“Honestly, I’d forget my own head if it wasn’t attached.” She mutters, visibly flustered. As she turns towards the house, her eyes meet yours and widen in recognition before she remembers she is not supposed to know you.
“Good afternoon sir?” She asks curiously.
“Mr Brent from the insurance company.” You smile politely.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr Brent.” She replies. You hear a screech of tires and a green car, a Chevrolet Stylemaster, pulls up outside the gates. The window is open and you see the glint of a pistol inside. You have a moment to act.
Take cover
Drag Viola to the ground
You spring towards Viola, crunching into her and knocking her to the ground. You see the muzzle flash, the gunshot echoing off the hillside and a plant pot exploding nearby. The Chevrolet’s tires squeal as it screeches swiftly away, leaving nothing but a cloud of exhaust fumes in its wake.
“You okay ma’am?” You ask Viola as you scramble back to your feet and help her up.
“Quite alright.” She replies, though she looks a little shaken and disheveled. She glances down at the shattered plant pot. “That could have been my head!” She gasps.
“Was that a gunshot?!” The chauffeur calls out, climbing from the limousine.
“Just a car backfiring.” Viola replies, dusting herself down.
“Thought I was back in the Ardennes forest for a moment there.” You grin ruefully. The chauffeur nods and climbs back into his car.
“Still think I’m paranoid, Mr Harlowe?” Viola murmurs under her breath.
“Okay lady, I’m startin’ to believe.” You reply. You glance back at her and see the façade crumbling away before your very eyes. Her poise vanishes, her shoulders slump and you see her lower lip tremble.
“Take me away from here, Mr Harlowe.” She implores you, her eyes wide and filling with tears. “I need to clear my head.”
Do as she asks
You’re a gumshoe not a taxi
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” You reply, pulling a handkerchief from the breast pocket of your jacket and offering it to her. Viola snatches it away and glares at you for a moment before turning on her heels and storming off.
“Goddamn broads.” You mutter before shrugging your shoulders and returning to your car.
Continue
“Down!” You shout, throwing yourself into cover just as the muzzle flashes. Viola drops to the ground, the gunshot echoing off the hillside. The Chevrolet’s engine roars and the wheels spin as the car screams off along Mulholland Drive.
“My hero.” Viola Vandergraaf tells you scornfully, getting back to her feet a few paces away, pieces of a shattered plant pot scattered on the ground next to her. Your face reddens as you climb to your feet.
“You okay?” You ask her.
“A little shaken, but unhurt.” She replies.
“I don’t think my pride got off as lucky.” You grin ruefully.
“Or my chrysanthemums.” She remarks, looking at the shattered flower pot.
“Are you alright ma’am?” The chauffeur calls out, climbing from the car. “That sounded like a gunshot!”
“Just a car backfiring.” Viola smiles back. “Nothing to worry about.” He nods, smiling before climbing back into the limousine. She turns back to you, her blue eyes gazing intently into your own, piercing your soul.
“You believe me now, Mr Harlowe?” She hisses.
“Does seem like someone wants you out of the picture.” You agree, gazing at the now empty gateway to the house. You glance back at Viola and see the façade crumbling away before your very eyes. Her poise vanishes, her shoulders slump and you see her lower lip tremble.
“Take me away from here, Mr Harlowe.” She implores you, her eyes wide and filling with tears. “I need to clear my head.”
Do as she asks
You’re a gumshoe not a taxi
She smiles alluringly, her long eyelashes fluttering as she unfastens another button, a lacy bra revealed.
“Another time, sweetheart.” You growl, tearing your eyes away from her chest.
“But Sam!” She pouts.
“Knock it off Paige.” You growl. “I’ve given you a job to do. If you want me to sign your paycheck, damn well do as you’re told.” Her eyes flash with anger and her mouth opens to retort, but she seems to reconsider. She glares at you for a moment before buttoning up her blouse and heading out of the office, the door slamming shut behind her. You smile grimly and slide open your desk drawer, retrieving your whiskey bottle and glass.
Continue
You quickly climb back into your car and fire up the engine, the tires screeching in protest as you swing around and set off in pursuit of the limousine. You follow at a discreet distance back along Mulholland drive and down some winding roads as the driver takes Viola towards downtown L.A. You mop your brow and tug at your collar before glancing at your watch. It’s nearly noon and the sun is high in the sky.
“Hot as hell.” You grimace as the road straightens and flattens out. The limousine accelerates and you match their speed as you quickly reach the city center. The limousine pulls over and you park on the opposite side of the boulevard, watching as the chauffeur climbs stiffly from the car and opens the door. Viola Vandergraaf rises elegantly onto the sidewalk. She wears a stylish yellow summer dress and retrieves sunglasses from her purse, slipping them on. As she stands there for a moment, she looks just as handsome as she did when she stepped into your office. She speaks to the chauffeur, who nods before climbing back into the limousine. She watches him drive off before looking about her. You duck low behind the steering wheel as her gaze sweeps around towards you. Tucking her purse under her arm, she strolls along the sidewalk, casually glancing at the storefronts as she goes. You climb out of your car and shadow her movements from across the street, pulling your hat low over your eyes in case she glances in your direction. She pauses at an expensive looking boutique at the end of the block and after a moment, steps inside. You stand opposite and lean casually against a lamp post, gazing through the plate glass frontage. You can see Viola studying the dresses, a shop assistant trailing her and already carrying several garments. If Viola is intending to try on each of them, she’ll be in the boutique for some time. You’re not going to look inconspicuous for much longer. You glance behind you at a bookstore that will afford you an equally good vantage point. It’s either that or wait in your car for her to emerge.
