Her Private Eye

Marsh washed his hands and face in the kitchen sink and gave a meaningful glance into the backyard. It was time to go.

However, behind him, I saw Cassidy stand up. She had taken something from Marsh's gym bag and was stepping into it. She walked into the kitchen as well, wearing a huge purple strap-on. From the backyard her voice was muffled, but I heard her say, "Time for round two. Take off your pants, pretty-boy."

Marshal turned around at the sink. In front of him, Cassidy's naked body glistened. She had taken lube from the bag as well, and now squirted a small dollop onto the shaft of the strap-on. With one hand she stroked the strap-on, spreading the lube over its glistening length. Cassidy face was like stone. She said, "This time I'm in charge. I want you to take down your pants and bend over the sink."

Marshal shook his head. I heard his muffled voice reply, "I'm done for tonight, baby. I need to get back to my studies."

Cassidy shook her head. "I don't think so. You had a good time being boss-man out there. Now it's my turn. Now your ass is mine."

All the talk of power was getting to her. Cassidy's nipples stood out and her face was flushed with erotic energy. She started walking towards Marshal.

Again Marshal said no. "I'm all done for tonight. I'll be heading out."

He started to edge around Cassidy, but the kitchen was small. She laughed and pushed him back to the sink. Then she reached over to the counter and grabbed a knife. "How about a little roleplay? You're a real-estate agent getting a house ready, and I'm an intruder looking for action. You need to close the deal by opening up those ass cheeks."

Marsh gave a wild look out the kitchen window. My heart was pounding and my own erotic energies had vanished. I quickly fumbled with my camera, then aimed at the window.

FLASH!

The light erupted over the backyard and into the kitchen. Cassidy looked up towards the window. "What the hell?" she asked. Once again I took a picture with the flash on. Cassidy raised a hand over her eyes, blinking rapidly. "Is there someone out there? Taking pictures?" Her confusion started to turn to anger as red blushed over her face.

Marshal didn't waste a moment. He bowled into Cassidy, laying his shoulder into her stomach. Cassidy tumbled to the floor. I heard the knife clatter onto the tile kitchen floor. Without a look back, Marsh grabbed his gym bag and fled out the door.

I, too, was running towards the front yard. Together, we charged towards the truck. I jumped into the driver's seat as Marsh hopped into the passenger's. In the rearview mirror I could see Cassidy standing slumped in the lit front door. My truck gave a shot, a whine, and a cough- and then died. Silent but for the frogs.

"Shit!" Marsh swore. "Start the fucking car!"

Cassidy started walking towards us, still buck naked. Moonlight ran like water over her bare tits and thighs, and glinted from the knife in her hand.

I turned the key again. I heard the shot, the whine, the cough- and then the grumpy rumble of the engine. I slammed the accelerator and we shot down the block, half on the sidewalk half on the road.

At each turn away from the cul-de-sac, my heart slowed a little.

Marshal, too, was calming down in the passenger's seat. I heard his deep breaths, in through his nose and out through his mouth. There was a smell of fear, sweat, and pussy.

We slowly wound our way through the night, back towards her office. Once again, Marshal navigated. For some time, those were the only words between us.

I felt, though, like I needed to talk about the evening. Flashes of the night, like pictures in my camera, kept popping up before my eyes. Marshal with Cassidy in his lap, fucking her mouth with the dildo. Marsh's face buried in Cassidy's pussy. Cassidy holding the knife.

"Mashal, I-"

"Marsh."

"What?" I asked.

"Marsh," he replied. "Those close to me call me Marsh."

"Okay. Marsh, I... I'm glad you're okay."

"Me too," Mash replied, once again in his voice without emotions. "You did good, kid. Now keep your eyes on the road, I'm going to change."

And beside me, Marsh undressed. I kept my eyes on the road, but my brain was busy analyzing what was happening in the side of my vision. Marsh reached up and took off the gray fedura. In a sudden streetlight, I saw his tight curly hair, cut very short, not with a bald spot, but with a large mean-looking scar running halfway across his scalp. I tried not to see anything else after that.

Part Three: Consequences

Back in his office, Marsh counted out a stack of hundreds and passed them to me.

"Let's upload the photos, and then I've just got paperwork to do."

He cleared a space for my camera on his crowded desk, then plugged it in and clicked 'Upload All.'

"There are some, um, non-professional pictures on there," I told Marsh, thinking of the photography assignments of trees, flowers, and architecture.

