Note- More fun with Scarlett and Emma.
xxx
Chapter Three.
'The Singular Case Of The Screaming Orgasm'
"You are quite right, Em-Em. Beau does have the propensity to use his sharp teeth at the moment of climax. Quite remarkable."
"Don't I know it?"
Emma Watson yawned and then smiled knowingly as she continued to rub the nape of her neck unconsciously.
"Wait a minute!" She sat bolt upright in her chair with her jaw dropped. "You, you just read my mind!"
Emma looked incredulously at the smug-looking Scarlett Holmes, who took a long drag on a black cigarette.
"Nonsense. I just used my brain and pure reasoning. It was surprisingly easy."
The two women were relaxing in Emma's riverside apartment on a stuffy and humid morning in July. Were it not for the air conditioning the room would most likely have resembled an oven. Emma gazed out of the window at the Thames twenty-five floors below through the glare of harsh sunlight. She had returned late after spending a hot night with her current boyfriend, an American businessman named Leo. Things had gotten serious of late between the two thirty-year-old's, and Emma was on cloud nine.
"Explain, or I shall go mad."
The attractive English rose sat up in her chair and put her hands in her lap and waited patiently. It had been one month since she had met the astonishing Scarlett Holmes, once hailed as the greatest private detective in history. By some strange quirk, the golden-haired beauty had been transported from the year 1891 to the present day. Confused and bereft of help, the two had stumbled upon each other on the streets of London, and the successful actress had graciously offered whatever the lost soul needed. That was food, shelter, and the chance to get her head straight.
"It's true that I am well known for being proficient with observation, deduction, and logical reasoning. I have known to befuddle people to such a point that they think that I have fantastic powers. But once I explain myself you will just laugh and scoff."
"I will not. You just crept into my head and told me exactly what I was thinking. How did you do it?"
"Very well. Firstly, when you endeavour to return late from a night out and attempt to pass my room without disturbing me, it seems pointless to remove your shoes yet giggle inanely outside my door."
Scarlett lit another smoke and paused a moment.
"I heard you return here at three this morning after you presumably left the home of your boyfriend. As I partook of a light breakfast upon waking, you emerged from your room and sat down where you sit now. You had a wry smile on your pretty face and I watched you look out of the window and then stare at the vase filled with a dozen red roses. Naturally a gift from a serious admirer with obvious romantic overtones."
"Right, that makes sense."
"Indeed. So you spent the night with your man. Your eyes sparkled and your lips quivered as you recalled the lover's tryst. Your left hand went up to your neck where you swept aside your hair and rubbed what appears to be a very recent, and very well-defined love bite. Your lover is the owner of some sharp teeth. As you reminisced about this act of foreplay you buried your other hand between your legs and crossed them, probably in an attempt to relive the sensation of him there. As you rubbed your sore neck more urgently, so you clamped your thighs tight shut, as if imagining your sexual climax once more in your mind's eye."
Emma cleared her throat and uncrossed her bare legs and smiled weakly.
"All that is true. Leo does like to nibble on my neck while we make love. But? Hang on! How is it possible that you know he calls me Em-Em? And that I call him Beau? This IS mind reading!"
"My dear girl. If I reveal all my expertise you will think it were mere child's play. Very well. Regard your beautiful bouquet of flowers, presumably from Leo. Attached to the stems is a personal note. It reads, to my dearest, darling Em-Em from your loving Beau."
"You are joking! That WAS child's play. And I thought you were doing some sort of Harry Potter magic and getting inside my head. How obvious!"
"Alas. It is as I said. When I explain all it is brushed off as being simple."
"Sorry, Holmes."
"Anyway. All that aside, look! I have my first case."
Scarlett held up her Nokia mobile phone and clapped her hands. Anxious in this modern age to resume her passion for solving the unsolvable, Holmes, with the help of Emma, had mastered the use of a personal phone and had placed an advertisement on social media offering her unique services.
"This world never ceases to amaze. My very own communication device. In the palm of my hand no less."
"I'm sure it's a bit of a leap, but everybody has one these days. Good news then?"
"In precisely thirty minutes we can expect a visit from a Mister Doyle who has the most unusual case. You will stay and observe, won't you?"
"If I can help in any way just ask."
"Splendid! This is it, my girl. I'm back in business."
x
There came a knock on Emma's front door and she let in the building handyman, Martin Hudson.
"There is a visitor for Miss Holmes."
"Thank you for your time, Hudson."
Scarlett gave the robust young man a wink as a pallid figure of a man shuffle in and took the offered seat opposite Scarlett and Emma.
'Please, Mister Doyle? You won't mind the presence of Emma, do you? She's just here to observe."
"Not, not at all."
