Jane, Vegas PI

by Jane Brooke

  I don’t feel that good and, then my eyes blink open and take a sec to focus. The TV is on, a Disney film, liked most of them too when I was a youngling’.

  I try to move, zilch.

  I’m sitting naked, in a chair, wrists, ankles duct taped to it. MY bare feet are dancing a little. I’m already enraged, doesn’t take long for me, as I all coy and such peek straight ahead through these little slits on my frosted eyes.

  There’s Eddie, near the table, pacing back and forth like a lab rat. He’s edgy, completely cranked, mumbling to himself, my Beretta in his white knuckles, plastic bag on the table top.

  There’s my 38, stiletto and his Taser pistol, a mound of coke, I think, on a mirror. A tea spoon is sitting next to some DVD’s. Guess we were going to watch a video later; kinda sweet that.

  You know, after he sodomized me, fucked the neon outta my eye sockets. Could of been a hoot, I suppose.

  I want to be prepared, so I spread my thighs, so he can see the sunshine exuding out of my cunt. That usually works, as I kinda clear my throat. He jerks his head to me, and I purr all demure and such.

  “Hey baby, what’s up sweetness?”

  He stops pacing, bolts his eyes on me. His jaw is grinding, licking his lips, eyes stark, wild and wired. His eyes dance all around naked moi. Especially that special place that a man spends nine months trying to get out of and the rest of his fucking life trying to get back in.

  “Ja..Ja...Jane...I...I...I...” He stutters.

  “Hey Eddie, chill, what you mad at me? Thought we were going to play some tonight. What you don’t like me no more?”

  I can see he’s really confused. He’s mind flipping back and forth between hatred, love, anger and a dick that in the end will make the final decision for him.

  He walks over to me, leers at me, and reaches back.

  “Whamo.”

  He viciously slaps me in the face, cutting my lip.

  WOW.

  My head whips to the side. I see stars and clarity. I whip it back, blood in my mouth. Grinning, I like like the taste of it in my mouth. I need that taste and, then purr again.

  “Ooooh baby, now don’t go teasing a girl handsome.”

  He grins, real wide like at me.

  He likes my play.

  If I don’t get it right, he may beat me to death.

  So, I chuckle, just a little, tilt my head and real cute like, wink my right eye at him. You know, blink, blink, blink telling him that’s where I want it next.

  “How about a little fist action, you big stud?”

  He nods out several times, giggles. I know he thinks I’m a doll and, then:

  “THUD.”

  He fists me in the eye, no bone cracks. I’m glad about that. My head rams to the side, my chin falls to my tiny breasts, and I see red balloons, 4th of July fire works, sparklers and a blue finger nail in a floor freezer.

  I can feel blood, its warm straight out of the vein, spilling down my eye, cheek, melon ball time.

  I’ve had worse.

  I actually feel pretty good, but know I, even me, can’t take much more. So I lift my chinny chin chin, give him my best blood stained smile and go to work.

  “Wooo, I think I’m in love...Come on Eddie, I’ve been dreamin about this, you going to fuck me, or what. I thought you we’re The Candy Man? Come on, my cunt feels like it could bake a tray a chocolate chip cookies in it. I want it Eddie, I want it real bad. I think I love you.”

  Zingo.

  The magic word.

  In the end the lie always gets the diamond ring.

  His brow crinkles, and I see love in his cranked out blues. I make sure my knees are spread wide, as he kneels, puts the Beretta next to my vibrating feet, leers into my eyes and touches some blood from my lips.

  “Geeesh Jane....”I...I didn’t mean to hurt ya...Ahh...I’m sorry...Th...The TV...it...was an accident...We was playing, things got outta hand...You believe me don’t ya Jane. Bobby said, you was pissed...real pissed...You ain’t mad at me Jane...You really like me...I...I mean really.” He pathetically spiels me like Sally Fields at the fucking Oscars.

  “Sure baby, I’ve been dreamin’ about this, long time. I believe ya, I know, the little shit balls never shut their yaps, probably got what she deserved. No problema, are we going to party, or not?”

  I want to vomit, but I’m close.

