Dylan Pt 2 Fooling Around at the Movies
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Dylan Sweet - Sweet Dreams free porn video
Dylan Sweet - Sweet Dreams
by
Spanky de Bautumn
With apologies to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
My name is Dr. James Watson, I am an OBGYN by profession, but with all
the cutbacks in Planned Parenthood, I find myself with more time on my
hands than I prefer. As such, I find myself visiting with my neighbor
Mr. Dylan Sweet, almost on a daily basis. Sweet is one of those unique
individuals with an analytical mind of such wonder that many wonder if
he is actually a machine.
He often amazes me with his powers of deduction. He has gotten to the
conclusion of many cases the police had long since closed with unknown
solutions. I remember the Diamond Tiara Affair, which had all concerned
about to give up in hopeless despair, and The Misadventures of the
Senator from Montana. Why if it hadn't been for Sweet, that conspiracy
might have ended in the loss of life.
Sweet isn't a big man, but he is wiry. I've seen him scuffle and he's
like a mongoose, relentless. Which is surprising because he is not a fan
of physical exercise. The exercise he prefers is using his gray matter
to solve some otherwise unsolvable problem.
I have had certain obligations that have hindered me from dropping over
to the Sweet Manor the last couple of days. For the reason that I have
not heard from him leaves me with the impression that there has been a
pause in his caseload or nothing in the newspapers had piqued his
interest. When he finds himself in these monotone life moments, he falls
back on his one vice, cocaine. He is normally a solitaire individual,
but in his drugged induced state he really gets introverted. So, I have
learned it is better to wait for him to reach out than be turned away at
the door by Michelle, the housekeeper.
In the past, I have seen him last three or four days before something
knocks him back to reality, so I was somewhat surprised when I answered
my phone and heard Sweet's voice say, "Watson, I hope I am not
interrupting you in any way, but do you think you could find the time to
stop over this evening? I have been presented with a very unusual
request and I would like your advice." Of course, I agreed and told him
that I would be over presently.
***
Michelle lead me into the study where Sweet was in his usual thinking
position. Sitting in his favorite armchair with his knees up almost
under his chin, his elbows on his knees, his head supported by his
hands, and his eyes closed. When I entered the room, he opened them and
motioned me to have a seat. He then went back to his meditation.
I am accustomed to Sweet's methodology and didn't find this action to be
a slight. The wheels were turning. Michelle brought in coffee. She's a
cute girl with an interesting past. She is extremely loyal to Sweet
after he saved her from being framed for murder in a lovers tryst.
The smell of the fresh coffee brought Sweet out of his reverie. "I'm
glad you here, Watson, I fear I've gotten myself in a bit of a pickle."
"I'm sure if anybody could find a way out, it would be you."
"Thanks, you're a real friend. So tell me what have you been doing
besides walking in the park and playing with dogs?"
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"Well, it's simple, Watson. The red clay mud on your left shoe shows
you've been in the park because that's the only local place I know it to
exist."
"And the dog?"
"Come on, Watson, look at the blond hairs on your pants. I would be
congratulating you if they were a woman's, but they appear to be
somewhat too coarse, so I am thinking a golden retriever, maybe the one
that belongs to the family that lives at the backside of the park."
"You're right. I did take a walk in that very park this afternoon and
was approached by just such a dog. I suppose he imagined me the friendly
type or that I may have a morsel of food left over from lunch. Anyway,
he rubbed up against my leg, then bolted when he heard a whistle from
his master, I supposed."
"Just as I pictured. You see what the powers of observation can bring,
Watson. Now, onto the matter at hand." He lit up a cigarette and took a
hit. "Have you ever heard of 'Big Ben' Hightower?"
"Isn't he that small-time hood, hangs out in the Valley?"
"One and the same. Well, last year he gave me a tip in that jewelry
store robbery on Sepulveda. Now, he tells me he has a problem that he
wants me to handle for him in return."
"What kind of problem?"
"That's what I don't know. I've been racking my brain, but for the life
of me, I can't imagine what it could be. He says he wants to meet here
tomorrow morning at ten, If you have no other plans, I would appreciate
your company."
"You can count on me."
***
The next morning, the grandfather clocked chimed at ten o'clock. Sweet
and I were enjoying an espresso as we waited for the arrival of our
guest. We heard the doorbell and a moment later 'Big Ben' Hightower
entered the room. It was obvious how he got his nickname. He stood at
least six foot six and Michelle appeared to be a dwarf as she lead him
in.
"Aw, Mr. Hightower, come in, have a seat," Sweet said, "Would you care
for an espresso?"
