Rick Mallet Ch. 01-02

Foreword: This story was meant to be an entry in the Mike Hammer tribute event, but I screwed up by writing too slowly. Then I set it aside, a little disappointed in myself. Now I think I'm ready to get back at it, but I figured I'd publish a couple chapters at a time, in hopes of some positive feedback to motivate me to write the second half of the story (shamelessly seeking reinforcement, I guess).

So here are chapters one and two of the six I've written so far.

Ch. 1 Back to Work

My office that year was on the third floor of the Hammett building on Chandler Blvd. The door had a frosted glass window with "Mallet Associates, Investigations" on it in plain script, and a bell that jangled when it opened. There was a waiting room with two unused chairs and a coatrack, and almost enough room to take your coat off, if you were Houdini. The four-panel wood door of the office opened out into it. The office had couch that had seen more action than the crack whores down on the corner, a filing cabinet with a coffee maker on top, a closet hiding a john and a sink, a visitor's chair, a desk, and my swivel chair.

I'd been out for a week while the place was fumigated by pest control after the giant rat of Sumatra case. I was sitting at the desk with one foot propped up on a drawer, going through the mail, and scaling every piece at the wastebasket. The mail didn't offer anything to justify having a secretary/receptionist, but every time Velda walked through the door two outstanding references preceded her, and every time she walked out she wrote a compelling argument for keeping her on.

She was kneeling between my legs, getting reacquainted with my cock by rubbing it all over her face, while I looked through the mail. She worked her two little white hands up and down its length, saying, "I've missed you so much."

I said, "I've missed you too."

"And I've missed you too," she replied. "but mostly I've missed this." She poked her little nose in my pee-hole, then slid her lips over the tip. Nothing turns me on more than watching Velda suck my cock. Her Cupid's bow mouth opens into a wide O; her eyes widen too; her rosy cheeks flush more deeply; her tongue works at the underside like a beckoning finger. If you've ever seen one of those wildlife documentaries where a snake dislocates its jaw to swallow a feral hog you have a rough idea what her face and neck look like when my private dick bottoms out in her throat.

In no time at all she was gurgling her rapture around my shaft, and I was trying to remember the batting averages of the '69 Red Sox to keep from blowing my load straight into her stomach.

She pulled her head off, leaving a lipstick ring around the base of my cock, and ropes of saliva dangling from her lips to the head. Giving the tip a little last love peck, she slithered out of the knee hole, turned around and laid herself across the desk. Reaching back with both hands, she flipped her skirt up onto her back and pulled her ass cheeks apart. Velda never wore panties to the office.

"Rail me, Rick!" She said. "I need your cock in my cunt."

I stood and pushed the chair away. I ran one hand up between her legs. She was wet, spread, and ready. I thumbed her clit and gave her mound a few slaps while I admired her ass. "Velda, your backside is the eighth wonder of the world," I said.

"You can ate it later," She cracked. "Fuck me now."

I hefted my cock with my hand, lined it up with her slit, and pounded it home. Her breath went out with a whoosh. The velvet-lined tunnel clasped at my cock. The desk groaned under the onslaught, its feet digging into the wood floor.

It was fast and furious, my fingers digging into her hips, her feet splayed out behind me. Fluid seeped out of her soggy snatch, spreading down the backs of her thighs and the front of mine.

She moaned out her passion. I grunted with every pounding stroke into her. Then she came, legs shaking as she collapsed completely on the desk. I sawed on through her climax and then unloaded my own deep into her.

"God, Velda, that was good."

"Rick, nobody fucks me like you do."

Just then the bell on the entry door jangled.

Quickly we straightened ourselves out. Velda was standing beside the desk, I behind it, by the time the inner office door opened.

A slender fortyish Vietnamese woman in a high-necked Ao Dai dress stood in the doorway. The embroidery emphasized her breasts, and the side slits went well above the top of her hips. She hadn't bothered with the pants that were traditionally part of the outfit. "Lick Mallet?" she asked.

"Any time," I answered. "I'm Rick Mallet."

"General Stonewood wants to meet with you, Mist' Mallet. He sent me with a car."

I said goodbye to Velda, and off we went.

Ch. 2 The Hummer

The "car" turned out to be a black Hummer limo. A punk flunky in gray livery held the door for us, then hustled around to mount up behind the wheel.

Over the engine's roar, the woman introduce herself. "I am Lily, General Stonewood's personal assistant."

I ran through what I remembered about General Stonewood: Vietnam war hero, to the extent there were any heroes in that war, from a long line of Army officers; retired and entered private contracting for the military, with some murky mercenary activity in that era of his life; a brief flirtation with right-wing state politics; and a long, increasingly reclusive dotage on a massive estate in the hills outside the city.

"What's the General want with me?"

"He plefew to explain himself. I have some question fo you." She turned toward me and put her hand on my thigh. Coincidentally or not, her fingers settled directly on my shaft where it lay along the inner thigh. Her eyes widened. "That answers one," she said, and licked her lips.

She turned toward the driver. "Owen! Eyes on the road, eals too."

The radio got louder in the front of the car.

"Police sources say you filed fo insuboldination and violating policy."

"I plefew to call it independent thinking."

"General Stonewood militaly man. Not fan of independent thinking."

Maybe he should call out the National Guard instead of hiring me."

"Fail enough. Why police call you Doggy?"

"I plefew to keep that to myself."

"I heal stoly flum othels. That okay. Still twenty minutes to estate. Business done fol now."

She took her hand from where it had been gently massaging my stiffening prick, and brought my hand up through the side slit of the Ao Dai. The second pantyless woman of the day, and not even 9:00 yet. It was another fast, hot ride, and the best half-hour I've ever spent in a Hummer -- twenty minutes to the estate, and another ten after we passed the gate and entered the grounds.