  Queen takes king every time, if a girl is cleaver.

  “You’re not lying Jane, you really love me?

  Blah, blah, blah.

  The last thing on earth I told I loved we’re my fucking gold fishes Gumbo and Stella and Bijoux as I force a tear from my eyeball. You know, just for effect. Guys are saps for weepers.

  “Fucking A, I’m ready, shit happen. Hey baby, (I am so into talking street) you gonna Bogart that coke. Who’s a girl gotta fuck around here to get a toot?”

  He brightens up, nods manically, slaps his thigh and kisses me on the blue bruise and blood on my balloon eye. He forgets my Beretta.

  Fuck, I wish I could shoot it with my toes as he stands and says gaily.

  “Sheesh, where are my manners, be right back.”

  “I’ll be waitin, sweetie.”

  He skips over to the coke, stabs a tea spoon in it, tales a snort, punches his static finger into it and pushes it all around his gums. I watch as he seems to vibrate all over. he leers at me, walks over and kneels.

  He puts the powder to my nose as he shuts down my other nostril with a finger. II inhale, jolt, jolt, jolt, perfect, a little pick me up, I needed that. He does the other. I’m feeling better by the minute, let’s get it over. Falling on his bare heels, he lifts my Beretta, looks of a honey moon soon to come in his bleached eye balls.

  “Come on honey bunny, let’s do it. Let’s fuck. I gotta go see my sick sister at the trailer park over there in Barstow manana. i think she ate some bad donuts. You know Eddie, wash cloth on her forehead, hand holding, some chicken soup.”

  I figure his brain and dick we’re warring, me knowing which will finally win. He looks at me long, hard and grins.

  “You ain’t lyin’ Jane, ya ain’t mad at me...Promise.”

  I look at him in shock.

  Me lie, never. I’d tell him GWB was fucking genius if that would get the goddamn duct tape off of my purple feet and wrists.

  “You Tarzan me Jane.” I say real sweet. Let’s party mister man.”

  He giggles.

  “Come on Baby, if you cross your heart and hope to die and Boy Scout me you won’t pull the trigger, I’ll let you fuck my ass with that Beretta, maybe some plastic bag action too. Come on, let’s rough it up. You just tippy toe over there, get my knife, hit that little button, and let’s do it. Pleeeeease, I’m melting here.” I wine, more tears as I start to pout

  Guys love that shit.

  “Geeesh Jane, you’re just the best.”

  I go all shucks on him, giggle and tilt my head at the table at my stiletto. He kisses me on the lips. I him smooch back. He stands, moves to the table, picks up my stiletto, looks at me. I toss him an air kiss with my cut to shit lips. Simply adoring cute me, he catches it.

  Fucking perfect. Love will fuck you every time.

  This sweetheart knows that rule so very well, as the tune Love is in the air, air conditions thru my cabasa.

  Mating time is soon. I can hardly wait.

  XXX

  Though I hate coke, but, it was the right thing to do. For I have to remember, he is a man, sorta a big man, fueled by drugs, a hard dick, and I feel super duper alert. I smile, as he kneels before me and cuts the tape from my wrists and ankles that feel numb.

  Fucking free at last, thank god free at last. A great black dude once said that.

  Now, he may be Dracula reincarnate, but he’
s no dummy. So he stands, backs up, fondling my baby Baretta in his hand as I let the blood COD back into my feet and hands.

  A moment or two pass and there, I’m set, ready.

  I hope he remembers that I said I like it rough.

  I give him the Full Monte, stretch real high with hands thrown above my head. I do a little spineroo so he can see the whole package. Facing him, I parse my lips.

  Little girl time, he likes it, a lot.

  I sluice over to him on my tip toes, press my package against him and touch his face and that hideous black painted hair. I give him one of Jane’s blue light special kisses, which pretty much sets everything perfect.

  His mouth tastes like coals from a barbecue, don’t mind as I touch his body. I am probing, for a street fighter needs to know who her foe is as my fingers continue to check out his muscle structure. I can feel his junk pressed against my cunt, as his free hand finds my bump of an ass.

  Men, girls just love it.

  OK.