"I'll sift through them," Marsh said. Idly, he picked up something black from her desk. "You ever use one of these?"

It was a revolver, black and shiny. Involuntarily, I took a small step back. "No! But why didn't you bring that tonight?"

Marsh shook his head. "If I had shot the lady, we wouldn't get paid." He gave a little snort and a half-smile. "I guess you shot her instead."

I couldn't help what I said next. "Well you got a shot off too."

There was a moment of silence in the room. My face flushed. Then Marshal laughed, a loud, awkward, honest laugh.

"You're good!" he chuckled. "I'll definitely call you for the next job."

Marsh handed me back my camera. "I've got an hour or so of paperwork to do-"

I stammered, "Okay, I'll head home."

"Oh!" Marsh looked surprised. He straightened the brim of his cricket cap. "Yeah, that makes sense. It's late."

"Oh, were you..." I trailed off. I could not read my employer's expression.

"Well, I was going to suggest we get Thai. There's a 24-hour place around the corner."

"Yeah, I've been there!"

"It's shitty but it's open," Marsh paused. "But you're right. It's late. Go home and um..." he snorted once again, "get back to your studies."

I hesitated a moment too long. I honestly couldn't believe Marshal was inviting me to stay up later with him and share a meal. His flat affect and black eyes were unreadable, but the room had suddenly bloomed with heat.

"Goodbye, Marsh."

I walked back to my car.

At home, Andy was sleeping on the couch. I tried to shut the door quietly, but he awoke. He was wearing his same small gym shorts, but this time he had a big lumpy college sweatshirt on with it. He looked adorable, peeking out from the oversized hood.

"Hey detective," he muttered sleepily. "How was the case?"

He must have seen something in my face, because he sat up and patted the couch next to him. "That bad, huh? Oh well, I'm sure other chances will come to be a PI."

I shook my head and plopped down next to him. Andy, without even thinking, put a protective arm over my shoulder. I settled my weight against him. "It wasn't bad at all," I said. "In fact it was... really exciting!"

Andy looked into my eyes, his thick black eyebrows crinkling. "Really? Did you actually take pictures of people... you know..." A slight blush crept over his neck and cheeks.

I licked my lips, unsure of what to tell him. I decided to tell a censored version of the night. A more legal version. "Actually Andy...I did! A woman was cheating on her husband in the houses he was trying to sell."

"What a bitch! But also, that's kind of kinky, having an affair in a brand new house where people will soon be living." He shivered a little, and squeezed me tight. I saw goosebumps popping up on his exposed legs beneath the gym shorts. Absentmindedly, I rubbed Andy's thigh to get some warmth back in it.

"The lady caught us, too, and chased after us with a knife. My car wouldn't start at first, and we just barely got away."

Andy stared at me with open amazement. This was possibly the most exciting story I'd ever told him.

"Holy shit, May. You're a real detective!"

I don't know what overcame him, but he reached up, grabbed my face, and kissed my forehead.

"I'm glad you're okay," he said. "Though I guess I don't need to worry with such a badass best friend!"

I laughed, and he slid from my side and stumbled to his bedroom door. "Goodnight, May," he said, glancing at me for more than a moment.

"Goodnight, Andy."

And as he shut the door, I repeated in my head over and over, 'He's gay. He's gay. He's gay.' And these words seemed to wrap up the absurdity of the evening, as before I knew it I had fallen asleep in the warm hollow Andy had left on the couch cushions.

The next day passed in a haze. I'd hardly slept, and in class my mind kept drifting to my adventure the night before. Everything felt so flat compared to the excitement I'd felt taking pictures of Cassidy and Marshal. And every time I thought of Marsh, I saw him with that black dildo in hand, holding Cassidy's face against the back of the loveseat, pumping the dildo in and out of her pussy until she came. All throughout the day, my own pussy was warm and wet, and my hard nipples teased against my t-shirt. I kept having to take deep breaths in private places to calm down. But then I'd think of Marsh once more and feel heat spreading between my legs and over my neck and face.

I was sitting in class trying to calm my body when the guy beside me asked, "Have you finished your architecture photography project?"

I blanched. I'd totally forgot! Erik, the guy beside me, read my face and ran a hand through his shoulder-length blond hair. "Oh no! I did mine on Hearst Castle, have you ever been?"