"Sure, why not," he said roughly.
'Big Ben' exuded the false bravado that most small-time hoods put on to
impress those around him. Minimal as they were, we exchanged
pleasantries as we enjoyed our coffees. Sweet passed around cigars and
we sat back to listen to 'Big Ben's' story.
It seems that 'Big Ben' had met this ladyboy from Thailand by the
amusing name of Bhoy Toi. She owned and operated a bar in the Valley
called 'Cabaret' that specialized in drag shows. He was working her over
for protection money and a little personal attention from the girls.
'Big Ben' is not the sharpest knife in the drawer and Bhoy Toi turned
the tables on him by obtaining some risque pictures of 'Big Ben' and two
of the girls. Now she was blackmailing him into leaving her alone or
having the pictures delivered to his wife. It was hard to feel sorry
from the wannabe gangster as he told his sorry tale.
Sweet asked, "What would your wife's reaction be?"
"Look, Mr. Sweet, I know you don't think much of me or what I do. But I
love my wife very much and something like this would kill her and that
would kill me and believe it or not I don't want to see anyone killed."
"Not even Bhoy Toi?"
"Hey, I'm a thug and a conman, I'll admit that. But, I ain't no killer.
Help me get the pictures back, Mr. Holmes and I will be in your debt
forever."
"Have you made any attempts to get them back on your own?"
"I figure they can only be in one of two places, the club or her house.
I've had my boys search the club twice and found nothing. So, my bet is
they are in the house, but we haven't been able to get inside, she's got
a lot of protection."
"You have her address?"
"Yes."
"Okay, write it on this pad and that will be all for the time being."
"When should I expect to hear from you?"
"Let's see, today's Tuesday. I should expect we could have something
for you, tomorrow night or Thursday at the latest."
"Okay. I look forward to it. Thank you, Mr. Sweet."
The experience had taken all the bravado out of 'Big Ben' and he didn't
look so tall when he slumped out of the room.
"Well, my dear Watson, what do you make of this predicament?" Sweet
asked.
"Sounds like picking the best of two evils."
"Quite, but this Bhoy Toi interests me. It is now ten thirty, meet me
back here tonight at seven and we'll see what I have unraveled."
I bid him farewell and was off to tend to my daily affairs.
***
At seven that night I was sitting in Sweet's study having a nice
conversation with Michelle, who I always had a fancy for and if not for
Sweet's absolute dependence on her might have pursued the matter
further.
At a quarter past, the front door opened and a raggedy looking scruff
walked in like he owned the place. "See here, young man, I think you are
in the wrong house," I proclaimed.
The hunched over gentleman stood straight up, removed the straw hat he
was wearing and I realized I was staring into the face of my friend
Dylan Sweet. "Well, you really had me fooled, Sweet" I said to him.
"That's the idea, Watson." He excused himself and was back in a manner
of minutes with a freshly washed face and a new change of clothes. He
flopped himself down in his favorite armchair and called for Michelle.
"Did you hold dinner as I asked?"
"Yes, I did and it can be ready in just a few minutes. I have made
enough for the good doctor if he would care to stay. We are having
Malibu Chicken, rice medley, and a spinach salad."
"What do you say, Watson? Care to tie on the old feed bag."
"Sounds delicious, I would be happy to stay. In fact, my housekeeper is
out of town visiting her mother, who is having a rough time with her
gall bladder surgery, so this would be perfect."
"Good," said Sweet, "I can tell you all that I have found out this
afternoon."
"If involves that get up you were wearing, I am all ears."
Sweet gave me is pity laugh and said, "Let's get washed up for dinner,
shall we. I am sure Michelle will have the food on the table shortly."
***
After what turned out to be an excellent dinner, Sweet and I retired to
his study to discuss the days' activities. I pulled out my pipe, as did
he, and we enjoyed a bowl with our aperitifs. Nothing was said for a
good five minutes. I always waited for Sweet to start these
conversations as I am not particularly fond of putting my foot in my
mouth.
"Tell me, Watson, what did you think of my disguise this afternoon?"
"I had no idea it was you until you removed your hat. I would bet you
could have fooled your own brother, Barry."
"Perhaps."
"What was your reason for dressing in such a way?" I asked.
"I think that the best way to find out about the resident of a house is
to interrogate the staff, but to do so in a manner that they don't
realize they are being interrogated, you see."
"No, not really."
