The Slutty Detective

The sex itself was great. We met at his place, and we kissed just like we always used to begin. Little by little my clothes left my body. Eventually I was nude as we kissed. A little later, once I reciprocated, Matt too was nude. No words were spoken, since I knew what he wanted. I leaned over his lovely cock, happily noticing that it had not changed. I'd always loved his cock; loving his cock was a natural consequence of loving him.

As I began to lick his cock, alternating my mouth licking it and my hand pumping it, he closed his eyes. His hand reached for my boobs. I felt as if we were performing a choreographed dance. "I want you to swallow my cum this time," Matt said.

"You know I don't do that, Matt," I said.

"Tonight you will," he said.

I did not reply, I just continued blowing him, eventually taking his whole shlong down my throat in my patent pending maneuver. He began to groan. If he can change things up, so can I, I thought, and I began to finger his asshole, even as I was deep throating him. This startled him and his body shook slightly, but he did not say anything. I probed a little deeper inside his asshole with my finger and he unloaded down my throat. I swallowed it all. One has little choice if the man's cock is down your throat.

Afterwards we cuddled nicely for a while, and then he went down on me. God, how I loved the way that man ate me out. That alone gave me regrets for having broken it off with him. After I had a lovely orgasm thanks to his talented tongue, he mounted me and beautifully and tenderly fucked me in missionary position. As is my custom, I moaned out my appreciation.

Sex with Mike is like another meal at my favorite Italian restaurant. I begin with my favorite pasta dish, then have the fish, all washed down with a delicious Umbrian white wine. It's always the same although sometimes the vegetable garnish might change according to the season, and always satisfying. It's not surprising, it's not titillating, but it is lovely, enjoyable, and forgettable.

Afterwards however I felt cheap and tawdry, but as Anne had said, I use whatever means is necessary. I had paid Matt's price of a blowjob and a fuck, and now I had a reliable pipeline into whatever the police knew. Sadly, that was precious little. I put the tawdry aspect out of my mind and concentrated on remembering how much fun I had. Giving Matt a blowjob was always fun, especially because he would always return the favor and eat me out as well. Truth be told, too, I simply love to fuck, and fucking an old flame is less outrageous in my mind then fucking someone new, just to get information.

My next approach was the financial one. I had another old boyfriend, Jack, who was a junior executive at one of major the hedge funds Mr. Eberlein had controlled. He owed me a favor, so I met him for drinks and asked for his help. I was nervous, because in contrast with my breakup with Matt, my breakup with Jack had been nasty. I had actually loved Jack. He could do things to me nobody else ever could. He could send me to the moon and back.

Despite the depth of our love, I felt that I had to get away from him in order to survive. He was much too controlling, and even violent at times. The breakup was nasty, and Jack fought it tooth and nail. Words were spoken. Pottery was thrown. Threats were made. It's over now, and we've both finally moved on. This is why I approached him with some trepidation. My plan was to get him to help me to figure out who would benefit in the extreme with the death of Mr. Eberlein.

One of the differences between the police and men who work in hedge funds, is that men in hedge funds think on a bigger scale. They also think on a bigger sexual scale. It's also a sleazier sexual scale.

It's always hard for me to get my head around just how many girlie bars Wall Street men keep in business. The girls who work at them are pretty, too. They come over and sit on your lap half naked. They hold the straws of your drinks for you. You are not ignored if you're a woman. The only sexual preference of the women working in those bars is humans. I think. I did not see any large dogs around, anyway.

These women typically are pretty and sexy. They're good at their job. They can make a man feel as if he is the center of the universe and the only thing in the world the woman cares about. For an hour or so, anyway, they can do it, and of course for a fee. Jack figured I could do all that, and even better I was free. He was going to pay me with information.

Begin an ordinary heterosexual woman, however, I found the girlie bar gross. I tolerated it, because I wanted Jack's help. I'll give Jack one thing, though. It is a seriously good place to discuss business in confidence. Jack is bleeping smart, too, and he gave me lots of ideas. I began to think it was a miracle nobody had bumped off old Mr. Eberlein earlier! I had way too many suspects. Damn.

