The Case Comes First

My name is Sean Murphy. Sean Ian Murphy. Good Irish name, right? Yes, and I am proud of my name. I am a private detective in Boston. Kind of like Sam Spade out in Cali... but maybe not as smooth or witty. Sitting at my desk in my small suite of offices, I am looking at a wall calendar indicating it is May of 1936.

Another way I differ from Spade... I have a pretty successful operation. My office manager, May, runs a tight ship for me. And I have a proven track record, which I attribute to a certain key to my success.

My feet up on the desk, a Camel I had just lit between my lips, I responded casually when my intercom buzzed. I pushed the button, "Yeah, doll."

May's lilting voice answered, "ACME Insurance is on line one. Sounds like they got our next gig, big guy."

They did. Some college on a Caribbean Island. One of their professors, the treasurer, had bought the farm with a heart attack. Okay, that happens... but the mil the university had in his safe, and a priceless diamond, had gone missing.

Paying would break ACME. Not paying would break the Paradise University. ACME was willing to pay big for a recovery. That's when they called me, their ace in the hole... they hoped.

I stood in my office as May straightened my tie and checked to ensure I was presentable.

Once she was certain I was ready, I caught a taxi to the airport and boarded the first of several brand-new DC-3 airliners it would take to make the long trip.

I never thought I was that much to look at, but either I am wrong or it's just the lack of a ring adorning my finger. You see, the key to my success is that while I am on a case, I abstain from sex. It has saved me numerous times from some dame distracting me, fogging my mind either incidentally or on purpose.

Sure enough, a red head named Margaret began chatting me up almost immediately on the plane. Until about Miami when she stormed off the plane at her stop, feeling rebuffed. She was hotter than a two dollar pistol, and if I hadn't been on a case, I would have lost a few days putting a twinkle in her eyes. But the case comes first. So nuthin' doin', baby.

The island was what the university claimed it to be, a paradise. Only the humidity distracted from the beautiful ocean views and the tropical scenery. The scenery also included many women of all ages wearing shorts and light tops, or bathing suits. I could get used to this.

I was met at the airport by the Dean's secretary. She was an absolutely gorgeous blonde who moved like a wildcat in heat. It seemed my resolve would be tested at every turn.

Rose said the coroner was examining professor Johnson's body, so perhaps we should go directly there. As she drove the old Ford, I explained I would like to be presented as a faculty member when we got to the uni... students and faculty might be put off by a private eye snooping around. When we got to the medical examiner's office she called the dean. It was decided I would be professor Smith, Professor Johnson's replacement. That worked for me.

Dr. Mortensen said there was nothing remarkable about the autopsy, except that he found unusually high levels of a chemical which would have raised the deceased person's blood pressure. There were signs he had been en coitus when he died, but nobody knew who with.

"So, doc... if the person who was engaged with him knew about this chemical, they would know extreme exertion could kill him?"

"Undoubtedly. I am ruling this a homicide unless you find something to tell me different."

I looked at the secretary. "Let's go see the dean, miss. Professor Johnson did not die of natural causes... poor bastard was literally fucked to death..."

The dean was taken aback when we informed him that theft was not the only crime involved. He and Johnson had been good friends, so learning his demise had been intentional if not violent really disturbed the old man. "I cannot think of a better way to go, but damn."

It was decided "Professor Smith" would take over Johnson's office, classroom and bungalow. This suited me just fine. If there was any evidence in any of these places, it would give me plenty of time to find it and research it with nobody being the wiser.

"So, boss, what did Professor Johnson teach?"

He understood my question. How far were we going to play the ruse? If this guy taught molecular biology or something, I could not pull that off. He smiled, "How's your knowledge of history, Mr. Murphy? Johnson knew more than anyone I know, but this semester he was teaching an intro class."

I relaxed a bit. "No degree, but that's my favorite subject. If I can get access to his lesson plans, I should be able to pull it off."

The secretary, Rose, interjected. "I taught high school history back in Kansas, so I can hold your hand if you need help..." How did women do that? She made the innane subject sound like an invitation to much, much more.

The dean blushed a bit. I simply replied, "I would appreciate that, ma'am."

