The night was cold, dark, and it felt human. A stiff breeze blew in from the Atlantic, ruffling the branches of the palm trees that lined this side of Canal Avenue that faced the ocean. There I sat in my Lincoln Continental parked a reasonable distance from the Mansfield mansion. From where I sat, I had a good view of the main gate and the upper story of the estate house. The lights were off and I was waiting for the signal I knew would come any moment soon. I reclined my seat, lit a cigarette and let my hat slouch over my face just a couple of inches from my eyes.
The night went on as usual with its quiet self. I didn't bother turning on the radio—the noise would only distract me from my job, though right at that moment I really would have wished being some place else. Some place where there was a comfy bed waiting for me and a pillow to rest my head on rather than sitting her playing stakeout. Still I sat there and continued my patient waiting.
Suddenly my phone started to ring. As I sat up in my seat and took it out of my pocket; the caller ID of the number calling me was unknown. at that point I looked up and saw a light in one of the upper floor, the room which in deduced could only be the master bedroom, come up. A figure—it was a female—stood there by the window looking out. I couldn't tell if she'd spotted me from where I was parked, meanwhile my phone was still ringing with annoyance.
"Hello," I said into the mouthpiece.
"Hi there Joe," a lady's cat-like voice spoke into my ear. It was a familiar voice and it took me less than five seconds to know who it was talking to me. The lone female standing at the window.
"Hello, Mrs. Mansfield," I replied.
"That's rather cold, pronouncing my name the way you do," she said. "Isn't it about time you and I went on a first-name basis? After all, you've been tailing my shadow nearly two weeks now, I feel like you're my personal shadow."
Dammit! She'd found me out -- but that was to be expected.
"I ... don't know not what you're talking about, Mrs. Mansfield."
"Oh yes you do, don't think I don't. And the name's Leah. Or hasn't my husband told you that?"
Indeed he had. Her husband was the one who'd put me unto her. One Friday afternoon he's presented himself at my office and laid out his compliant. His suspicion was infidelity. She assumed she was sleeping around, but with whom and for whatever reason was what he was interested in knowing. Money was no object with him—and why should it be? He already was a house-hold name in the city, a rich property developer who even played golf with the Mayor. As for yours truly, I'm nothing but a gum-shoe for hire. Majority of my cases were of modest variety:: the occasional lost and found kids or cousins, spying on cheating spouses, that sort of thing. All of a sudden, this rich bloke had waltz in through my door. How he stumbled upon my name, I'll never know. I asked but he didn't say. He needed someone to get the low down on his wife, so I guess I was his man.
What had seemed to me at first as easy pickings has now got me feeling like a tiger being caught by its tail.
"Ma'am, I still have no idea what you're talking about or referring to," I said, not wanting to fall for her ploy.
She giggled. "Whatever, detective. Since you're so nice and careful following me around the way you do, perhaps tonight you would kindly be my escort for the evening. Is that you parked across from the street?"
"Yes, that's me."
"Wait there, I'll be down soon."
The line went dead, and seconds later so too were the room where she'd been talking to me from. I returned my phone to my pocket and waited. It wasn't long before the gate opened and a hooded figure stepped out of the compound. I got out of my car as the figure approached, and she lowering the hood of her coat and revealed herself. She came round to the passenger side and jumped in just as I returned to my seat and stared at her, wondering what silly joke this was.
She gave me a modest smile. "Well, are you going to start the car and drive, or are you going to sit there staring at me all evening."
I wasn't listening to her. She reached into a purse and took out a silver case from within. Opening it, she took out a cigarette and brought it to her red-coated lips, was about searching for a lighter but I beat her to it, lighting her cigarette for her with mine. She took a drag from her cigarette and blew smoke out the side of her lips. She was a sexy, gorgeous thing, no doubt about that. The type of woman that could make any man turn weak in the knees, and I knew she knew it too.
"Please take me some place, Joe," she said.
That said, I started my car. There was no need getting rid of her as she was already here with me. The least I could do was keep her entertained till whenever she decided my company was getting dull.
"Where to?" I asked.
She made a gesture with her hand. "I don't know—how about your place?"
I raised my eyebrow. "My place?"