Like Matt, Jack gives away nothing for free. He also does not care about money. I had to pay him in America's other currency: sex. I knew this, of course, and I had prepared myself psychologically to give him a blowjob, too. Giving old lovers blowjobs was not that horrible for me. And, after all, we had been lovers, and I still did care for the man. I also knew, however, that nothing was ever simple nor straightforward with Jack.

I had enjoyed enough nostalgia sex with Matt and I was no longer horny, not even a little bit, but that was my problem. Jack did not care. He insisted. I had not realized the extent to which I had hurt him when I dumped him and apparently, he was still angry. He was going to help me but he wanted his pound of flesh. He was of course more metaphorical than Shylock was in the Merchant of Venice.

Expecting a request for a blowjob, I asked Jack what he had in mind. I was startled by what he requested. I was dressed in dress that was short, hose, and the requisite high heels. "I need you to undress to your waist. Remove your blouse and your bra," Jack said.

"This may look like a blouse and skirt, but it's actually a dress, Jack," I replied. I added, "Anyway, you're kidding, right?" I said. I actually truly thought that he was indeed kidding and trying to rile me.

"No, I'm not. That's just the beginning, too, my beautiful ex-lover," Jack said.

"Jack, if you were not angry with me, we would not even be talking in a place such as this," I said.

"That may be," Jack acknowledged, "but I am in fact angry, and I want to see you topless. Now. Here," he said.

"Aren't there some of your colleagues here, too? They'll see me exposed. I can't just undress in a public place like this!"

"Who will notice? You're almost the only woman here with covered boobs, anyway," Jack said.

I looked around. He was right. Sometimes a group of Wall Street co-workers would adjourn to a girlie bar, and the young females in the group would tag along, since a lot of key information and financial tips was passed around at those places, after work. They gritted their teeth I'm sure, but they felt they had to go along. There were two or three such unhappy women there, and they were being ogled as much as I was. Seeing their pretty faces and nicely curvy bodies, I could understand why they too were being ogled.

Nevertheless, I had to admit, the idea of exposing myself a little in a place such as this girlie bar did turn me on. I'm sure I was the only female customer who would get turned on by such a thought, although I was old enough and had seen enough by then to have known that one never knows. The key thing for me was that Jack's voice was so masculine, so commanding, that I knew it would turn me on to comply. I never could resist him. That's why I left him, after all.

My dress had bare shoulders except for two thin straps, and my bra was strapless. I slipped the two straps off my shoulders and down my arms. Now my boobs and the tight fit of the dress held it in place. I began to lose courage. I looked at Jack, pleading with my eyes.

"Keep going June," Jack said. I had known that's what he would say, even if I had hoped he would take pity on me.

I could tell he meant it, and I felt just then I really did need his help. It was sexist and humiliating, but I continued, probably blushing a deep red as I did it. I pushed the dress down to my waist, so that I was sitting there in just my strapless bra.

Given the size of my boobs, my bra was a nice piece of engineering. It held them up and prominent. Without the bra, my boobs could have held up several pencils at once, if someone had foolishly applied the pencil test on my boobs. I failed 'the pencil test' for the first time at the age of fourteen.

I did not want to take off my bra and reveal to the world just how little the tensile strength of my flesh could hold up my boobs, even if Jack already knew this. Jack knew my entire body already, every detail, inside and out. He knew how to drive me to the edge of passion just with his fingers and then send me falling over the cliff with his talented cock. He knew he could turn me into his sexual slave with his talents. I was still afraid of exactly that.

Jack's eyes got wide and a smile crept onto his face. When I pushed down the top of my dress I had almost expected Jack to start panting. Now I stood out, sitting there in a bra and dressed completely below the waist. Also, I have a rather spectacular rack, or so I'm told. Many of the sexy near naked women working there were small breasted. It's an advantage to have small boobs if you're to be without a bra for hours at a time.

As we sat there, Jack found his voice, saying, "The bra goes, too." My bra was an expensive, strapless lace bra from Italy, made with underwire for support. Sometimes my bra will set off the alarms at TSA when I travel by airplane. Fed up with that, since I would have to be patted down, I was now in the habit of traveling by airplane with a sagging bra, and one time with no bra at all. I only did that once, due to the amazing amount of leers I got from horny men.

