MJ 2: The Violin Casebymadam_noe©
"Why the hell do you wear pantsuits? Who does that anymore?"
"I do," I defended, but I was already shrugging it off.
He tugged too hard on my shirt and a button flew off, hitting him in the forehead. I laughed, but then he pulled off his own shirt in that way men have, and I was lost. To get a stomach like he had took great genetics and a hundred sit ups a day; I was glad he'd kept the latter up.
I undid my own bra and he grabbed my breasts fiercely the second they were free. "Hey!" I cried when he pinched too hard.
"You always liked it rough, and you didn't let me play with them last time."
"Shut up and take off your pants, Finn."
He grinned and rolled to the side. We both awkwardly shimmied from our pants and when all my bare flesh touched the zebra rug I sighed. It was a room for seduction.
He kissed my stomach, he'd always had a strange preoccupation with it, and slammed two finger inside me. I gasped, and then he began to move.
"Glad to see you're not wearing any panties these days."
"It's, oh, laundry day," I said and he laughed.
He kissed up to my breasts and kept that hand moving. I gave up on trying to touch any of his good bits and stretched my hands above my head. I felt his thumb against my anus as his screwed his hand around. Ahhh, it was good to have an old lover who knew all the tricks.
The fire was almost as hot as his body, and the soft animal skin was the perfect contrast to his rough flesh. He fucked me with those long fingers, teased me with his thumb. I stretched and arched and begged with whimpers, my body tightening around his hand, growing closer to orgasm, and then-
He pulled out.
"What the hell? Who said stop?"
"Don't be so greedy, Marly."
He parted my legs with his and sank in with fresh violence. He was huge inside me, very, very wide, and I wrapped my legs around his narrow hips, gasping.
"Baby, you feel too good," he whispered, and then began to move.
He pumped long and hard, and I felt the orgasm waiting for me. Somehow Finn seemed to sense it, and changed tactics every time I was close.
"God damn it," I said, and reached for my clit, determine to bring myself.
"Bad girl," he said with the wolf smile, and slapped my hands away. Ducking, he put my legs on his shoulders and bent forward to pin my hands. I was bent nearly double and he felt triple his size.
"Christ. Move, Finn, before something bursts."
"Disgusting, babe," he sneered, but began to thrust.
My eyeballs nearly rolled back in my head, the pleasure was incredible, I felt every inch of his cock as he moved, and then one hand left mine to put a thumb on my clit.
I erupted, and screamed his name as I came. He moved faster and faster and when my body stopped jerking his own orgasm rose up. I watched him in that unguarded moment, wondering at his beauty, and then he collapsed on me like a spent male.
"Um, hey, I'm kinda bent like a pretzel here, it's not really natural."
He laughed but pulled back, and we untangled. I found the bathroom and cleaned up, returning to find him fully dressed. I put on my own clothes sighing. The top button on my shirt was missing, leaving my cleavage hanging out.
"Great now I'm Bambi Sexington, PI."
"You always were," he said, and shut off the fire.
I snorted and fixed my hair in the mirror above the fireplace. "Hardly. I'm wearing Doc Martens for chrissake."
"So what do we do now?"
"You drop me at my office. I've got a case tonight. Tomorrow I will talk to Thomas Kincaid while you ask around about a skater punk with blonde hair for hire."
"Way to take all the romance out of everything." But he said it with a smile.
"Just take me to my office."
We took the elevator down, and found his car with all four tires slashed, and a knife holding a note, piercing the hood.
"Shit, what kind of a maniac does that to goddamn classic?" Finn said.
"Read the note," I said quietly, and looked around. No sign of forced entry, I doubt anybody had seen the little bastard.
"I mean it's a fucking ninety thousand dollar car!"
"Read the note."
"This baby has full matching numbers, and-"
"Read the goddamn note before I slap you!"
"Bitch," he muttered but stalked over and read the note. "Back off or Nancy Drew dies."
"Nancy Drew?" I asked, puzzled.
"Jesus, you really were a tomboy. He means you."
"Yeah," Finn agreed. "Fuck."
Thomas Kincaid was nothing I expected. The address listed for him was downtown, but a residence. It was a three story brownstone, huge, and the inside was beautiful.
Everywhere I looked was good art and tasteful antiques. His housekeeper was British and quiet, left me in a parlor with a cup of tea.