"Yes," she affirmed, taking another drag from her cigarette. "I'm curious to know what a detective's pad looks like. Take me to your place, please."
Usually I detest dames that make as if they've got the world in their pocket along with everybody else that's in it. But watching the way she rolled that cigarette between those flaming red lips, I decided to make hers an exception as I put the car into gear and drove out of the rich folk's avenue.
Traffic on the streets was almost non-existent as we drove to my apartment which didn't take long than it would have during rush hour. It was a quiet, yet bustling neighborhood, far from what anyone would class as being decorous to someone of Leah Mansfield's status, though if there were any misgivings, she never showed it.
I drove into the parking lot situated across from my building and together, like a couple returning from a fun-filled evening, we crossed the street towards the building complex where I resided—my office was two blocks down from here.
My apartment was on the top floor of the four-story building; lucky for me the elevator hadn't broken down today like it usually did other days. I pushed the rail doors aside and allowed her to step in, which she did, and together we rode the elevator to the top.
"Well, it's nothing fancy," I said as I unlocked my apartment door and let her in, "but it's home sweet home however you want it."
She stood there in the middle of the living room, casting her eyes about my living room, and murmured, "Not bad. Looks cozy and simple—I practically grew up in a dump like this."
"I'll bet you don't really mean that." I took off my jacket and threw it over the couch. I was starting to warm up to her presence.
"Sure I mean it." She fell on a chair and crossed her legs seductively, giving me an eye full of her lovely, fat thigh. "So, how about you fixing a girl something to drink?"
"Sure," I went towards the kitchen. "What would your pleasure be?"
"Bourbon will do, if you have one."
"One glass of Bourbon coming up," I answered as I looked into my cabinet drawer where I kept my liquor stash and made her drink; I made one for myself, too. She'd taken off her jacket when I returned and was at the moment fiddling with my stereo set.
"Thanks," she said, accepting her glass then made a toast with mine.
"Think nothing of it." I assisted her with the stereo system, inserting a Miles Davies CD into it. We sat beside each other, sipping our drinks and enjoying the jazz music that was playing. "Let me ask you a question," I said to her. "How and when did you find out I was following you around?" I just had to know.
"Does your question have anything to do with why a rich lonely girl like myself is doing here with a shabby, lonely private-eye like yourself?" she flashed her eyelids at me coquettishly "Whatever gave you the impression that I was lonely?"
"I've never stumbled across one who isn't," she replied, then waved a hand around my apartment. "Besides, this doesn't look like what a family man would put up with. But I was a little scared though."
"That you might have someone steadily available here—a girlfriend." She uncrossed her legs and folded them on the couch; my body yearned for whatever lay between those long legs. "You look like the sort of fellow that's got lots of women around town waiting for him. I've got a nose for such things, so I can tell."
Her words, sweet and amusing, made me laugh. "I never knew I was such a charmer as you paint me to being one. Though pardon me for doubting, but you don't look like anything close to being lonely."
"Oh but I am," she said, and then got up with her glass still in her hand; she took a sip of her drink before continuing. "I can't start telling you how awfully boring it is sometimes being camped day and night in that big house all by myself ... all to myself. Sometimes I just hate it."
"Your husband doesn't seem to think so."
She looked at me. "Exactly what did my husband say to you about me when he put you onto me?"
I saw no harm letting her in on this. "He said he was afraid of whatever you might be up to. That a lot of times you returned home late and sometimes you never bothered returning till morning. He also said that whenever he asked where you'd been, you'd give him a surly answer. He just wanted me to make sure you stayed safe and not hang around with the wrong type of crowd. Those were his words."
She drained the remainder of her drink. She spilled some of it on her dress as she wobbled on her feet, fast getting smashed. She raised a hand and brushed back a flock of brown hair from her face, and said: "All those nights you followed me, tell me, did you ever think I'd end up with the wrong type of crowd?"
"You're way smarter than that. I reckoned you were searching for something."
"Would you like to know what it was I was searching for?.
"A part of me is curious to know. The other part just doesn't care."
She looked at me quizzically, then returned to the couch, bringing herself closer to me. Her voice became sultry. "Tell me the truth, private-eye. While he hid behind your car, watching me, didn't you ever get the urge to want to ... touch me?"
