Rick Mallet Ch. 07-08

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Private dick pokes into a case.
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Part 5 of the 11 part series

Updated 06/10/2023
Created 11/15/2021
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Ch. 7 Velda Can Handle It

I ran into the office to check in with Velda. She was sitting in the swivel chair with her feet up on the desk, working a big blue dildo in her pussy. When I came in she pulled it out and tossed it into an open desk drawer. Her pussy lips gaped open like the Holland Tunnel, shining like pavement in the rain. She got up from my swivel chair and walked to the other side of the desk. Watching Velda stand up is like seeing a highlight from a Jane Fonda workout video. Seeing her backside when she walks is like a Sheila E conga drum solo. Some folks have rhythm, some don't at all; Velda has rhythms with a capital S.

"Rick, I was just thinking about you! Whatcha been up to?"

"Thinking about you too, doll face." I collapsed in my chair, suddenly tired. Interviewing Stonewoods was hard work.

Velda squatted a little and laid herself across the top of my desk. The desk edge on my side caught her underboob area, pressing the big D's up and forward. While her head was back I had a nice view down the happy valley. She reached down and forward into my lap. In minutes her nimble fingers freed my cock and her mouth re-imprisoned it. The velvet tunnel of her throat took me deep as she bobbed up and down my knob. I lay back for a moment and thought about my next move. On the case.

That worked for a while, but Velda's deep suction skills can't be ignored. I resorted to trying to remember if Yaz or Tony C actually had a better batting average in '69. But the count grew full, and Velda was winding up for the money pitch. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back. Staring into her eyes -- a golden hazel, not blue -- I told her, "I can't hold it back much longer, doll. Where do you want it?"

"I want to feel your pubes tickling my face while you pour man-juice down my throat. I'm hungry for your liquid love, Rick."

"Say no more!" She couldn't because I jammed her mouth back on my meat. I grabbed her head in both hands and pumped her face up and down my shaft. The chair was rocking and squeaking, the desk bumping and bucking across the floor. Her legs flailed the air behind her. She locked her fingers onto my chair arms and pulled me tight into her, sucking like a Hoover vacuum. Nobody sucks a cock like Velda.

I unloaded a towering blast. It was a wonder the back of her head didn't fly off.

She sucked it all down, and continued sucking as I softened and slid from her lips. Then she pushed back, stood up, straightened her clothes, wiped her mouth with her hand, and said, "Thanks, Rick. That was terrific."

"Velda," I said, "wrapped around my cock is your lips' natural home. Let's do this again real soon. But right now, we've got work to do."

"What's that, Rick?"

"You remember Felix Bottoms?"

"Your spook friend?"

"I think the currently acceptable terms are African-American or person of color, but yeah, him."

"I meant he's a spy. CIA, right?"

"That's him."

"Oh, I remember him. After the last time we saw him I couldn't walk right for a week. Sometimes a girl just needs a big dick in her ass, and Felix is the man."

"Right, Felix loves bottoms, and bottoms love Felix. Give him a call and see what he has on General Stonewood and his family, and on a Randy Mercury. Then get this check deposited if you have time." I handed her the check.

Her eyes widened at the figure, the way men's do at her figure. "What're you doing, Rick?"

"I gotta go out to Lucky Lewis's place."

"Be careful, Rick. Nothing good ever comes from that place. And say hi to Gina for me."

"Ok, doll. I'll see you soon."

Ch. 8 Th'Gina Packer

'World-Famous Th'Gina Packer, Three Shows a Day' Read the marquee sign. I walked under and through the door. The contrast between bright daylight and the dimness of Lucky Lewis's place took a beat to adjust to. A bored doorman blocked my way from the entry into the main hall. Over his shoulder I could see a pale and chubby bottle-blonde wobbling on a postage-stamp stage, nowhere near in rhythm with the throbbing bass line that made it hard to hear what the doorman was yelling. The big sign stating "$10 cover" helped me figure it out.

There were no customers at the bar; the only one in the room was laying dollars down at the naked blonde's feet like he was dealing blackjack.

Gina was behind the bar, and I could see the baseball bat on the shelf behind her. 'Three Shows a Day' climaxed with her shoving a third of it into her pussy, but even the World Famous Th' Gina Packer can't get by on just three shows a day, so she tends the bar too. She spotted me right away, and literally jumped over the bar to come hug me. All those nights of getting up to dance on it were keeping her in shape. She had on a sleeveless jumpsuit with a big brass zipper that ran all the way down between her legs and up to where the material opened at the top of her ass. Her DD breasts threatened to push the zipper open with every move. Her hair was a natural halo frizzing out a foot around her head. She had big brass hoop earrings, echoes of the hoop on the zipper pull nestled near the base of her cleavage. Her big brown eyes were older and wiser, but her skin was still smooth as milk chocolate. She was still, hands down and cock up, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

"Rick!" She hugged me hard and long, and she could tell I was hard and long before she stopped grinding against me. She glanced down with a grin. "Same old Rick. What are you doing here, Rick?"

"Poppin' a boner over you, Gina, as usual."

"Well, of course." She put her lips close to my ear and whispered, "My clit is popping rock hard over you too, lover." Then backed off. "But besides that?"

"I'm private now, and on a case. I need to talk to Lucky."

"Shit, Rick. That's fucked up. I mean, listen, Lucky's okay. He's gone straight. No more drugs here, none of that B-girl shit, no more blackmail. We're not hookers and strippers, we're sex workers now. But lately... Luscious Jackson's working for Lucky now, or with him. I dunno. He's with him now. Did you hear Jimmy Mack's getting out?"

"I didn't know that," I said. I should've known that. Jimmy Mack swore at his sentencing that I was a dead man. He was going to kill me and cut every "bitch that ever touched your dick," he'd said. That was aimed straight at Gina, among others. And now his brother Luscious was here at Lucky's.

"Gina, you need to watch out for those guys."

"I know it, Rick. I feel a lot safer now that you're here." She gave me another big hug. "I still owe you one, anytime, anywhere, any way you want it."

"What would Jazmin say about that?" Jazmin was Gina's wife. Jimmy Mack had turned them both out when they were just eighteen, and gotten them both hooked on smack. They'd gotten clean after he went away, and bonding over their shared hell, fallen in love and married.

"She's still struggling, and you know she doesn't like men, but she'd suck your cock in a heartbeat if you asked. She'd just as soon I did you for both of us."

"Maybe someday. When you get home kiss her for me, plenty of tongue." I winked.

"Plenty of tongue right up her cooter," Gina said, poking her tongue out and waggling it to show what she meant.

That's what I'm talking about," I said. "I gotta go talk to Lucky." I headed across the room.

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