Mike Hammer Chinatown Ch 01

Ivy's hand moved to trace the outline of the bulge in Mike's slacks. She seemed to have forgotten the bodies only a few feet away, which had not yet completely stopped moving. All that violence had left her very excited, he could smell it. Mike's eyes drifted down to her breasts, nipples hard like ripe raspberries inside the sheer blouse. She never was one for wearing bras. He remembered the steely taste of those berries in his mouth, the way the taste would reflect her mood changes, small dashboard indicators of lust... or disinterest. Although he hadn't seen her for years, he recalled the way anger, or violence, made her lovemaking intensify to almost frightening levels. But this was no time for a trip down memory lane.

"Lets get out of here," Mike growled.

She nodded, reluctantly taking her hand, and eyes, off his crotch. Then she was on her feet, her catlike movements startling him, causing him to take a step back. For a moment she paused, staring at Mike, then, carefully setting down the Thompson, she stooped, quickly peeling off her blood splattered business suit, stripping down to panties. From a Gucci gym bag on the grimy cement floor beside her she pulled a fresh tailored white shirt and slipped it on. She impatiently tossed through the handbag until she found a little plaid skirt, white socks and shiny black shoes. Mike watched her hopping on one foot while pulling off back knee-high boots and replacing them with ankle socks and shiny patent leather shoes... astonished at the transformation from killer bitch to schoolgirl.

"One more thing," she said, pulling back her hair and fastening into place a butterfly hair-clip, completing her new look. She tossed her head, smirked, and stooped again, gathering up her possessions: the Gucci handbag and the machine gun.

Ivy headed for the red door and Mike followed her, trying not to stare at her small, tight ass...just out of reach in front of him. It seemed improper somehow to be leering at this schoolgirl, even though she wasn't, but she sure looked like... he gave his head a shake and tried to focus.

"Who were those guys?"

Over her shoulder, walking down the passageway to the alley she curtly threw back, "Daddy's men. They supposed to protect me."

"From what?"

"Gang war," she said, not turning. "The Triad making play for control of drug trade in Chinatown."

"Why'd they try and kill me?"

"They think you cop ."

"Long time ago." Mike growled to himself.

Together they left the alley and turned down the street. Chinatown was crowded now with mid-morning shoppers - all Asian. He noticed that they were catching looks, a big middle aged white guy walking beside an underage looking Asian schoolgirl. Somehow she had broken the Thompson down while walking the alley and concealed it in her handbag. Talented girl, Mike thought.

Mike noticed an old Chinese woman staring at then from a sidewalk stall. That was when he made his first mistake. He thought the old woman was just another disapproving face... until the revolver appeared in her hand, coming up to aim at his chest.

He was already moving, rolling down and left, getting under the gun. The old broad dropped her aim to follow him but his out-swept arm connected and the gun went clattering down the sidewalk. A hard right to the head and granny was out of the game, falling between stalls and not getting back up.

Mike swept the sidewalk with his eyes and saw Ivy right where he left her, looking impatient. Nearby shoppers were carrying on their business, while attempting not to see anything.

"You want fuck old lady Mike?"

Mike fell back in beside Ivy with a snort. They resumed walking.

"She was lookout," Ivy informed him.

"For who?" Mike asked.

For once the schoolgirl had nothing to say. Mike figured she didn't know or didn't want to say, one way or the other, and he was starting to wonder where they were going.

Without warning Ivy grabbed Mike by his shirtfront and pulled him stumbling down a narrow alley. She shoved him up against a stinking dumpster and before he could stop her, put her mouth on his. That's when Mike made his second mistake. Her mouth was so hungry, so enticingly forbidden. His body responded before he could form a coherent thought, his arms wrapping around her and taking her sweet ass in hand. She was tearing at his belt buckle and opening his pants and he felt her free his cock. Immobilized with surprise. Mike didn't stop her, let her keep going, and he felt her hand pulling at his stiffening penis, roughly jerking him while standing on her toes in front of him, pushing him back against the dumpster, all the while sucking his tongue and moaning.

Fleeting thoughts of stopping this ran through his head, but failed to impress. The eroticism of the moment, the unexpected assault on his senses, and the lingering excitement from the recent violence, kept Mike teetering on the edge of good judgment, of putting an end to it, of pushing her away. He felt helpless, and that was not a situation Mike had much experience with.

The smell of her sex was filling his head again and her insistent hand was awkwardly pulling at him while she kissed him ferociously. A wave was falling on him and he was going under. He had no time to think, to try to understand what she was doing. He knew only that he wanted this, had wanted it since forever... and it had been building since she changed clothes in front of him in the building's basement, the plaid skirt and naked legs working him up, that ass... always -moving -away -from -him. She had wormed her way into his brain and now she was violating him in a way... in a way he could not resist. He had wanted her back then and he wanted her now, the years since he had first known her dissolving away, a worthless waste of time because She had not been there... and she was moaning into his mouth and her hand urging him on. She wouldn't stop and it was beyond pleasure, it was ownership. She was raping him and he couldn't stop. He... he had- to -stop- her.

And it was too late. He was jerking in her hand, gobs of cum splashing on her legs, a display of raw lust that made him moan back into her mouth, unable to breath, unable to think. There was just her hot mouth against his, her darting tongue and her hand holding him possessively as he died the little death.

She pulled away then, taking her mouth from his, and let him go. She smirked up at him in a knowing way. She was the perfect fantasy in a school-girl uniform, his cum dripping lewdly down her bare legs and her lipstick smeared. That's when Mike made his third mistake. He should have walked away.

"Mike," Ivy said, catching and holding his eyes with hers.

"Yes Ivy?"

"I need place to stay for few days."

It was an open alley, narrow but open and people were walking past not far away, people who might look down the alley and see a tiny Asian schoolgirl standing in front of a big white guy, holding his dick in her hand. Mike tried to focus, but the way she was pushing his foreskin back with one hand while cupping his balls with the other and all the time looking up at him with wide open innocent eyes, was distracting.

"Ivy, I'm busy with an investigation."

"Come on Mike, just few days... You can have me. Anyway you want, Mike. You like to put this big white cock in my little Asian ass?" She leaned forward, visually offering up her butt, and his eyes drifted down to look.

There is as many stories in the city as there are people, but the only happy ending here was still dripping down her legs. Ivy was nothing but trouble. Trouble in a size 0. Trouble that would not end well. Not in a million years. Letting her stay with him would just mean that he would get used to having her around and then she would disappear again... if her pals didn't show up and blow his head off meanwhile. Who needed that?

"Okay Ivy." Mike said.