Seven of Nine
The hat with legs had tired of waiting and let herself in.
"Good morning. Welcome to the office of Mr. Larson, Private Detective. How can I help you?" Jessica recited, as the lady strode into the office.
"I require the services of a good detective. Is Mr. Larson a good detective?"
"Yes. Yes. A very good detective," Jessica managed to respond, to the attractive and flamboyantly dressed lady.
The lady's assertiveness and direct approach were quite unsettling. Adding to Jessica's discomfort was the sensation that a small amount of the recently exchanged bodily fluids was threatening to make an escape from between her still shaking legs!
"If you will take a seat," Jessica said, "I'll just go and see if Mr. Larson is available."
Dick had extinguished his reefer and was desperately trying to get his mind into gear. The first piece of business to walk into his office in a month, and he was stoned.
Bollocks! His laptop was still only half way through loading up. Bollocks! He swore again at the tormenting device. Dick didn't know much about computers; didn't even have any work that needed to be put onto a computer, but it was the nineties and he felt that a modern detective agency would have some sort of computer, for filing clues away and writing up cases. Since he had bought the thing, he had mastered Solitaire and was just getting his head around Mine Sweeper.
After a whole morning of messing around with files and a free floppy disk that came with his morning newspaper, he had managed to install a rather cool 'Simpsons' screensaver. Then, after a short, frenzied attack on the mouse buttons, he had deleted some sort of DLL file and his screen had gone all funny. So he was doing the only thing he thought might work and was re-installing the whole of Windows from disk one upwards.
Jessica knocked and walked into his office; she sniffed the air and frowned at Dick. She liked her job, and wanted to keep it, but she couldn't understand how Dick was going to continue in business if he sat around his office smoking dope and staring out of the window all day.
"There's a lady here who wants to know if you are a good detective." Jessica said.
Dick detected the edge in her voice but relaxed back into his black leather chair. He knew she didn't approve of his habit and she had got quite upset the time he had offered her a puff, but people were entitled to their views, and he to his habit.
"Well, show her in then, Jessica."
Jessica turned on her heels and walked back out to the reception area and returned almost immediately following the Hat and Legs into Dick's office.
Dick tapped on one of the laptops keys, waking it from its short hibernation. It was still waiting for the next disk, so Dick obliged it. He looked up to see a very striking lady, striding confidently towards his desk. She wore a pale green, linen three piece dress suit. Tall heels molded smoothly into delicate ankles and elongated up to form shapely calves. The dog tooth pencil skirt stretched neatly down to three inches above the knee. The skirt's waist band was decorated simply with three large black buttons running vertically down its centre. Under the immaculate pale green fitted jacket was a matching fluted blouse, the woman's breasts were just large enough to push into her blouse and cause her jacket to swing open pleasingly.
Wow, she looks like the sexy Borg lady, Seven of Nine out of Star Trek Voyager, he thought to himself.
"Pardon?" said the woman out loud; smelling the air, detecting the faint odours of sexual sweat which were almost hidden under the stronger smell of smoke, before she looked interestingly around the office.
"Er... Nothing," said Dick.
"Well, then. I'll come straight to the point, Mr. Larson. I am a woman of considerable means, and I need a detective; one with a keen sense of observation, alertness, and an open mind."
She looked directly into his stoned eyes and having never met Mr. Larson before, she had no idea that these two fried eggs staring back at her were a result of the recently smoked Ganja cornet. But she did realize these were not the inquisitive, nimble, searching eyes she had been hoping to find in a detective.
Being high on marijuana, sensitized Dick's mind and in close proximity with certain people he could hear snippets of their thoughts.
Never judge a book by its cover, she thought.
"What book?" asked Dick.
"I never mentioned a book," said the lady.