"Maybe. But I was on the job then."
"But you're not on the job now," her arm slid onto mine; her face drew closer, I could inhale her breath and perfume. "Now that I'm here, pretend you've caught me being naughty, and tell me what you'd like to do with me."
"Why tell," I murmured, falling into her seduction, "when I can show."
I took her glass along with mine and dropped them on a coffee table then reached for her. She brought herself willingly to my arms, hitching up her skirt then raising her legs over my thighs. Her eyes closed as our lips met in a kiss.
I fell backward on the couch as she held my head up with her hand. Our lips remained interlocked while my hand pushed up her skirt to explore what was hidden underneath. My hands didn't encounter the feel of any panties or underwear. My hand rubbed her labia and one of my fingers slipped in-between her pussy walls to encounter her wetness. Our kissing grew frantic and she began breathing heavy as I fingered and massaged her pussy and clit. Her lips came off mine and she groaned perceptively and kissed every inch of my cheek. Her hands fought against the buttons of my shirt. This close, she smelled so good.
"Joe, can you do something for me," she whispered breathlessly into my ear.
"Anything," I muttered.
"Take this rich lonely girl into your bedroom and fuck her brains out hard," She demanded.
Certainly she knew how she wanted it—there wasn't a second to lose as I got up and scooped her into arms, and carted her towards my bedroom.
I kicked the door open and dropped her on the bed. My eyes lusted on her body while my hands worked at taking off my clothes; I had a pressing erection even as I unzipped my pants. She had herself out of her dress in lesser time than me. She grasped my cock and pulled it to the bed towards her, pulling me along. I fell on my back, still wiggling my legs out of my pants but she had her mouth already wrapped around the head of my cock, sucking me. I gasped from the feel of her tongue slithered over my shaft yet pressed her head down on me; she acknowledged by swallowing more of me. She came around kneeling before me, one hand pressing me down while her other stroked my shaft as she bobbed her head on my cock; her mouth made sweet, slurping sounds like she was scooping a bowl of ice cream. I swept her hair off her face. There was a frenzied, hungry look in her eyes and she held my gaze even as she went down south to suck on my balls. Gaddamn! It felt incredible the way she handled my cock, like she was born to do it.
"All right, Leah," I took back my dick from her, noting the reluctance in her eyes. I didn't want to come so early. The least I could do was give her a taste of her own medicine. "It's my turn now."
She lay on the bed and presented my face with her wet, juicy snatch. I flicked my tongue over her clit, heard her hiss through her teeth, then buried my face between her legs. She pressed my head down on her pussy, grinding her hips against me; her moans rose into a high sweltering note.
"Oh ... Oh ... Oh, Joe," she moaned while her hands caressed my head down between her legs. "Oh baby ... oh darling ... you're killing me!"
minutes later after I'd done enough damage to her pussy, having made her cum, I rolled to the side of my bed and looked inside one of my cabinet drawers and took out a pack of Trojans lying inside. She stopped me just as I was about ripping one open.
"No," she said with a firm voice. "Don't ... please. I want to feel you, the real you, inside me."
"But what if I'm not safe—"
"It's okay—I trust you. Come here and make love to me."
Returning the Trojans and closing back the cabinet, I turned to her and got down to business. We groaned almost simultaneously as I thrust the head of my cock inside her—God, she felt so fucking good! I gave her pussy some hardcore slamming, making the bed rock under us while she wrapped her legs and arms over me and held on for dear life. I was already at a hair trigger and it didn't take long before I filled her cunt with my load. I pulled off her and fell on my back, panting like a sprinter. She rolled over me and kissed me all over, slid downward and sucked on my jimmy and it wasn't long before I felt myself becoming hard again.
She mounted me, stroked my erection then moaned as she slipped it between her legs, gave to the sweet warmth of her cunt. Her hair fell over her face as she leaned forward and started working her ass over my dick; I grasped her lovely ass cheeks and held them apart and for the next two minutes slammed that pussy with all the muscle in had in my thighs. Leah screamed uncontrollably, her moans dissolved into sudden shrieks.
