A Private-Eye Full free porn video

Chapter 1

I'm Mike Taylor and I was watching an apartment complex. That’s what I was being paid to do, I’m a private investigator. My mission was to record the coming and going of a man whose estranged wife believed he was up to no good. I had been watching the apartments off and on for two weeks and had come to know who belonged and who didn’t. Up to this point the subject of my surveillance came home from work, went in to his apartment and stayed there until he left for work the following morning. From what I could tell he was behaving himself. In fact he was boring as hell.

The woman in the apartment above him was a hot to trot blonde and she was rowdy enough for several people, but no one was paying me to keep up with Blondie which I considered a shame.

I had noticed that the apartment at the far end of the two story strip was occupied by a large impressive black man. I also noticed that the big black man didn’t lack company and like the blonde he seemed to be a social creature. Both the blonde and the black were active, but my subject was about as active as a turnip.

I had reported to my client that there didn’t appear to be any hanky-panky, but she insisted that I continue on. She was paying so I was staying. I also was hoping that I didn’t die from shear boredom.

I knew from watching the apartment that the trash collectors would be coming early the next morning so I made plans to come back during the night and collect my clients husband's trash. I recognize that it’s not very noble, but as a rule it’s very educational. People have this stupid mind set that if they wad it up and toss it, that it’s gone for good. Nothing could be further from the truth. Never, never throw anything away that you don’t want the world to know. If it has your name or any identifying numbers, such as account numbers, credit card numbers, bank records, best shred or otherwise destroy it before you toss it

I arrived back at the apartments about three in the morning. My thinking was that everybody should be in bed by that time. I was right about that. The neighborhood was as quite as a tomb, but I had made one slight miscalculation....none of the trash containers were marked. I didn’t know which belonged to the subject of my investigation. Like a good scout I was prepared so I bagged all the trash from each of the six large cans.

There were eight apartments, but two were empty, so I had six large trash bags to search.

I decided to wait until later in the morning, at a civilized hour, to check the trash bags. I took a shower and went to bed. I remember smiling as I drifted off to sleep, wondering what the city trash collector would think when they came to eight empty containers.

I got up at the crack of noon and was soon hard at work on the trash bags. I quickly identified the first three by mail that had been carelessly thrown away. The forth container was not from my subjects apartment, but it was, by far, the most interesting. There were two large photo albums and nine video tapes cassettes. A quick examination of the photo albums aroused my interest. The big black man and apparently some of his black male friends, were photographed in all types of action shots with white women. There was a wide variety of action, twosomes, threesomes and group shots. All were of black men and white women. This type activity is one of my things and I have long recognized that I am a voyeur. I guess all investigators and photographers are voyeurs if they’ll admit it. I lay the photos and tapes aside and continued what proved to be a fruitless search of the rest of the trash. My subject had thrown nothing incriminating away, but I wasn’t too surprised. I had a suspicion that the poor man was just trying to get away from the woman he had married.

Chapter 2

It was Saturday so I decided to go and watch the apartments for a while. My subject was off on weekends so I reasoned that if he was going to do anything it would be today.

Just as I parked my car I saw the big black man come running down the sidewalk from his apartment. He ran to the trash contained and threw off the lid. Empty was not what he apparently wanted to see because he pick up the container and slammed it back to the sidewalk.

I could hear him cussing as he slammed the trash container down again and again. A young black woman came running up to him apparently trying to calm him. He picked her up and slammed her down just like he did the trash container.

Unhurt, she bounced to her feet and attacked him. I got out of the car, not to intervene, but to hear what they were saying. I not a coward, but when I said this man was big I mean really big.

“You stupid cunt bitch!” He shouted, slapping her. “You threw away a million bucks and a lot of fine pussy. I’ll kill you, you bitch!”

“You don’t need ‘dem white bitches,” The small woman cried, hitting him on the chest with ridiculously small fists. “You got me!”

“I ain’t got shit ‘cause you’re dead, you stupid bitch.” He had her lifted by the neck and had drawn back a meaty fist.

Coward that I am, I couldn’t just stand and watch so I started across the street to stop what I believed was going to be a murder . Just as I pulled my trusty gun out of its holster I saw the police car pull up.

The big man saw the cops about the same time I did and he threw the woman at them. She literarily flew through the air like a rag doll. Big man whipped a big gun out of his belt.

Two black cops jumped out of the patrol car and yelled for the black man to freeze. He didn’t, but I dammed sure did. I didn’t like the way this was shaping up at all. By my count there were three black men all with guns and one puny white private eye. I slowly squatted down between two cars and carefully peeked over the back fender.

The big man carefully took aim and shot one of the cops. I couldn’t believe it. He just stood there and shot the cop. The other cop started shooting and I guess he shot the big man five or six times before the hulk fell. I put my gun back into the holster and stayed where I was. I knew from my own experience that the surviving cop had adrenalin pumping in by the buckets and he was very likely to shoot anything and anybody that surprised him.

Soon the place was crawling with cops and ambulances and fire trucks. I casually drifted over to where all the action was. I recognized one of the plain clothes cops. His name is Richard (don’t call me Dick) Elliott. He’s real touchy about the name.

“Hi Dick,” I said. “What’ch got goin’ on?”

“What the hell you doin’ here?” he growled. I think he likes me, but is afraid to show it.

“Aw Dick,” I said. “That ain’t no way to talk to your star witness. I saw this evil deed and I am ready to stand up and be counted.”

One of the paramedics stepped up, “Lieutenant, your officer is going to be okay, but the other man is dead.”

Dick grunted, “What about the woman? She going to be all right?”

“Yeah, we are going to transport, but she’ll be okay, I think.” the paramedic said. “Mostly abrasions and some bruising.

Dick Elliott turned to me, “Well ass, let’s have it. What did you see?”

We are such good friends. He used to call me asshole but now he has shortened it. Sort of like a nickname. I told him what I had seen. He seemed satisfied that it was a “good shooting”.

“You know his name?” I asked.

“Yeah, Darrel Green. Called himself “ Hammer”. Got a rap sheet ‘bout four yards long. Mostly small crap. Pulled a couple years for armed robbery sometime ago.” He cocked an eye at me “Why are you so interested?”

“Oh just nosey,” I answered casually. “Been watching this place for a while. Lot of women going to be unhappy he’s dead.”

“I guess,” He answered. “Vice seems to think he had some amateur hookers he was pimpin’ for. Don’t matter now I guess.”

“Not to “ Hammer”,” I said.

I made a trip to the police station where a bored stenographer took my statement. I signed all three copies and bid my friends good day.

