The Case of the Bobbing Barfly

The Case of the Bobbing Barfly

The sky was unusually dark for this time of year in San Francisco as Sam headed toward the waterfront. It wasn't much of a trip. His office – more of a dingy room with a desk - was situated just off of Lombard Street and was only a few blocks from the Embarcadero.

It had rained earlier in the day and what hadn't found its way down the gutters was hanging thick in the air. Sam loved this kind of weather. It's the only time this town looks clean, he thought as he waded through the night toward The Rendezvous.

The neon sign colored the mist as he approached the bar, its garish red and blue colors softened by the damp murk. Sam took a deep breath of the salty air and coughed. So, he thought, this is clean air. He took another deep breath and coughed again. I don't get the big deal.

Reaching into his trench coat, he pulled out a pack of Camels and shook one loose. A passerby gave him a disapproving look.

"What? You have a problem?"

The balding man ducked his head and hurried by. Damn eco-whatevers. Always wanting to change the natural order of things! Sam was a private eye and prided himself on noticing such details.

The Rendezvous wasn't your typical corner bar. Okay, it was but it had a certain je ne sais quoi feel to it. As Sam pushed open the door, the smell of old gin and stale cigarette smoke greeted him like a lover's embrace. Henry, the bartender, looked up and nodded as Sam made his way to his usual small dark booth off the side.

Sliding across the naugahyde seat, Sam saw Maggie moving toward him. Now that's a woman, he thought. Maggie was in her mid-twenties and, in spite of the piercings and tattoos, had the firmness of youth on her side. Her small, perky breasts barely made a rise in the tight t-shirt she was wearing but her nipples were dark and erect under the fabric. "It's a bit cold tonight, huh Maggie?" he questioned.

Ignoring his innuendo, she asked, "The usual, Sam?"

Sam grinned and nodded assent. "Anything going on tonight?"

"Nothing new. The usual crowd ..." she paused. "Actually, Sam, there was a woman looking for you earlier tonight. I told her you'd be in your evening office," she glanced at her watch and smiled, "right about now."

"A woman?"

"Yeah, one of those female versions of men," she mocked. "I had her pegged as a barfly when she came in. You know, the kind that hang out looking for someone to buy them drinks. But, no, she was the real McCoy. Dressed about 30 years out of date and 20 years too young for you but attractive." She cupped her hands several inches above her own breasts. "Just your type," she grinned. "She said she'd be back."

Sam looked around but didn't see anyone who fit the description. Maggie returned with his Manhattan. "Put it on your tab?" she suggested.

"Yep ... and bring another." Sam took a sip, letting his mind drift over the divorce case he was working on, when the door opened ... and she walked in.

Maggie was right ... on both, no make that all three counts, he grinned.

She was tall and slender, except where it counted. Large breasts, small waist, flaring hips. Her red dress was something right out of a 1950's fashion magazine – tight, a revealing slit up the side, and satin. She had blonde hair that fell across her face with a Veronica Lake sultriness that swayed as she moved, revealing dark massacred eyes and pouty full red lips. Sam shook his head. She's young enough to be my daughter, flashed through his mind as he drank in the vision before his eyes.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maggie stifling a laugh. Sticking his tongue out at her, he pretended to wipe the drool off his chin.

The femme fatale looked around the room and then walked straight toward him, followed by the leers of half the men in the bar and the scowls of all the women. Her perfume arrived about 3 seconds before she did. It was a seductive fragrance that screamed "woman in heat" and he could feel that it was having its desired effect.

"Mr. Dollar." It more a statement than a question.

His keen eyes noted that she wasn't wearing a ring ... or a bra, it seemed, gauging by the way her bodice seemed to have extra extensions. "Please, call me Sam. Miss?"

She reached out a slender hand, the nails perfectly formed and matching the slut red of her lips. "April. April Breeze."

Sam slid over, offering her a seat. "Drink?"

"I'll have," she paused, "a Manhattan," she said, displaying a smile of perfect white teeth that glowed in the dim light. Sam was mesmerized by the sensuous curve of her mouth. The moment ended as Maggie arrived with the second drink.

April laughed, a lilting musical sound. "I didn't know you were psychic."

"I am a detective," he quipped. "I know all and see all. So, Miss Breeze – April, if I may – of what service can I be?"

"My boyfriend, Johnny Cann, and I broke up and he moved out about 3 months ago. Since he left, I've felt I was being followed and tonight, a strange man came by demanding to know his whereabouts. I haven't seen or talked to Johnny since he left but the man didn't seem to believe me. I'm afraid Johnny's in some kind of trouble – and now I am too."

Sam reached over and took her hand, admiring the softness. "I'm sure I can help. There's nothing to be afraid of. I'll need some basic information –anything you can tell me about where he worked, family, etcetera. I'm sure we can clear this up in a day or two."

A slight blush formed on her cheeks. "I'm afraid that I don't have much money. He emptied our account when he left and I've only recently gone back to work."

Sam smiled, squeezing her hand and inhaling the perfume. "We can work something out," he reassured her as he stared at the delectable cleavage that was rising and falling so mesmerizingly before him. His reverie was broken as he felt a hand touch his thigh.