He started telling me all about the modern day castle, but my mind was racing. I was supposed to take pictures of the same building in four different lights, illuminating different aspects of its architecture. I glanced outside. It was mid-afternoon, and the sun was shining down, but you could see fog gathering on the horizon. If I started now, I could take a picture in the clear sunlight, then in the fog, then in the dusk, and finally at night. But where to go?

Suddenly, I knew just the place.

I tore out of class, and forced my car down to the Mission-style building where Marsh had his shop. The white adobe walls, small deep-set windows, and narrow staircases would catch the light or cast various shadows as the weather changed.

Before taking pictures though, I texted Marsh.

-Are you in the office?-

I might be able to get a few shots from inside his office. A detective in an office park, squirreled away with his fedora and a portrait of Humphrey Bogart. I imagined for a humored moment taking Marshal's portrait. How would I have him stand? Holding the revolver? In one of his hats?

My imaginary Marshal was wearing his trench coat. Then he took off the trench coat. Underneath he wore nothing but his tight orange briefs. In my imagination he reached into the trench coat pocket and took out a big black dildo. With his dark eyes, he commanded me to unbuckle my belt, pull down my pants and panties, and bend over.

My phone buzzed with a reply from Marsh. -No. Computer died, trying to get it repaired. Why?-

-Nevermind.-

I spent the rest of the day patiently photographing the Mission-style architecture of the office park. My instincts had been correct. As the fog rolled in, the white building became ghostly, devoid of shadows. Archways melted into staircases, and it seemed like one big shapeless mass. Then as the streetlights turned on, the building turned yellow, like an old canvas. The shadows became blue in the fog, a shadow staircase climbing the wall.

When I parked back home, I thought again of last night's conversation with Andy. More and more his behavior seemed strange. He had snuggled right up to me last night, practically placing me in his lap. I shook my head. Maybe it would be better to work outside of the apartment.

I walked through the dusk to Coffee & Pie. Inside were the night-time regulars, those ending a late day or starting an early evening. The boy was at the counter, wearing a brick button-down work shirt with the top three buttons undone to show a bare chest. I smiled at him.

"Americano and a slice of pie?"

"Just the pie."

"Cherry's good today."

"Alright."

"That'll be $3.50."

"Here you go."

"Thank you."

I sat down and started uploading the pictures of the office park onto my laptop. On photoshop, I adjusted contrasts, cropped the photographs, and searched for the four best entries for my project. I noticed the coffee shop boy purposefully look at my screen as he dropped off the slice of cherry pie. Today he wore these tight blue jeans dusted with flour. A smell of fresh-baked bread and vanilla seemed to float around him. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, showing off his dragonfly tattoo and another one of a sprouting acorn. I smiled at him, and he smiled back.

"Where's that?" he asked.

"Oh, just a nearby office park. I actually work for someone over there."

"Taking pictures?"

I paused for a moment too long. "Yeah"

He gave me an odd look, then returned to the counter. I swore to myself. When would I ever not be awkward with this guy?

Just then my phone buzzed. It was a message from Marshal.

-Did you delete last night's photos?-

I felt my heart drop. Was I supposed to? Marsh hadn't mentioned anything when we got back to his office. But then again, I was carrying digital copies of, basically, amatuer illegal porn on my camera.

I replied. -No. But I can right away!-

I picked up my camera, ready to wipe the memory clean. Then Marshal replied. -No, don't. My computer is totally dead. I need new copies. I'll check in with you later.-

I put my phone down and started to take a bite of pie. But my phone buzzed again. This time it was a message from Andy. I put down the fork and read it.

-I need to talk with you right now. Please come home.-

Now what could that mean? Possible reasons for his message flooded my mind. Had I made some kind of mistake as a roommate? Was I crossing a boundary from friend to predator? Was Rob moving back in? Or worst of all, had Andy realized I'd seen him masturbating the other day?

I realized I'd lost my appetite. I grabbed my computer and rushed out of Coffee & Pie.

The entire walk home, my heart pounded in my chest. I ran over the lawn and opened the door. Inside, the apartment was dark. Andy was sitting on the couch. He wore a tight white tank-top and his boxer-briefs. He sat with his legs crossed and his hands placed on his knees. The tank-top clung to his sculpted pecs and abs, picking out every curve of muscle. And with his legs spread, I couldn't help but see the outline of Andy's sizable cock. Andy looked at me, biting his lower lip. It was an odd set-up for a serious conversation.

"Andy-" I started, but a sharp voice interrupted me.

"Close the fucking door."