I knew he wanted that. I had to hear him say it, though. Following his orders made it sexy. I got up, stood in front of Jack and turned my back to him. He unhooked my bra, and I slipped it off my shoulders, and down my arms. It was off. I was now exposing my boobs to Jack, to all the half-naked women there already exposing their own boobs, and to all the male customers leering at the women. A lot of them now turned to leer at me. I guess there's something special about an amateur exposing herself.

"Go to the bar and get me a drink," Jack said. He just wanted to make me parade around in my half naked state, and to watch my boobs bounce around as I were to do so.

"Jack, there's table service here," I said.

"Do it anyway. Take off your hose, too," he said. He was using his commanding voice again.

"Which do you want first?" I said, using my submissive voice. I'm not a submissive, at least I don't think I am, but it was fun to pretend to be one. I had often felt compelled to submit to Jack in the past, when we were a couple. At times, Jack liked kinky sex. Occasionally, he liked very kinky sex. I had always complied, giving him what he had wanted, usually without hesitation.

Following Jack's dictates, I removed my hose rather flamboyantly, and when Jack ordered it, I slipped off my panties, too. I was now putting on quite a show. Now all that I still had on was the short, flouncy skirt of the bottom half of my dress, and my high heels. I also of course was still wearing my big hoop gold earrings. Jack changed his order to three margaritas.

I walked to the bar showing off my rack in a mixture of shame and pride. I returned with three margaritas, a bit of a feat in itself. Jack directed me to bring one of the margaritas to a certain guy who was sitting three tables over. He was one of Jack's work colleagues. Following instructions, I went to his table, just as he was reading a text. I said, "This is courtesy of your friend Jack Green."

The man smiled, said thank you, and then said, "Come here. Come closer." I complied. He fondled my boobs and stuck a hand up my skirt, stroking my bare behind. He smiled when he realized I was without panties. His hands were going for the gold. His smile got broader when I did not protest his impudence, as his finger stroked my moist slit.

"Excuse me," I said. "I must get back to Jack." I walked away seconds before he would have begun to finger me. Had I let him begin to finger me, I knew I would have been lost. I was already so aroused it was almost painful. When I returned to Jack, he had his cock out of his pants and it was erect. It was even throbbing. Jack's cock looked angry. It looked nice, it looked appealing, but it looked angry, too. I knew that cock well. I knew it very well. The mood of his cock would often reveal the mood of Jack himself.

"Sit on it, June," he said.

I should have expected this, perhaps, but I was shocked, even apoplectic. "No," I said. "Absolutely not! I'm not going to fuck you in a public place, on display, in front of all of these people," I said quietly, in measured tones. "It's enough -- more than enough -- that I am almost naked. I even let your friend over there feel me up under my skirt, for Pete's sake!"

"Sit on it, June," Jack repeated. He added this time, "Drape your skirt around us; that way nobody will see me fucking your gorgeous cunt."

"No," I said. Then I made a mistake. I added, "Everyone will know we're fucking."

"You don't think everyone here already knows you're getting fucked tonight? The only question is when and where."

"I won't do it," I replied. Jack could tell my resolve was weakening. It was detectable, probably only to him, in my voice. He knew I had always eventually bent to his will, and I guess he thought I would this time, too.

"Look babe, I'm being nice here. You don't have to be naked, you can keep your skirt on, and we don't have to it doggy style on the table. Don't push my limits, or I'll stop being so nice," Jack said, and there was a bit of menace in his voice. I knew what that meant. I knew it only too well.

As I had done so many times before, I caved. I said, trying to sound authoritative but probably sounding laughably pathetic, "The rest of my dress and my high heels stay on."

"Of course, they do, sweetheart. Now sit on it," Jack replied. He was stifling a chuckle.

"If I do this, the debt is paid," I said. He nodded. I climbed up on his lap, letting my skirt drape around us for a pathetic amount of privacy and deniability. I was already good and wet. It felt amazing to slide down on his cock in public like that. I knew I had to be already seriously wet, because his cock felt wonderful as it slid easily inside me. Quite a few people were watching us! Once again, I felt extreme shame combined with gigantic arousal. I could not remember ever having been turned on to this extent.