"Perhaps a trade? I do have some ... skills," she murmured in a soft, sibilant whisper.

Sam grinned foolishly. "And what did you have in ..." He stopped before completing the sentence as he felt his zipper being pulled down.

April leaned in and he saw a small flash of her pink tongue just before it began tracing the outline of his ear. The feather light touch sent chills down his spine, erasing any misgivings he had about her age. She's over 21!

"April," he began only to have the words stopped by her soft mouth pressing his lips in a kiss. He was only dimly aware ... a warm embrace... cheek against warm cheek... pulling back feeling the softness of skin... lips lightly brushing and then seeking to meet... the feel of warm breath... tongue lightly touching the soft roundness of another's lips first at the corner of the mouth and then following the warm meeting place of the mouth... feeling the welcoming parting and descending into the warmth... tongues playfully touching and then feeling the rush of desire.

With a gasp, Sam pulled back trying to regain his senses. It was too late.

He felt his belt loosen and his manhood slide free of the confinement, only to be captured in the warmth of her hand. It is cold out, flashed through his mind – but only momentarily. He felt her hand begin to move in a gentle but firm motion, pulling the loose skin up to the top of his penis and then stretching it down, fully exposing the head. Oh my god, how good that feels!

"April," he began again. The smoky look of passion in her eyes silenced him.

With a final touch of lips, April smiled and lowered her head under the table. Sam leaned back and closed his eyes, half in euphoria and half in a silent prayer that no one would notice.

A slight "Oh God," escaped his lips as he felt the warmth and wetness of her kiss enfold him and slowly, teasingly slide down his throbbing shaft. She began to rhythmically bob up and down, and he felt his cock continue to swell. Blow, Breeze, Blow, crossed his mind but was quickly erased.

With each circuit, she paused momentarily to run her tongue around the now sensitive head before sliding down, taking the whole shaft into the wetness of her mouth. Her hand, now free, began to lightly squeeze his balls, as if urging them to send their liquid treasure up the shaft to be released in an explosion of ecstasy.

He started, momentarily, as he felt her hand slide further and a finger probe his anus. "Wha..." He began to object but the words never reached his lips as he felt her slide into him, stimulating the small gland that was hidden there and he was lost in the overwhelming pleasure of the experience.

Sam felt the building pressure and the first drops of his orgasm began to seep out. April paused to lick them, the sensation of her tongue on the small, sensitive opening causing him to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out.

Holy mother of God! I can't take much more of this! He reached to cradle her head, her soft hair flowing over his hands like a tidal wave of gold. He slid his hand down, over the supple neck and then continued to her breasts. Finding the top of the dress lying open, he found a nipple – erect with passion – and began to squeeze it.

Suddenly, April stopped. She sat up, her breathiness loud in his ears in the confines of the booth. Adjusting her breasts, and smoothing back her hair, she looked into his eyes with expectation.

"What? why?" Sam began.

"It's been months since Johnny left. I want you and you want me," she explained. "Don't you think we should go somewhere ... more private?" The deep fervor in her voice was all Sam needed to hear.

"Hell, yes!" Standing, with his back to the bar, Sam adjusted himself. "Your place or mine?" he asked, offering her a hand. "Never mind, come with me," he commanded.

As he led her out the door, Maggie gave him a knowing wink. "See you tomorrow, Sam?" The only answer was the whoosing of the door closing.

Outside, the cool air washed over his face but did little to quench the fire that now burned in him. Placing his arm around April's small waist, he began walking toward Lombard Street with a vague idea of showing her his office and his couch.

Her hands, those wonderfully talented hands, caressed his cheeks as they walked, fanning the flames of passion he felt. Stopping in the shadows, he pulled her to him, her warm sensuous lips caressing his, her tongue inquisitively searching the inside of his mouth.

As she responded, her full breasts spread across his chest, the hard nipples teasing him. He became aware of the heat emanating from between her legs and began pushing his hardness into her and felt ... a corresponding response.

Coming up for air, Sam remembered her earlier fear of the stranger that had been at her house.

"Please," he huskily begged, "tell me that's a gun."


Notes
An entry in November Round 5 of "Sensual Moments, Vol. 9"  [18+]
Prompt: The new guy/ girl: New things are exciting and attract people's attention. It isn't any different with actual people. One is often intrigued by the newcomer to an already established group (work for instance) and wants to know all about that person. Have two people meet, one of which is a newcomer. Beware of the twist though. There has to be an age difference which will constitute a moral barrier for one of them. How do they manage to overcome that barrier?
Word Limit: 1,000 minimum, 3,000 maximum
Word Count: 1,938

je ne sais quoi ~ An intangible quality that makes something distinctive or attractive.
femme fatale ~ an irresistibly attractive woman, especially one who leads men into difficult, dangerous, or disastrous situations.

Thank you for taking time to read my words. I would appreciate it if you took a moment and left a comment. Your reaction, impressions, criticisms, - yes, even encouragement or praise - are all equally welcome.

Ken