Nobody's Fool

Stella poured me another shot of Jameson and gave me a look that said, "Don't you think you've had enough?" I downed the shot and gave her one back that said, "Mind your own fucking business and pour." My throat was raw from whiskey and my eyes were red from the smoke of burning bodies. No matter how much I drank, I couldn't seem to stop my hands from shaking. I tapped the bar next to my empty glass and Stella dutifully poured another. Something in my face told her not to argue. She leaned on the bar, giving me a long look at her heavy breasts and deep cleavage.

"This isn't like you," she said.

"Isn't it?" I snarled back. Maybe she was right. I didn't know anymore. I couldn't even be sure who I was anymore. She patted my trembling hand.

"Tough day?"

"You could say that." Tough day. They don't come any tougher. After all, it isn't every day you fall in love, commit mass murder and tear your own heart out of your chest. It could have been worse, I guess. I could be dead.

No.

No, this was worse.

***

The day had started normally enough; in to the office by noon, dispose of the junk mail, sit at my desk watching the busy people scurry down the street like ants around a potato chip. It's good not having a job, if you ain't hungry, somebody once said. I had a box of Krispy Kremes and a long, empty day to eat them.

The sun was setting and I had just about decided to go home and oil my guns when I heard the elevator chime at the end of the hall. I heard the tok tok tok of stiletto heels. A confident stride. Quick, but not hurried. The footsteps stopped outside my office door. There was a pause. She was reading the words etched in the frosted glass, I assumed. M. Monoghan: Private Investigations. The ‘S' was an exaggeration, since there was just me, and one investigation at a time was about all I could handle. I had a partner once. He ran off to Barbados with our last big payday. I had a secretary, too. She ran off with the partner. Follow the money. First rule of detective work.

The office door opened and the owner of the stilettos walked in like she owned the place. She was shorter than I expected. The heels brought her up to maybe 5'4". She wore a gray, wool skirt split to the hip over black stockings. A maroon, silk blouse. The strap from her small leather purse cut across her chest like a bandolier, accentuating her jutting breasts. Her hair was chopped short like a boy's and she wore no makeup that I could see, other than a slash of red across her inviting lips. There was a delicate scar at the corner of her mouth. She was no centerfold, but sexual heat rose off of her like waves over a radiator. She stood in front of my desk and looked at me the way a kid looks at a Daddy Long-Legs. Eight long legs to pluck.

"You Monaghan?"

"I am."

"I want to hire you."

"Okay."

"Just like that?"

"Unless you passed a line of clients in the hall, I find myself embarrassingly available."

"I hear you're tough."

"I hear that too."

"Well, you look the part."

That was true, I guess. 6'5". 240 lbs. My shirt tight across my chest and biceps. But toughness has little to do with size, I've found. The lady was compact, but she looked tougher than a truck stop steak.

"Don't you want to know what I'm hiring you for?" she asked.

"Why don't grab a seat and tell me."

She crossed around the desk and sat on the edge. Her skirt fell open to reveal her legs. I've seen better legs, but only in fashion magazines. I could see the clips where her garter belt held up her stockings. I could see the curve of her ass. I couldn't see any panties. My chest was growing tight. So were my pants. She took a cigarette from her bag and waited for me to light it like it was her due. I did, of course. She took a deep drag, then rolled her head back and blew a blast of smoke at the ceiling. When she turned back to me, smoke trailed from her nostrils like a dragon's.

"I'm in a jam," she said.

"I figured as much."

"I work for the government. One of the three-letter agencies. More than that you don't need to know."

"I'll assume it's not the FCC," I said.

"I'm undercover," she said. "Deep cover. But I think I'm blown. That means I'm as good as dead. I need somebody to watch my back."

"Shouldn't your three-letter agency handle that?"

"That's the problem. Only one man knows I'm under and he's dead. I think the people I'm after killed him and I think they set it up to look like it was me. That's why I can't come in yet. Not until I get the goods. I need you to keep me alive until I do."

"Sounds simple enough," I said. "Who's after you?"

"Benny Scarpetti."

"Jesus Christ."

I got up and went to the window. There wasn't anyone on the street. Not that I expected there to be. I just needed a minute to think. Benny Scarpetti ran the rackets in this town. He had a virtual monopoly on vice. If it was illegal, immoral or just plain nasty, Scarpetti had his fingers in the pie. Hell, it was his pie. Anybody who crossed Benny ended up dead. The ugly kind of dead. She came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder.