We humped in public, right there in the girlie bar, with his friends from three tables away staring at us, open mouthed. I tried not to catch anyone's eye. I tried just to enter my own world. I failed at both goals, totally. The shame I was feeling, combined with the huge turn on by openly fucking with tons of voyeurs, was driving me wild.

I knew every other man there right then wanted to be in Jack's place. I also knew none of them ever would be. I could do something like this only for Jack. He and only he could control me this way.

I was bouncing up and down on his cock, so it was obvious what we were doing. At one point about ten minutes into the fuck Jack lifted the front of my skirt so that he could watch his cock act like a piston going in and out of my soaking wet pussy at breakneck speeds. Some other people could see his cock pummeling me too, as by then several men were standing around us, watching intently.

I was embarrassed, but at the same time so turned on that I had three orgasms during that one thirty-minute fuck. I tried to be quiet about them but I only succeeded to a limited extent. I'm intrinsically noisy when it comes to sex. I know most women can be as quiet as church mice if they want to when fucking, but I am just not made that way. I have to concentrate to be quiet, and that's hard to do when I am climaxing. It was obvious to everyone Jack was driving me to those climaxes. This had never even remotely happened to me before.

My boobs bounced around excessively as we fucked, signaling to everyone who glanced our way that we were blatantly fucking. There was no deniability. This too turned me on, I don't know why. Jack finally filled me with his cum, and when I eventually disengaged, I stumbled to the ladies' and tried to calm down and get dressed.

I returned to the table all dressed. I tried to look as if I still had a little dignity left as I sipped my margarita. Jack was gloating. He was getting texts every few seconds. I glanced over and across our table at the texts. They texts were from some of his colleagues who were also at this particular girlie bar that night, saying things like, "Wow," and "Where did you find her?" and "Can I have her next?" One of them said, "Isn't she June, your old girlfriend, the submissive? God, she is hot!"

A few of the texts had cell phone photos of Jack fucking me. In one, my face had a look of sexual bliss on it. Jack smiled at all of them, but he did not send any texts to reply. We made arrangements to meet the next day and for him to tell me more of what I felt I needed to know. I had just "paid" for the information in advance.

As I finally got up to leave, I said, "You were fairly sure I would comply with your outrageous demands tonight, weren't you?"

"June, you were never a difficult girl to get into bed. It's one of the many things I love about you," Jack said. "I did not fully realize until tonight however what a spectacular exhibitionist you are, too. I should never have let you get away. I hope you need more information soon."

I thought to myself, 'I dumped you, you moron. You did not let me get away. You could not have kept me no matter what you did.' I did not say any of that, of course.

Instead I smiled and I said, "I'll see you tomorrow at 3pm as we agreed." Jack nodded, and I left, hailing a taxi as soon as I reached the street.

Jack's help turned out to be valuable. Ultimately, though, nothing was convincing. Big money was involved, to be sure, but not enough to murder someone. Maybe my morals were out of whack, and these people took murder less seriously than I did? But to murder someone as prominent as Joshua Eberlein seemed just too risky for what was involved. It was little wonder that the police did not take too seriously the idea that it had been murder.

Jack wanted more sex, but I reminded him the debt was paid. Jack said, "That's okay, baby doll. There's a hell of a lot of financial crime. You'll be back. I'll think up something special for you the next time."

With sarcasm obvious in my tone of voice, I said, "I'll look forward to it." Secretly, part of me actually did look forward to it. Now, however, I had my case to solve.

I had no choice but to follow the most promising lead. I packed my bikini and some other items, and decided I needed a vacation, right away, in the Cayman Islands. I contacted Anne, and we met in a sleazy bar in deep Brooklyn. I gave her a progress report. She gave me a contact or two in the Caymans, and her approval of my 'vacation.' I was going to charge it to her, so I needed her approval.

"I wish I were going with you," she said. "I could use the sun and the beach."

We made plans to go the next week. In the interim I began to research the angle of the stolen watch. I could not believe someone would plan the perfect murder and be able to carry it off, getting close enough to Mr. Eberlein to poison him, only to steal a watch. There had to be a different motive. Still, the theft of the watch could be icing on the cake of murder.