Go back and wait in your car
Stake out the boutique from the bookstore opposite
You retrace your steps back to your Buick, not looking forward to sitting inside it in the sweltering midday heat. You climb inside and wind the window down, but there’s not a breath of wind and you can already feel beads of perspiration running down your forehead.
“Goddamn heat.” You mutter, squirming in your seat, the back of your shirt drenched with sweat. You reach into your jacket pocket and pull out your hipflask and take a swig of whiskey. A passing old woman scowls at you, so you flash her a grin and raise the flask in salute. She shakes her head in disgust and hurries on. You chuckle to yourself and settle down to wait for Viola to reappear.
Forty minutes pass before Viola reappears, stepping out of the boutique with a couple of expensive looking dress boxes tucked under her arm. She strolls back along the sidewalk and you climb out of the car just as she walks past on the opposite side of the road.
Continue
You’re not about to sit in your car in the sweltering midday heat, so you push open the door to the bookstore and step inside. It’s a small place with tall bookshelves to both side walls and a long, low table piled with books in the center of the room. A welcome draft from a ceiling fan stirs the air as well as dust particles which dance in the sunbeams shining through the plate glass windows. A petite young woman sits behind a counter at the rear of the store. She smiles shyly when your gaze meets hers and self-consciously pushes her spectacles up the bridge of her
nose. Her mousy brown hair is tied neatly behind her head and while she’s a little plain looking, her pleasant smile lends her a certain allure.
“Good afternoon.” She murmurs, stepping out from behind the counter. She wears a cheap looking navy blue dress, patterned with white dots.
“Afternoon, miss.” You reply, touching the brim of your hat. “Quiet day?” You ask, glancing around you at the empty store.
“You’re the first customer in the last hour.” She sighs. “Makes the day drag, sitting here on my lonesome.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not really in the market for a new book.” You tell her.
“Oh?” She replies, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m just keeping an eye on the boutique opposite. I’m working a case.”
“You’re a detective! How thrilling.” She smiles, her hazel eyes sparkling from behind the lenses of her glasses.
“Kinda.” You shrug. “I’m a private dick.”
“Who are you staking out?” She asks excitedly, peering through the window. “Some despicable gangster?”
“Something like that.” You reply, gently pulling her away from the window. “But I don’t think anything’s going to happen for a while.”
“Oh.” She replies, her voice a little deflated. She stands with you as you continue to gaze across the street into the boutique. You watch as Viola walks towards the dressing rooms, while the assistant, now with numerous garments draped over her arm, dutifully follows her.
“Looks like I might be here for some time if you can tolerate my company for a while longer?” You grin at the young woman.
“I’d be glad of the distraction.” She smiles. “My name’s Alice by the way.”
“Sam.” You reply. “Sam Harlowe.”
“Pleased to meet you.” She studies you for a moment, chewing her lower lip. “You know, I was about to close up and have some lunch in the back.” She murmurs, her eyes glinting. “Care to join me?”
Concentrate on the stake out
Why not
“Tempting.” You reply. “Though I’d best keep an eye on my quarry.”
“Oh.” She replies, not quite disguising her disappointment. “Suit yourself.” You turn away from the window and hold her gaze for a moment.
“But thanks for the offer.” You tell her, flashing her a smile. She brightens and nods before retreating back behind her counter.
You check your watch for the seventh time in the last half hour. If there’s a part of the job you hate the most, it’s the sheer monotony of a stake out. Finally, Viola reappears from the dressing rooms, the assistant in tow. She stands at the counter and gestures to the telephone. The assistant passes it to her and she speaks into the receiver, no doubt calling for her chauffeur to return. A few minutes later, she emerges from the boutique with a couple of expensive looking boxes under her arm. As she retraces her steps back towards where the limousine dropped her off you turn to the girl behind the counter.
“Thanks sweetheart.” You smile at her before stepping back out into the overbearing heat of the street.
Continue
You watch as Viola retraces her steps and shadow her from the other side of the road. She stops at the edge of the sidewalk and waits for a break in traffic. You shrink into a doorway just as she steps out into the road. Seemingly oblivious to your presence, she strolls leisurely across the street towards you. Your attention is abruptly drawn to your left by the roar of an engine as a car screeches around the corner. It swerves across the road towards Viola who stands frozen in fear as it bears down on her. Before you know it, you have sprinted towards her and thrown your body into hers, carrying her clear of the onrushing vehicle. You hear her gasp in surprise as you both fall to the ground. The car, a handsome green Chevrolet Stylemaster accelerates away, screeching around a corner and disappearing from sight.