I decided to go by the apartments again just to take a look around. My client’s old man had not even come out during all the excitement. To be honest it was my curiosity about the late Hammer that led me to his apartment.

I casually strolled around the area for a while before approaching the dead mans apartment. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t to find the apartment door standing slightly ajar.

I eased the door open with the barrel of my gun and was met with the small black woman Hammer had used as a shot put. She squealed and I nearly shit. I don’t know who was the most surprised.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded gruffly.

“I live here,” She said, her eyes darting around, coming to rest on my pistol.

“No you don’t.” I said. “Who are you and what do you have there?” She was holding a brown attachй case made of some kind of reptile skin and she was backing up as I entered the room.

“Tell me now or later down town,” I bluffed. “Up to you.”

“I’m Betty,” She said her voice quivering. “Betty Harrison. My ...er...ah...boyfriend lives...er...ah...lived here.” Tears started down her cheeks. Her eyes were puffy and there were several darker places on her face and arms. There was a band aid over one eye.

“What’s in the case?” I demanded. “d**gs?”

“I don’t know,” She answered sitting the case down and taking a step away from it. “I was just going to keep it until.....” Her voice trailed off.

“Until you could peddle the d**gs?” I asked, trying to sneer. Frankly I doubted that Darrel Green, A.K.A. Hammer, was a dealer. I hadn’t seen any activity that would indicate d**gs and I can usually spot it.

“No, no I don’t have anything to do with d**gs,” She said. “I don’t know what’s in the case.”

“You are lying,” I said. It’s very hard to do the “good cop/bad cop” thing when you are by yourself, so I was just doing the bad cop half of the routine.

“Just some papers,” She cried. “I swear that’s all I know ‘bout. It’s locked and I ain’t got a key.”

“What kind of papers, Betty?” I asked. “If it’s locked how do you know what’s in it?”

“I saw Darrell put some papers in it this morning just...just before...ah...you know.”

“Did the cops talk to you?’ I asked.

“What’ch mean?” she asked. “Ain’t you a cop?”

Opps, “Of course,” I snapped. “I mean the other cops.”

She stilled looked at me suspiciously. “Yeah, some. They asked me what I knew about Darrell.”

“What did you tell them?”

“I told ‘em that Darrell hated cops, ‘specially black cops.”

That shouldn’t come as any sunrise to the men in blue. “Did you tell them why Darrell would start shooting at the cops.”

She shook her head slowly. “I guess nobody will ever know that. He was pretty mad at me and I guess he just flipped. I don’t know.”

“Why was he mad at you?”

She shrugged her shoulders, but didn’t answer.

“Come on Betty,” I said gently. “Let’s get this over with here and now without anybody getting hassled.”

Betty Harrison gave a big sigh and then started talking.

“I threw some dirty pictures and tapes away. Darrell was pissed at me for that.”

“What kind of dirty pictures?” I asked.

“Darrell had a bunch of white sluts that was ho’in’ for him. Him and some of his buddies took pictures of them doing all that stuff. I got mad and threw them in the trash. They was already gone when Darrell found out about it.”

“What do you mean, “whoring for him”?

“You mean you don’t know what ‘ho’in’ is?” she said cutting her eyes at me.

“I know what it means,” I said. “What do you think it means?”

“He’d make dates with black men for them to go fuck. Then he would collect money. What’s that sound like to you?”

I had to smile even if she was getting over her initial fear. “Sounds a lot like whoring to me,” I said. “What’s in the case you were sneaking off with?”

Betty Harrison shrugged her shoulders again, “Names I guess” she said. “Phone numbers, addresses. I don’t know for sure. Darrell was careful not to let me see what all was there.”

“Where are you from, Betty?” I asked.

“Greenville, South Carolina,” She answered. “Darrell was going to marry me, he said he was!”

“Yeah, I guess he was,” I said slowly. “Go home to Greenville, South Carolina, Betty Harrison. There ain’t nothing here for you now.”

I watched Betty walk down the sidewalk and when she had turned the corner I made a quick inspection of Hammer’s apartment. It was a nice apartment and it was full of stereo equipment and all kinds of electronics. I figured as soon as the word got out that Hammer was no longer among the quick, his stuff would quickly vanish. Since I’m not a thief I left the apartment pretty much as I had found it. Of course I took the attachй case with me.

Chapter 3

The photo albums were a pornographer’s dream come true. Most of the women were decent looking and a few were dammed good looking. On average, not a bad crop of females. The men were all black and hung so as to shame a pony. One of the black gents had a dick that must have been at least a foot long and as big around as a beer can.

The video tapes were a lot more of the same, but with action and sound. One woman in the videos and the still photos had caught my attention. She was tall, about five seven or eight and built like the proverbial brick shit house. It was apparent that she really like to fuck and she seemed to specialize in double penetration. One dick in her cunt and another in her ass. In one of videos she had one in each orifice and one in each hand. Three holes and two hands. Come on boys, no waiting.

In spite of her carnal activities she seemed to have some style and class. On one of the videos she appeared in, she was wearing, briefly, some expensive and tasteful clothes.

Hammer’s locked briefcase slowed me down for about twenty seconds. A pry bar soon took care of the locks. It was soon apparent that Hammer was a good record keeper. In printed block letters he listed all the women, a photo of each, and a description of what they would and wouldn’t do for the client. It was also soon apparent that Hammer had little or no problem using blackmail to achieve his goals. It looked like some of the people was sending monthly cash payments to my good buddy Darrell. The others put out for Darrel, his friends and a few good customers. Darrell charged anywhere from $100.00 to $1000.00 for the services of his whores.

The briefcase also contained a package of cash. A quick count showed that to be twenty-five thousand bucks. No wonder Hammer was so pissed off at the world. “Hammer” had lost his leverage for blackmail that apparently was a pretty good income producer.

I got up and got myself a beer and sat contemplating the situation. I had the names, addresses and phone numbers of f******n women who were either paying off in cash or pussy and making ol’ Hammer a good living. The obvious question was...what was I going to do about it?

After several cool ones I still had not fully decided, but I had a fair idea that I was going to help myself to some of Hammer’s Pussy.

Chapter 4

I went to the post office and got a change of address form from the help-your-self counter. I filled it out, listing the new address for Darrell Green as my post office box. I didn’t use my box all that often, but I had open it when I was an optimistic, new PI. I filled in Darrell’s name and also Hammer and scrawled a few other names in the blanks for “others”. I back dated the form a few days. Of course I was aware that if Hammer had a postal box somewhere then this wasn’t going to work, but hope does spring eternal.

