face to stop the bleeding.

Kneeling down and placing a comforting hand on her knee, before telling her,

”I will deal with the shmuck, I am still on your dime lady you paid for 3 days and no one beats up my clients, especially a dame…”

I gave her my apartment key, telling her to take a cab and lie low for a day or two, I would send my doctor friend over later to make sure she was ok. I will take care of this and be back later.

She stood, thought to hug me, but seeing the blood decided maybe not a good idea right now, I wrote down my address and called a cab for her.

I waited until she had gone, found the bathroom, checked that there was no blood on me then left, pulling her door to as well as I could. Waited for a cab and set off back to the bar, no chatter this time, the cabbie could see on my face I was in no mood to talk.

Heading back to the bar, I went through the entry process again, and grabbing a bottle I went to the corner and waited, The skirt from last night came over and sat with me a while, I could see the blackeye through her makeup, guessing this is how he found out. Seems someone was watching me as I was watching him. And they had spilled the beans on us. She had protected me though even though she had been slapped about a little; they did not know I was the trick at the hatch, and she had described someone else.

Lucky, I would have been being fitted for a Chicago overcoat had they known, I slipped her another yard, and thanked her.

“Thanks Mister, you’re a real gent” she said, as she sashayed away. I enjoyed the view and went back to my smokes and JD.

A few hours passed, I pretended to be drinking, needed a clear head for what was to come. Passed the time listening to the canary and worked a few plans through in my head.

10PM, he arrived, same routine, though he eyes the customers suspiciously, I ignored him, looking at the sports page, I know his routine so did not need to watch him. Just wait.

Giving him an hour to have his fun, I settled my tab and left the joint. This time though I walked only a short way down the side street, settling into a doorway to wait for hard number (tough guy) I check my holster and knife then palmed my jack (a sock full of lead shot) ready.

Half hour later I spotted him leaving. As he approached, I stepped in front of him. He had a head on me, but I was not worried.

“Got a light bub,” I asked.

As he fished for the light, I took a firm hold of the jack. As he leaned in to light my cigarette, I kneed him in the nuts, and then brought the jack down on his head as he bent forward, watching as has he hit the ground unconscious.

Dragging him out of the light to some steps leading into the back of some store, rolling him down, kicking the side of his head to make sure he stayed out of it. I rifled his pockets, finding his billfold and the envelope (this angered me, and I kicked him again) Took his watch as well, make this look like a robbery and the police won’t look too deep. Placing his face on a step, jaw open, stamped on the back of his head, splitting his face wide open, separating his jaw from the rest of his face. I lifted his head by the hair and was satisfied he would be in no state to beat anyone for a long time if he survived the night.

Leaving him there, bleeding, maybe bleeding out, I really did not care. I had the photos, his billfold, nice and thick too, he was done, she would have her divorce and he won’t be bothering anyone for a long time.

Hailing a cab, I returned to my apartment to give Betty the good news, and maybe she would give this Dick a bonus – I smiled away to myself at this thought.

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The Client:

Chapter 6 – She looked hot enough to catch fire.

Stepping off the elevator on to my floor, hands in pockets relaxed as I went to my apartment. Forgetting for a moment that I did not have my keys. I knocked on my own door, a new experience for me. Not long after, the door opened and she stood there a few steps back, lit only by the light from the hall.

She had showered at some point, her hair was down tussled by the wet still, no makeup that I could see, though her eye was swollen still and lip had been stitched I could see, still she smiled at me, even if it pained her to do so.

She was wearing my spare fedora, one of my shirts, as well as her heels, and from the way the light made shadows on the shirt, I was sure nothing else…

“It’s done,” I said, throwing the envelope and billfold on the side table.

“Dead?” she asked.

“Not when I left him, but he was not in a pretty state when I did, won’t be bothering you that’s for sure,” I said, trying to reassure her.

She turned and led me into the lounge, stopping at the counter to pick up two tumblers of whisky before handing me one. She leaned back against the counter, back arched, this did interesting things to the front of the shirt as well as to the front of my pants.

“I don’t know how I will ever repay you for your kindness,” she said, southern accent inflected by a lisp caused by her swollen lip.

“Mam, it was my pleasure dealing with the scum for you,” I said stepping in closer to her, “No one messes with Richard Beavers clients,” I leaned in closer, she downed her drink, I knocked mine back in one, placing the tumbler back on the counter. Brushing a strand of still damp hair away from her sparkling blue eyes. Before leaning in and kissing her bruised and swollen lips, mouth parted already in anticipation.

Grabbing her about the waist, I lifted her up on to the counter, her legs parted, then wrapped about my waist. Reaching for my belt and fasteners, I quickly dropped my slacks to the floor, nuzzling into her neck to bite down as I pressed into her. Her legs pulling me in, so I fully entered her, not gentle this girl, I guessed she liked a bit of rough now and then as well.

We fucked like that for a while, before I carried her over to the couch, laying her down gently before laying down next to her, flipping her on to her side and resting her back to my chest. Positioning myself to take her once again from behind, this time though it was gentle, she had been through enough today, maybe tomorrow if she stuck about, I could show her a few tricks I learned in Cathay while stationed out there, I was sure she would taste sweet as a peach.

End