Over Exposed

I sat behind my dark oak office desk as my gorgeous redheaded partner Carla McBain occupied the chair across from me. Ours wasn't so much an office as it was a converted stand-alone garage. We rarely needed it to house my little blue Honda Accord, so I had some friends put up walls to partition the building into three rooms; an anteroom for Carla, an office for me, and a storage area in back. A quaint little place to hang my shingle. Linda Pearl -- Private Eye. Snoop for hire.

Carla sat in a padded chair with her feet up on my desk, her long slender legs stretched out before her as she read the morning paper. I think she was doing that on purpose so I could peek up under her short plum mini skirt. I leaned back in my desk chair and enjoyed the view. Damn, that girl was sexy. Miss McBain was what some genteel fellows might refer to as stacked with a perfect 38-26-36 figure. What's more, Carla liked to show off her exquisite physique by wearing skimpy skintight revealing apparel. Not that I minded at all. Carla was my lady lover and she liked to tease me and keep me excited. It certainly worked.

I was a tad more conservative in my choice of wardrobe. I typically opted for slacks or calf-length skirts with cotton blouses. Call it a throwback to my police department days as a crime scene investigator. Now that I was an official licensed private eye, I wanted to give our clients the impression that I was a no-nonsense kind of gal who took their problems seriously. Carla and I had a very harmonious partnership. She handled the office duties of billing and filing and internet research on potential suspects while I questioned witnesses and beat the pavement looking for clues.

There wasn't enough money in being a private investigator full time, so Carla and I worked a few nights a week at The Doll House gentleman's club. Carla was a topless waitress and I was a bartender -- not topless, thank God. My figure was not what you would call overly stimulating -- small boobs, narrow hips and an unimpressive butt. Roger King, the club owner, permitted me to wear a white tuxedo shirt, black slacks and black bowtie while tending bar. I preferred to think my classy apparel lend a bit of elegance and sophistication to the glorified girlie bar.

It was late morning and I was fighting the urge to get frisky with my lady lover. I felt I was gradually losing the battle. Business was slow that day anyway. No hot cases to solve, not criminals to apprehend, no adulterous spouses to catch in the act. Pretty quiet day for a lady private investigator.

As I ogled Carla's fabulous physique in that skimpy revealing outfit, I was feeling the mood to attack her sensuous body might strike at any minute. I propped my feet up onto my desk, my black pleated skirt sliding down my legs to my crotch. Maybe if I flashed a little leg the lady might take the hint.

Carla remained oblivious as she turned the page of her newspaper. "Hey, look at this," she said. "Here's a coupon for forty percent off on photography portraits."

"So?"

"So we can have our picture taken."

"Let me go get my digital camera from the dresser and I'll take your picture right now."

The girl lowered the paper and frowned at me. "I mean a nice, posed, professional portrait, not naked bedroom shots of us. I'm talking about a nice photograph of us together." Carla paused and tilted her head with a thoughtful look. "Then again, it might be fun to have a nude photo shoot of us together."

"So what's wrong with that?"

I expelled my breath in a loud guffaw. "You want a nude portrait taken of us?"

"A professional high-quality nude portrait," Carla grinned mischievously. "Think about it. It would be pretty sexy hanging on our bedroom wall, don't you think? Guaranteed to get you in the mood."

"I don't need anything to get me in the mood for you, lover-girl. I'm quite certain that you don't either."

Carla set the paper aside and nodded. "It will be a lot of fun. You'll see." She reached for the phone book on the bottom shelf of the wall unit. "I'll call the studio and make the appointment."

"I see I can't talk you out of this," I grunted."

"It will only be our portrait," Carla assured, leafing through the pages. "If they also do nudes, so much the better." Carla smiled playfully at me. "I want a memento in the bedroom to constantly remind me of how sexy and arousing you are to me."

I casually spread my legs wider for her. "You don't need a memento, lover. You have me."

Carla finally caught the hint. "Are you tempting me?"

"Who, me?"

"Yes, you."

"Maybe," I mused. "All this talk of posing naked with you has got my motor running."

Carla grinned knowingly and set the phone book aside. "Oh it has, has it?"

"Definitely. I just want you to know how desirable you are to me."