Having set my course, I went back to Hammers apartment and after determining that there still wasn’t any activity I slipped the lock that I had set and went it. Mr. Green did have call forwarding so I forwarded his calls to my non-business number. I scouted around and found an old telephone bill. Hammer was a couple months in arrears, but what the hell I had some of his money so I paid the bill and changed the billing address to the post office box. Before I left I went to the service box and disconnected the service line. I went home to look at some photos and wait.

I didn’t have to wait very long. I got several hang up calls the first day and three or four every day for several days before I begun to answer the phone different. The first time I tried my new approach it worked which sure surprised me.

“This is Hammer’s partner. You got business speak, if you don’t then hang up the fuckin’ phone.”

There was a slight pause then a masculine voice said, “Who is this?”

“This is Mike,” I said. “What can I do for you?”

“Where’s Hammer?” the voice said.

“Hammer is dead,” I said. “Don’t you read the papers?” I didn’t see any point in trying to lie about the obvious.

“Yeah I read the papers. What’ch you know ‘bout Hammer’s business?”

“Everything,” I lied. “What’ch need?”

“Who’s got the stable?”

“I do.” I said. “So what do you need?”

“You got that big titted red-head?”

I scanned the list and photos. There was only one red-head and that was a girl named Carol Miller.

“You mean Carol? Yeah, she still available. Who is this?”

“This is David.” He hesitated just a hair too long. Most people will hesitate before using a name they are not use to using. Also there was not a David on the john list. There was a notation that Carol Miller had visited a person named Tall Man about a month before.

“Wrong answer, Tall Man,” I said and hung up the phone. He called back in a few minutes. “Hey man,” He said. “Why did you hang up on me?”

“Ain’t got time for the bull shit, Tall Man,” I answered. “We got business, say so.”

“Me and a buddy would like to rent that red-headed gal for a couple hours tomorrow. How much?”

“Same as last time,” I ventured.

“Right,” he said. “Fifty each?”

“I told you Tall man,” I said. “Ain’t got time for the shit. Tell you what, you and your buddy can go fuck each other.”

“Hey wait a minute!” He screamed over the phone. “Don’t hang up. I just forgot. Was it two Hundred?”

“You know it was,” I answered. “How do you want to do it?”

“Same as last time,” The man said.

“That I don’t know,” I said honestly. “You tell me how you did it last time.”

There was just enough hesitation to cause be to think that Mr. Tall Man was about to lie to me again

“She come here to my place in a taxi. We’ll see that she gets home all right.” I didn’t need a stress analyzer to know this cat was lying through his teeth.

“I don’t think so,” I said pleasantly and hung up. Tall Man must have been mad at me because he waited a full five minutes before he tried again.

“Man, if you keep hangin’ up on me I could get pissed off.” He said.

“If you keep jerking my chain you’re for sure gonna piss me off. Let’s try to get this right this time. How does it work?”

Tall Man was in a quandary. I knew some things and I didn’t know some things. He simply didn’t know what I knew or didn’t know. I knew what he was going through. I didn’t have much idea myself.

“Hell, Man,” He said with a great sigh, “We pick the slut up at Hammers and deliver her back there. You best remember that you ain’t the only dude with white bitches!”

“That’s true,” I acknowledge. “But my white bitches ain’t street whores. You got yourself some mighty fine white pussy and no std’s. Here’s the deal, two hundred each for two hours.” I gave him the address of the closed deli across the street from my place. “When do you want this to go down?”

“Tomorrow night, say eight or so. We pay her or you?”

I reasoned that Hammer didn’t want to be seen collecting cash from anybody. “Give it to Carol,” I answered, “She’ll give it to me.”

I had my first pimp deal. All I needed now was a whore. Carol Miller had two phone numbers. One for before five and one after six. It was early so I called the before five number.

“Good afternoon,” said a voice. “Bradford, Bradford and Pope. How may I help you?”

“Carol Miller,” I said.

“This is Carol,” the voice said.

“You got a date tomorrow night at eight.” I said.

“Who is this?” She demanded.

“This is Hammers friend, Mike. I got all the stuff and you got to deal with me from now on.”

“How do I know that?” she demanded to know. Carol Miller was a feisty gal.

“Watch the mail and you might catch the pictures as they come in to Bradford or Bradford or Pope. Oh silly me, of course I would send them to the home addresses. Maybe I could send a couple to your home address, too.” I could tell she was thinking. Was I bluffing or not?

“Hey Carol,” I said. “I really like the one where you and Hammer and that long dick goofy guy were tangled up on the floor. You know the one… where your head was under the coffee table?”

“Oh,” she said a small voice. Her voice changed to a more business like tone. I guessed someone had approached her desk or whatever. “May I have a number to call you back? Should be within the hour” I gave her Hammers old number.

She called back in just a few minutes. “What happened to Hammer”?” she asked.

“He died suddenly,” I said. “I’m the man now. You need to be at this address and ready to party with two studs at eight o’clock Thursday night.”

“Do I collect the same?” she asked.

“Sure you do,” I answered.

“How do I get it to you?” she asked.

“When Tall Man drops you off stay put and I’ll find you.”

“I’m glad it’s Tall Man,” She said. “He’s nice. Who’s the other guy?”

“Beats me. See you Thursday night Carol.” I said hanging up. By God, now I was officially a pimp.

Chapter 5

I had checked the post office box every day and it took five days for an envelope to show up in the box. I didn’t see anyone that appeared to be paying attention to me so I took it out. I ripped it open as I made my way to the car. Five hundred buck in cash. There was no return address, but it had a post mark from an outlying community. It matched with the name of Stephanie King. I had already figured out by cross referencing the address, that ol’ Steph King was the wife of Circuit Court Judge, Carl King.

The word of Hammer’s demise apparently had not gotten to the King residence. I knew I needed to contact all the people on Hammers list.

One list was this:

Working Carol Miller- single/Receptionist for Lawyers Paying Stephanie King- Judges wife Working Allison Baker- housewife Working Jan Crane-single/MD Working Lisa Hurst-single/Bank Manager Working Kristi Curry-married/Department store clerk Working Jackie Rupert-married/owner pet store Working Debbie Palmer-married/co-owner health spa Working Beverly Jett-housewife/ husband laid off from work, drunk most of the time Paying Tina Roberts-surgeon’s wife /country club set Working Vicki LaRue- single/unemployed Working Keeli Thomas- housewife/husband works nights in plant Paying Susan Williams- wife of politician big shot Paying Faye Sawyer- wife of factory owner/country club set

On another sheet he listed each ones address and phone numbers and times to contact the women. On a different he listed their sexual likes and dislikes. For example:

Carol Miller likes gangbangs and DP. Good whore

Kristi likes to be forces to fuck. Warms up slow, but will get it on

Vicky needs money and will do anything

Bev is a hot woman. Needs two or three dicks to keep her happy. Old man is a bum.