Our plan worked well. Within a couple of days I had gotten a picture from other staff and students of Professor Johnson and his habits, and his demeanor.

Several people said they had seen Johnson with a well put together blonde in her twenties the day he died, but nobody knew who she was. No, she was not a faculty member, they would have recognized her. Yes, she could have been a student, because there were many matching the description on campus. Yes, it was possible she could have been a local, but it was not as likely as her being a student. Doris McGee confided, "You will notice once you've been here awhile... not many of the locals, um, fit the description." I nodded my understanding.

I was surprised at how well received I was, and that nobody seemed to suspect any of my inquiries were anything more than curiosity from Johnson's replacement.

They were correct that there was a plethora of nubile young things on campus. I was fortunate that Johnson was meticulous. Rather than simply a list of his student's names, he had a page for each of them in a file with their degree goals, their life goals, and most important to me, a photo of each so he could place them more easily in class.

This was not definitive, of course. Some of the other staff confided that over the years, Johnson HAD slipped a couple of times and had dalliances with his students. It was a no-no, but not one which was enthusiastically enforced. Too many of the enforcers were guilty themselves to judge others who could not resist young flesh.

I spent time reviewing his records and narrowed it down to six young women who fit the description. But I had nothing indicating the young woman was a student. It was more a process of elimination. I would look into these six, and then move on.

Over the next week I managed to find reasons to converse with all of them, working Johnson into the talk. Do they know who his companion was? I said it in a way that indicated it would be okay if SHE was the companion.

Three were very frank and obviously not who I was looking for. One seemed to me to swing the other way, so unlikely. One thought I was indicating that I was open to a teacher/student romp, and gave me her number, tracing her hand lightly up my arm. Could she be the one?

One of them, Danielle, became very nervous when I asked. She was evasive. So much so I could not get a read on whether she was my gal, or knew who was my gal. Or perhaps she had her own unrelated secrets.

I chose a time when the university was holding a big student rally to do a little clandestine digging. All of the students would likely be at the rally... free food and music.

I used the master pass key the dean had provided and slipped quietly into the first woman's dorm room. More of a suite. These were nice, with a small living area and a bedroom with a full-sized bed and a big walk-in closet. I moved methodically through the rooms, looking for anything which might indicate an intimate relationship with Johnson. Photos of him, love letters. A million dollars. Of course, I did not expect to be that lucky. But if ya don't swing, right?

I found nothing of use in this student's dorm suite. So, I checked my notes and walked to Danielle's suite in another dorm. I looked up and down the hallway, then slipped inside.

It was exactly the same layout, just with different decor. I checked the living area first, rifling through a small desk, books, even checking under couch cushions.

I had moved to the bedroom and was checking the nightstands when I heard the front door open, and then laughter.

Damn! Bad students! They had skipped the rally for their own party. I quickly moved into the closet, shutting the slatted door behind me softly.

Fortunately, the slats gave me enough light to see into the closet. One side was hanging clothing, the other side had shelving for towels, folded clothing and incidentals. I quietly moved behind the hanging clothes, having to sit to not be seen.

I heard two female voices and a deep baritone male voice enter the bedroom. Then things got quiet except for the rustling of clothing and what sounded like kissing. Then I heard the bed creaking and what sounded like sex noises. Oh, brother. Hopefully this guy would be a quick shot and I could get out of here soon.

I stood, and took the opportunity to check the shelves for evidence in the dim light while listening to moans and sighs from the bedroom. Checking everything I could, I looked out from the slats to see if I could get an idea how long I should expect to be trapped in the closet.

My eyes grew wide. On the bed a young black woman lay on her back. Above her was a young blonde woman, presumably Danielle, in a sixty-nine position. Standing behind the blonde was a very athletic young black man, and he was penetrating her from behind. As he sawed back and forth into her, I realized he had the longest, thickest penis I had ever seen.

Danielle's mouth had been on the other woman's sex, but suddenly she lifted her head and began crying out in ecstatic release. "Oh gawd! Oh gawd, Dewayne! Yes!"

She was pounding back against him now, matching the intensity of his strokes into her body. She was screaming now, begging him not to stop... never to stop. Her entire body was convulsing in orgasm after orgasm.

