by Golden Angel
Sarah’s Private Dick
By G. Angel
Text copyright © 2012
All rights reserved
This is dedicated to Steve, who sent me the original request / idea for the story and to all the readers of Literotica who enjoyed it so much!
Table of Contents
Author’s Note:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Epilogue
Also by G. Angel: The Venus School of Sex
About the Author
Author’s Note:
One of my favorite things about writing is hearing from readers and I’m honored that I am occasionally asked to write a story for a reader. Putting words to someone else’s fantasy is both nerve-wracking and exciting. I worry about not doing a good enough job and that perhaps I’m not fulfilling the hopes of what they wanted me to write. I was thrilled that Sarah’s Private Dick was so well received on Literotica and that the reader requesting it was so happy with the final product.
Reader requests often push me out of my own comfort zone and Sarah’s Private Dick was no exception. This was my first attempt at writing an erotic story that had a bit of a mystery going on in the plot line. It was also the first time I wrote a story involving a recent widow. I really enjoyed writing about Sarah and Derrick and I’m thrilled to have their story now available on Kindle.
Happy Reading!
~Angel
Chapter 1
Sarah Brown stood at the graveside of her husband of the past fourteen years, wondering why she wasn’t crying harder as the pastor wrapped up the words he was saying over the hole where Martin soon would be buried. They’d been together since early college. He’d been the fifth boy she’d ever kissed, the third to get to second base with her, and the first that she’d ever made love with. And she would miss him, she knew, but she’d also always known that she was marrying her friend. Not a great love, not even really a romantic love in many ways, but she wasn’t sure that such a thing really existed. Martin had been her best friend and he’d taken care of her.
So she wept over her husband’s grave, feeling almost as guilty as much guilt as she did grief, because she felt like she should be much more miserable at the loss of a spouse. No one standing at the graveside, none of her husband’s employees or his business partner and best friend Vincent saw anything out of place, however. Vincent even put his arm around her, soothing her with soft, meaningless words and rubbing her shoulder with his hand. But Sarah didn’t lean into him. She wasn’t going to put up a fuss, because right now she couldn’t bring herself to care, but she’d never liked Vincent. Not since he tried to put the moves on her, at the Christmas party two years ago. Just because Martin’s interest in her sexually had been long gone, she’d resented Vincent using that knowledge to try and take advantage of her.
At thirty eight years old and already a widow, Sarah considered her romantic life pretty much over. Not that she’d had much of a romantic life before. She had loved Martin, she truly had, and cared for him deeply as a person. They’d enjoyed a life of common interests in movies and museums, art and food, but there hadn’t been a lot of ‘spark’ between them, the way she’d read about in romance novels, and the older they’d gotten the more their sex life had suffered. It didn’t help that Martin had been, well… quick on the draw was the nice way of saying it.
Now Sarah sobbed even harder, wondering why she was thinking all these negative things about their life together now that he was dead. It just seemed unfair that her life was already over and suddenly the knowledge of her loss slammed into her even harder and she let Vincent draw her onto his shoulder, not caring who she sobbed against. She lay her auburn head against him and cried her heart out for the loss of her best friend, the man who was supposed to keep her company as they grew old together. They’d never had children. Martin had a low sperm count and had refused to adopt or try any kind of “unnatural” interference. Now he’d died and left her completely alone.
And she would miss him. Terribly. What a waste. If only he’d listened to her when she’d tried to get him to stop smoking and eating so badly. Owning a restaurant didn’t mean that you should eat every single fried item on the menu on a constant basis. Dead at forty five. Was it awful that her words of warning kept echoing in her head? She was so angry at him for not taking better care of himself, for not letting her take better care of him, and she fervently wished that he was actually there for her to yell at.
******
By the time everyone returned to Sarah’s house she was seriously wondering why she’d invited everyone over anyway because now all she wanted to do was curl up and have some space and time to herself. She felt completely drained.
“Here, let me take care of that,” Angela said, one of the servers from Martin’s restaurant, Polenta. Sarah gratefully relinquished the plate of assorted fruits and cheese to the younger woman, a sweet-faced twenty-two year old who seemed to have taken charge of the food service today. That was more than fine with Sarah. Angela handed the plate off to another server and gave a few more orders to the staff that was there and then turned back to Sarah, compassion brimming in her warm brown eyes. “God sit down Sarah, you have enough to deal with today. Food’s our thing, we’ll handle it.”
Normally Sarah would have protested, hosting the party was her job after all, but today she just felt gratitude for the competence and loyalty of the Polenta staff. Well, everyone except Vincent, whom she saw was sitting in a corner when she walked into the living room, nursing some kind of drink. Probably straight alcohol with maybe a little ice, knowing him. She grimaced, wishing she hadn’t fallen apart all over his shoulder. It hadn’t take him longer than a walk to her car for him to try and kiss her – ‘for comfort’ he’d said. Asshole was lucky she hadn’t kneed him in the balls.