The woman rose to her feet and moved around the desk to me. "The feeling is mutual." She leaned over to meet my lips in a tender kiss as her hand caressed between my legs. "Speaking of mutual feeling, I suggest we close up shop for the day and adjourn to the bedroom for some hot licking, kissing, and fondling action."

I wrapped my arms around her neck and kissed her hungrily. "Most definitely."

After a quick though energetic romp in the sack, I left the room to wash up while Carla looked for a portrait studio to book an appointment. I returned from the bathroom to find my lover lying on her tummy atop the bed, her sensuous naked form tangled in the rumpled bed sheets. I paused in the open doorway and grinned lustfully at her. "Damn, you are one incredibly sexy woman!"

Carla glanced up from leafing through the phone book and smiled coyly at me. "You always think I'm sexy."

"Well at this moment, you are sexier than usual."

"You're so sweet." I moved to the dresser and rifled through it. Carla shifted up onto her elbows with her arms crossed under her chest and asked, "What are you looking for?"

"This!" I removed my digital camera from the drawer and moved to the side of the bed. "You said you wanted to have a naked photo shoot."

The girl laughed. "I didn't mean right here, right now!"

"Aw, come on! You look so adorable!" I quickly snapped a picture. "Now give me a smile!"

My lover giggled and shook her head. "I love it when you're so impulsive!"

"I love it when you're so cooperative." Click! "Now give me demure."

Carla tossed her hair to one side to hang her long wavy red tresses over one bare shoulder. "Is this demure enough for you?"

"Oh yeah, baby!" I leered, snapping away. "You are so beautiful!"

The girl rose up onto all fours, the sheet falling away to expose her naked body. "How about this?"

"Holy crap!" I gasped as I clicked away. "That is so hot!"

"I'll give you hot, lover-girl." Carla tilted her head to one side, her long blood red hair slipping from her shoulder to the bed. She lifted one hand to cup her breast in her palm to the camera.

"Damn, that's sexy!" I clicked away. My loins began to tingle with arousal. "Show me more!"

Carla sat up and raised her arms to pile her hair atop her head. The girl smiled sensuously at the camera. "Hot enough for you yet?"

"My God! You are the most desirable woman ever."

Carla lowered her body to the mattress to lie on her side. She propped herself up on one elbow, the bed sheet draped across her crotch offering a titillating view of her naked torso.

"Holy Hannah!" I rasped in reverent awe. "That is the sexiest thing I have ever seen."

Carla smiled demurely at me. "Come show me how desirable I am."

I set the camera on the dresser and crawled on all fours onto the bed. "You certainly know how to get this lady all hot and bothered."

"Oh really?", she cooed. Carla wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled my mouth to hers. "Let help you with that."

Chapter 2

After yet another wild sex romp, I lay gasping and utterly spent among the rumpled bed sheets while my lover called a portrait studio she had located to inquire about availability. That gal's stamina never ceased to amaze me. Carla was far more limber and athletic than I was. She and I met at the police station several years ago when I was a crime investigator and she worked in the booking area and jail. Miss McBain had to be in prime physical shape for that position. After we left the police force Carla continued to routinely work out at the local gym. The only exercise I got was during mad sex marathons with my lady partner. I was definitely out of shape. I kept telling myself I needed to go to the gym and get a workout, but rationalized that one wild savage sex session with a sensuous redhead burned more calories than a two mile jog on a treadmill.

Carla found a place that could accommodate us that afternoon. Luckily she allowed us enough time to shower, do our hair, and choose some nice outfits to wear. It was a photo shoot, after all.

We arrived at the studio shortly after three. Harland's photography studio was a modest red wooden building set off beyond a small strip mall containing a sub sandwich shop, a public accountant and hair salon. They all shared the same parking lot.

I parked my tiny blue Honda Accord in front of the studio and climbed out. It seemed like a friendly and inviting place with wide glass windows across the front. The door opened to a waiting area with several chairs and assorted photography magazines atop a low wooden table. Large portraits of smiling brides and giggling babies adorned the dazzling white walls. Another door led to what I assumed was the studio area in back.

The owner, Oliver Harland greeted us warmly. He was a small unassuming man in his mid fifties with short gray hair. "Do you have any particular poses in mind?" he asked.

"Do you do naked portraits?" Carla asked.