I could feel her breasts pressing into my arm. She gazed up at me with deep, brown eyes. It may have been the smoke, but they seemed a little misty.

"I'm a little scared," she said. "It's not a feeling I'm used to and I don't like it."

"You think Benny's on to you?"

She nodded. "I've been dancing at one of his clubs. Something happened last night. I… he… yeah, I think I'm blown."

"What do you want me to do?"

"First, I'll need a place to stay," she said.

My mind was clogged with images of her spinning around a brass pole in one of Benny's flesh markets..

"You'll stay with me," I said.

"I'll need to get some things from my place. They may be watching it."

"Let's go find out."

I took my shoulder harness from the desk drawer and strapped it on. I grabbed my jacket from the chair and dropped a couple of extra clips in the pocket. She stepped in close to me. Her eyes bored into mine. She grabbed my tie and pulled my face down to hers. Her lips brushed against mine when she said, "Thank you. I didn't know where else to turn." Then she kissed me. Her mouth was fever hot. And I was lost. I knew she was trouble just as sure as I knew I was helpless to say no. I was hooked like a pipe fiend in a Chinatown opium den. She broke the kiss. I craved another instant she did. She went to the door. The light from the hall silhouetted her shapely curves.

"Is there anything else you need to know?" she asked.

"Just your name, I guess. Who are you?"

She smiled.

"Nobody you know."

Alarm bells were going off in my head as I followed her down the hall. They almost drowned out the sound of her spiked heels on the tiles. Nothing could drown out the sight of her magnificent ass. It wasn't the hard rump of a teenager, but a woman's ass. The kind you want to see dressed in fancy lingerie on top of a set of fishnets. The kind you want to...

I was breaking all my own rules. Never work for strangers. Never work for somebody who keeps secrets. Never do bodyguard work. And never, ever take a case without some cash up front. She hadn't even offered a retainer, unless you count the kiss. She had walked out of the office without a look back, knowing I would follow like a dog at her heel. She was somebody, this Miss Nobody. As we rode down the elevator she stepped in front of me. "What are you packing?" she asked.

I was wearing my bomber jacket; the one I wear when I know there's going to be a dust-up. I unzipped it slowly, letting the sound fill the close elevator car. I opened it to show her the .45 under my right arm and the Walther PPK under my left. She smiled up at me, the way a whore smiles at you on payday.

"Very good," she said. "The big one for when you want to kick in the front door, the little one for when you want to slip in the back."

"I thought this was a straight bodyguard gig. Will I be slipping in any back doors?"

She ran her hand down my tie, stopping at my belt buckle.

"That depends on what else you're packing," she purred.

The elevator bell chimed just as she winked at me. She turned, letting her ass rub against the tent I was pitching in my pants. As she walked away, I watched that ass sway. I would have followed her into Hell.

When we hit the sidewalk, I stopped to light a smoke. I shook one loose and held it to her mouth. She took it between her lips. When I stepped in close to light it, I talked quick in her ear.

"You make the two in the alley?" I said.

"Of course. And the one behind the van with the rude cologne."

"You armed?"

"I'm undercover as a stripper. Where the hell am I going to hide a gun?" she said.

"Slip your arm in my jacket and hug me."

"Excuse me?"

"The Walther is under my left arm."

When she pressed into me I could feel her breasts in their rough, thrusting bra, stabbing me in the heart. I took a full kiss of her red mouth. She caught my lower lip between her teeth and bit me hard. After a second or two she released me.

"Don't forget you're the hired help," she said.

I handed her the matchbook.

"My address is inside. When I say 'run' you run there. I don't want to have to look over my shoulder for you. You got it?"

She grinned at me like a cat at a mouse.

"Tell me all about it when you get home," she said.

"If I'm not there in 15 minutes I won't be coming. Give my cat to the lady in 5B."

We started to stroll up the street and they stepped out, as different as night and day and the following night. Cologne was a tall, handsome dandy in a lavender shirt under a tailored grey suit. His blond hair was perfect. I made him for the brains and the gun. With him was a wiry, little monkey with a straight-razor. He grinned a gold-toothed grin that said he was going to enjoy this. Filling out the trio was a shaved gorilla, one big eyebrow across his sloping brow and hands the size of phone books. As I figured, Cologne did the talking.

"We just want the girl," he said. "You can walk away. My employer would be grateful. He might be persuaded to steer some business your way."

"Somehow, I don't see that happening, do you?" I said.