  He’s a burnt out bag of guts, good. I back up, just a bit, smile, blood on my teeth and blue swollen closed eye and, then purr like the kitten I am.

  “You read to party, mister rock star?”

  I’m just so fucking adorable, like I mean what could possibly go wrong?

  He grins at me and, then wheezes, all happy now and such.

  “Hell yes Jane.”

  I smile, rear my head back and skull fuck his nose with my forehead.

  “CRACK.”

  Kabooms everywhere, as he shrieks, throws his hand to his face still holding my Beretta. Blood is everywhere. He slams back into the wall, moaning and weeping. Of course I simply watch because I have a secret.

  I’m in no hurry, for I’m a gal with a plan, a sweet plan. So I wait for the weeping to stop. Dropping his bloody hands he leers at me all rabid and so. I look at the blood on his hand and I feel hurt, for all the love is gone from his face. He snarls at me. Lifting the Beretta he points it at my nose and seethes.

  “You fucking bitch, you broke my nose.” He evilly grins, pay back in his face.

  I smile and, then:

  “CLICK.”

  “Fooled you.” I giggle, cause I have this little safety secret button on my Beretta.

  You know. Just in case some kid like Glenda or Zoe is playing with my gun; don’t want them to ever blow a cute little toe off.

  I can see he’s not happy.

  I just wish I had a little red flag sticking out of my Beretta’s snout, saying “Bang.”

  That woulda been sweet.

  “I thought you said you liked it rough, honey bunny?” I chirp.

  “CLICK, CLICK, CLICK.” I moan as he keeps pressing the trigger.

  Now Judo is a beautiful thing. As I mentioned before Its all about pressure points, joints, and such. I have a third degree black belt, and can take one of those NFL walruses down by bending his pinkie back just like I did with my ex, Tina Barks.

  Of course Eddie doesn’t know that, not just yet anyhoooo. I haven’t erupted yet, because what I am about to do, is going to take a long, long time. It is, going to take a very long time.

  So I simply reach out, grab the silencer connected to my heater. His finger is still in the lock as I violently rip down, multiple fracturing his finger, taking him to the ground as I do.

  He shrieks in very cool pain and begins to whimper like the bitch that he is.

  I take my gun and head bang him with the butt, very controlled. I don’t want him out. Not just yet.

  Splitting skull is fun as he shrieks again, yips and yelps, gawking at his finger that now looks like a pretzel.

  Blood is everywhere. I intended that, mop time later. I do a little dance backwards and whirl with my hands thrown into the air, teeth grinding, eyes screaming, feeling wild and crazed. Facing him off as he finally stands I lift his head with my gun barrel tip.

  My goodness, if looks could kill I would be a dead bitch. But they don’t, yet still my feelings are hurt.

  I can see his eyes darting at my walk around 38 on the desk and, then back at me.

  Oh really.

  I wag the silencer back and forth at him, reminding him not to be hasty. I figure decision makings has never been his strong point. He gets it as I do one of those little back hand finger curl invites to him.

  I’m a stylist after all, can’t help myself. Drama, I love it. He snorts in his rage, blood too. Remember I’m a pixie. I mean how hard could it be to choke the life out of a skinny fairy? I see it in his plate eyes.

  I do the finger curl again, you know, Jett Lee style, which enrages him. He scream’s, shrieks and rips towards me enraged.

  Perfect.

  He round houses me and I do a little steparoo to the side. With controlled force, I Judo chop him in the larynx. He instantly coughs, sputters, wails, or tries to as I grab his wrist, twist, and violently flip him up and around smashing his back into the plate glass of this nifty coffee table his interior decorator got him.

  The glass explodes, shatters, as he screams in pain. The throat shot was perfect. It always is, as he’s trying to suck CO-2 in. He’s wheezing, weeping, moaning, mumbling, wining about something again. I hate whiners.

  Me, well I’m doing one of those The Rock WWF struts. You know, you see those Hulk Hogan dudes do in the ring, as I watch him hyperventilating trying to suck in oxygen. My throat chop was controlled and perfect.

  Heck, I coulda crushed his wind pipe, killing him instantly. But where would of been the fun in that?