When he entered I nearly dropped the tea. I'd been expecting an old man with coke bottle glasses, but Thomas was young and athletic, resembling more a GQ model than a professor.
"Thomas Kincaid, pleased to meet you." His handshake was warm and firm, and he politely waited for me to sit again before he did so. Good manners to back up the British accent. "What is it I can do for you?"
"It's really quite simple. Can you tell me about what a man named Finnegan contacted you about?"
"I'm sorry, I don't know that name."
"Ahh, yes. The owner needed to have it appraised for insurance purposes. I'm to see it tomorrow. Why is a PI asking about this?"
"It's been stolen."
"Stolen?" He almost laughed and pushed his wire rims up his nose. "Stolen? It's a Stradivarius, no one steals a Stradivarius. They'd have to be mad; they'd be caught in an instant. There's no way to unload it."
I didn't bother to correct him. "Did you share this information with anyone else?"
"No, can't say that I did. Now I know where I recognize you from! You were in the paper this winter, you caught the couple that killed Miss Anderson. Such a shame, she was so charitable to the university."
She'd been a blackmailing bitch, but again I didn't correct him. "Yes, that was me."
He smiled and it tickled something inside me. "Tell me, how does one go into private investigation these days?"
"You're usually an ex-cop who wants more money."
"There's money in it?"
"Some. So how is it someone so young is an expert?"
"I'm a professor of antiquities at the university, but violins and other musical instruments are my hobby. I wrote a book on Stradivarius once. Barely sold but it was well regarded."
"I noticed you had a George Tooker in the hall. Is that original?"
He stood and smiled wider. "You have an excellent eye, Miss Jackson."
"You can call me Marly, everyone does. I majored in art history in college, and Tooker is my favorite."
"Would you like to have lunch with me...Marly?"
I felt like a very bad girl. I got lonely, so did everyone else, and in my sex life when it rained it poured, so I didn't question. Thomas was actually a funny guy, three times smarter than I was, and a good listener. Just for that I could handle it if he was bad in bed.
He surprised me there too, big time. Thomas Kincaid was kinky as hell.
"On your knees," he said by my ear. I did as asked, breathless.
I'd played around with domination before, but never with a pro. Thomas wasn't exactly a pro, but he'd obviously been a master, a dominant for a long time.
I was blindfolded, my hands secured by a belt-like contraption behind my back. I knelt onto the soft Aubusson carpet and waited.
"Good girl," he said, and with the cultured accent behind the words I shivered. "Now suck my cock."
I opened my mouth expecting it nice and slow but he slammed in deep. I had to fight the gag reflex, and just when I mastered it he pulled out. I gasped for breath and then his cock slid back in.
"Good girl," he repeated, and I would have felt like a cocker spaniel except he was breathless. So instead I concentrated and not suffocating, and imagined his body from the brief glimpses I'd gotten. A swimmer's build, long, lean, and as pale as I was.
His balls slapped my chin and I sucked harder, enjoying hearing his moans. Without my sight the sounds were so much more intense. His sac tightened and his hands gripped my head as he pistoned wildly.
For a mad moment I was angry, afraid I was being used, that he'd cum down my throat and leave me high and dry, but he stopped, and jerked me back.
"Ohhh, have I found the perfect slave?"
I'd been told not to speak unless directed to so I kept silent.
He helped me up and then led me across the carpet before turning me around. I was gently laid back against cool metal, and he walked behind me to untie my hands. Just as they were freed he tied one above my head to the metal I was on, then the other.
Next my feet were secured, and I shivered in honest fear. I didn't know this man, had no idea what he would do to me, and it was the darkest thrill. I was never a nice girl, and I liked it out on the edge, but this was a unique thrill. I'd known him less than three hours, and for some reason that only made it all the hotter.
I heard feet shift around and stop in front of me, then I gasped. An ice-cold rock-hard dildo was shoved inside me, attached to it a much smaller version that went straight in my ass. I felt full, achingly cold and burning hot, my mind swam and I whimpered.
"No speaking. You'll need to be punished," Thomas said by my ear with a smile in his tone.
The dildo was secured to my legs and waist by unseen straps, and then Thomas' body heat left me. My body had shot into deep arousal and it would take very little to make me cum. I needed it, wanted it, had to have it.
I heard the whistle a scant second before the cat o' nine tails hit my butt cheeks. The sting was incredible and I gasped in surprise and pain.