"Alas, no."

There was nothing else to say but, "RUN!"

I heard Miss Nobody's heels racing down the street like a typewriter. I cleared my .45 and gave Razor-Boy a third eye. Yeah, I know I should have gone for the gunman first, but something about razors has always given me the willies. Cologne didn't draw. In a move so quick a mongoose would have been jealous; he kicked the gun from my hand. Embarrassing. He stepped back.

I didn't need to worry about him, though, because Gorilla was moving in hard. I fired three straight rights into his flat nose and he waded right through them like they were snowflakes. He caught me by the throat and the belt buckle, heaved my 240 pounds over his head and tried to throw me through the hood of a Buick. I felt something crunch in my back. The last thing I saw before the pain went away were two massive fists coming down towards my chest. I think he may have stopped my heart.

***

Hell was a dingy, flophouse room and Satan was a lady. She was in the shadows, but I could make out her tall, shapely form. I was tied to a wooden chair, my wrists behind me. I was naked as the day the doctor spanked me. Cologne was leaning against the wall and Gorilla was in the door. Cologne closed it in his face.

"See that we are not disturbed," he said.

She came out of the shadows and into my world of hurt. She was long, almost regal. Thick black curls were tied back behind her imperious face. The black dress she was painted into stopped at the tops of her long, gorgeous legs. She strode across the room towards me her in that heavy-heeled walk that fashion models use. The kind that makes their breasts bounce with each step. She hiked up her hemline and tugged off her panties. She held them under my nose. They smelled of sweat and sex. She sat astride my bound legs. The cigarette in her mouth bobbed dangerously close to mine. She blew smoke in my eyes through her full, wet lips and flipped the spike away. She reached down between my legs and began to stroke my cock. She kissed and licked my ear. She nibbled at my earlobe. Despite myself, I grew hard. She stroked me to fullness. Then she raised up and put the tip of my cock to her cunt. I could feel her, wet and hot. She impaled herself on me and moaned in my ear. Then she whispered, with a voice like warm honey.

"My name is Juliana Justina Scarpetti. My friends call me JJ. You may call me Please. As in ‘Please, stop.' And ‘Please, no more.' And ‘Please God, let it end.' But also as in ‘Please me,' which is what you are going to do, aren't you tough guy? And you can do that by answering my questions. As in, ‘Who are you working for?'"

I sighed, "Nobody."

"Oh, we are not off to a very good start."

She reached up and took my nipple between two of her deep, red talons. She began to pinch. I climbed the hill from pleasure to pain to somewhere I didn't want to stay. I sucked in air through my clenched teeth. I heard Cologne do the same. My torturess released my nipple and kissed me on the nose.

"Better luck next time, sweety. Who are you protecting?"

"Nobody."

"Oooh, poor baby. Come to mommy."

She slipped her hands under my bound arms and gave me a soothing hug, then dug her claws into my back. I could feel my flesh tear as she ran her strong hands from my shoulders down to the top of my ass. I felt her twat squeeze my cock. I felt my rod start to swell. She moved her claws down and they dug into my ass. This one was going to be rough. She smiled in my face and brushed a kiss across my lips.

"Let's make this next one easy, what do you say? Where the fuck is the cunt who fucked with my Uncle Benicio?"

The answer came from the hall. I heard the sound of a Walther firing two shots, then two more, then being emptied. After a terrible pause, there was the sound of a huge body hitting the floor. Then the door kicked in. Cologne dove for the bathroom. JJ turned just in time to see Miss Nobody drop the empty Walther to the floor and come at her with tooth and claw. She dug her hands into JJ's tits and yanked her off of me. The thin dress shredded. Blood trickled down the deep cleavage between my tormenter's heaving breasts. Miss Nobody stared down at her, sprawled on the dirty floor.

"Get this straight, sister. Nobody plays with my toys but me. Nobody."

JJ's big jugs were heaving. Her full lips were pulled into an ugly grimace. She looked down at her tits. There were deep red scratches across her dark nipples. Her eyes grew wide. She stood. The dress fell down around her ankles. She kicked it away, along with her shoes. Her breath was ragged. "You… are… so… dead… you fucking cunt!" She hurled herself at Miss Nobody. Nobody met her charge head on.