Debby likes one on one but will lay still for two or more. Good whore

Jackie will run as soon as she sells pet shop. Likes to fuck, but don’t like to whore. Need new pictures

Allison don’t give a fuck. Likes any kind of sex. Good whore.

Chapter 5

I scanned some of the photos and printed some, using my computer and sent each of the women a photo of themselves and a letter instructing them to meet with me. I set up times and places all over town.

On the same day I was sending Carol Miller to meet Tall Man and his friend I had my first meeting was with Faye Sawyer. I could see from Hammers records that Sawyer had not paid the agreed amount of a thousand bucks for this month or the previous month.

I waited in the quite little bar for Faye to arrive. She was late, but within the accepted perimeters. When she walked in the door she acted like she owned the joint and couldn’t wait to sell it or give it away.

“Hi Faye,” I said after getting her attention. “Have a seat.”

“I won’t be here long enough to sit.” She said, looking at me as though I had a turd on my face. I could see that Mrs. Sawyer and I were not going to get along very well.

I reached into my briefcase and took a photo of Faye Sawyer giving a black dick a real tongue lashing. It was obviously her and she was enjoying her work. I made sure she saw it and then I got up and went to a bulletin board on the wall beside the jukebox. It was a place for business cards and flyers.

I went back to the table and set down. Faye Sawyer’s face went to deep red to white in a few seconds.

“The others will have your name, address and phone number on them,” I said.

Faye started toward the photo. “Leave it” I snapped. “You can sit down or get the hell out of here.”

She sat. “Please take it down,” she whispered.

“Can’t,” I said. “You have not honored your commitments.”

She was looking over my shoulder toward the photo of her. “Please take it down. I’ll pay you. Hurry! Here comes someone.” A tall black man was going to the restroom and the photo caught his eye. He studied the picture for a minute and then moved on.

“He saw my face,” She hissed. “Take it down this instant!” Mrs. Faye Sawyer was just trying to piss me off.

“Why do you care,” I smiled. “Do you know him?”

“I said I would pay you,” She snapped. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because you are a stuck up bitch,” I answered. Faye Sawyer was a good looking woman. I would guess her age at about thirty, but I could be off by a few years either way.

“I don’t know what you want,” She leaned forward and whispered. “I said I would pay you the money. What the hell do you want from me?”

“A blow job,” I answered. “You just sit still and I’ll be back.” I got up and went to the rest room. The tall black man was washing his hands.

“Hi,” I said. “Saw you looking at the photo on the wall. Like that girl?”

“She’s okay,” He said with a shrug. “Seen better, seen worse.”

“Well,” I said. “This is your lucky day. She's right outside and he’s giving blow jobs for five bucks today. You interested?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Hell, even the street whores get more then that. What’s the catch? She one of them chicks with dicks?”

I laughed, “No nothing like that. She’s all woman, but she needs a lesson in manners. If you aren’t interested then forget it.”

“Hey I didn’t say I wasn’t interested,” he said hurriedly. “Sure why not. Where and when?”

“Right here and right now, that handicap stall is big enough.” I said. “Stay put and I’ll send her in. Be a few minutes.”

“All right,” I said to Faye Sawyer, “here’s the deal. You go in the men’s room and give the man in there a good five dollar blow job. If you are not back within fifteen minutes with the money, I’ll have your pictures on every break room in Hubby’s factory. Won’t your friends at the Country Club be surprised when your photos show up everywhere.”

She stared at me with open mouth.

“If I was you, Mrs Sawyer,” I said, “I get my ass in there and get to sucking. Your time is running out.”

She glared at me for another thirty seconds and then lowered her head and left the table going toward the men’s room.

A quieter more demure Faye Sawyer came back to the table a little while later. She dropped a five dollar bill in front of me. She sat down without any comment.

“Are we ready to talk business now?” I asked.

She nodded her head.

“You owe me two thousand,” I said. “Counting last month and this month. Do you have it?”

She shook her head, “No not right now. I told Hammer that I was running a little behind and he agreed to let it slide until next month.”

“Bull shit. What did you have to do?” I asked. I was pretty sure that Ol’ Hammer didn’t let anybody completely off the hook.

She blushed, “I had to have sex with him.” I waited. “And some other men and a woman.”

The last part of her statement was so low I barely heard her.

“How much of the debt was that supposed to take care of?” I asked.

“A thousand.” She answered quickly. Much too quickly. Mrs. Sawyer was lying through her pretty teeth.

I stared at her without saying a word. Pretty soon her gaze droped and she said softly, “Five hundred of it,” she said. “He was going to call me and let me know when I could do something about the other five hundred. Then I saw in the paper that he was killed by the police and I thought ...”

“You thought you were off the hook,” I finished for her. I shook my head. “Faye, I’ll honor Hammer’s deal, but you still owe me fifteen hundred. How are we going to work that?”

“I’ll have a thousand of it in a few days. I get a household allowance. I can get a thousand, but not fifteen hundred. Can you...I mean maybe we could do something like Hammer...” I liked this side of Mrs. Sawyer much better.

“Maybe,” I said. The tall black man was sitting in a booth by the windows. He had been trying to get my attention. “Wait here.’ I said getting up.

“How was it?” I asked when I got to his booth.

He laughed, “Worth five dollars,” he said. “Is she a whore?”

“No she’s a woman who owes me some money and a better attitude.” I said “Why, you interested?”

“I would be if she was available,” He said. “Best blowjob I ever had. She really got into it.”

“She still owes me,” I said. “Maybe we could work out something. You ain’t ever going to get another five dollar blowjob. That was to prove who’s boss. A couple hours with her will cost you five hundred bucks.”

“Wow, man,” He said shaking his head. “I’d like that, but the price is too steep. I’m just a working man.”

“I’ll make you a better deal,” I countered, coming up with an idea. “Two hundred and I video it all.”

He looked at me for a few moments then agreed. “I get a copy of the video,” He added.

We arranged a day and time, but I told him I’d have to get back to him on the place. I wasn’t real keen on using my place for a porno session, but I though I knew of a place I could use.

