Sexy Girls

by Gary S. Griffin

“I'm not sure.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “I have no idea. She didn't tell me.”

  “Were you trying to help her?”

  “Well, you know, I wondered about Robert too, but we really just thought we had screwed up and that Andi was about to lose everything. She just became quiet, secretive. She didn't want me to do anything, because, well, Stevie, she was a mess. God, I, it's been hard…”

  She stopped talking again. I sat patiently as she collected her thoughts. I took a sip of coffee. I took the time to fully take in this beautiful lady. Cyndie and I met twelve years ago when she was a model. That’s when we connected. Early on we were intimate a few times, a few, very passionate times. Then, we became and stayed best friends, through good and bad times.

  We are a permanent part of each other's life, and I always thought it would be more; but Cyndie didn’t want that. The challenge was clear but puzzling; Cyndie's bisexuality was the enigma and limiting factor to our relationship.

  Cyndie spoke, bringing me out of my reverie. “I guess you could say Andi had a small nervous breakdown right after all this happened. She felt so used and stupid about everything really. She really got depressed.”

  “Did you two find anything?”

  She was getting defensive. “No, we really didn’t. Or, I didn’t. Shit, Stevie, life’s too busy. What am I going to find out? I have a real life. But, I do think Andi started something, sort of on her own.”

  I made some more notes. Then, said, “Cyndie, I will help you find Andi.”

  “Stevie, I have very little money right now, so how will I pay for your help?”

  I instantly made a decision that, I realize now, showed Cyn my true intentions. I told her, “Cyndie, I'm helping you and Andi because I want to.”

  Cyndie fought to control her emotions, “This is the first good news I've had in three months. Are you sure?”

  “Yes. That's it, so don't worry about the money. We'll try to find the answers.”

  “Thank you,” she said simply.

  “You’re welcome.” I then said, “Let's assume Andi's disappearance is connected to the blackmail. But, I need more to go on. There may be more clues at the penthouse. I'd like to go there and look around. Is there any way I could get in there?”

  Cyn smiled, “What? That would be trespassing, Stevie. If not breaking and entering.”

  “It wouldn't be, if we had 'permission.’”

  “But, we don't have…” Then, Cyndie stopped talking.

  I asked, “Do you have a key?”

  “No, but I know how to get in.”

  “How?”

  “The penthouse isn't as big as the office floors below and there's an outside area over part of the roof. When the elevator door's open on the fifth floor there are three doors from the elevator lobby. The first goes into the penthouse, the second is to the fire escape, and the third one opens onto the deck. When you're standing on the deck, you can enter the penthouse through French doors. Robert and Andi hide a key to these doors in a planter on the deck for when they forget their penthouse keys. I know exactly where the French door key is hidden.”

  “You have a devious mind, Myst. But, won't the guards wonder why we're going to the penthouse?”

  “No, we'll sign in at security, and I'll tell the guard we're going up to my office on the fourth floor to get something, say a portfolio. We'll do that, and then we'll walk up the steps in the fire escape to the fifth floor. The guard will never know.”

  “Won't somebody see us?”

  “I don't care about anyone of the fourth floor, but that's not likely on a Friday night. And no one should see us upstairs. We'll go before 7 p.m., because the cleaning people get there later in the evening. Plus, Robert's staying clear of the place right now and no one else should be there. Bottom-line, we should be alone. “

  “You know, you could be a private eye too, or, a criminal.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Cyn, let's plan on going tonight. But, now, I'd like to go to your apartment and look at that tape and the photos. Can we do that?”

  “Sure, Stevie, when?”

  I looked at my calendar on Outlook and saw no other meetings scheduled today. “Right now. Do you need to go back to work?”

  “Screw it, I'll call Sandy and tell her I'm working at home; which will be true, just not on my next remote shoot.”

  Cyndie picked up my phone, called her boss and made her excuse, while I shut down my computer, and slipped into my suit coat. I escorted Cyndie out of my office. On the way out of our suite, I told Lauren what's up. She frowned at me again and handed me a note.

