Mike Hammer Chinatown Ch 02

The office still looked the same, thought Mike, as he crossed the sidewalk and walked in through the lobby doors. Solid and predictable, stone and brick, with that grime that the city imparts, that won't ever wash off. This neighborhood wasn't in the skids, but it wasn't so far off either. Time would tell if the building would sink into disrepair and demolition, or undergo gentrification and renewal.

The elevator worked today and the hallway was empty. After fumbling a moment with the keys, he was in his office and dropping with a sigh into the big old leather desk chair. The office was strangely quiet without Velda. No sounds of someone bustling about in the lobby, no life. Just the noise of the traffic outside. Emptiness.

He pulled open the desk drawer and lifted out the big 45, dropped the clip and checked that it was filled with heavy slugs, and re-inserted it into the gun. He racked it and slipped it into his leather shoulder holster. It felt good there... heavy and familiar. A friend in need.

He missed her. Velda and him had been a thing forever. She was his secretary. She took care of him. She cared about him. He was gonna marry her someday. Now she was in the hospital and he was no closer to finding out who attacked her than he was the day he found her lying beside her desk, hurt and unconscious. He only knew, it had something to do with Chinatown.

He dialed up Pat on the desk phone. Felt strange, making his own calls. The phone kept ringing with no one answering. Pat wasn't in his office. Replaced the handset in its cradle.

There were forces in motion in Chinatown and somehow it involved him and somehow it involved Velda. At the moment, he had no idea what that connection could be. Decided to give up office duty and go check a few Chinese contacts and see what they knew.

Mike spent the remainder of the day searching out and talking with the few people he still knew that worked and lived in Chinatown. Nobody had anything interesting to say. Around five, he gave it up as a bad job and headed home.

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The first thing Mike noticed when he walked into his apartment was Ivy. She was all shiny and new looking, wearing a floral print blouse tied off at the waist, with bright, crisp coral shorts, bare legs and heeled hemp sandals. Her hair was piled up on her head in some female way. She looked like a Oriental Camay soap commercial, all perky and clean and impossibly perfect.

"Mike, you home!"

"Hi doll."

"You sit here, drink martini."

It didn't sound like such a bad idea when she put it to him like that, even if it was his own sofa she was inviting him to sit down on and his booze. Ivy pranced over with a filled V-shaped glass and handed it to Mike. He sipped cautiously. It was gin, cold and dry, with a hint of Vermouth... drinkable.

She was just standing there in front of him, smiling down at him and looking all pretty and everything was domestically blissful, but as he watched, she glanced up at the apartment door behind him and her face suddenly changed to a look of alarm.

"Mike, look out!"

Thats when all the lights went out and he slid down into a pit of darkness...

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On the floor, Mike stirred. He became aware of a blinding headache. Then he woke up to a nightmare.

They had Ivy down on the bed, two of them holding her down while the third, the leader, was on top of her, between her legs. Ivy was throwing herself back and forth trying to get them off, but they easily overpowered her. The one on top had his pants down and his cock out. It was the most lethal weapon Mike had ever seen. That wickedly up-curved can-opener was designed for rape, pointy at the business end, but tapering to be thick as a coke bottle at the base.

They had pulled most of Ivy's clothes off and only her panties were dangling precariously off one foot. Nothing to keep out that thing the Chinaman was bringing to bear.

The gangster's face was twisted by lust. He was watching Ivy closely, enjoying the fear in her eyes, the knowledge that that he was going to fuck her senseless and there was nothing she could do about it. He was going to enjoy emptying his nuts into this hot little Chinese cunt, and he could hurt her as much as he wanted, because they were gonna kill her when they were done. That's why they were here. To kill her. Anything else they did to her was a bonus. He had seen her around in Chinatown and knew her for the untouchable little princess she was. Looking down her nose at him. But she was no longer protected by the Hip Sing Tong. She had it coming big time.

His boys were pinning her down and try as she might, she could not wiggle out from under them. They were hungering for their turn at her. One, overeager, already had pulled out his little dick, and was jerking it lewdly in her Asian face.

He leaned forward and guided his deformed cock up to her unprotected little pussy. She was kicking wildly under him but was powerless to prevent what was going to happen. Behind them, on the floor, Mike could see everything, the pointed tip of that rock-hard dick dipping effortlessly into Ivy, parting her hairy cunt lips. Relentlessly it advanced, despite her furious struggles. The Chinaman was taking his time, enjoying himself, slowly getting more and more in, opening her up. It was an unstoppable wedge, working its inexorable way in... and then with a vicious thrust he was balls deep... that whole evilly curved and obscenely thick cock drove completely up inside Ivy, accompanied by a piercing scream from the violated and helpless Asian girl.