"It's simple my good man, I dressed in those rags you saw me wearing,
used a bit of tinted makeup to appear of Latin origin, and passed myself
off as a hungry migrate looking for some honest work at the house
belonging to Miss Bhoy Toi of Bangkok. She has lived in the house for
three years, nobody is sure what she did before that. She has a French
maid, named Sherry, who may be a lot closer to confidant than a maid,
per the gardeners. She keeps to herself, doesn't have many visitors.
During the weekdays, she always comes home from the club at seven to eat
dinner and then returns at eight."
"You learned a lot from the gardeners, then?"
"Not only about Bhoy Toi, but it seems just about every house on the
block was harboring some sort of secret. It is hard to keep secrets from
the help and the help just loves to gossip about their employers. It
sort of keeps the universe in balance. I suspect. But, the reason for my
tardiness is that I stayed to make sure she arrived at her house at
seven as I was told."
"And did she?"
"Yes, just two minutes after."
"Is that important?"
"Yes, very much so."
"Are you any closer to discovering the whereabouts of the pictures?"
"Not exactly, I am convinced they are in the house, exactly where, I can
not be sure of just yet."
"How do you propose to find them," I asked Sweet.
This time he smiled and said, "It's easy, Watson, she will show me where
she has hidden them."
"What, why do you think she will show you?"
"That my friend is for me to know and you to find out tomorrow. I will
need your assistance tomorrow afternoon, say five. Meet me here at five
o'clock and all will be revealed."
My history with Sweet lead me to believe he had a plan and most of his
plans were successful, although I really couldn't see how Bhoy Toi was
just going to show him where she had the pictures hid.
***
The next day I was sure to be at The Sweet Manor at precisely the stroke
of five as I was anxious to find out how Sweet proposed to get Bhoy Toi
to reveal the location of the offensive pictures.
Michelle lead me to Sweet's study, where the man was pacing in his
nervous manner. Hands clasped firmly behind his back, his chin tucked
into his chest and taking precisely ten steps in each direction before
turning and repeating the process.
I took my usual seat as is my custom, trying hard not to disturb my
friend's thought process. It can be an eerie feeling being in the
presence of genius, knowing that the man pacing in front of you could be
unraveling a riddle than has puzzled mankind for centuries. Sometimes I
feel invisible and insignificant as I sit there watching Sweet perform
the magic that he does with the seemingly slightest effort.
A good five minutes passed, the only sound being the carpeted steps
Sweet took as his superior mind unfolded each layer of the situation,
like it was an onion being peeled for the evenings vegetable stew.
Suddenly he stopped, turned to me and said, "Aw, yes, Doctor." He said,
sitting in his favorite armchair, acknowledging me as if I had just
entered and sat down myself. "How are you this afternoon?"
"Ready for an adventure, I can tell you," said I.
"Excellent. Earlier today, I was in contact with two of my Sweet
Hearts." The Sweet Hearts was a group of young men and women, mostly
school age, that follow Sweet's cases like a religion. He relies on
their help to perform tasks that would be much easier for them than for
Sweet. As a reward, he arranges for trips to local parks and concerts
and twice a year has them to the Manor for a B-B-Q and pool party. "Two
of the lads will be on duty at the time of our need, they have assured
me."
"What part am I to play in this penny opera?" I asked Sweet.
"In due time, Watson, come now help me get into my costume for our penny
opera, as you call it."
As I helped Sweet turn himself into a quaint frail little old lady, he
explained the plan. It all sounded like a shot in the dark to me, but
I'm not the genius, am I? I was smart enough to know that it all had to
be done in perfect concert or all would be lost.
***
The watch on my wrist read six-fifty, I was assisting old lady Sweet
going west on the street where Bhoy Toi resided. Next to her driveway
was a group of McIntosh Pine trees. It wasn't yet seven, so we ducked
into the shadows of the trees and waited.
A couple of minutes went by before I saw two young men approaching on
bicycles from the east about half a block away. Just as they crossed the
street into the same block we were observing from, a silver Audi turned
on to the street going the same way.
At first, the boys turned back and forth across the street and wouldn't
let the car pass. The driver hit the horn, warning the bicyclist to
watch out. The cyclist acted agitated and yelled at the driver. When the
driver started to turn into the driveway at Bhoy Toi's house. The
cyclist jumped the curb distracting the drivers' attention.
At that very moment, Sweet stepped out from the shadows and smacked the
front right fender of the car with his hand. He then proceeded to fall
to the ground and wither in supposed pain.