Unfortunately his eyes lit up as soon as he saw her. She had to admit that he wasn’t exactly unattractive physically, with his silvering blonde hair and light blue eyes, and his body was mostly fit with just a bit of a paunch, but she’d always thought there was something slimy about him. But he and Martin had been best buddies for years, before she’d ever met Martin, so she’d tolerated his presence. Now she wouldn’t have to anymore, she thought with relief, except for when she went to the restaurant.
“Sarah, come sit down with us.”
She turned, recognizing her best friend Patricia’s voice. Gratefully she headed over to the couch and chairs where Patricia was sitting in a circle with her husband Lloyd and a few more of the restaurant’s staff. One of the best things about Martin’s restaurant being owned by him and Vincent (although Martin had the control sharing) and being a small family restaurant rather than a chain was that the staff truly was like a family. Even though Sarah had never had anything to do with running the business, she knew all of them and they knew her. Most of her friends were from Polenta, the main exception being Patricia whom she’d known since college. Even Patricia was connected to the restaurant now, via her marriage to Lloyd.
Only Vincent ever stayed on the outside and that was because he insisted on maintaining a distance between management and staff. That was something he and Martin had had different views on, thank goodness. Sarah was a naturally friendly person and it would have hurt her not to be able to make friends with people that she’d known for years.
Settling herself between Patricia and Polenta’s long-time bartender, Q, Sarah kicked off her shoes and let herself slump back into the couch before sitting right back up again.
“What’s wrong honey?” Q asked, his southe
rn drawl thick as he set his hand down on her knee, keeping her in place.
“I meant to get a drink before sitting down, but I forgot,” Sarah said with a self-deprecating little laugh, readying herself to get back up again.
“No, you stay here, I’ll get it.” Q was up and moving before she could say anything. So she let him. It wasn’t like Q didn’t know her preferences. The thirty three year old black man had been working for Martin for the past twelve years. Even though he’d gotten the job originally just to get him through college, he still played bartender two nights a week just to keep making extra money and because, as he said, that’s where all his favorite people were.
That was pretty true for everyone sitting in this circle. Patricia had met Lloyd when he’d become the kitchen manager for Polenta five years ago. The avowed bachelor had spent weeks harassing the cooks for special dishes that he could personally bring out to the pretty brunette and the owner’s wife. Fortunately Cara, the executive chef, thought that Lloyd was perfect for her good friend Patricia and had catered to those requests. Normally she was a little spit fire of an Italian and wouldn’t have put up with anyone interfering with the flow of her kitchen… but for a man wooing Patricia with such fervor? The roly-poly little black haired woman had eagerly helped and plotted with Sarah throughout the entire courtship.
With Lloyd, Patricia, Sarah and Q on the couch, they were facing Cara, her boyfriend Christian and two of the long-timer servers, Gloria and Andrew. Gloria was a true redhead, not like Sarah’s own dark auburn hair, with short curls that were always tucked back into a pony-tail. She was twenty five and spent most of her time mothering the rest of the staff, whether they were older or younger than her. That was just how she’d been, ever since she started working as a hostess at the age of fifteen. Dressed in a black skirt and blouse, she was looking Sarah over as if trying to decide whether or not Sarah should be tucked into bed to sleep or allowed to stay up with the grown-ups.
“You’re handling everything beautifully,” Andrew said, catching Sarah’s attention. “Take a load off for now and let us serve you. It is what we do after all.” He winked at her flamboyantly. But then again, Andrew did everything flamboyantly. He’d been working for Polenta for about two years and by now everyone was used to his flirtatious antics and outrageous statements. Slender with creamy cocoa skin and dark brown hair, he was one of two gay men working at the restaurant. The other was a pantry chef named Brian. Unlike Andrew, Briand didn’t the flamboyantly effeminate thing, but it suited Andrew down to his wingtip shoes. You never had to wonder if his behavior was an act, it was just wonderfully, effortlessly him.
“Have you had anything to eat?” asked Gloria. Even though she was thirteen years younger than Sarah and technically now her employee, that never stopped the mothering. Sarah actually managed to crack a smile, touched by both of them.
“Thanks, I’m fine. I’m not sure I could manage to eat anything right now. Thank you,” she said, directing her second statement of thanks to Q as he returned, handing her a glass with diluted looking diet coke in it. Even before she took a sip she could smell the raspberry vodka that he’d mixed with the diet coke. Her favorite drink, although a little heavier on the vodka than he usually made it. On the other hand, it’s not like she was going to be driving anywhere and she could certainly use it.
Somehow the evening ended up being almost like a party, everyone eventually joining the circle that Sarah was sitting in – even Vincent lingering on the outskirts – and telling stories about Martin and the restaurant. They laughed and talked well past the point when Sarah had originally planned to have people over. And, of course, as people started leaving and Sarah stood to try and clean up, Gloria hustled her from the room, deaf to her protests. And then sent her to bed like a child, stating that she and Angela had things well in hand. Sarah felt a little guilty but most relieved as she headed towards the stairs.
“Are you sure you want to be alone tonight Sarah?”