  It read, “You have lipstick on your cheek.”

  blackmail

  So began an amazing adventure.

  My name is Stephen Garrett and I'm a 37-year-old business investigator who works in Philadelphia and lives in the state of Delaware. As a boy, my mother called me Stevie, and the nickname stuck. I’m single and have never married, but I’ve come close several times.

  I work at Center City Investigators in The Liberty Place, the great blue skyscrapers of center city Philadelphia. Center City is hired by our clients to solve their frauds and other problems. We get business from banks, insurance companies, investment houses and real estate firms mostly. There are four of us at Center City. I'm the financial man. The senior partner, John Samuel, is an attorney, and Jimmie Spiare, is a former Philadelphia police detective. Lauren Nicci is our 30-year-old, quick-thinking, smart-looking, admin assistant.

  Occasionally, a private investigation comes my way and I do them for variety or to help a friend in need. This case met both criteria.

  Once in the blue-grey marble lobby of my fifty-seven story building, Two Liberty Place, I asked Cyn, “Do you want to take my car?”

  “No, don’t be a wimp, Stevie, let's walk. It’s really nice out.”

  Cyndie and I strolled, yes, that's the word to describe walking with such a beauty in high-heels. The three or four inches of heel Cyndie wore, along with her natural five-foot six-inches brought her close to my height. I almost looked straight into her dazzling brown eyes.

  On the way to Cyndie's apartment, we walked down Chestnut and Walnut Streets and through Rittenhouse Square, the square block of green park-space at the edge of Center City. I glanced to my right at the Grayson Modeling Agency and the large bookstore in their grand old buildings on the north side of the square. People were walking in and out of both, in a business-like manner from the agency and at a leisurely pace from the book store.

  We passed by my favorite park bench in the middle of the square that I shared many times with Cyndie. We didn't linger, but hurried on through the park and the townhouse neighborhoods farther south and west on this warm spring morning.

  We arrived at Cyndie's apartment before eleven o'clock. Cyndie unlocked the door and we entered the dark apartment. She walked over and opened the curtains and lifted the center window five inches to let in the mild breeze.

  I followed her to the center of the living room. Cyndie turned from the window and got comfortable on her soft white couch.

  When she made eye contact, I asked, “Have you been in the penthouse since Andi's been gone?”

  “No, I don't go there unless I'm invited, Stevie.”

  “Okay, Cyn, but I'd like to search around when we get there tonight.”

  “Sure.”

  “What did Andi take with her?”

  “I was working when she left. I'm not sure.”

  Cyndie reached down and pulled off her left boot and slowly kicked it towards me. It landed a foot in front of my feet. I noticed the butterfly tattoo above her ankle. She repeated the process, slipping off her right boot. Then, she curled her legs up on the couch.

  While watching Cyn, I temporarily lost my train of thought. Refocusing, I said, “Right. Okay, well, can you get the video and the photos?”

  “Stevie, let's talk a minute.”

  “What about?”

  “S
it here, next to me. I want to explain something to you.”

  I sat down at the left end of the couch. Cyndie turned sideways to face me, crossed her legs at her ankles, and rested her left foot against my right thigh.

  “Stevie, you know, I met Andi when I lived in Manhattan. She had girl sex a few times. It's everywhere in the business. She liked it but didn't keep it up, and except for those times off and on with me, she never had a steady girlfriend as she knew she wasn't a lesbian. She wanted to get married. Okay, wait. During these last three months Andi admitted to herself that she was bisexual like me. I guess she was in denial about it before. But, I was the only woman she ever loved. Oh, I'm not making sense!”

  This was news to me, so I sat back. “No, take your time, Cyndie. I'm listening.”

  She paused and began again. “Stevie, Andi and I had an affair.” She stopped and then smiled and spoke in a softer voice. “Actually, we fell in love. We were always close and good friends, but, suddenly, we had to be together and couldn't stop ourselves from having sex as often as possible. We let down our guards and we were indiscreet. As a result, Robert Grayson discovered us and that changed Andi’s life.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  Cyn asked, “Did you know your ex-girlfriend, Eve, is Robert's lawyer in the Grayson’s divorce?”

