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Months ago, ChloeTzang asked me to submit a story and I said that I would. I know absolutely nothing about Mickey Spillane or Mike Hammer or writing violence or what noir means or any of that. But being clueless has never stopped me before! So, here we are!
I have started writing some stories involving a woman, Akari, who kind of stumbles into solving mysteries with her girlfriend, Maureen (Why do I always have lesbians in my stories…? Hmmm…). Anyway, their stories are NOT violent or noir or anything like that, so I decided to have Maureen tell Akari a story about how real detectives should be. You know, violent and noir and all of that. Anyway, let me know if you liked my story.
As usual, I want to thank Figjamkiss for editing and proofreading my work (and offering all kinds of helpful suggestions). And AlexFourways for just being him! I can’t thank them both enough!
If you’d like to begin at the very start of my erotic fiction journey, please click here: The First Blowjob
Enjoy!
Love, Frey
My Stories
💖 💖 💖 💖 💖
Chapter 1 – “Crazy Eddie”
“It’s so exciting that we’re going to be private investigators,” Maureen whispered, holding Akari’s naked body closer.
“It’s not going to be exciting. It’s just going to be taking pictures of cheating spouses –“
“That’s exciting.”
“And maybe helping O’Malley with some things — probably unpaid.”
“That’s not so exciting.”
Akari looked at Maureen. “And that’s really about it.”
“But it could be exciting,” Maureen said, hopefully.
“But it won’t.”
“You’re such a poop. What if we changed our names to something exciting? Like professional stage names?”
“Are we going to have sex or not?” Akari asked.
“We will. We will,” Maureen reassured her impatient girlfriend. “But first, what if your name was something… exotic and wild? Something like… Myra Mayhem.”
Akari smirked. “Really?”
“Yes! And you’re, like, a hard-boiled and jaded P.I. in a trench coat and a hat with the brim pulled down low.”
Akari sighed. “We’re not going to have sex, are we?”
Maureen continued as if she didn’t hear Akari. “And I’ll be… Amber Luxxe, sexy former stripper that gave her glamorous exotic dance life up for the love of Myra Mayhem.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“No. No. No. Picture this…”
* * * * * * * * * *
Myra Mayhem sat with her feet up on her small battle-scarred oak desk staring at her assistant, Amber, hard at work doing pretty much nothing. Myra licked her lips, tasting the last remaining flavor of Amber’s sweet pussy. Lunch had been the usual take-out shit. Dessert, on the other hand, had been spectacular.
Myra’s last name wasn’t “Mayhem,” of course. Her Japanese last name was difficult for non-Asians to pronounce and didn’t look nearly as good on the frosted glass door of her shabby south-side office. Her first name wasn’t “Myra” either, but she didn’t like to get too bogged down in details.
Or the truth.
“When was the last time we had any cash coming in?” she asked Amber.
Amber looked at her. “Do you want me to dig up the actual date?”
“No. Don’t bother.”
“Good. I was just going to flip through some papers and then make up a date anyway.”
Myra nodded. “Um-hmm.” She wasn’t surprised. Amber Luxxe, a former stripper — now a private stripper for one woman only — wasn’t a great bookkeeper. She was great in the sack. She was a great assistant. Not so good with paperwork. But she was better at it than Myra was.
Myra leaned back and stared at the ceiling, tracing the water stain patterns with her eyes for about the billionth time when blue and red lights lit up the dim room. “Ugh,” Myra grunted as she got up from the creaky wooden chair.
She went over to the dusty window and peered down at the alleyway that ran between the brownstone that housed her second-floor office and Chan’s Sushi. Without turning around, she mumbled, “Some excitement out there.” Myra heard the floorboards as Amber walked to the window, put her arm around Myra’s waist, and looked down at three police cars crammed into the narrow alley like piglets jockeying for position around their mother’s teat.
“Wanna go down and see what’s going on?” Amber asked.
Myra shrugged and headed for the door.
In the alley, crime scene tape was already up. “What happened?” Myra asked Garcia, a police officer and a high school friend of hers.
“Chan found a body behind his dumpster.”
“Neat!” Amber exclaimed. Stripping was rarely this exciting.
“It was Crazy Eddie,” Garcia continued. “The homeless guy that was always collecting cans every trash day.”
“There’s been a lot of homeless turning up dead lately,” Myra commented.
“Fourth one in the last few weeks.”
Myra looked at Garcia. “Four?”
“Yup. And this one was definitely a murder.”
“Murder?” Myra confirmed. “Do ardahan escort you think the other ones are related?”