Faye Sawyer resisted for a little while and then gave in. It was only a token resistance. I could see that the prospects of the man’s hard, black cock excited her. I didn’t see any reason to tell her about the video part of the deal. She would just worry. I don’t like my bitches worrying.

Chapter 6

I watched from my window as Carol Miller got out of a cab at the corner and walk a spot in front of the closed deli. She only had to wait a few minutes when a car pulled up. Carol stooped and peered into the car. She was apparently satisfied that she knew the occupants and they quickly drove away. I glanced at the clock. It was ten minutes after eight and I had a couple hours to wait until Carols return.

I dialed the number for Lisa Hurst. I had spoke with her early that day and I told her I would be calling her.

“Hello,” a voice said answering the ring.

“Lisa? This is Mike.”

“I really don’t know what this is all about,” She said. “I think you have me mixed up with somebody else.” Well I couldn’t blame her for trying. I had been to the branch bank that she managed and did a comparison with her photo and her reality. One and the same!

“Well,” I said “Maybe I have made a mistake, but I don’t think so. I could send some great photos out to your friends and bank officials and see if they can recognize you.”

There was a silence from the other end of the line for a while then a sigh, “I thought it was over,” she said softly. “Hammer is dead...”

“Yes, but Mike is alive and well, and we have to bravely go on for the sake of Hammer’s memory,” I said interrupting her. “Right now you need to be at 127 Blue Springs Street. You have a meeting with me. Should take you about fifteen minutes to get here.”

I didn’t wait for to acknowledge before I hung up. I needed to get her in a compliance mood.

Lisa Hurst was an unknown element. Hammer’s records, for the most part were well kept, but Lisa and Jan Crane had very little written about them.

I picked Lisa first because she was one of the classier looking women. She had interested me from the very first time I saw her videos and photos. I was waiting by the front window when I saw her slow down in front of my house and then pull to the curb and park.

“Hi, Lisa,” I said opening the door before she got to it. “Come in, I’m Mike. Like a drink?”

“I think I may need one,” She said a slight smile on her face. If she was nervous she hid it well. “Whatever you have will be fine.”

I mixed us a couple of drinks and after handing her the drink I also handed her a stack of photos of her. One of the photos showed her and three black men and one other white woman. I couldn’t make out who the other woman was. She looked at the photos taking a long time with each. After a while she handed them back to me.

“All right so you are now the blackmailer. What now?” Her directness threw me for a moment.

“Business as usual,” I said. “I don’t want you to think of me as a blackmailer,” I continued. “Think of me as a business partner.”

“Ha,” she said with an un-lady like snort. “Some partnership! I do all the fucking and sucking and you get all the money.”

Now that was interesting news. I was getting a feeling that Hammer had not played very fair with his ladies. The records seem to indicate that Lisa was one of the high dollar women. Getting as high as a grand at a time.

“Well,” I said, “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to meet face to face with you. I think it may be time for some changes. What do you get for...ah...?”

“A date?’ she supplied. “Nothing. Not one damn penny.”

“Really,” I said slowly. “I was under the impression that Hammer was a generous employer.”

“Okay, Mike,” she said sitting up a little straighter, “Let’s get one thing straight. I, or none of us, as far as I am aware, consider ourselves employees. The girl’s I know are just like me. We were blackmailed into prostitution. Nothing more or nothing less.”

Lisa Hurst was a very forthright person to say the least. This was going to be harder then I thought. One should also consider that I didn’t have a clue as to what the fuck I was doing.

“Let me ask you a question,” I said “You got into this because you liked fucking black men. Would that be a fair statement?” She nodded her head so I continued. “You are still fuckin’ black men and from the photos, you enjoy it. So what’s the problem?”

“You don’t get it do you?” She snapped. “Before, when I dated black men it was my choice. Now it’s Hammers....or now, I guess it’s yours. You bastards are getting rich and I’m getting nothing. I would like to have some say in it!”

“Would you feel better if you got to keep some of the money?”

“You are dammed right I would feel better about it!” She snapped. “I like to fuck and there is nothing I like better then to meet with some strong black studs and just fuck them until they can’t get it up any more. I just want to get paid for the use of my pussy, mouth and ass!”

“Let’s say,” I said slowly, trying to think as I went, “You keep twenty-five per cent and...”

“I have a better plan,” she said, interrupting me. “Let’s split it fifty-fifty.”

You have to remember that I was new to the blackmail and pimp business. My thought processes were that half of something was a whole lot better then one hundred percent of nothing. I had been having some problems with the white slavery part of the deal. One of the problems of having a stupid conscience I guess.

“Okay, that’s a deal,” I agreed. “Fifty-fifty works for me. Now that is settled let me ask you a question. Who is the other woman in this photo?” I handed her the orgy picture with the unknown woman.

“Oh,” she said glancing at the picture. “Her name is Jan Crane. I’ve worked with her a couple of times.” Lisa smiled at me. “Why? Got an itch for her?”

“No, not an itch,” I said matching her smile. “Curiosity. You both look like you were having fun.”

“Oh yeah, I like working with Jan. She eats pussy like nobody else can.” Lisa said.

“You like having a woman eat you?” I asked.

“Man, there is nothing like having your pussy eaten while being fucked by a hard dick. Can’t hardly get a man to do that,” she laughed. “Or letting a woman suck the cum out after a hard fucking.” She laughed again, “Well I’ll be damned, you’re blushing! I can’t believe it! What kind of pimp are you anyway?”

Trouble was, I was red-faced, but it was because I was getting turned on. I glanced at the clock. We had been talking for a long time. It was almost time for Tall Man to deliver Carol.

“Do you ever work with Carol?” I inquired.

“Carol Miller? Sure, a couple times. She’s not as much fun as Jan, but she is enthusiastic,” Lisa said. “She’ll suck a pussy, but she doesn’t get off doing it like Jan.”

“How about you? Do you eat pussy?”

“Sure,” she said matter-of-factly. “I like a cock better, but I’ll help out a sister if the need is there.” She looked at me closely for a moment, “Are you for real?”

“I don’t know how to answer that,” I said. For some reason I told Lisa how I came into the deal. Of course I didn’t tell her everything.

“So now you are in the cat bird seat.” She said. “Are you really going to split with us?”

“Sure,” I said. “I do have a problem. Some people are just paying cash. I guess I could stop their payments.”

“Who is paying?” she asked. I showed her the list.

Lisa studied the list for a while, then handed it back to me.

“You don’t get it do you?” she said shaking her head. “They’re not paying to keep Hammer from doing anything. Hammer was being paid to provide black cock. It’s a game with them. I partied with a couple of them and let me tell you they want to pay. Makes them feel better about themselves. Let the dumb bitches keep paying.”