I jabbed my partner in the ribs with my elbow. "My friend was hoping we could get a few nude shots together."

The man frowned with a puzzled expression. "Nudes?"

"Yes. Very tastefully done, if you can manage it," Carla grinned. "We want to have something sexy to hang on our bedroom wall."

"Very tastefully done," I nodded in agreement.

The man thoughtfully stroked his chin. "Well, normally I would shy away from that sort of thing. But if you pose with your hands over your breasts and your legs crossed, I don't see why not."

Carla squealed, "Great!" and began to undress.

"What are you doing?" Harland gaped in shock.

"I'm not shy," Carla explained as she removed her blouse baring her prefect bosom to the man. "I work part time as a topless waitress."

The photographer clapped his hand over his eyes. "That may be all well and good for you, but this sort of thing does not happen to me every day."

I chuckled at the shy man as I removed my top, figuring I may as well follow my partner's lead. As long as we were there and Carla had already flashed the man, we may as well go through with it. "Oliver, my boy, today is your lucky day." I stepped out of my slacks. "You may as well look, honey, unless you plan to take our picture with your eyes closed."

Harland parted his fingers and peeked at our naked bodies. "Oh my dear lord."

Carla shrugged casually and set her clothes aside. "I get that a lot."

"Look Oliver," I said, "we know we won't have nice bodies forever. That's why we came to you. We want some nice pictures of us while we're still young, and a real professional to make us look fantastic."

The man gulped audibly. "You sure don't need me to do that."

Carla smiled sweetly and patted his arm with her hand. "You are so adorable! Now, where do you want us?"

Harland gestured to a long white backdrop that hung along one wall and cascaded across the floor. "Sit on here . . . Miss Pearl, you sit in back with Miss McBain in front. That's it. Carla, sit on your hip with your legs out to the side. Draw up one knee a little to cover your crotch. Yes, perfect." The man quickly switched into professional mode, angling and posing us for the best possible shot. "Linda, wrap your arms around her and hold your right wrist with your left hand. That's good. Now raise your arms a little to hide her nipples. Excellent. Now, look at me and think demure. Linda, tilt your head to the left just a little. Perfect!"

Click!

"Now give me a playful smile. Beautiful!"

Click!

Oliver took a number of pictures of us in various poses and put the digital chip into a reader on his computer so we could view some of the snapshots.

They were incredible! Each picture was better than the last. My favorite was with Carla and me on the floor with me sitting behind the girl holding her in my arms. Carla's favorite was of us kneeling facing each other, our hands clasped at our sides and our breasts pressed together, our lips barely touching in a tiny kiss. Oliver particularly liked the one with Carla and I lying on our tummies next to each other with our bodies stretched out behind us. We were grinning at the camera, our arms crossed below us with our breasts touching the white canvas mat.

"I'll want a bunch of wallet size photos of this one for all the girls at the club," Carla smiled as she shrugged into her blouse.

"I'm going to give our boss Roger King an 8 by 10 glossy of this one for his Christmas present," I laughed.

I could tell our photographer was very pleased with the results. "You two ladies were very sexy and very photogenic. These pictures turned out much better than I expected."

I patted the man on the shoulder. "You are a true artist, Oliver. Then again, it does help to have good material to work with."

The man regarded me thoughtfully. "Would you mind posing for me again sometime? The two of you I mean?"

I gave him a wry smile. "Getting over your shyness, are we? Now that you've seen Carla and me in the buff, you can't get enough!"

"It's not that," he blushed. "I mean in formal gowns and stylish dresses. For advertising purposes, I mean. I can't afford to hire professional models to do it. I was hoping you two may be available for considerably less."

I smiled at my partner. "We'll do it for free, so long as you give us some of your best portraits of us in return."

"It's a deal!"

Carla adjusted her mini skirt and shrugged apathetically. "Personally, I think you should stick with the cheesecake shots. You're a natural."

Harland gave her a glance of embarrassment. "I took some of those types of pictures years ago when I needed the cash. It helped me get started in the business, but when they models got younger and younger, I stopped. Now I wish I hadn't taken those at all. My past came back to bite me in the butt."

"What do you mean?"

