The Little Sister

CW: film noir, non-consent, impregnation

--

I knew he was trouble when he stormed into my office, his eyes desperate and his coat still dripping from the storm outside. I've never been good at staying away from trouble, though.

I'd been on the verge of closing my office early. Few people come into a private eye's office just before five on a Tuesday when the rain is coming down in sheets, I thought, but there he was. I set my flask down in my top drawer and watched as he glanced back at my door, then turned to me.

"Detective Harrison?" he asked.

"That's me," I replied.

"I need your help."

I sized him up. He was taller than me, with broad shoulders and a muscular build. His hair was dark, and long enough that the rain had styled it for him. His skin was darker than mine, unblemished by scars but dotted with a bit of sculptor's clay around his hands and wrists. He looked like a man who wore his emotions on his sleeve, and I wondered where he'd put them if he didn't have any sleeves on.

"Tell me what you need," I said, meeting his amber eyes.

"My sister Gina has been kidnapped," he said, making a fist involuntarily. "Yesterday, from her apartment in the Hills."

I nodded. "Did you see it happen?"

"Her roommate did. But the police won't investigate." His eyes darkened. "The Hills is where immigrants live. They don't care."

This wasn't strictly true; some cops were on the take from crime bosses and they cared enough to get in my way sometimes. But telling him so wouldn't help.

"Alright," I said. "I'll take the case. I charge twenty a day, plus expenses."

His eyes shifted, and I knew he didn't have it before he spoke. "I can pay you for a day in advance," he said. "And...if it takes longer, I have a diamond ring I can give you. My mother left it for Gina, but if it brings her back, it's worth it."

I wondered how much the ring would get me. Probably not enough for a kidnapping case. But if I left it to the cops, Gina would stay missing. It's bad for business to care about justice sometimes, but it'd be worse if I didn't.

Besides, it had been a long time since I'd seen any action of the friendlier sort. My line of work doesn't make it easy to hold down a relationship, so it had been a while since I'd held a man other than Sam Colt with both hands. If I found his sister, who knows how grateful he might be?

"Alright," I said. "What's your name?"

"Tony."

"Well, let's get started. Take me over there and we'll have a talk with the roommate."

He nodded. I grabbed my trenchcoat and followed him out into the downpour.

--

The rain came down in buckets, sometimes heavy enough to slow my car to a crawl. I cursed under my breath, and I could tell by the way Tony set his jaw in the passenger seat that he wasn't used to women talking that way.

"I guess you're close to your sister," I said.

"She's the only family I have left. But I'm sure anyone would do the same for their sibling."

"Ask Cain about that," I said. "I've worked a few cases where brothers or sisters did each other in."

I glanced over, realizing that this wasn't a big help for his state of mind, and tried to soften the blow. "Your sister is lucky to have you."

"She doesn't have me right now," he said, softly enough that I could barely hear him over the rain. I didn't know what to say to that, so I kept quiet until we arrived.

The apartment complex where Gina lived didn't look like much, but I was pretty sure that in the sunlight it'd look like even less. The gutters were clogged, and we had to step through a curtain of rain to get into a dingy staircase lit by a single yellow light. We walked up single-file, and Tony stepped up to a door on the third floor and knocked.

After a moment, the door opened a crack. A pair of suspicious brown eyes peered out, then softened when they fell on Tony. There was a rattle as they unhooked the flimsy chain lock, then the door opened and we stepped inside.

"How are you holding up, Ariana?" Tony asked softly as the woman locked the door behind us.

"I'm alive," she said. "Are you the detective?"

I nodded and held out a hand. "Samantha Harrison."

Ariana took the hand, shaking it demurely. She was slender, with olive skin, lovely brown curls, and a sharp nose. I could tell by her frown and the lines of her eyes, though, that she was troubled by more than her roommate's disappearance.

"I hope you can be of more use than the police," she said.

"We all know the cops here aren't good for much," I said. "So tell me everything, and I'll do whatever I can to get you justice, legal or not."

She hesitated for a moment, steeling herself to bring it all back. Then she nodded and began.

--

Gina and I were walking back from our etiquette class when I first noticed that something was wrong.

I couldn't put my finger on it, at first. I felt like someone was watching me, but I didn't see anyone when I looked over my shoulder.

"You don't need to be paranoid," Gina said. "Remember, a lady is supposed to maintain a calm demeanor."

"That etiquette stuff is just for when rich people are watching," I said.

"You never know when they're watching," Gina grinned.

We were in the Hills, so I was pretty sure they weren't, but I didn't say so. I kept an eye out, and by the time we got back here I had almost convinced myself I'd been imagining it.

It didn't entirely go away, though. I made sure the door was locked, and glanced out the window as we started getting ready for bed. There was a fancy black car in a spot near our building that looked out of place, but I thought we were safe.

"Still worrying?" Gina asked.

"Yeah. Can't say about what, though."

"Then don't," she said. "We're safe at home and the class will help us get better jobs. They even took our pictures!"