I glanced at the clock again and Lisa caught it. “What? You have a date?”

I explained that I wanted to be in a position to be seen when Tall Man brought Carol back.

“Good ideal to be seen,” Lisa offered, “Hammer did sometimes. Does Carol know she actually going to get paid?”

I shook my head, “It wasn’t discussed. I just assumed that you girls were being paid something.” I stood up, “Think it will make her happy?”

“Ecstatic,” She answered. “I know she is in debt up to her eyes. Are you going to bring her here?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I said. “Tall Man is going to drop her across the street. Stick around if you want to.”

“Oh, I’ll stick,” She said laughing. “I want to hear how she made out with Tall Man. I’ve fucked him before. Now there’s a stud who knows what to do.”

Chapter 7

I stood in the darken doorway of Spiffio’s old deli and waited for about ten minutes. A late model sports car drove up and a young woman got out. She leaned down to the passengers window.

“Thanks for the fun time, guys,” She said, “You’re both a great fuck. Thanks for the tip, too. See you later.”

The car departed with tires squalling and smoke rolling.

I let the woman stand there for a moment, softly humming to herself. Apparently Tall Man and company had left this girl in a pleasant frame of mind.

“How much tip did they give you?” I asked. She jumped and whirled around. “Hi, I’m Mike,” I said, leaving the shadows. “Have a good time?”

“God dammit!” She yelled. “You scared me out of ten years of my life! Where the hell did you come from?”

“Sorry,” I said. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Come on with me.”

She followed me across the street mumbling curses the whole distance. I let us into my house.

“Lisa!” Carol squealed, “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

The two women hugged and Lisa took Carol to the couch asking what Carol wanted to drink. She had apparently delegated herself as hostess.

“Who is this turkey?” Carol asked, hitching her thumb toward me.

“This is Mike,” Lisa said smiling at me. “He’s all right.” Now who could ask for a better endorsement?

“How did he get involved in this shit?” Carol demanded. “What the hell happened to Hammer?”

“Hammer fought the law and the law won,” I said. “You didn’t answer me. How much tip did you get?”

Wordlessly she opened her small pocketbook and handed me a folded hundred dollar bill which I ignored. She took four hundred more from her pocket and put all five bills together and handed it to me.

I took the money and took two of the bills and handed her the other three hundred. “I don’t keep tips,” I said.

Carol Miller sat opened mouth and Lisa laughed out loud.

“I told you he was all right, didn’t I?” Lisa said, still laughing at Carol’s expression. “We get to fuck black cock and get paid too. It doesn’t get any better then this!”

I explained the deal to Carol. At first she didn’t seem to understand. But the ideal gradually sunk in. She put the money she still held up to her nose grinning widely.

Lisa moved over to the couch and sat beside Carol, “Now tell me about your date with Tall Man” she said. “I fucked him a couple of times.”

“Hey that Tall Man is a great fuck,” Carol said, “but he can’t hold a candle to the other man. Said his name is Bud. If Tall Man is tall then Bud should be called Wide Man. His cock is not quite as long as Tall Man’s but it almost twice as big around. It took nearly half an hour to get it all in me, but boy was it worth it. Wow, I’m getting horny just thinking about it.” She glanced at me, “How ‘bout it man,” she said to me. “You interested in a party?”

Well of course I was. And did we party! Carol and Lisa nearly killed me, but I would have gone out with a smile on my face.

When I couldn’t fuck any more the girls continued on without me. My last sight, just before I dozed off, was Carol and Lisa in a hot sixty-nine.

END OF PART ONE

PART TWO

CHAPTER ONE

I’m not going to deny it. I was having the time of my life. In one week I had more pussy than I had enjoyed in the past year. Maybe the past two years.

I had met with all the working girls on Hammer’s list and most were overjoyed that they were making money from their activities. That cheap bastard, Hammer, kept all the loot they made. Also I had contacted all the women that preferred to pay cash. I refused to think of it as blackmail and I had made up my mind that I wouldn’t do anything to expose them. Things could not get any better.

On Monday night I watched and made a video of a k** named Kristi Curry and an older black man. One hot session! Fortunately Lisa Hurst came by and helped me out. We fucked for an hour. Lisa is one hot banker.

On Tuesday I participated in a real gangbang. This time it was a woman named Vicki LaRue. Vicki put on a show for us using a champagne bottle. I suppose you can figure out how that went. The rest of the week went about the same. More pussy then you can shake a stick at.

Ol’ Mike is living the good life!

CHAPTER TWO

I was trying to divide my time between my investigation business and my newly acquired pimp practice. In the two weeks that I had been a pimp it was clear to me that there was not enough of me to go around.

It was early, at least for me, and I was sitting in my office going through the mail that had accumulated over the past few days. Most of it was junk mail that I didn’t bother to open. The rest of it was bills that I didn’t want to open.

The door opened and a portly, red-faced man entered.

“Are you Mike Taylor?” he asked, still standing in the door. He had a deep voice.

“Yes I am,” I answered. I was hopeful that the quiver I felt didn’t show in my voice.

“I am Winston King,” he announced unnecessarily. I had recognized him the moment he opened the door. Superior Court Judge, Winston King. “I have need of your services.” He closed the door behind him and advanced toward my desk.

“Yes sir,” I squeaked. I was getting a bad feeling about this meeting.

“I’ve checked around,” He said fixing me with a sharp look as he sat down in my client chair. “You do not enjoy a spotless reputation, Mister Taylor. I assume you are aware of that.”

Bullshit, I wanted to say, but didn’t. I suppose in the larger view he was right, but I didn’t care much to hear it said out loud. I just looked at him and waited for him to continue.

“Most of the people I talked to seem to agree that in spite of your other short-comings, you do know how to be discreet and you do what you say you will do. I want to hire you.” He was watching me closely.

“Well, sir,” I said noticing that my voice had gotten a bit higher. This man, a powerful man, was the husband of Stephanie King. Stephanie was one of the late Hammer’s ladies. My lady now, I guess. She was paying two thousand a month to me keep quiet about her interracial sexual escapades. “I’m not taking on any new clients at the moment.”

If he heard me, he didn’t seem impressed..

“I have reason to believe my wife is having an affair. How much do you charge to investigate?”

I had a desperate need to discourage this man. “Three hundred dollars a day plus expenses.” I said. My usual rate is one hundred fifty a day when I could get it, which wasn’t often. “However, as I said, I’m not taking on any new…”

“I’ll pay one hundred fifty a day and reasonable expenses. I’ll approve the expenses in advance.” Rude bastard had interrupted me.