This seemed to go on for any eternity until finally "Dewayne" growled loudly and slammed himself fully into her while he spent himself inside her.

She collapsed onto the other woman, shuddering. The other woman was also shuddering, but with need, not release.

Dewayne disengaged and, to my amazement, his unbelievably huge cock was still unbelievably turgid.

Evidently the other woman was not surprised. She apparently expected it to be. In a sultry voice she demanded he "get the fuck over here and fuck me." She was not shouting, she was calm. But commanding.

Dewayne walked to the other side of the bed and without ceremony slid his cock into the other woman, giving her what she needed. Danielle rolled off of her and relaxed.

Having just experienced an orgasm, he seemed to have inhuman stamina. He alternated his pace, first using long, slow strokes, then pounding her relentlessly, then slow again.

She was moaning passionately, obviously experiencing multiple orgasms of her own. She was clutching at his biceps, her fingernails digging into them, leaving scratch marks down his arms. She never screamed like Danielle had, but she trembled and pounded against him in ecstatic release.

It took over half an hour before Dewayne cried out and locked their bodies together while he joined her, filling her with his cum.

After a few minutes they recovered and the woman sat up. She was absolutely magnificent. A big bright smile, large full breasts with huge areola and a mocha tinted body to die for.

They were laughing and chatting again now. Danielle said they better get around and make it to the showers before everyone else came back. She got up and moved towards the closet, so I retreated to my hiding place.

When she entered, she stood facing the hanging clothes, looking for a robe to wear. I was looking straight at her crotch. The pungent odor of sex was very strong, and I could see a rivulet of semen dripping down her left leg. Yep, they were going to need showers.

She stepped out and I heard Dewayne ask if she had something he could put on. When she said "sure" he entered the closet. Now I was staring at that slab of dark meat hanging heavily between his muscular thighs. It pulsed and I subconsciously pressed myself further against the wall as if it were going to assault me. He left, fortunately closing the door behind him.

I stood and peered out so I could see when the coast was clear. I realized the events had aroused me enough that my trousers were now damp.

Just as I reached the door, it opened again, and I was face to face with Danielle, who shrieked in surprise.

Dewayne bellowed, "What the fuck?!" Then he moved quickly and retrieved a.38 I had seen in the nightstand near where he stood. He pointed it at me, "Fucking pervert! Don't move!"

I considered pulling my gun from my belt beneath my coat. But I kept my head. These kids were not in the wrong. And besides, it would blow my cover.

Danielle had stepped back away from me. Now she said, "Professor Smith??"

Busted. But it was better than them knowing my real identity.

Dewayne had the presence of mind to order me onto my knees. His gun hand was shaking. I knew I could take him, but once again decided it was wiser to let this play out and complied.

They all discussed what to do with me. Turn me in? No. They couldn't. They were supposed to be at the rally. Besides, what would happen to Dewayne if the staff found out he was banging a white girl? Or to the girls if it was found out they swung both ways? (Remember, its 1936.)

I remained calm. This was going the right direction for me. They were going to decide we would all keep our secrets.

Then the black girl spoke up. "He should have some consequence. What if we didn't have to sneak down to the showers?"

We all looked at her confused. She simply pointed to me, then to her sloppy, jizz coated shaved sex. "If you clean us up, you can go, and we'll keep quiet."

I began to get one of the towels from the closet. "Uh-uh, mister. With your tongue, white boy. Me first, then Danielle."

Again, I had options, but chose not to take them. I slowly moved over to where she reclined on the edge of the bed. She too had rivulets of milky semen running down her legs and collected at her nether lips.

I had never been with a black girl before. It was not that I was opposed to it, but in those times, I felt I would have been taking unfair advantage. There was no questioning who was taking advantage of who in this scenario. I had also never tasted semen before. Well, that was not entirely true. There had been a masturbatory experiment with my own in my youth.

She took me by my hair and guided me to her thigh. "Eat."

I reluctantly did as I was told. Soon I had licked up all of Dewayne's leavings from her smooth thighs, and she pushed me into her plump labia.