"Bad girl," Thomas said and viciously pinched an erect nipple.
Another whistle and slap, this one harder. The pain brought tears to my eyes but I forced myself to remain silent. The hits came now in steady succession, and I found pleasure blending into the pain. Soon I was lurching with it, craving the slap on my sensitized flesh, my pussy clenching around the dildo begging for release.
Finally he stopped and I bit my lip to keep from crying out, begging for more.
"Very good," he said, winded. "You've earned a reward."
More movement and I couldn't follow it closely. Suddenly two jaws of hard plastic bit down on my nipples and I crushed my tongue to keep silent, drawing blood. His warm hands brushed the sensitive skin there but didn't linger, merely set the nipple clamps to buzzing vibration.
I began to pant, on the verge of a giant orgasm, and felt a soft hand on my cheek. "Marly, don't spoil it now. You may find your climax only when I say so."
I resisted whining, barely. Then the dildo was forced out of me, tearing the Velcro apart on the straps, and I sucked in a deep breath, but otherwise stayed quiet.
Something clanked on a table and then he was back. The new dildo was short, the bulbous head sat inside against my swollen g-spot. There were branches from it, my mind couldn't quite draw up an image, but there was pressure at my clit and my perineum.
More straps secured it and then he padded behind me. I heard snaps and then the rack I was on began to bend, tipping my upper half forward. I was suspended, and felt as if I might fall, but just as I clicked into place, Thomas rammed into my ass.
His cock was gelled but it was sudden, startling. His hand reached around and turned the dildo on. My entire being throbbed, and I thought for a horrific moment I would cum. The buzzing, pinching at my nipples, the stimulation of the vibrator, and the fullness of his cock were beyond incredible.
"Good slave," he whispered in my ear, and began to fuck me. Hard.
The world spun and lights danced behind my eyes as I held on. I went over square root tables, I tried to remember what all the forks were for at a fancy dinner, but the orgasm was impatiently waiting to be released. My muscles were tighter then they'd ever been, I ached all over, and Thomas was taking his sweet time.
"I will reward your obedience," he purred, and stroked my hair like we were making sweet love.
I growled low, frustrated. I was plenty vocal in bed and used to getting my way. It made me impossibly hot to be dominated, but pissed off too.
He laughed haughtily, and then began to really ream me. Seconds spanned an eternity, my heartbeat became a total body throb, and then he orgasmed, his victory shout of "Now!" released me.
I screamed for all I worth as the mother of all orgasms hit me. It went on and on and on, every muscle contracting, and Thomas collapsed along my back, above the rack, and held me through it.
After long minutes he reached around and shut everything off. I whimpered pitifully and he turned my head, kissing me deeply for the first time. Then Thomas pulled out and padded away, murmuring he'd be right back.
He returned to the tune of running water, and though it took several minutes he briskly undid me. I sagged into his arms, and he didn't have the muscle to gallantly cradle me, instead he let me lean on him and walked me to his bathroom.
A spa tub waited with softly scented water, and I slid in gratefully. He did as well, settling across from me, his handsome face split in a cocky grin. I didn't know what to say or how one handled the situation, so I remained silent.
"Marly, how would you like to go to the Art Institute tomorrow?"
After an evening spent dodging Finn and fortifying myself with whiskey, I was all set up and watching the cheating spouse. He was Sumit Singh, the owner of a company that built computers for Ford Trucks, and worth millions. His wife needed proof of infidelity for her divorce.
I didn't need the money so much as liked it, and I liked the videos I got to keep, usually. I'd been inside the studio condo he kept on LSD and set up cameras at all angles. In a hotel a block away the cameras fed into my two laptops.
Having seen him in action in a car once I came prepared, but after two days with two men, my body was most likely sated. Still, I knew I was in for a hell of a show. I had a bottle of whiskey and a toy I'd bought off of Adam and Eve's website. And at nine thirty, the show began.
He entered with his mistress, a petite blonde thing of mostly Caucasian but some Asian descent, a gold digger of the highest order.
He kept in shape, so did she, and I knew this was going into my platinum collection. He started by pouring drinks, wine, and they sat down to a fire. For a mad moment I couldn't help but think of Finn, and I blushed.
Since I'd gone semi-legit and he'd gone bad every time we met he seemed to want more. I was afraid he wanted a relationship, and if his past and my afternoon was any indication, we'd ruin it within hours.