JJ had five inches and 30 pounds on her. She drove Nobody down, landing on top of her. She tried to grab her hair and pound her head into the floor. That was a mistake. For one thing, Nobody's hair was too short for her to get a grip. For another, her jugs hung over Nobody's face. Nobody reared up and clamped her teeth around one of JJ's silver-dollar nipples. JJ shrieked as blood spurted into Nobody's mouth. She tried to roll off, but Nobody was into her like a pit bull. She battered at Nobody's face but she wouldn't let go. Then JJ's flailing hands found the empty automatic. She snatched it up and swung. It crunched down onto Nobody's cheek, laying open the flesh.

Nobody let loose of her tit and grabbed for the gun. The two women rolled and wrestled on the dusty floor. JJ got hold of Nobody's thumb and yanked it back. I thought I heard a snap. Nobody growled and grabbed a handful of JJ's thick bush with her good hand. She ripped out a fistful of curls. JJ yowled like a cat and flung herself away. She crawled to her feet just in time for Nobody's roundhouse kick to catch her square in her gut. She flew back against me, smashing the chair. She leapt up, ready to pounce again. I tangled my feet, still bound to the broken chair legs, around hers. She fell forward, right into the vicious knee that Nobody aimed at her face. JJ dropped like a stone.

Nobody stood over her, her shoulders curled in, her hands like claws. Her breathing slowed. Blood streamed down her face. Then she straightened up and asked, calm as you please, "You good to travel?"

"Yeah. Get me loose," I said. Nobody worked at the rope with one hand. The other hung limp at her side. When I was free, Nobody looked my naked, clawed body up and down. I was, against all reason, hard as a rock. She laughed.

"Fan of the cat fights, are you?"

"It seems so," I said.

Nobody picked up a broken chair leg. It had splintered to a sharp point.

"Let me finish the bitch and let's get out of here," she said.

"No. We should take her with us. We may need a bargaining chip when Scarpetti gets wind of this."

"Suits me," she said. "But I'm not carrying her."

She turned and headed out the door.

I didn't have time to admire Miss Nobody's shapely ass as she strode down the hall. I grabbed the broken chair slat and jammed it under the bathroom door where the dandy was still holed up. I spoke through the door.

"You still in there, Cologne?"

"Awaiting the outcome. I must say I am surprised at the result. Miss JJ is quite formidable." He put the accent on the second syllable. You just knew he would.

"You tell Uncle Benny that I don't want a war. I just wanna get this straightened out," I said.

"War? War is when two sides show up. You and the vixen are just part of daily business. Mister Scarpetti will have you killed over breakfast and the sports page."

"Tell him I won't hurt his niece.... any more than I have to," I said.

"I'm sure his response to that news will be entertaining. You have a lovely cock, by the way."

"Thanks, I got it from my Dad."

"It was my happy task to undress you. Such a nice, thick cock. Such a fat head. Why, I could barely get it all in my mouth."

I had halfway reached for the wedge I had locked him in with when I realized that's what he was baiting me to do.

"Sorry you had a hard time, Cologne. Your mother never seems to have any trouble."

"I may have to kill you personally for that remark, private dick. By the way, you do know your clothes are in here, don't you?"

A quick glance around the room told me that was true. I was who-the-fuck-knows-where, naked. I think I had this dream once when I was ten, only without the fop in the bathroom and the knocked-out bitch on the floor. The only thing to wear in the room was JJ's panties. They were black and lacy and damp. Lucky me, they were way too small. I tossed them aside, slung JJ's naked body over my shoulder and headed for the door.

"Wait!" said the voice from the bathroom.

"What?"

"What do you mean about my cologne?"

There was nothing for it. I headed down the stairs naked with JJ's hot ass inches from my face. Miss Nobody was at the bottom, checking the street.

"Where the fuck are we? I smell the river," I said. She turned, and at the sight of me burst into giggles. An odd sound, coming from her battle-scarred face.

"Laugh it up," I said. "This fine piece of ass over my shoulder is Benny Scarpetti's favorite niece. He bounced this ass on his knee. Probably still does."

"He won't make a move while we've got her," she said.

"Fine for you, lady. Your cover's blown. You can jet-set off to Casablanca or Istanbul. I gotta live in this neighborhood. Benny Scarpetti don't quit."

"I got you into this, Gumshoe. I'll get you out."

She was talking to me, but she couldn't take her eyes off JJ's rump. I couldn't blame her. Bent over my shoulder like she was, JJ had nothing left to hide, except that her wet cunt was completely hidden by a thick, black tangle of curls. Dark hair feathered out from between her cheeks and her brown winkie was looking Nobody right in the eye.