"Ohhhh ... yeah! ... Fuck me! Fuck me ... Oh ... Oh ... so good! ... Fuck me deep! ... Oh, Joe ... Oh, baby ... turn me over ... please ... I want to ride ..."
Her tits jiggled before my face. I opened my mouth and gnawed at one of them; our sweat became one as she yearned for more pounding that I was giving her. I caressed her body and when the moment came, I rolled over, bringing her on her back. I held her thighs apart and thrust my cock harder and harder in and out of her pussy until suddenly her body began to shudder and she pulled me down to her.
"Ohhh ... Ohhhh God! Oh my God, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come, I'M GONNA COMMMMEEEE ...!!" she screamed into my ear as she arrived at her climax. I grunted like a hungry animal, still plugging her hole with every inch of steel I had and I too groaned as again I poured all my semen inside her.
Minutes later we lay beside each other, relishing the sex; my bedroom reeked of pussy cum and semen and sweat.
"Oh my God," she murmured. "That was incredible. It's been so long since I ever had it so good." She held my face and kissed me for a long time.
"You remember asking me how and when I knew my husband had put you unto me?" she crooned into my ear.
"Yeah," I answered.
"I knew from the day he hired you. I knew because I made him hire you."
She covered my mouth with kisses before I could reply to that.
The hour slipped into the night. I must have slept for a long time because when I woke up, the room was dark completely, except I couldn't recall getting up to turn off the lights. I raised my head and winced when I felt a throbbing pain in the back of my skull, as if something hard had bumped into me during the night.
The pussy and semen smell I noticed had been replaced by something rank; it was a smell I was familiar with, but as I lay there in the darkness of my room, I prayed in the back of my mind that it wasn't what I already figured it was. I tried to get up but couldn't—someone was resting heavily on top of me; I felt her hair and knew it was Leah. I managed to push her to the side and rolled towards where I knew my bedside lamp would be. I flicked on the light switch and my eyes bulged outward and I muttered a gasp of horror as I saw what was beside me.
It was Leah all right, lying in a pool of her own blood. Dead.
I got off the bed and staggered a little and groaned as I reeled from the pain echoing inside my head. I found the wall switch for the room's lights and flicked it on.
Leah was sprawled across my bed, her eyes and lips—those lips that I'd tasted an hour ago—opened in shock at whatever it was that had snuffed out her life; a kitchen knife jutted off her torso with a river of blood oozing from it. Close examination made me realize that the knife was mine.
I was hardly breathing before I realized it. Fear gnawing at my mind, I scuttled into the bathroom and looked inside my medicine cabinet for a box of aspirin that was there. I dropped some emptied a couple into my hand and swallowed them straight up and sipped water off the faucet. I was feeling somewhat calm as I returned to the bedroom, glancing at the dead corpse, then taking my eyes quickly off it. I searched for my pants and got my cell phone out from the pocket. I dialed a private number and waited for the person at the other end to pick up.
"Yes?" a voice answered.
"It's done," was all I.
"All right. I'll be there soon." The line went dead after that.
I had time to take a shower before returning to the room to wear back my clothes then sat in the living room and waited. There came a knock on my apartment door some minutes later. I opened it to reveal a man past his middle-age, standing there in a purple robe. He wasn't alone; there were two men behind him, one of them held a video camcorder over his shoulder. I led the way to the bedroom and the one with the camcorder went around the bed, filming the dead woman from various angles while the other approached a wall mirror that hung at the right corner of the room. He pushed the wall mirror aside to reveal a cut out in the wall, in the centre of which a camera with a programmed video recorder device had been placed; the eye of the camera was aimed directly at the bed. He turned off the machine, then extract a tape from inside, while the old man sat on the bed's edge beside his dead wife.
"Have you gotten everything?" he said to the man with the video recorder.
"Yes sir, we have everything."
The dead woman's eyes suddenly became awake, blinked rapidly before settling on her husband who was smiling down at her.
"Well, it's about time." She said. Her husband helped her up, detaching the plastic knife that had been glued to her chest; he took out a handkerchief from his robe pocket and wiped the fake syrup of blood off her breasts. "How was I, darling," she said to her husband. "Was I very good?"
He nodded, then kissed her. "You were more than just being good, my dear. You were perfect. I was soaking up your performance, watching from across the hall."