“I’m sorry, Your Honor,” I said. “I guess you didn’t understand me. I’m not taking on any new clients at this time. I can recommend…”

“I’ll need you to start immediately,” he said, interrupting me again. He stared hard at me. “You know who I am and you know that if you want to work at your trade in this county you need my good will. I can make it very difficult for you to retain your licenses. As a matter of fact I think your firearm carry permit is due for renewal this month.”

This fat bastard was attempting to blackmail me! He wasn’t being very circumspect about it either.

“I expect a report within a few days.” He said taking an envelope out of his inside coat pocket and laying it on my desk. “Here is two thousand dollars as a retainer. I have enclosed the information about my wife, addresses and schedules and that type of thing. You will not, let me repeat that. You will not come to my house or my office at the courthouse. Call me at the number I enclosed and I will meet you somewhere. Do you have any questions?”

He might be a blackmailer, but by God he was a first-rate blackmailer. He knew damned well I couldn’t refuse and still be a PI in this town. He had the clout to make my life miserable.

“Well sir, it will take me a few days to clear…”

“Today, Mister Taylor,” he said. Son of a bitch had interrupted me again.

“Ah, Judge, what makes you think Stephanie is stepping out on you?” I asked.

“How did you know her name?” he asked softly.

Oh shit! I had just stepped in it deep. This crap was just going from bad to worse.

“Oh, I guess you saw her picture in Sunday’s paper,” he said. “She’s always in the society pages. I have written down all of my suspicions. It’s in the envelope.” He got to his feet and held out his hand. I took it, but I didn’t stand. I knew my legs wouldn’t support me. “I will be waiting for your report.”

After he had gone I sat there thinking. Actually I was just trying to think. My brain was locked in neutral. What on earth had I gotten myself into? More importantly how could I get myself out of it?

CHAPTER THREE

I had to talk with somebody and I needed to do it quick. Thirty minutes later I was at the branch bank where Lisa Hurst worked. Actually Lisa was the manager of the branch.

“What the hell are you doing here, Mike,” Lisa said softly as she glanced around to see who might be within hearing.

“Sorry babe,” I said. “We have a problem.”

“Where do you get this “we” shit, white man?” Lisa was smiling which I took as a good sign. I followed her into her office and she closed the door.

“I thought we had agreed to keep our…ah…relationship for want of a better term, out of my work place,” Lisa said.

“Did,” I said. “Tell them I wanted to take out a loan or something.” I blurted out what had transpired at my office. When I finished Lisa just stared at me a few moments and then burst out laughing.

“You have to be k**ding me,” She said still laughing. “You are being blackmailed by the husband of a woman you are blackmailing. That’s too much.”

“Yeah, I’m sick from laughing about it,” I said. I sure didn’t see anything remotely funny about the deal.

“And he bargained you down to what you normally get.” It was apparent that Lisa saw this more humorously then I did.

“Dammit Lisa,” I said. “Get through yuking it up and talk to me. This is serious shit.”

It took Lisa another few minutes to get serious.

“Okay, Mike,” she said. “I really don’t see the problem. Tell the judge you followed his wife and didn’t see anything. Give the bitch a clean bill of health and be done with it. Be thankful that the silly bastard came to you and not somebody else.”

I thought about it for a while. Could it actually be that simple? What was the absolute worst case scenario? The only one I could think of was if the judge wasn’t satisfied with my clean report, he might find another investigator. One that actually worked the case. It was clear that I was going to have to talk with Stephanie King and soon.

I left a still grinning Lisa and headed back to my office. I had no more than walked in the door when who should appear but police detective Richard (don’t call me Dick) Elliott. He had never been to my office before.

CHAPTER FOUR

“Good morning, Dick,” I said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Richard, dickhead,” Elliott snarled.

“Sorry, Richard dickhead,” I said. I love to yank his chain.

“Look stupid,” He said with a sigh. “I’m off duty in about fifteen minutes, so I don’t have time to screw around with you.”

I glanced at my watch. “It’s not even noon,” I said. “What kind of hours do you keep?”

“Don’t get me started,” He said flopping down in my client chair. “Fucking cheap bastards at city hall stopped paying overtime. I have a zillion hours of comp time and I have to take some of it. Bastards,” he muttered again.

“Hey that’s tough, Dick,” I said. I knew that every police officer in the city…maybe even the country, depends on overtime to make ends meet.

“Yeah, but that’s not why I here,” He said. “You know a guy by the name of David Green? They call him Sweet.” I gave it some thought. “No, I don’t think so. Don’t ring a bell. Why?”

“Apparently he’s looking for you. Word is he’s asking around.”

“Hell, I ain’t hard to find,” I said. “Name’s in the book and I got a sign hanging out front. Apparently he ain’t looking very hard.”

From the look on Elliott’s face there was more coming.

“You remember that black dude that we shot few weeks back? The one you witnessed? Yeah that one,” he added grinning at me. “David Green is Darrel Green’s brother. Seems that Sweet Green misses his brother Hammer…or misses something. You got any ideas what he’s looking for?”

Could this morning get any worse? I tried to look puzzled, “No, nothing comes to mind.”

“Word on the street is that Hammer had a bunch of white women working for him and that Sweet Green would like them returned. You know anything about that?”

“No, nothing except what you told me that day Hammer got wasted,” I said as casually as I could muster.

“Look, Taylor,” Elliot said, “I don’t work vice, so I don’t give a shit about that stuff. If you got anything to say, now would be a good time to say it.”

My brain was trying to slip back into neutral again. I have known Elliott for several years. We are not buddies, but we get along. From what I know he’s a stand up guy.

“Let’s say that somebody did take over the management of Hammer’s business,” I said slowly. “So what?”

“Nothing except that Sweet Green may kill your ass. He’s real bad news, Taylor. Real bad. Been up for assault, armed robbery and several other things. Just got out of the joint a few months ago. I like him for a robbery a few nights ago. Killed the store owner.”

“Well for pity sakes, arrest the bastard,” I said.

“Now why didn’t I think of that?” Dick said with a crooked smile. “Look stupid, if I could prove it I would have already done so. No witnesses have come forward and the surveillance cameras were fake. Dumb son of a bitch tried to save a few bucks. MO is the same that Sweet used last time he hit a store. It’s him all right. I know it but can’t prove it.”

I sat there stunned. Dammit my life was falling apart. I got a judge on my case and now a killer is looking for me.

