The wood on his desk was hard... just not quite as hard as his dick. His... private dick. Though that was his title, Bat Lawless made his living despite his dick being almost a public sensation, almost because his dick was too much for a sole individual to take... at least not all at once... at least not without plenty of social lubricant.
He pounded out an unfiltered cigarette on his desk, just like he had pounded out so many orgasms on and in so many women. Such a woman stood right in front of him, though he barely heard the words coming out of her mouth. In fact, the only thing he ever noticed coming out of a woman's mouth, was his own cum.
"And so... I mean you can see where the problem lies Mr. Lawless...."
"It's actually pronounced La-Less," He said, largely to distract from that fact that he had not been listening.
"Right... well Mister La-Less, I just don't know where to turn... I can't pay much..."
"But the details of your case impress me," Bat knew none of the details of the case, and if pressed, and he really hoped she would press him in another way, he would not have been able to remember her name. "But... I guess you do really need the help?"
She was a tall dame, with long blonde hair and long legs that seemed to stretch all the way to China before stretching back. And like the molten lava they would have been covered with after such a journey, they were right now... too hot to touch.
But it wasn't her legs Bat was looking at; it was her vagina. Not literally, since she wore a dress. He used his imagination, pretending he had the X-Ray glasses he ordered when he was a kid from his AMAZING! Science Fiction Magazine. And since he was pretending, he also pretended that those dark filmed specs actually worked.
"HUMMMM..." He said, mouthing the sound he imagined his functioning X-Ray glasses should make.
"Uh..."
"HUMMM...."
"Uh... Mister Lawless.."
"HUMMM...."
"Mister Lawless?!" She said, this time jerking him out of his trance like a Thai prostitute desperate to eat that night.
"Oh...yes, you were saying..." He said absently.
"No... I wasn't..." She was confused. So was Bat.
He just never let it show.
"I'm sure you were saying how you would leave the details with Danielle, my secretary. You know... right... over... there...."
He made some sort of hand motion which seemed to lead the young girl out his office. Bat hadn't expected this, and so had emptied his single-chamber revolver into his secretary's mouth less than an hour ago. It was too soon for another case!
He hit the large button underneath the large speaker.
"Danni... what did I tell you about sending in clients so soon!" He hissed.
"I'm... sorry... Mister Lawless..." The crackled voice came back from the next room.
"I've told you again and again. I only want to see a woman for business..."
"I... know... I..... am... sorry... she..."
"And by business... I mean some form of sex. I have no other business but giving the business."
"Barged in... Husband has lots of money..." Danni continued not hearing him.
"Uh... Mister Lawless... should I just... come back another time?" The unnamed woman said.
"CLEARLY!" Bat yelled. "And it's LA-Less. Now go home!"
She scampered out of the room, leaving a vapor trail behind that pretty tail. And Bat, seeing that he alone finally occupied the office, reached down and pulled from his desk his second favorite opium pipe. The other one was in the shop. He sucked down his first gulp of smoke like a baby breathing in air after that first smack on the back from the doctor, and became oblivious to the world around him.
Batholomew Lawless owed his eccentric name to the illiteracy of his parents, recent Scottish immigrants descended from a clan known for thievery and several sorts of unclassified villianary. As a nickname, instead of Bart, his parents debated vigorously between Bat and Bath. The argument almost cost them their marriage, that is before a tragic murder claimed the life of his parents.
His parents had been panhandling around the opera, masquerading as wealthy patrons who happened to misplace their tickets with their valet. Of course, this fooled no one at first. So his parents, in a moment of ingenuity, decided instead to grab the nearest brick to bash in the brains of the richest looking couples and steal their wallets.
It was during one of these murders/robberies that true tragedy struck. A wealthy baron came to the opera armed, and drew down on the poor parents of Batholomew Lawless as they tried to club him in shameless self-defence. Justice, in the city of Gotham, seemed indifferent to the plight of the orphan Batholomew, who determined to survive alone as a man, and simply as a Bat. A man called Bat. He was Bat the man... with no other connotation, or inspiration, despite his dead parents.
So touched (figuratively) he was by his parent's crime, that he devoted himself (figuratively), to touching (literally) all the females afflicted by criminals in his neighborhood. He set up his office in 1954, servicing (literally) the women of his community, and erected (literally) himself as a pillar in the community.
He also self-medicated with everything but the medicinal. If an addiction existed, Bat pursued it. Even during the late sixties, his indulgence in every manner of drug and alcohol gave pause to his closest confidents, that is, Danni and his clients, both of whom he regularly banged, whenever he could rise his cracken-like cock.
He had hired Danni solely on her looks. She had dark red hair, an hourglass figure that like her, certainly should have quit, but didn't despite a thousand reasons to, along with breasts that seemed to spill out like Niagra Falls. And Bat was that man, desperately clinging to any small semblance of wood as he went over her falls in a barrel.
He pulled out an unfiltered cigarette, lighting it as he went toward the door.
"Danni, I'm leaving the office!" He said hurriedly as he put on his fedora and coat.
"Are you going to get the photographs, Mr. La-Less?" She said, pronouncing his name perfectly.
"Yes..." He said, reaching into his pocket for the model airplane glue. "And... it's pronounced La-Less.."
"Um... " Danni seemed confused. "What did I say..."
"La-Less..." He said confidently.
"And... that's your name?"
"YES!" He said confidently, as he raced out the door.
He shut the door behind him, squeezed the glue into a plastic bag, and then leaned over for a large huff. Bat sighed in relief, another addiction abated, as he rushed into the mean streets of Los Angeles.
He knew exactly who to talk to, his main man, the prince of pornographers, the sultan of smut, the usperer of the upskirt... Huckleberry Barry. Blind Barry waited patiently on the trolley, his large camera disguised in an equally large book as he used his dark glasses to pretend he couldn't possibly see, let alone be positioning his book camera underneath the nearest skirt.
Bat Lawless came to buy his pornography at least once a week, and served as Huckleberry Barry's most and onliest reliable customer. Barry recognized the private dick by smell alone, his musky aftershave "Smoosh" being detectable for nearly a nautical mile.
"Mister La-Less..." Barry said, thumbing the hidden button in his book camera to take another illicit photo. "You are early this week."