The sound caused the car to come to a sudden stop. The cyclists, point
to the feminine figure laying on the ground and then sped off. My job
was to assist Sweet in his distress. With my credentials, I explained to
the lovely Asian shemale that I was this ladies doctor, I had been
distracted for only the slightest of seconds, but just long enough for
my charge to step in front of the ladies car. That, I would be in her
debt if she would be so kind as to allow my patient to come in and sit
until she felt she could continue and perhaps a glass of water would
help too.
Bhoy Toi reluctantly agreed and I assisted the elder Miss Sweet into the
living room and sat him down.
Bhoy Toi left to get a glass of water and I still had no idea of how
Sweet was going to find the pictures. He had told me only the parts of
the plan that I was involved in. But the second she was out the door,
Sweet jumped up, pulled a little capsule from the cloth purse he was
carrying. He went to the door, looked both ways, pushed a button on the
device and rolled it across the floor, under a sofa on the far side of
the room.
He was back in his chair just as she re-entered the room, she gave us
each a glass of chilled water with a slice of lemon. Not more than
thirty seconds later, I heard a little pop. Almost immediately there was
a shout of "Fire," as a gray smoke started to take over the house.
The French maid, Sherry came running into the room, insisting that we
all leave. I felt Sweet push me to the door, left the room, and then the
house. I noticed that Sweet was no longer at my side and considered
going back in after him. Just as I had made up my mind and took two
steps back toward the smoking building, I saw the shadowy figure of an
elderly lady emerging through the haze. It was Sweet, as he approached
me, he grabbed my arm and hurried me down the street.
We had walked more than a block when Sweet broke the silence. "How shall
we celebrate our success, Watson?"
"Success? Then you have the pictures?"
"Not at this time, but before long."
"So, she didn't tell you where they were?"
"Better yet, she showed me."
"Why would she show you?" I asked my friend.
"Elementary, Watson, when she thought the house was on fire, she went to
protect the things most important to her. A midst all the smoke, I
followed her to the next room, where she released a secret catch and one
of the panels popped out and she took out a yellow envelope that looked
like it contained pictures."
"Why didn't you approach her about them?"
"I thought of that, but I think we need Mr. Hightower on the scene to
make sure all the pictures are there. So, when we get back to the Manor
I will call and arrange for him to meet us at eight tomorrow morning and
we will surprise the fair Miss Bhoy Toi and make the required
arrangements."
***
The following morning found us knocking on the door to Bhoy Toi's house
at eight-ten. The door opened and Bhoy Toi's maid, Sherry greeted us.
"Mr. Dylan Sweet, I presume," she said.
This took us for a start. How did this servant girl possibly know who
Sweet was?
Sweet acknowledged that it was he and we were here to see her mistress.
She said that would be a problem because her mistress had packed up and
left to go back to Thailand. But to expect a call from you this morning.
Hearing this Sweet rushed into the house and into the room with the
secret panel. He performed the routine that he saw Bhoy Toi do the day
before and out popped the panel.
There was a yellow packet just as he described, but there was an
attached note paper-clipped to the envelope and addressed to Mr. Dylan
Sweet. Sweet picked the packet up, removed the note, and read it out
loud.
"Dear Mr. Sweet,
I was really impressed with the little show you put on yesterday
evening. When it was discovered that there was no fire, it was just a
smoke bomb, I had to wonder what it was all about. I have been following
your exploits and using your own deductive reasoning I think I have
figured out your plan. If I am right, you are standing there with 'Big
Ben' Hightower and probably that doctor and wondering what is going on.
I will tell you. This envelope contains all the pictures and negatives
you are looking for except one. I have returned to my homeland and never
plan on returning to your country. I am keeping one of the negatives
just for insurance, but you can assure Mr. Hightower that as long as I
never hear from or see him again he has no worries about its release.
Respectfully,
Bhoy Toi"
I looked over at 'Big Ben's face, his mouth hung open as if his jaw was
dislodged and his face was turning a deep red. I heard a cackle and as I
turned to Sweet his cackle turned to an outright belly laugh.
***
"Hey, Dylan, honey, wake up."
"Huh, what's wrong?"
"You were tossing and turning and mumbling, it sounded like you were
laughing."
Suddenly, Dylan realized it had been a dream. He was back in the real
world and it was Sunday morning. He was in bed with Michelle, his friend
with benefits, at 'Big Ben' Hightower's Triple R Ranch, in Moorpark,
California. It was all a dream, but what a dream it had been, he thought
and it only reinforced his desire to be a real private detective.
"You going to be all right?" Michelle asked. "Was it bad dreams?"
"Uh-uh, sweet dreams."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Even I thought this was kind of clever.
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