“Well if you think of anything that would help,” Elliot said getting to his feet. “Give me a call. Maybe I’ll be working, but more than likely I’ll be home burning up comp time. See you.”

I continued to set there staring at the wall. The phone rang but I didn’t want to answer it. The way my luck was going it was the fucking IRS wanting to do an audit.

When it didn’t stop I picked it up. “This is Ben Dover,” I said into the phone.

“Mike, don’t try to be funny,” It was Lisa. “I wanted to remind you that I have a date tonight.”

Lisa had a date with a couple guys. Five hundred each for two hours. “Yeah, seven o’clock,” I said. “They’ll meet you across the street from my place. Have you talked to Allison today?” Allison Baker was another of my ladies. Lisa had taken over the scheduling for the ladies.

“Yes, I have her set up this weekend. I have Beverly Jett also working Friday night and Sunday afternoon. We’ll have to deliver her Friday. Can do?”

“Yeah, can do,” I answered. “By the way, did you know that Hammer has a brother?”

“Yes I did. Why?”

“Word is he wants Hammer’s business back,” I answered. “How did you know about the brother?”

“I partied with him and Hammer a couple of times.” She answered. “Big dude, even bigger than Hammer. Bigger all the way around, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I can figure it out,” I said. “Cop I know came by and told me that Sweet is looking for me.”

“Oh, that’s not good,” Lisa said. “I hear he’s a mean man. I know he has been in jail a couple of times. What are you going to do?”

“It crossed my mind to let Sweet have the business and get the fuck out of the way,” I said.

“Oh no Mike,” Lisa said. “Don’t do that. As bad as Hammer was, Sweet would be a lot worse. Don’t panic, we can figure this out.”

Panic? Me the intrepid PI panic? What was this silly woman talking about? I blithely ignored the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and the sense that I’d shit on myself at any minute.

“Mike, are you still there?” Lisa said in my ear.

“Yeah, I’m here,” I answered. “At least for now.”

CHAPTER FIVE

I called Jennifer King and made arrangements to meet her at Carlo’s. Carlo’s was a restaurant fairly close to both of us. Steph wasn’t very happy about it, but I prevailed.

“So what the big deal?” Stephanie said when she had sat down at the table. “And it better be good.”

“I don’t think you’ll think it’s very good,” I answered. I told her about my meeting with her husband.

“Oh my God,” she said when I had finished telling her. “What are we going to do?” She had turned so white she was translucent.

“Who are you fucking these days?” I asked.

Steph got that deer in the headlight look. “What do you mean?”

“What part of fucking did you not understand?” I snapped. I wasn’t in the best of moods. “Who’s black cock are you doing these days?”

She got a glassy-eyed look and didn’t say anything.

“Come on Steph,” I said. “I need information. Who are you fucking?”

Her face went from white to pink and then to red. “I see…I know…Ah…I see a couple guys from time to time.”

“Okay, who?”

“Well, there a man named James Killibee. I see him some.”

“Okay who else? Who did you see last.” Stephanie got that stubborn look on her pretty face. “Come on Steph. You’ve been fucking black men for several years. Something happened recently to get your husband suspicious. I need to know who or what.”

“Oh shit,” Stephanie said with a big sigh, “James introduced me to a man a few weeks ago. A friend of his. Sweet is what he calls himself. He and I met a few times. It has to be him.”

“Have you ever met this Sweet before?” I asked. What the fuck is going on?

She shook her head.

“So you didn’t know he was Hammer’s brother?”

“Oh God, no! He never mentioned it to me. What does that mean?”

“Dammed if I know,” I said. “Tell me about Sweet. Did he ask you any questions?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Nothing unusual. Most men I date want to know what a white woman is doing with black men. Most want to know my real name and where I live…that sort of thing. Sweet didn’t ask anything too weird.”

“Does he have any idea who you are?”

“No,” she snapped. “I’m always careful. I never carry any identification and I certainly don’t give any of them my real name.”

“You haven’t always been too damned careful,” I said. “Hammer knew all about you. How did that happen?”

“He doped me,” Stephanie said. “He slipped me some kind of dope and I told him. That will never happened again.”

“Yeah, but it don’t have to happen too often I guess. Where do you meet Sweet?”

“At James apartment the first time,” she said. “After that I went to Sweet’s house. He has a place outside of town. Kinda in the country. House is off by it's self. I had a lot of trouble finding it the first time.”

“Draw me a map,” I said handing her a piece of paper. “Make it as detailed as you can.”

“What are you going to do? Steph had a quiver in her voice.

“In the words of a very wise person, don’t panic.” I said. “I’ll take care of this mess.” I said that with a whole lot more confidence than I felt.

Sweet Green wasn’t the first guy to be looking for me. It’s happened a couple of times before. First thing I needed to do was find Mister Green and get a good look at him, nice to know what your stalker looks like.

Our city is like a lot of cities of its size. Crime and disorder outgrew law enforcement all too quickly. Most of the undesirable element was concentrated in one area. From Hobart Street to Fifth Street and from Michigan Avenue to Broadway, an area of some twenty square blocks, was our area. Bars, strip joints, peep shows, and the like abounded. You know what I mean. Places to get stewed,screwed, blewed and tattooed. The only time anyone at city hall got concerned was just before elections. The cops would swoop in and clean up the place and then forget it until the next election. This was where I figured I could find Sweet Green. Ten dollars here and a twenty there got me the information I wanted and soon I was sitting in a dingy bar, three barstools down from Mister Green himself.

Sweet was in a serious discussion with a white man. Either one of them looked like they could go bear hunting with a switch. Sweet was a bit heaver than the white dude, but not by much. Either one would go an easy three hundred or maybe more. Not much fat on either one of them.

The man sitting next to me paid his tab and staggered out of the bar. I moved over to his seat. Now I could hear some of the two men’s conversation.

The white man had green teeth. I could see that in the mirror behind the bar. Green teeth was saying, “…where’s it at man? You promised me some pussy and I ain’t seen none yet.”

“It’s comin’ man,” Sweet said. “You got to wait a little while more. Did you find that detective yet?” I assumed that was me they were referring to.

“Yeah,” green teeth said. “Anyway I know where his office is. I went by there this morning. I got a question. How did some asshole private dick get your women?”

About that time some jerk put some money in the jukebox and I couldn’t hear Sweets answer. In the mirror I saw him shaking his massive head. I ordered another beer and waited out the so called music. I could only hope some asshole hadn’t put a lot of money in the jukebox. I hate rap!

I could see their