The pictures were fancy, I had to admit. Our etiquette teacher said that a professional picture would open a lot of doors, and while I wasn't sure about that, it had been nice.

"Well if I don't worry, who's going to?" I asked.

"Nobody," she said. "That's the whole point."

I rolled my eyes, but I set the worry aside all the same. I brushed my teeth and got ready for bed, just like any other evening, and went to bed.

I'm a sound sleeper, Miss Harrison. So, when someone rang our buzzer, I thought it was part of my dream. I heard Gina get out of her bed and pad towards the door, but even then I was half-asleep.

It wasn't until I heard her cry out that I awoke. I jumped from my bed, running into the front room wearing nothing but a nightdress.

There was a blonde woman standing just inside our door, holding Gina tight and pressing a rag against Gina's face. The woman was almost a head taller than Gina, and strong enough that Gina's struggles barely shifted her.

I should have thought it through - should have moved carefully. But as soon as the woman turned her blue eyes on me, I rushed at her. I didn't realize she had an accomplice until he stepped out from around the corner and grabbed me. I cried out, too, but it only took him a moment to pin my arms behind my back.

"I told you we needed two naptime rags," the man behind me said.

"Boss only asked for one girl," the blonde replied. Gina gave a desperate murmur, then slumped unconscious in her arms.

"So how are we gonna do this, then?" the man asked. I squirmed in his grasp, but he held firm.

"I can take Gina down to the car," the blonde said, then nodded her head at me. "Why don't you see what she's learned in her etiquette class?"

"Happy to," the man said. The blonde smiled, then lifted Gina into her arms and stepped out, closing the door behind her.

I was suddenly aware of my situation. In my attempts to break free, my nightdress had ridden up, and it was barely below my hips. I wore nothing beneath it, and I could feel the night air on my skin and the hard form of my assailant behind me.

"Stop!" I cried. "Let me go!"

"Well, hold on," he said. "I want to see what you do when a gentleman asks you to dance."

This had been the subject of an etiquette lesson, but I wasn't about to tell him so. "You are not a gentleman!" I shouted.

I was speaking loudly, in the desperate hope that someone in a nearby apartment would call the police. I didn't want my neighbors to burst in and see me like that, but I hoped my assailant wouldn't want it either. He wasn't worried, though.

"I am," he insisted. "Will you give me this dance?"

He reached one hand down, his fingers caressing my thigh just past my nightdress. I squealed and tried to slip free of his grip, but he kept my arms pinned to my sides.

My etiquette class had discussed proper attire for a dance, and I was not wearing it. Not even the flappers wear dresses quite as short as my nightgown, and I was beginning to see why. There was no barrier stopping his fingers from roaming inwards, across my inner thighs and ever closer to my pussy.

"I hope you like this dance," he said softly.

I didn't want him to see how right he was. I'd practiced this dance on my own, and my body was delighted to finally have a partner for it. I didn't want him to feel how wet I already was, even as my heart raced at his touch.

"Listen," I gasped. "You...you should let me and Gina go before my boyfriend gets back. He wouldn't like this-"

My words dissolved into a gasp as his fingers brushed across my bush and reached my lips. He caressed me, his fingers gliding up and down my wet slit, and I couldn't do anything but pant for air.

"If you had a boyfriend, you wouldn't be so desperate for a dance partner," he murmured.

I couldn't stop any of it. I could barely form words, as his fingers teased my lips and danced around my pearl. I could feel myself getting wetter, and no amount of squirming or attempts to press my legs together seemed to make a difference. My body was conspiring with him, and I couldn't stop either one.

I still held out hope that a neighbor would hear me, but I realized with a start that I sounded less like I was being attacked and more like I was enjoying someone's company. I squirmed and cried out, struggling helplessly in his arms.

"Please," I gasped. "Let me go."

"I can't stop in the middle of our dance," he said.

He paused his ministrations for a moment to grab the hem of my nightdress and pull it up, exposing my belly and my hips. I tried to press my legs together, but I couldn't keep his hand from sliding between them to caress me again.

I couldn't stop my body from responding, either. I was desperately wet, his fingers sliding effortlessly along my lips and threatening to slip inside if I gave them enough room.

I took a deep breath and screamed, trying to keep my arousal out of my voice. Surely someone would hear it and help - the walls were thin, and some of my neighbors had to be home and willing to help.

"Oh, wow," the blonde said from the doorway. I squealed and tried to turn, to prevent her from seeing what he was doing, but it was futile.

"I asked her for a dance," he explained.

"I see," she said, her blue eyes twinkling. "Does she need a chaperone?"

"Definitely," he replied.

She grinned, then stepped up in front of me. I lifted one leg, not to kick her so much as to push her away, and she grabbed my ankle in a firm grip. He lifted me up, and suddenly they were carrying me towards the door into Gina's room.

I thrashed as much as I could, but it did me no good. I had to hope that my desperate cries would summon some help, because I was unable to shake free. Surely, some neighbor would call the police, or come rushing to my aid. I just needed to keep crying out and hold on until then.