  Coke is a power packed fuel as I watch as he struggles out of the glass. There are blood shards staked in his arms, chest, feet, forehead and I can see he’s not that happy with me.

  Well join the fucking list buckaroo.

  I smile, air kiss him again and feel sorta shunned. He doesn’t grab it this time, which hurts my feelings. He then roars, I mean its prime evil and there he goes again, bull rushing me.

  Oh me oh my, I’m so scared, tee hee, hee.

  He reaches me, arms extended, hands like claws. I move between his arms like a shadow. Feet planted, I take my palm, and ram it into his nose again. He screams, as I then, fingers pointed into a Judo wedge, give him a liver shot.

  Not a pleasant thing, for it you’ve ever gotten one, well you know. It feels like a branding iron is melting your liver. Ask Oscar De LaHoya about that.

  I hear lots of shrieking, spasms, screaming and moaning as he goes down. I straddle his arm, take his arm and snap it completely in half at the elbow, which blasts a bellow of pain from him. I step back, smiling as I do.

  So far. So good.

  I figure he’s done, but I am surprised that he’s not. Maybe he’s been trippin’ on TCP. That would be an unexpected gift. I hope so.

  Like I told you about crystal meth, well TCP is even worse. My cop amigos have told me that they’ve put dozens into a guy’s bod usin’ TCP, just kept coming. They finally had to unleash the big artillery on the dude to finally put, lights out.

  I don’t know how long it took for his liver to smile again, but he stood, looking really bad. He still looked angry with me, and in truth, I was getting a little bored with it all.

  I had gotten something off of the table, so I had to let it out. All of it.

  Remembering the color blue, I then lost it, shrieked, as my heart, mind finally blew up.

  I shrieked as I ran completely insane at him. Wailing and screaming like a banshee I leaped on him, wrapping my legs around his waist, glass digging into me. I didn’t mind that at all.

  I head butted him again, just because I could. Then, I tried to eat his nose off his face with my teeth. He went down as my legs spread eagled on his waist.

  I instantly bellowed to the moon, wrapped the plastic bag around his head, snuck around to his back,
wrapped my legs around his waist. I slashed the plastic tight, real tight, as I calmed, and his body bucked. He flailed with his one good arm, slapping at the bag as I seethed into his ear.

  “For that little girl, you fucking puke, for Missy.”

  Lights out, like I said, I didn’t want him dead, just yet that is.

  Because I still needed a name, which I was certain when me and my pals were finished with him, he would give up I was patient.

  Unconscious, him, not me and after I duct taped him like a Xmas present.

  I then took a shower.

  xxx

  “OUCH.”

  My cut lips, body and eye hurt, a lot. But it was a good hurt. As I sat there on the teak bench, just letting the hot water sooth my aches, every ache in my body, except my mind of course felt a smidgen better.

  My clothes and boots felt good, white gym socks, too. I like being naked, but only when I’m trysting between the sheets.

  I found a dolly in the garage, loaded Eddie onto it like a sack of turnips. I grabbed my stuff, and a few other things, loaded him into the Buicks trunk. I lit up a smoke, ouch, my lip hurt, didn’t mind.

  Hopping the door, I stared at some stars. They looked pretty.

  Slotting my Boston Red Sox’s hat on, some shades, I fired up my Betty Mobile.”

  I drove to the barber poles. I smiled at my cop buddy, he smiled back. Giving him a wave, I drove away a happy girl.

  I then, was gone, my mission still not completed.

  Next stop a little desert hideaway I know about, where a man’s secrets can and always are exposed.

  Work for the night finally done, I felt pretty good about everything, except my dead girl sleeping in the Tombs, now and forever.

  Xxx

  Requiem For A Dead Angel

  I DID send that post card to Lou, as well as a CD and a blue finger nail, and everything went down pretty much like I expected it too.

  Lou and the bulls, CRIME SCENE too, swept down on Eddies crib. They tore the place up and picked up some of the kids hair, a drop of blood too. They matched them to Eddie’s semen in her and had the CD and fingernail.

  It was a real feather in Lou’s cap.