The others were dumbfounded. They had never imagined such a thing. And they said so.

I figured in for a penny, in for a pound. After cleaning her outsides, I snaked my tongue inside of her as far as I could and sucked the remainder out of her. Then I began to bath her clit with my flattened tongue. When I pointed my tongue and began lashing her, she pushed back against me.

Dewayne spoke, "Okay, perv. You're enjoying this too much. Now its Danielle's turn."

Her voice was husky with passion. "Uh-uh. This ol' boy knows what he's doin'. Let him finish me..."

Reivingorated, I redoubled my efforts. Soon she had her long legs wrapped around my head and was fucking my face as she came even more violently than she had with Dewayne.

When she released me, a newly aroused Danielle pulled me forcefully to her crotch and used me for her own release.

Fortunately for me, when the woman looked to Dewayne, he said, "Oh, hell no. I'll take care of cleaning myself."

I was really glad to hear that. Because there would have been a fight. Sucking a dick was a hard no for me too.

So, the woman swatted me on the ass and told me to get out. Danielle hollered after me, "See you in class, Professor!"

As I walked back to "my" bungalow, their scent still on my face, I considered myself lucky. That was a wild experience, and none of their young minds had wondered how I had gotten into the dorm room, or why I was there.

The other good thing I got out of it... I now understood what Danielle had to hide and why she had been nervous. Having found nothing connecting her to Johnson, I could eliminate her unless something else came up to put her and her friends back in my sights.

To say my dedication to my temporary vow of chastity was tested in the coming weeks was an understatement.

Rose was true to her word about helping me prepare for my classes. And since she was privy to my real purpose, she would help me scan files also, and help garner information when I needed it, since she had contacts with everyone and a reason to ask questions. We spent a great deal of time together.

She also continued her advances. Both of us leaning over a desk or a coffee table discussing documents or photos, she always wore a low-cut top or dress, displaying her bountiful freckled cleavage for my appreciative eyes. She found reasons to lean in close and touch me frequently. When I apologized for my lack of interest, explaining my rule about abstaining during an investigation... rather than curtail her advances it was if I had thrown down a gauntlet. She only became more amorous. I only became more needy.

Then there was the general plethora of young flesh on campus. Added to that, little Miss Danielle now felt she had my number. She sat on the front row during my classes now, always wearing a short skirt or flowing dress. She would pretend to be focusing on my lecture, at the same time letting her legs fall open so that I... and only I... could see her bare snatch. She would smile at me to remind me I had been between those milky thighs, bringing to mind her scent and her taste; the memory of her fingers clasped in my hair as she came on my face.

I REALLY needed to resolve this caper.

I had exhausted all of the leads I had. I decided it was time for a gambit. Rose and I sat down with the dean. I suggested they "let it slip" that ACME had paid on the policy. The new treasurer, me, had the million dollars in his safe. But the university had learned its lesson. The money would be transferred to a bank on the mainland within the week. Of course, there was no money.

Sure enough, it only took a couple days before an incredible young dame showed up in my office asking for "advice" ... she had heard what an incredible instructor I was, and just wasn't understanding the nuances of the Gettysburg Address. Well, that was pretty easy to see through. Just like the sundress she was wearing with bountiful cleavage on display.

I imagine Yvonne had taken more time to work Johnson, but she knew her time was limited with me. She wanted to discuss history over drinks. What she had actually heard through the rumor mill was what a pervy letch I was, which worked to my benefit.

She figured my being able to see her bare mound silhouetted through the flimsy white sundress would have me eating out of her hand. I have to admit, under less murderous circumstances, it would have. I needed to get laid, and how.

We had the drinks at a bar in town. She was all over me, practically making out in full public view. My pants were damp with pre-cum. She invited me back to her bungalow in town... some wealthier students did live off campus.

As she stood completely nude in her bedroom, her body amazing, she handed me another drink and wrapped her arms around my neck. I kissed her deeply, then sat the drink on a nearby table. I quickly withdrew a small pill from my coat pocket and dropped it into the drink. Sure enough, just like the lab guys had told me, it immediately turned a bright blue in reaction. She had given me the poison she had given Johnson.