Garcia leaned in closer. “Between you and me? Yes, I do. They’re calling in the feds.”
Knowing that there probably was going to be no payday for them, Amber still spoke up. “Will you let us know if anything… interesting comes up?”
“I will if you can get Myra to flip teams,” Garcia said. “Just for one night.”
Decency, decorum, and any form of appropriateness between the three had been gone a long time ago. If it had ever existed at all.
“I would never leave this,” Myra slapped Amber’s cute little ass, “behind.”
“I’ve told you that she can join us.”
“And as I’ve told you since freshman year,” Myra replied, “I’m flattered, but I’m not interested.”
“I’m determined to wear you down, darling.”
“You’re determined to get a restraining order against you.” Myra turned away. “Let us know if anything pops up.”
“Something already has.”
“Fuck you,” Amber told him.
Garcia smiled. “If you can get Myra to fuck me, then you can have a spin afterwards.”
“Neither of those things will ever happen, Garcia! See ya around!” Amber chuckled as she followed Myra back into their building.
Closing the door behind them, Amber asked, “Do you think there’s a case for us there?”
“Who would pay us?” Myra shrugged. “And what would we get? A bag of cans worth nine bucks?”
“You could prove your worth to the police chief. We could get some real work and some real pay.”
“He thinks we’re bottom feeders. A couple of ticks beneath personal injury lawyers. He’ll never give us any work.”
“But what else do we have going on?”
“Well, even sweet-talking Gacia wouldn’t get us any closer to the scene. There’s nothing for us there.”
“We can come back tonight,” Amber suggested.
“Eh,” Myra shrugged, then nodded. “It’s worth a look, I guess.”
“Things are always worth a look,” Amber reminded Myra as she settled back into her chair and resumed her daily responsibility of waiting for someone to call them with work.
Chapter 2 – “Week-old Sushi”
“Ugh,” Myra muttered standing next to the dumpster in the alley next to Chan’s. “Does this always stink so much?”
“It does on Tuesdays.”
“Ugh,” Myra grunted again, her hand over her mouth and nose. It did nothing to alleviate the stench.
Amber tried not to breathe too much. “Do you see anything?”
“No. They cleaned everything out.” Myra backed away from the dumpster. She swore that she could actually see the fetid funk of week-old sushi that was rarely very fresh to begin with, rising out of the old dumpster. “Let’s go talk to Chan.”
Jimmy Chan was a third-generation restaurateur who had inherited his restaurant from his father who had inherited it from his father. Unfortunately for Jimmy Chan, the neighborhood around his family’s restaurant had progressively degenerated with each generation. “Myra! Amber! The prettiest ladies in town! What can I get for you?”
“Could we talk to you for a minute?” Myra asked. “What can you tell us about the dead guy?”
“Shh. Shh.” Chan looked around. “I don’t need customers to know that a homeless man was murdered next to my restaurant.”
“You need customers,” Amber pointed out.
“There are two,” Chan replied, pointing to a dark booth against the far wall.
“I think it’s a hooker and a john.”
“But they are customers.” Chan waved the girls towards a back corner of the restaurant. “We can talk in my office.”
Chan’s “office” was about as big as a supply closet, and with shelves of cleaning supplies, one chair, and a folding TV tray acting as a desk, it essentially was a supply closet. It was just missing the mop bucket. After he ushered them into the cramped space and closed the door, the girls saw the mop bucket.
“So, Crazy Eddie was killed next to your restaurant?” Myra asked.
“In a public alley. It had nothing to do with the restaurant,” Chan insisted. “But, yes. Crazy Eddie. I saw a shoe and thought that someone had thrown stuff behind the dumpster. I had to lock it because people kept throwing their garbage in. It costs me money every time I have it emptied.”
Myra nodded. She and Amber knew that he had started locking the dumpster. They used to throw trash in it.
“When I looked behind the dumpster, it was Crazy Eddie. Stabbed.”
“Stabbed?” Myra asked.
“That’s what the police said. I didn’t check! But there was blood everywhere.”
“Hmm.” Myra nodded. “What else?”
Chan shook his head. “Nothing. I called the police, they came and roped everything off. By 6:00, they were done.”
“Did you notice anything suspicious last night or this morning?”
“No. I closed up and went home.”
“Did you go out to the dumpster last night?”
“Before I closed up, I threw some bags into the artvin escort dumpster.”
Myra furrowed her eyebrows. “And you didn’t notice anything then?”
Chan frowned and shook his head.
“So Crazy Eddie was killed early this morning,” Amber stated.