  “No, I didn’t know that. I knew she did work for Robert Grayson’s modeling agency, but I didn't know she was representing him.”

  Cyndie blurted out, “I hate her. She’s a bitch.” Looking up, Cyndie smiled and said, “Oh, I'm sorry. But, it's the truth and you know it.”

  “Of course, you're right.”

  “And she hates me too.”

  “I'm not surprised. You're everything she isn't; cool, bold, sexy and fun.”

  Cyndie's eyes widened and she reached over and gave me a long kiss. Then, Cyndie stood up and said, “I'm going to change. I'll be back in a few minutes.”

  I stood up with her. She gave me a hug as she walked by and whispered to me, “Thank you for everything you’re doing. I was really freaking out before today.”

  “You're welcome.”

  And, then, Cyndie kissed me on the lips, her chest pressed against mine and our tongues touched for a moment.

  Then, Cyn moved to the entertainment cabinet, pushed on the stereo and started the CD player. Eighties new wave music filled the air. Cyn peeled off her jacket, tossed it on her desk chair, and showed me her black corset under her long black hair. She turned and walked slowly to her bedroom at the end of the twenty-five-foot hallway. At the bedroom's doorway, Cyn moved her right hand to the small of her back and unzipped her slacks. She wiggled out of them and let the slacks fall to the carpeted floor. She revealed her very nice behind with its large flower tattoo, framed by the thin, black straps of her thong panty. She stepped out of the slacks and reached her hands to her upper back, under her black hair, and in an instance, unhooked the corset, and pulled it off her chest. I caught a glimpse of her large, left breast as she turned and continued into the room out of sight.

  I took a big sigh and thought, “Wow, she does appreciate my help.”

  I needed air. I went down the stairs and stood on the front stoop for two minutes. When I returned, I headed straight to Cyn’s smaller, second bedroom. It was neater and emptier than I expected. I opened the closet door, looking for the video tape. This was Cyn's overflow closet, filled with her clothes, but organized, from left to right, by dresses, suits, slacks and tops. At the far right, I spotted some of Cyn's Goth and fetish clothes, including some of her latex costumes. Strange high-heeled shoes and boots were paired on the closet floor. It had been several years since I'd seen Cyn wearing one of these outfits and my mind wandered with that image.

  On the shelf above the clothes were two leather-bound journals, one pink covered and the other white, and a large white mail envelope with an opened seal, containing something two inches thick.

  I lifted the journals and the envelope, turned around and there was Cyndie. She asked how things were going and I showed her what was in my hands. As I did, Cyn came over and stood next to me. It gave me time to take in Cyndie's casual attire; calf-length, black bicycle pants, black tank-top and sandals. She wasn't wearing anything under her top. The sleeveless top revealed her arm and shoulder tattoos. Man! I admit. I quickly lost the battle; I couldn't keep my eyes off Cyn's body. At least, I kept my hands off her.

  Holding the journals, I asked, “What are these?”

  “Andi’s diaries.”

  “Really? Let's take a look at these. They might have something useful.”

  Cyndie responded, “Sure, they could. That envelope has the photos and the video tape.”

  “I'd like to watch the video.”

  “Ah… Sure. Why don't you watch it sometime when I'm gone? Stevie, what do you want for lunch?”

  “Don't go to too much trouble. Whatever's easy will be fine. In fact, let me buy takeout. Why don't we order from Le Bus? I'll buy.”

  “Okay. That's a deal. What do you want?”

  “A chicken salad sandwich and an iced tea would be terrific.”

  “I'll place an order and pick it up.”

  Cyndie picked up her cellphone and placed our lunch order. As she did, I looked again at her and her exposed body and hoped she would wear something to cover her chest and behind from wandering eyes and almost said something, but didn't. I can't help feeling protective; even if Cyn doesn't like it.