Doyle nodded at Emma who was unable to hide a look of some discomfort at the sight of the poor fellow. Doyle had the reddest hair she had ever seen on a man, and his pale visage was sadly disfigured by a terrible scar. This had the unfortunate effect of turning up the outer edge of his upper lip.
"Yes. I am the unfortunate and desperate soul named Alex Doyle, and I need your expert advice. And help. I am at my wits end. I saw your advert and was reminded of that noted detective from the past, also named Scarlett Holmes. Are you related?"
"In a manner of speaking." Scarlett shot a sideways glance at Emma and suppressed a giggle. "Indeed, I pride myself in being able to deduce and process data from observation. For instance, I see that you are a man in his thirties who, after a life of just getting along fine, has had the good fortune to come into money. The lottery?"
"Precisely so. Fifty million."
"A tidy sum to be sure. You are not accustomed to the change in fortune as of yet as you dress still in tee shirt and blue jeans. And yet have a handsome pair of Christian Louboutin velvet loafers with crystal toe caps. A striking contrast if I may be so bold."
"Go on."
"Despite the presence of the delectable Emma here, you have virtually ignored her, and in the last ten minutes have mentally undressed me. To such an extent that you had attempted to hide your burgeoning erection by crossing and uncrossing your legs."
Doyle lowered his head when he realised he was indeed staring blatantly down the vivacious Scarlett's half-unbuttoned blouse. She scrutinised the odd man with her big green eyes as he and Emma hung on the blonde's every word.
"I deduce that your sexual partiality is for bodacious blondes with big tits. You are quite well endowed and dress to the left. The outline of your appendage is quite visible. Do you see, Emma?"
Emma smiled through thin lips and smoothed back her well-groomed brows in slight embarrassment.
"Furthermore, and presumably as a consequence of your facial disfigurement, you are bereft of female companionship. Therefore, as a right-hander, you have a more pronounced fist than your left. Due no doubt to excessive masturbation. Note the huge veins on the back of his hand and forearm. Nothing to be ashamed of, by the by."
"Bloody hell, Holmes!" Cried an impressed Doyle.
"Bloody hell, Holmes!" Cried an unbelieving Emma. "How do you know all these things?"
"Elementary my dear's. Am I right, Doyle?" Asked Scarlett as she lit up a cigarette.
"Right on the nose. I do have a, you know down there, and I love sex. Of course, women shun me, and I have to resort to self-gratification. It's a shame as I am well hung and I know how to use it. If I had good looks then there would be a line outside my bedroom door, believe me. And on top of that I have a very rare blood type, so most plastic surgeons will not operate on my mouth. Since my big win, I have indulged in booking high class prostitutes, and I have enjoyed myself no end. I pay big, and I expect the best. And there lies my problem."
"Do tell."
"In Mayfair is my favourite female escort agency, 'Blondes Do It Better' and I have fallen head over heels for one of the girls. The trouble is, she is one of identical triplets, all of whom are on the agency books. I have slept with all three and they are worth every penny I spend. I get off best when I see and hear a female climax. In particular when we achieve a mutual orgasm. Heaven itself. I pay the girls a big bonus if they get off with me. My preferred triplet is a screamer. She literally screams the house down when she comes, and with such an endearing high-pitched squeal you ever heard. Really brings me off. I cum in buckets."
"I can only imagine." Replied an aloof Holmes as she eyed up the demure Emma. What she would give to hear the young actress climax in her arms.
"The girls are from America. They are blonde, leggy, and stacked. Impossible to tell apart, and all equally fantastic in bed. Now they all know me and my intentions, they would all love to be the next Mrs. Doyle and enjoy my millions. But I am only ready to commit to my screamer. Is it Nicole, Erica, or Jacklyn. I slept with who I was told was Erica, but she screamed on only two occasions. So the other must have been Nicole or Jacklyn. The two conniving girls of the three have affected a no-sleep arrangement with me, together with my treasure, so that I am now unable to sleep with my beloved and propose marriage."
Doyle dipped his head and worried his orange hair with his fingers.
"Have you ever heard of a more disagreeable and frustrating situation?"
"Well, since you ask, yes. But that is neither here nor there."
"Surely you could find out where each girl lives and ascertain the one you like best?"
Emma broke her silence with a straightforward query.
"Well done, Emma. Good question." Said a proud Holmes.
"The manager of the agency decrees a strict privacy rule. No home visits or personal numbers. Only hotels are used and only cash is acceptable. I have no knowledge of where they live, either separately or together. That is why I've come to you for help."
"I will take you on as a client, Mister Doyle. Come back in a week and l shall have the identity of your desired one."
"Really? I shall pay you well, I can assure you. How will you discover my screamer?"