“Son of a bitch!” You growl, scrambling back to your feet. “You okay, Mrs Vandergraaf?” You ask Viola as you help her up. She appears visibly shaken, her blonde hair ruffled and her yellow dress soiled from the road.
“I… I think so.” She replies, her voice quivering. You retrieve her dress boxes, one crushed by the car and hurry to the safety of the sidewalk. “So, do you believe me now, Mr Harlowe?”
“I believe you.” You reply, wishing you’d been quick enough to catch the plates on the Chevrolet. Not for the first time, you wonder if the liquor dulls your senses a little. You glance back at Viola and see the façade crumbling away before your very eyes. Her poise vanishes, her shoulders slump and you see her lower lip tremble.
“Take me away from here, Mr Harlowe.” She implores you, her eyes wide and filling with tears. “I need to clear my head.”
Do as she asks
You’re a gumshoe not a taxi
“Sure.” You grin. Alice brushes past you and locks the door before flipping the sign in the window from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed’. You follow her through a door behind the counter to a small room at the back of the store. The room seems to be both a store room and a kitchen, with a sink and a cooker to one side and piles of books and boxes to the other. Alice gestures for you to sit down at a small table.
“You want a glass of water?” She asks as you pull off your hat and jacket, hanging them on a hook on the back of the door.
“I prefer something a little stronger.” You reply, reaching into your pocket for your hipflask. Sitting down, you unscrew the top and take a swig.
“You drink?” You ask Alice, offering it to her as she sits down opposite.
“I really shouldn’t.” She replies, but reaches for it and takes a drink. She grimaces as the whiskey burns her throat.
“Good stuff.” She comments hoarsely, making you chuckle. You take another swig and she gratefully accepts another too. She sits back in her chair and gazes across at you. Her lips pout slightly and the gleam in her eye suggests she is summoning up the courage to say something. You decide to help her along.
“You didn’t really invite me back here to share your lunch, did you?” You grin, screwing the top back onto your hipflask.
“No.” She breathes. You set the flask on the table and the chair scrapes on the floor as you stand. Alice’s chest heaves with excitement as you circle the table and reach for her. She rises up and you take her into your arms, her body stiffening. You press your lips to hers, gently kissing her and feeling her relax. A little sigh escapes her lips as her hands reach up, exploring your chest through the cotton fabric of your shirt. You kiss her harder, her lips parting and her tongue darting between your lips. Your own tongue flicks over hers and her hands reach up and begin to unfasten your shirt. Her fingers deftly work at your buttons until she reaches your waist and pulls your shirt open. She pulls away, smiling as she slides her hands over your muscular, hairy chest. Her fingers find a scar just above your right nipple.
“A jealous lover?” She smiles, a fingertip tracing the length of the scar.
“An angry Nazi back in forty-four.” You chuckle.
“A war hero.” She purrs, reaching behind her head to unfasten her hair. “Perhaps I should show my appreciation.” Her brown hair tumbles down around her shoulders and she removes her spectacles, tossing them onto the table.
“What did you have in mind?” You ask, your hands sliding down towards her hips.
“Whatever you like.” Alice breathes, her hands sliding down to your waist and unfastening your slacks. They slip down to your ankles and her fingers caress the growing bulge of your cock through the cotton fabric of your underpants. “Well?” She smiles alluringly. You raise an eyebrow, startled at the transformation of the timid, mousey shop assistant to this confident seductress.
Bend her over the table and enter her
Suggest she takes you into her mouth
“Come here.” You growl, pulling her towards you. Alice’s hazel eyes sparkle and her teeth gleam as she smiles broadly. You kiss her passionately, your lust overwhelming any good sense you had left. She kisses you
back just as hungrily. Abruptly you pull away, grasping her hips and pulling her around so her back is to you. You push her forward, bending her over the small table. You reach down and grasp the hem of her dress, pulling it up over her waist, the backs of her pale thighs and her panty-clad buttocks revealed to you.
“So masterful.” Alice breathes. “I like that in a man.” You grin and caress her buttocks for a moment before hooking your fingers into the waistband of her white cotton panties and peeling them off. You can hear her breath quicken as the flimsy garment slips down her legs. She steps out of them and you gently ease her legs apart. You gaze at her fleshy buttocks and playfully slap her rump. She squeals with surprise and delight, thrusting her ass towards you.
“Take me.” Alice murmurs as you tug down your own underpants, your rigid shaft springing free.
“I’m working on it.” You grunt, guiding your hard cock to her entrance, her puffy labia peeking out from between her legs. Alice gasps as you press the bulbous head inside her. Groaning thickly, you slip slowly into her warm, slick hole until your pelvis presses against her buttocks.
“Oh yes!” She moans. “That feels so good.” You grunt your agreement, grasping her hips and beginning to slide back and forth inside her. The table squeaks in protest as Alice is shunted forward with each thrust.
“You like that huh?” You grin, gazing down at the petite bookstore clerk bent over before you. She nods, panting with pleasure as you continue to drive into her.
“It’s been a while.” She moans breathlessly, her fingers gripping the far edge of the table.
Sin in the City of Angels Page 3