“Or last night, and Chan just didn’t see him,” Myra said. “The alley’s dark.” Myra sighed. “You’ll let us know if you think of anything, Chan?”
“Yes.”
Myra looked directly at Chan. “Before the police?”
Chan pursed his lips, then told them, “Yes. Yes.” He knew that business was tough all over and the people in this neighborhood had to stick together. Plus, he liked Myra and Amber.
“Thank you.” Myra gave him a weak smile. Everything was tough. Chan was a good man.
Back out on the sidewalk, Amber asked, “So, now what?”
Myra glanced towards the alley. “I don’t know. Nothing, I guess. It’s another dead end for us.”
“Business will pick up,” Amber said, reaching for Myra’s hand.
“It better.”
Amber gently squeezed Myra’s fingers. “We’ll be fine. We always are.”
Myra wasn’t so sure.
“I can always grab some shifts at Manny’s.”
“I don’t want you to go back to that, Amber.”
“I will if we need to.”
Myra frowned.
“Let’s go home,” Amber said. Then, with a smile, added, “I can make you feel better. Come on.”
With a deep sigh, Myra replied, “I guess.”
“Very enthusiastic. You really know how to flatter a girl.”
“Sorry,” was all that Myra said, but she held Amber’s hand the entire way back to their crummy fourth-floor apartment.
As Myra closed the rickety wooden door and slid the inadequate deadbolt into place, she turned to Amber. “You gave up stripping to work with me and I’m a failure.”
“You’re not a failure,” Amber told her, taking Myra into her arms. “It’s tough work. Something will fall into place.”
“Yeah,” Myra mumbled, resting her head on Amber’s shoulder. “Somehow it always seems to… So far, at least.”
“That’s the spirit!” Amber exclaimed with as much gusto as she could muster. “Now bring some of that fervor into the bedroom and let’s fuck!”
Myra raised her arms into the air. “Yay! Fucking my girlfriend!”
“There you go!”
The girls ran across the tiny kitchenette into the tiny bedroom. With just enough room to stand between the bed, the dresser, and the four paint-peeled walls, they faced each other.
“It’ll work out,” Amber said as she started to unbutton Myra’s shirt.
Myra nodded and pulled Amber in for a kiss. Right at that moment, she needed to feel loved. But she also needed more.
Myra prematurely broke the kiss, shrugged her own shirt off, and pulled Amber’s shirt up over her head. Myra licked the exposed skin between Amber’s breasts and reached around to unhook and remove her lover’s bra, exposing Amber’s exquisite breasts. She placed a kiss on both of Amber’s erect nipples, then unhooked her own bra and tossed it onto the growing pile on the floor.
Wrapping her arms around Amber’s waist, she pulled her in for a deeper kiss. The warm skin-on-skin contact was what Myra wanted. What she needed.
To feel Amber’s body against hers.
Four hard nipples pushed against each other.
Wet lips pressed together.
Tongues joined in quickly growing passion.
This was what Myra lived for.
Amber’s love.
She never knew how empty her life was before Amber had entered it and in spite of Amber’s continual bright presence, sometimes the darkness seeped in.
But Amber could always push it back out.
Myra’s body tingled as Amber stroked her bare back. Amber always knew exactly where to touch. As they kissed, Myra reached down to caress Amber’s perfect ass. An ass that had earned her a prime weekend time slot at Manny’s. But that was a different life. A life that Myra didn’t want Amber to ever have to return to.
Amber deserved more.
And right at that moment, Amber deserved all of Myra’s attention, so she tucked her money concerns away for the night, and gave her girlfriend’s ass a slap.
“Ooohh!” Amber moaned into Myra’s mouth. After the second, harder slap, Amber pushed Myra away. “Did I do something to upset you?”
“Yes. When I ate your pussy for lunch, you forgot to thank me.”
Amber lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry isn’t going to cut it this time,” Myra intoned, sadly.
Slowly, Amber raised her head and looked at Myra. Trying her best to look remorseful, Amber said, “I think you need to spank me.”
Myra nodded. “I think I do.”
“Bare-assed?”
“What do you want?”
Amber thought for a second, then answered, “Pants on to start, then bare-assed.”
“Hand or…”
“Ummm,” Amber looked around the room. “Hairbrush with pants, then bare hand on bare bottom.”
Myra smiled. “Bend over, you naughty bitch!”
Amber spun around so fast that she bodrum escort almost knocked Myra back against the dresser. “Oops. Sorry.”
“Did I say you could speak?”
Amber shook her head and laid her upper body across the bed, pushing her eager ass up and out.