Patricia had asked the same question earlier, before she and Lloyd had gone home to feed and walk their dog, but coming from Vincent the question just sounded smarmy. Sarah stiffened her spine and controlled her disgust. Maybe he hadn’t realized the way his tone of voice sounded. Or maybe he’d just been hitting the scotch too hard. Yes, she wanted to be alone and even if she hadn’t she wouldn’t want Vincent to be the one staying over. Planting her social smile firmly on, she turned to face him.
“Yes, quite alone, thank you Vincent. I know Martin would have appreciated you looking after me.” The name of his dead best friend made Vincent wince a little. The expression in his eyes changed from predatory to a little lost and she found herself feeling sorry for him. That pity, and because she knew Martin would have wanted her to look after his friend, prompted her question. “Are you alright to drive? Do you need a taxi?”
Immediately she wished she hadn’t asked, as the predatory look returned to his face. “I’m not sure I should drive… or that you should be alone.”
The innuendo in his voice made her feel a little nauseous and she sharpened her tone. “You’ve had too much to drink Vincent, but you can’t stay here. I need some peace and quiet.”
“Come on Vincent.” The new voice in the conversation made both of them turn and Sarah almost wept with relief when she saw Cara. God bless her. No nonsense, fifty years old and a force of nature. Most chefs were like that, the good ones anyway. Her boyfriend Christian stood next to her, a distinguished looking older gentleman who was always very quiet but polite and anyone sitting next to him for any length of time knew what a fantastic sense of humor he had, but he only made jokes under his breath. “We’ll take you home.”
Even Vincent didn’t argue with Cara. Resuming his normal oily charm he smiled and made a little bow at Sarah. “Good night then, sleep well.”
“Good night,” she said succinctly and then turned a more natural smile to Cara. “Good night Cara.”
“Take care,” said the chef. Her eyes were sympathetic. “We’ll see you at the restaurant tomorrow for the management meeting?”
Ah yes. One thing after another. The restaurant still went on and, according to Martin’s will, she was the sole beneficiary of his controlling interest in it, which meant that she had to go. Well at least they’d given her until after the funeral to get herself together. Sarah nodded, feeling incredibly weary, before heading up the stairs.
******
Vincent cornered her the next day before the meeting, almost as soon as she walked through the back entrance into the kitchen. He wanted to buy Martin’s share and at first Sarah just felt relief at his offer, but then she started wondering, could she really just hand the entire business over to him? Even though Martin had been friends with Vincent for years, he’d always been careful to maintain controlling interest and she’d never asked why. Never thought she would need to know. Now it felt like a grotesque oversight on her part. But how would she know that Martin would have a heart attack so young or that he’d leave his interest to her? Why had he left it to her and not Vincent? Maybe because this was where all her friends were, the family that he’d never been able to give her?
Standing in the middle of the kitchen with its stainless steel equipment, she sighed. Normally this area was bustling with activity and smelled of garlic, oregano and tomato sauce, but at 9 am there was no one and no delicious aromas in the air yet. The prep cooks were down in the prep kitchen, rolling out pasta and dough for the lunch shift, slicing vegetables and putting together mirepoix for the stock. Although Vincent had assured her that she’d always be welcome here after selling, she couldn’t just hand over the entire company to him without knowing more about him and why Martin hadn’t left the restaurant to him.
Maybe she could hire a private investigator. People still did that, right? There had to be someone making a living off of that. She’d always loved Dick Tracey growing up. Maybe she could get her own private dick. Sarah giggled and then sobered. Should she be making sexual jokes so
close to her husband’s death? It had only been a few weeks… not that they’d had much of a sex life for the past few years. If she had to give their sex life a movie title it would have been Gone With the Wind. But sex had never been a big thing for her anyway. She’d only had a couple of orgasms in her entire life and they hadn’t been anything like the romance novels described.
She and Martin had been best friends, sure, but they’d never had a lot of sexual chemistry. Most of their marriage it didn’t feel like she had a husband, really, at least not in the way that most people talked about having a husband. Not like how Patricia and Lloyd were, barely able to keep their hands off of each other. Her marriage hadn’t been like that even in the beginning. It felt like having a roommate that she had a lot in common with and occasionally held hands with or kissed. Sometimes she wished there was more, her romance novels always made her wistful, but then she would just feel silly and out of touch.
They were just books after all, real life didn’t work like that. She should just be happy that she’d had a husband who cared about her, supported her and was faithful to her. So they hadn’t had kids. Or a lot of sex. At least she’d spent the best years of her life with a man who made her feel content.
That sounded so bland. Sarah made a face at herself. Okay, she’d be lying if she didn’t admit that she’d thought about leaving him. More than once. Thinking that there must be something better out there. But she’d given up on those fantasies three years ago when she’d turned thirty five. Who knows. Maybe thirty eight wasn’t really that old. But she felt old. Old, bitter and cranky.
Sighing, Sarah went into the Manager’s meeting.
**********
“Vincent offered to buy Martin’s share,” she said to Patricia later over lunch. Not at Polenta. She’d wanted to talk to her friend about the morning and she couldn’t do that if they were surrounded by the staff, who would all be shamelessly eavesdropping.
