I had spent the morning lounging behind my desk, contemplating various pressing problems; unpaid bills, minuscule bank balance, serious dearth of clients, chronic lack of sex.
My last job had been five days ago. A worried wife, who I'd found out had every reason to be worried. However, it had taken me just over half a day to establish what her philandering husband was getting up to and with whom. Job done. My fee for this amazing feat of detection had covered about half of last month's outstanding office rent.
To try to do something about the first three problems, I was toying with the idea of ringing around the insurance companies and solicitors who had employed me in the past to see if they had any work on hand. Then fate played its decisive hand. And it came in the shape of the Dragon Lady.
I spotted her shadow on the frosted glass office door, the one with Balfour Investigations stencilled on it. She opened it and stepped inside.
Ugly was not an unflattering description. Mid to-late-forties, I guessed, with a narrow hard face, a beaklike nose, black suspicious eyes, a grim slit of a mouth and spiky grey hair. However, a very decent pair of black nylon clad legs descended from beneath the hem of her white trench coat, ending in four-inch sling back heels - fuck me shoes, as the saying goes, which quickly aroused my interest. She carried a maroon document case and looked every inch a no nonsense type of person.
'Mr. Balfour?' she asked crisply.
'At your service,' I said, standing up.
'Agatha Grundy.' She handed me her business card. 'I represent Goodwin, Osborn and Neill. No doubt you will have heard of us.'
In my line of work who hadn't? One of the top-drawer legal firms in London. Solicitors to the famous and infamous in true Sue, Grabbit & Run style. What did they want with a low-end operator like me?
'The name is familiar,' I said to her, trying to sound unimpressed. 'Please sit down.' I pointed to the armchair close to the desk.
She did so, removing her leather gloves and unfastening her coat to reveal a smart two-piece grey suit. She placed the case on the desk with the gloves on top.
'Usually we employ the better-known firms of investigators,' she stated patronisingly. 'But in this particular case we consider you are the ideal person for what we need.'
'How kind,' I replied facetiously, returning to my chair. 'Why's that?'
She ignored the jibe. 'It's a divorce case. We are acting for the wife. However, her husband is an obstinate man and refuses to co-operate. His name is Charles Lawrence, a senior executive at one of the biggest merchant banks in the City, and that makes him rather vulnerable.'
'How?'
'He has two weaknesses, drink and women. Apparently, he's been persistently unfaithful to his wife for years. In addition, he frequently indulges in liquid lunches. We feel it is possible to use this combination to our advantage. He has three children whom he dotes upon, and holds several high profile appointments in the charitable sector.' She looked at me keenly. 'Do you understand what I'm getting at?'
I stretched out in my chair and grinned at her. 'Loud and clear. You want photographic evidence of him on the job, which is why you've come to me.'
'You do have a certain reputation in this field,' she said coolly. 'Not a very savoury one, but needs must.'
'All compliments gratefully received.'
'I'm sure. Once we have the evidence, we are confident we can make him see the benefit of co-operating.'
'By threatening to show it to his kids and colleagues,' I said. 'Nice. Nasty but nice. It'll work.'
'That's what we think. Are you interested in taking the job?'
'Absolutely. It won't be a problem,' I assured her. 'I can sort it for you.'
Despite her unappealing looks, I found her sexy and attractive. I kept imagining those thin lips wrapped firmly around my dick, which was already starting to respond to the idea.
'Good.' She opened the document case and produced a file of papers. 'All the information you require is here. We will pay you a retainer of five hundred pounds plus a further five hundred to cover immediate expenses. Your account will be settled once the work is completed. I trust this is satisfactory?'
'Low end rates,' I pointed out.
She glanced around my small shabby office. 'Can you afford to complain?'
'Probably not, but I do. It's one of life's few pleasures left to me these days.'
'Dear me, such self-pity,' she sneered. 'So, what do you want?'
I don't know why, but suddenly I just couldn't resist the temptation. 'Well, in the absence of more money,' I said flippantly, 'how about a blowjob?'
I expected her to explode with outrage at the suggestion and storm out of the office taking the much-needed thousand quid with her. Not a bit of it.
'Fine by me,' she replied calmly.
That was a stunner and she smirked when she saw the astonishment on my face.
'You serious?' I asked.
'Don't look so surprised, Mr Balfour. It's something I regularly enjoy indulging in. Yes or no?'
There could only be one answer. 'In cash, of course?'
'Naturally.' She produced a leather wallet from the case, counted out the money and placed it on the corner of the desk. 'A receipt, if you please.'
I wrote one out and passed it to her.
'Excellent,' she said, putting it into the wallet. 'Now, if you're ready, I'll give you the rest of your retainer.'
She stood up and slipped off her trench coat. The business suit clung tightly to a quite superb figure. She removed the jacket revealing she didn't wear a bra. She had small perky tits with dark hard nipples. The skirt followed. Apart from the suspender belt holding up her stockings, only a tiny white thong covered her hairless pubes. She might have been in her forties and ugly but she had a lean smooth body a woman half her age would have been proud to display. I realised I'd missed a trick, I should have asked for a shag instead.
She walked round the desk, knelt down between my legs and deftly undid my belt. Her left hand slid over my now obvious erection while the fingers of her right pulled down the zip. Then her hand slipped inside and I saw her expression of disbelief when her fingers curled around my cock.
'Good God!' she exclaimed pulling it out into the open. 'You weren't standing at the back of the queue when they handed these out, were you? It must be ten inches at least.'
'Nine actually,' I said huskily.
'I won't argue over an inch,' she said. Her thin lips parted and she slipped them over the head, gently, teasing the crown and rim with her tongue, provoking sensations so intense they made me gasp.