From out of my bedroom walked a familiar, thin-framed figure. Cassidy was dressed in a tight crimson long-sleeved shirt that comfortably cupped her round breasts, and a high-waisted black pencil skirt. She had on stilettos that raised her height so that she looked down menacingly at me. Her hair was loose and a little wild, a curled strand stuck to her cheek. She looked powerful and barely in control. A black briefcase lay by her feet. In her hand she held a tire iron.

I closed the door.

"Wh- who are you?" I blustered, trying to pretend I didn't recognize the woman.

"Cut the shit," she said, motioning with the iron for me to sit on the couch. "Go sit with your little boyfriend before I bash his head in."

I sat down next to Andy. He took my hand.

"He's not my boyfriend," I muttered.

"Oh what, stuck in the friendzone?" Cassidy teased. "Well guess what? I've got it worse. If you show my husband those pictures, I'm going to be stuck in a divorce. One in which I lose everything!"

He spat the last word and swung the iron, knocking over a jar of change we keep by the door. It shattered, spraying coins in every direction.

"So you're going to give me your camera, and I'm going to bash it to pieces."

I suddenly gasped. I had my backpack on, and my laptop in my hands, but I'd left my camera at Coffee & Pie.

"I don't have it. I left it at the coffee shop."

"BULLSHIT!" Cassidy screamed. She swung the tire iron down on our cheap coffee table, cracking the plywood in half.

My heart lurched. I clutched Andy's hand tighter. I thought of my cellphone in my pocket. If I could reach in and call 911, they might overhear our situation. I started to maneuver my hand towards my pocket.

But Cassidy saw me.

"Oh, great idea!" she cried out. She walked over, bruskly jammed her hand into my pocket, and grabbed my phone. She tossed it into the air and with a twhack! knocked it into pieces in mid-air. "Twelve years of softball!" he crowed.

"Listen Cassidy," I said. "I'm telling you the truth. I left my camera at the coffee shop because I panicked when I got Andy's message."

"That was her messaging you," Andy muttered. "I'm so sorry I got you in this situation."

I shook my head. "No Andy, it's my fault. I don't know how she found me but this is because of what I did last night."

Cassidy laughed. She was enjoying being in a position of power, just as she had last night when she walked into the kitchen with the gleaming strap-on. "Quite the Batmobile you have there. I could hear you driving away for ten minutes. All I did today was drive around listening to cars. And when I heard yours, I followed it. What a piece of shit rust-bucket. No wonder you're taking dirty pictures of strangers, you fucking creep."

"Cassidy, I swear, I don't have the camera," I said, my voice shaking.

Cassidy crossed her arms, the iron hanging by her side. "I'm not leaving until I get what I want."

Andy spoke up. "If you can't get the pictures, is there anything else you want? I have some money, or my computer."

Cassidy grinned. She eyed Andy, her gaze creeping from the muscles barely bound by his tank-top, to the obvious shape of his dick in the boxer-briefs. I saw Cassidy's nipples press up beneath her crimson shirt. Cassidy bent down and opened the black briefcase. She took out the purple strap-on.

"I'll get what I couldn't get from your man-slut of a friend last night. A good ass-fuck. Bend over and I'll let your detective friend go and get her camera."

Cassidy reached behind herself and unzipped her pencil skirt. Deftly, she lowered the skirt and stepped out in her high-heels. Underneath she wore lacy black panties. Her eyes still on Andy, she then stepped into the strap-on and buckled it around her waist. She reached up and spat loudly into her hand, then started stroking the purple head and shaft. In her other hand, she still held the tire iron.

"Do I need to break something else? Stand up sweet boy, and bend over the couch. I think that'll be a good shot for the voyeur here."

Andy and I looked at each other. The strap-on gleamed, huge and erect, at least ten inches long, and I could see fear in Andy's eyes. I shook my head. "No way, Andy. You can't let her do that to you."

Cassidy roared in laughter. "I didn't say it had to be her. You've got a tight little ass too."

I gulped. I imagined what it would be like, bent over the couch. Feeling the purple head of the strap-on pressing against my asshole. Feeling the pressure build, my asshole spreading, the lubricated head of the cock going in, in, feeling my asshole pushed in all directions as more of the dildo entered me, Cassidy holding the back of my head down and Andy watching.

Andy took my hands and looked deep into my eyes. "May, go get your camera. I can take it."

"No," I shook my head. "This is my fault. I'll survive. Anyways," I tried to grin bravely, "you're gay, so it'd be as bad for you too."