Myra grabbed the brush off the dresser and took her position next to Amber’s derriere. She slid her hand down the sumptuous curve, her fingers lingering at the warm juncture of Amber’s thighs. Amber sighed at Myra’s touch. Then Myra tantalizingly traced the seam of Amber’s pants and pressed the brush handle against Amber’s crotch.
“Mmmm,” Amber purred, swaying her hips slightly in anticipation.
Raising the brush in the air, Myra watched Amber’s ass clench in expectation of that initial delightful blow.
“Hmm-mmm,” Amber purred again, this time with a slight hitch. She knew what Myra was waiting for. She relaxed herself and closed her eyes so as not to accidentally see any indication of Myra’s movement and then it hit.
Crack!
Amber moaned with pleasure as her sphincter reflexively tightened and she made a quick mental note to earmark a few bucks from their next payday for a butt plug. Maybe a matched pair. Then to egg Myra on, she said, “Is that all you’ve –“
Crack!
Another hit echoed through the room.
“Oohhhh.” Amber clenched her hands almost as tightly as she had clenched her ass. She loved the jolt of electricity connecting her asshole and pussy firing down her legs and up through her body.
Myra grabbed a fistful of Amber’s dirty blonde hair and pulled Amber’s head up off of the sheets. “I didn’t say you could speak,” she whispered into Amber’s ear, her hot breath causing Amber to tremble with passion. Myra pulled Amber’s hair a little harder. “If you understand me, nod.”
Amber nodded as much as she could with her neck bent at such a severe angle.
With contempt, Myra threw her lover’s head back onto the bed. “Cunt,” she spat for good measure.
Sweat forming on her forehead, Amber relaxed herself again. This was how it felt best.
But Myra was done with the brush.
She tossed it to the bed and it landed a couple of inches in front of Amber’s eyes and she focused on the long black hairs tangled between the bristles. Myra never cleaned out the brush. Amber always did. She marveled that Myra had been able to function as an adult before she had met Amber and this thought made Amber smile.
The feel of Myra’s fingers slipping into the waist of her pants, made Amber smile even wider.
With a swift yank, she felt the cool air on her reddened ass cheeks as Myra tore her pants down past the petite roundness or her behind. Simultaneously, she felt the give on the front of her thrift-store khakis. Then the tiny “plink” of the plastic button hitting the cheap linoleum floor.
“Whoops,” Myra said, breaking character.
“I’ll sew it back on,” Amber replied.
Whack!
Myra, back in character, slapped Amber’s bare ass. “No talking!”
“Sorry,” Amber mumbled into the bed sheets.
Whack!
“You did that on purpose, you dirty stripper whore.”
With tears in her eyes, Amber smiled. She had done it on purpose.
And now, Myra was in the zone.
Amber closed her eyes, squeezing a couple more tears out, and waited. She could feel the damp cotton sheet under her face. She felt both of Myra’s hands on her ass. Cool and comforting. Then she felt one of Myra’s thumbs trace downwards and press against her barely-exposed pussy. Amber could feel how wet she was. Wet for Myra. Amber spread her legs as much as she could as Myra’s thumb effortlessly slipped between her pussy’s lips.
Her moan was cut short by a swift slap. She ground her teeth together to keep from making another sound, then she felt Myra’s soft hands travel up her ass and slide through the thin sheen of sweat on her lower back.
“I’m sorry, honey,” Myra cooed. Amber felt the feathered touch of Myra’s lips on first one cheek and then the other. “It’s okay for you to enjoy this. I felt how wet you were. It’s okay. And you know that I only punish you because I love you, sweetie.” Myra wriggled Amber’s pants down a little more and then took one of her fingers, wet with Amber’s sweat, and eased it into the juicy pussy that was on display right in front of her. As she started sliding her finger in and out, deeper with each stroke, she continued in the same tender voice. “You’re my baby and I only want what’s best for you.”
Amber erupted with laughter.
Pulling her finger out and standing up, Myra demanded, “What are you laughing about?”
Barely able to speak, Amber choked out, “The… baby talk… What’s up with that? You are one sick fuck!”
“You’re the one that insists on spankings! I just want to have sex.”
“This is sex,” Amber replied, rolling over onto her back.
“This is depravity! It’s some throwback to your stripping prostitute days.”
Amber slithered out of her pants. “I was never a prostitute.”
“You were a broken, beat-down, demoralized stripper. What? Do you want me to toss money at you?”
“I was a proud stripper,” Amber insisted. “And besides, you don’t have any money to throw at me.”
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