Sumit took off his suit jacket revealing broad shoulders on his short frame, and she snuggled into them. Off the table he picked up a small box, and when she opened it she squealed so loud I got feedback.
I pulled my headphones off and switched to the speakers. They were flat on the couch now, and I should have been paying more attention, but my mind kept drifting to Thomas.
He was heads and shoulders above anyone I knew, class-wise, and rather than be repelled by my profession he seemed intrigued. Wed' sat in the tub for an hour sipping champagne and talking about my work, his, and art. It was the most intelligent conversation I'd ever had.
Afterwards we'd had sex in a more traditional manner, his way, I assumed, of letting me know he wasn't all kink all the time. And tomorrow was a date, and honest-to-goodness date. The last time I'd been on one of those Clinton had been playing sax on late night TV.
Shit, this meant I had to get a dress, a skirt, something more feminine than a suit. Makeup, even, and I'd put in my contacts. The last time I'd done that, it had been for Finn. And why was he on my mind when it was Thomas in my date book?
Shit, I'd missed the whole encounter, the gold digger was about to leave.
When she was out the door I called, and heard the ringing oh his phone on my speakers. I turned them down as he answered. "Mr. Singh, I'm the PI your wife hired to prove you were cheating. If you don't want her to see footage from tonight come to the Hilton across the street, suite five ten."
He cursed and hung up, but I knew he'd come. I emailed myself the file, burned a copy to DVD, and waited. I'd get twenty thousand from him to watch me delete the copy on the hard drive and hand over the DVD. And tomorrow I'd make my usual ten off his wife to run it over anyways.
And again I was reminded of how much better Thomas was than me, and I wondered if Finn might actually be more my speed. But what the hell, I thought, why not reach for the sky?
Sumit knocked on my door and I smiled, turning a monitor in the desk and slipping the unused toy into a drawer. "Coming!" If things went well with the violin Case, this would be the last blackmail I'd have to do, and I could turn straight.
With a smile I opened the door, happy to be the devil for just one more night.
In all the excitement I'd forgotten what Finn had been calling me about. My mistake, since he found his way past my locks and was standing over the couch when I opened my eyes.
"Jesus, don't you ever go home?" he said by way of greeting.
The clock said it was 8:09, past opening time. I sat up and yawned. "I think I have an apartment somewhere, I just forgot where." I opened my eyes to see he was grinning. I realized I was naked under the blanket, and jerked it up over my breasts, earning a sigh from him.
"I brought you crullers, coffee, and a clue. What first?"
"Let me get dressed?" I grumbled, and stood with the blanket around me like a toga.
His laughter followed me into the bathroom. I hadn't been kidding about the apartment. My last living relative, my uncle John, had left me the business and his apartment. I'd been there once in my life, lost the keys, and the only person who knew where it was, the lawyer, had died. All my stuff was there, but I didn't have much.
So I expanded the bathroom in the office to keep a shower in it, put in a closet, stuffed it full of suits, and kept a small kitchenette. It was adequate, or had been back when I was living off of bribes and blackmail. Now that I was living off a higher hog, maybe it was time I got some digs.
I showered and dressed quickly, frowning at my reflection. I'd been told I resembled Lena Olin, but felt that was kind. I needed to moisturize more, groom my eyebrows, and get a haircut. Hell, maybe some highlights.
Still damp I emerged, took the coffee from Finn's dangling fingers, and walked to the counter where the donuts lay. I opened my eyes fully after the first swig and grabbed two crullers before plopping down on the couch next to him.
"So?" I asked.
"The clue; I called the number. It was a disposable phone."
"Fuck," I said, and I meant it. Hard to trace, I'd have to call in a favor.
He raised an eyebrow, and my body tightened. "Since you were off the clock yesterday I tracked it down. Credit card belonging to none other than Viktor Petrov."
The true owner of the violin. "Double fuck," I said.
"Exactly what I was thinking."
I had four hours to do this before I had to meet Thomas, and all thoughts of making over myself left me with a sigh. But three o'clock I fully suspected I'd be behind bars.
The uniform still fit, though it had been too many years since I'd worn it. The badge was a fake, as was the wig, both from Finn. The wig was expensive and good, and from the smell I knew it had been in some of his movies.
The house was on the near south side, a huge affair of fieldstone that resembled a fortress. I rang the bell and pulled my hat lower over the blonde wig.