All eyes in the room were riveted on that pornographic scene... that monstrous cock stretching her hole impossibly wide open. The second gangster, holding her down, was working his fist furiously on his little dick. From his position behind them on the floor Mike could not see, but assumed the gangster was planning to coat her face with his spunk while his boss ravaged her. Or maybe he was just warming up for when his turn at her came. The third gangster had her by the tits and was roughly pulling at her nipples.

That was when Mike's searching hand finally found the 38 special he kept under the bedroom chair, taped to the bottom. Engrossed in the sex show, none of the gangsters noticed him rip the gun loose and bring it up to aim at the asshole that was busy impaling Ivy on his dick. Thumb back the hammer, line up the sights on the chest, and pull. Turn left, line up the sights on number two asshole, and pull. Turn more, line up sights on number three asshole and pull again. The noise hurt his head but the bullets did their work, turning flesh and organs into hamburger and spraying the walls with lumpy, wet, red patches.

Mike drew back on the boss asshole but he was staying down. Ivy had found a knife somewhere and was crouched down over the laid out Chinaman. She finished what she was doing and stood up, naked and bloody but holding a trophy - a piece of flesh, limp now and dripping, cut from his body by one very angry woman. The Chinaman was still moving but by the size of the pool of blood on the floor under him, he wouldn't be moving for much longer. Mike let his gaze wander across the other two. They were toast, bleeding out into the carpet.

He returned his gaze to Ivy. She still stood there clutching her grisly prize in one bloody hand and a knife in the other. Her eyes were blazing but she stood uncertainly, naked, half crouched and swaying. Her makeup was ruined and smeared. She looked shattered.

Mike tried to stand up, but failed in the attempt, lightning flashing through his injured head and he was away for a moment, and when he came back, Ivy was on top of him. cradling his head, pressed against him. She was wet with someone's blood but it didn't matter, she was with him and holding him and... and he could tell when she noticed that he was hard, and she reached down with one hand... opening his pants and freeing him... backing her ass up just enough to position him... then taking all of him up inside her in one long lunge forward.

She rode on top of him then, wildly, like a woman exercising demons. She rode him long and hard, replacing the bad with the good. Mike let her. He knew she needed it. He came twice in her, and stayed hard in her. He lost track of how many times she came on him. Wounded and on his back, he was still the stallion reclaiming his stolen mare, and when the darkness came slipping back to reclaim him, she was still on top, rocking back and forth, keeping him inside her and keening quietly to herself.

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Morning came like a gunshot, violently bright sunlight blazing in through the edges around the window shades and across his eyes. He moved, and winced. Head still hurt. Ivy was asleep beside him, curled up in a fetal position on the floor. She was naked and splattered with drying blood. She looked peaceful.

Mike pulled himself to his feet and staggered to the shower, stepping over bodies. Shower first, then deal. The water was just getting hot enough when Ivy joined him, slipping in through the glass doors and searching for the soap, getting in his way, getting everything soapy and slippery... getting everything hard again.

Someone was banging on the front door. It took Mike a moment to understand what the noise was and he pushed Ivy's head off his cock, causing her to frown and pout up at him.

"Someone at the door." He said.

She just giggled and tried to get her mouth on his cock again. He pushed her away.

"There was a lot of shooting last night," Mike said, "Could be cops."

He gestured in the direction of the bedroom.

"Bodies."

She stopped giggling and looked thoughtful.

"Go talk them, Mike," she said, "Everything okay."

Mike rolled the glass door back and stepped out, grabbing a big bath towel on the way. He wrapped the towel around his middle and walked carefully through the chaos, carefully closing the bedroom door behind him, into to the living room and over to the front door. He yanked it open to see four cops in uniform outside with their hands on their guns. He frowned.

"Something you want?" He inquired.

The boys in blue looked at each other.

"There was reports of gunshots, Mike." the biggest one said, looking serious. "You gonna let us in?"

Mike backed inside leaving the door open. "Sure boys, come right in. Nothing but the TV up too loud last night. Gunsmoke. You know. The girl likes to watch westerns."

As a pack, they followed Mike into the apartment. They didn't seem convinced by Mike's story.

"Mind if we look around?" said the big one.

"Hey, how come it took you so long to get here?" Mike asked.

Just then the bedroom door opened and Ivy walked out, naked as the day she was born and busy toweling her wet black hair, the same color as the pubic hair that formed a triangle at the top of her legs. Her small breasts jiggled prettily as she walked, still wet from the shower, and her eyes were covered by the towel, so she couldn't see that Mike had company.

"Have seen hair brush, Mike?" she asked in her most innocent little-girl voice.

Mike could see bodies through the partially open bedroom door but it seemed no one else was looking that way. Amid a certain confusion of awkward apologizing and jostling to openly leer at naked Ivy, Mike backed the cops up to the door... herding them out and slamming the door shut on them. He waited till he heard the sound of them leaving and their cars driving off, before breathing a sigh of relief.

Ivy was standing naked in the living room, still drying her hair and smirking at him.

"Did I do okay, Mike?"