  Cyndie came over to me and kissed me. I let her go and turned away. Cyn reached over, pulled my arm, leaned her head to my ear, and whispered, “At least I look my best in that video. I didn't think that's what happened on film. I look ten years younger and ten pounds lighter. Enjoy!” Then she kissed me again, longer this time. Her chest pressed against mine and our tongues met.

  Five seconds later she left the apartment in her body-hugging clothes.

  ***

  I sat on the couch and emptied the white envelope. Besides the video and twelve photos, a single sheet of paper slid out. It was a letter. I read it slowly.

  Dear Mr. Grayson,

  You don't know me, but you do know the two girls captured in these photos, and having fun in this video. The fun happened this past Saturday night in your lounge at the Kimmel Center in Philadelphia.

  The couple didn't realize they were on film, but both performed like real professionals. I don't think they were acting. It looks like they're enjoying themselves.

  I have the original copies of the photos and the video as I like to watch home movies. I also want to share it with others. However, I'd be glad to give them to you. You can have the originals for only $1 million. If not, I'll send it to someone else who would be glad to share it with many other people.

  By the way, both good-looking girls work for your agency in Philadelphia.

  You have one week to decide. Call me at 215-827-1994 before next Friday and we can arrange for you to buy the video and photos.

  A friend

  I pulled out my cellphone and dialed that number. It was disconnected. I tossed the letter on the coffee table and scanned the photos. They showed Andi and Cyn as they progressed from the entrance to a second floor lounge. The photos were shot from above.

  Then, I watched the tape. It was an unforgettable movie.

  I imagined the scene when Cyndie and Andi walked into the Kimmel Center. The two women had to attract every eye; certainly they captured the eyes of every straight man and gay woman. Both were showing off their bodies wonderfully. Andi wore a dress that was smaller than most slips. Cyn squeezed into a sexy black leather-like cat suit that zipped up in front. She added black spiked heels and carried a little black whip. She looked like a dominatrix and tried to imitate one. Plus, in their four-inch heels, they towered above the other women. I was mesmerized; the way they could strut their endless legs, sway their incredible heads of hair, and stop your heart with their sly smiles and feminine moves - unbelievable!

  Yet, to my discern
ing eye, the photos showed they were barely able to keep their hands off each other. They kept constant eye contact and were rarely out of each other's personal space. Bottom line, these actresses were in love and really didn't care about the other actors occupying the stage around them.

  Needless to say, from all of the upright and prone positions caught on film, Cyndie's bare, tattooed body and large chest looked incredible.

  Andi was even more provocative than Cyndie. She is both naturally attractive and has benefited from exceptional cosmetic surgery in recent years. Andi has a very well proportioned figure. Her body is a true hourglass. Her narrow waist is accented by her full breasts, fairly broad shoulders and especially nice curves in her behind and hips. She also has long, shapely legs.

  Where Cyndie is a mature woman, Andi retains a young girl's body. Where Cyndie's behind and breasts have a very cute wiggle when she walks, Andi is firm. Where Cyn is calm and captivating, Andi is a bundle of energy. Both women are incredibly appealing to me.

  Their lovemaking was intense, sensual and physical. It seemed to take longer than a half hour, while at the same time it was a sexual sprint. Their sex also had a little domination and submission to it. At one point, Cyn reached for her whip and used it on Andi’s behind. Cyn also pulled Andi around by the fine gold chain connected between Andi's left nipple and navel rings. Among other images, those that lingered in my mind were the red whip marks on Andi's rear.

  I was so distracted and aroused that I had to watch a second time to pick up the filming oddities. I was surprised at the quality of the video, including that it was in color. The room was brightly lit and the camera was up above the action focused on the chaise lounge. The video had sound and it was clear - enough to hear love talk. This couldn't be a security tape as they're usually video only.

  After my second viewing, other thoughts bounced around inside me like hot coals, burning me slowly. Once I took this case, I'd be on the other side from my former girlfriend, Eve. Plus, I'd be setting afire my casual friendship with Robert Grayson. I was about to play hardball with two fastball throwers. I'd have to watch the high-hard pitches that would come my way, just as they had already hit Andi.