"I took some lingerie photos of some teenage girls -- all totally legit, you understand. However some of those were just kids and the outfits were pretty revealing, bordering on child pornography. I didn't want to release those pictures of those innocent young girls so I cancelled the shoot and hid the photos. I knew they would prove to be too embarrassing for those girls if they were made public. A few days ago my assistant discovered those old photos while he was cleaning out the shelves in the storage shed. He stole a few of them. I demanded that he give them back, but he wouldn't. Eddie said they would make him a lot of money. That was my assistant's name -- Eddie Farmer. Eddie is a young fellow in his late twenties. The boy came cheap because he wanted to learn the trade from a professional. I hired him to do part-time work making enlargements and dressing up the set for special photo shoots. Eddie said he wanted to start his own photography business someday. He wanted to eventually make a careerout of taking wedding pictures and shooting outdoor events. But when Eddie discovered the old pictures of those young girls and knew he had found a way to grab some fast cash. Eddie intended to use those pictures for blackmail purposes. I couldn't find a way to get the photos back. I threatened and pleaded with the boy, but to no avail. Eddie was convinced those photographs were valuable and would make him a lot of money. I fired him on the spot. I refused to be mixed up in something tawdry and deceitful and wrong. I wish I had called the police, but I didn't want those pictures falling into the wrong hands." Harland sighed and wrung his hands nervously. "What a mess I made of things."

"Well, maybe we can help," I said. "Miss McBain and I happen to be private investigators."

Harland furrowed his brow with disbelief. "You're joking."

"Nope." I fished a business card out of my purse and handed it to him. "We can help recover the stolen pictures for you. That is, if you want us to."

The photographer stared at the small white card. "I don't know how I could possibly repay you."

I patted the man on the sleeve. "Just make us look gorgeous in the next photo shoot and we'll call it even."

The man let out a sigh of relief. "The gods must have been listening to my pleas for help and sent you ladies to me."

Carla gave a wry smile. "I've never been told I was the answer to someone's prayers before."

Harland gave us the address to Eddie's apartment. The photographer fired his assistant over a week ago and had been struggled over calling the police about the stolen photographs. Harland surmised that would make matters worse. Admitting that the pictures existed would open up those poor ladies to a scandal for sure. Harland hoped Eddie would come to realize that what he was dong was wrong, but after a week of silence he became convinced that Eddie would follow through with his plans.

Eddie Farmer lived on the second floor of a three-story apartment building. The place was a real dive. Broken glass bottles decorated the stairway, loud music blasted from a room down the hall, and a sick baby was screaming its little head off. I hoped nobody was stripping my little blue car while we were visiting there.

I banged my fist on Eddie's door and called his name. No answer.

A very overweight unshaven man in a dirty gray tee shirt and bib overalls appeared from the stairwell and waddled up to us. He instantly reminded me of Junior Samples from Hee Haw. "What's all the ruckus about?" Fatso demanded. I couldn't help noticing his teeth and breath needed some serious attention.

"Are you the superintendant?" I asked.

"Who wants to know?"

"Private investigators working with the local police." I added the police part to add a tad more authority to our cause. "Does this apartment belong to Eddie Farmer?"

"I think so. I don't know his last name exactly. He moved in a few months ago and always paid in cash. Why?"

I raised my palm to silence him. I leaned my face closer to the door. "Do you smell that?"

The fat man tilted his face close to the door and sniffed. "Whew, that stinks! What is that?"

"I think I have a good idea," I grimaced, stepping away. "We better call the police."

I was a crime scene investigator for a number of years before becoming a private eye and knew that odor well. You never forget that smell, especially if the body had been dead for awhile. That was one aroma one never tends to forget.

I've seen a number of dead bodies since I became a private investigator. Mostly my cases involved fraudulent insurance claims and missing valuables but occasionally I would work a homicide case with the local police department.

I wasn't all too keen on assisting with this particular murder case. Judging from the odor emanating from the apartment, the poor fellow had been dead some time. Most likely didn't look too pretty either, I bet. I had a hunch Eddie's early demise had something to do with those stolen photographs. Quite a coincidence that a few days after he absconded with the naughty pictures from Harland, the man ended up dead.

About fifteen minutes later, two uniformed policemen arrived and had the disheveled Super unlock the apartment for them. Carla and I stood a discrete distance down the hall. Even at that range I could tell the stench was strong. The cops entered the apartment leaving our obese companion in the corridor with us.