The two of them set me atop Gina's bed, her patchwork quilt pressing against my bare ass. As soon as I was down, the blonde moved up, grabbing my arms and pinning them down as she clambered up onto Gina's pillow.

"Leave her dress on," the blonde said. "She's got to stay modest, after all."

"Hmm," the man said. He had unfastened his belt buckle, and now he pushed his pants and his underwear to the floor. I squealed at the sight of his cock, standing tall in anticipation. I drew my legs back, ready to kick him, but he grabbed my ankles as he climbed up to kneel just below me.

He grabbed the bottom of my dress and pulled it up, past my breasts and over my head until it covered only my arms like an absurd set of bracelets. My legs flailed helplessly beneath his arms; I wanted to kick him but I was afraid to get my hips too close to his cock. He gave the blonde a smirk.

"She's still wearing it."

"That's true," she chuckled. "Now, why don't you be a gentleman and give her a kiss?"

The man put his hands on my sides and bent down, pressing his lips against my nipple.

I tried to squirm away, but I was hemmed in on every side. The blonde kept me from moving up, and I couldn't move down with the man's hips so close to mine. I pressed myself into the bed in a futile attempt to escape his touch. My heart raced as his tongue circled my nipple and his lips drew it into his mouth; I couldn't escape my own body any more than I could escape theirs.

"Stop!" I gasped. For a moment, it seemed like he had listened - he raised his head to look at me, and I could see him clearly for the first time - short brown hair, and brown eyes, and a scar across part of his clean-shaven chin. I could see desire in his expression, but it wasn't all for his own pleasure, and I couldn't imagine what else it was for.

"Show her how the rest of the dance goes," the blonde breathed, and he moved forward.

I looked down, trying to twist my hips away from him, but all that gave me was a perfect picture. I gasped as I felt the head of his cock press against my wet lips, then I heard him groan as he entered me. I could see the muscles in his legs standing out as he drove forward, and the contrast of his light skin against mine, and his shaft sliding into my helpless cunt an inch at a time until he filled me.

"Oh, you're good at this dance, Ariana," the blonde said.

"She is," the man agreed. He met my desperate gaze, watching the shock and pleasure cross my face as he thrust into me.

"No," I gasped. I wasn't sure what I was denying - their tone made it clear how much they were enjoying me, and nothing I did could free me. "Let me go!"

"Not so loud," the blonde chided. "He's a gentleman. Of course he'll let you go - once you're done dancing."

I screamed louder, to spite them if nothing else. The man placed a hand across my mouth, keeping me quieter, and shook his head.

I tried to look away for a moment, to pretend it wasn't happening. I told myself that someone had heard me and they were coming, but every second that passed made that seem less likely. If anyone had heard, it seemed more likely that they were doing what I was - lying helplessly and listening to Gina's bed thumping against the wall as I cried out in protest.

It wasn't just protest, though. The man had been moving deliberately, and his thrusts were rubbing his hips against mine. My pussy was already wet, but now its pleasure was rising each time he thrust his cock inside. I could hear the notes of unwanted pleasure in my voice, a counterpoint in the music.

"No," I gasped.

The blonde laughed. "You're supposed to enjoy the dance, cutie."

The man put one hand on my hip, his fingers curling back to reach the top of my ass. He put his other hand just above my shoulder, as if we were dancing. He leaned in close, watching my expression as he drove himself into me.

It would have been easier to fight if he'd smirked, or if he'd been focused on his own pleasure. His expressions were almost a mirror of mine, though - he sighed when I cried out, and smiled at my widening eyes, and frowned in the one moment he pushed too hard and it hurt. I couldn't glare at him without having my attention turned back to my own pleasure.

He turned my struggles against me, too. I had been twisting my hips in a desperate attempt to escape him, even though I could feel how it excited him. But when one of his motions gave me pleasure enough to pause my struggle, he noticed it and chased it down. Soon, I was struggling against the pleasure more than against him, unable to escape the rising tide as my body welcomed him.

"Let it happen, sweetie," the blonde said. "He's doing so much for you. It'd be polite for you to cum."

"Stop!" I gasped. "This...this isn't a dance!"

"This is the oldest dance," she said softly. "That's why you know the steps."

A part of me wished I didn't, but my body wouldn't lie for me. I'd practiced this dance without a partner so often, and my pussy was happy to finally let someone else lead. My nerves sang, my heart raced, and my pussy rose inexorably towards a peak that I'd never shared with anyone before.

I struggled against it, fighting the pull of my body and twisting in ways that must have been terribly enticing. I looked up, in desperate hope of convincing the man to stop, and found him watching me in turn. His eyes roamed from my hips to my breasts to my face, but his expression wasn't one of smug triumph. It was almost reverence, as if my pleasure was something holy that he was finally glimpsing.

"Stop," I gasped.

"Shh," he said, and leaned in to kiss my lips.

I could have fought him, bit him when he drew close, but I was overwhelmed. The gentleness of his lips contrasted with the strength in his hands and the force in his hips, and together they swept me away.

I wasn't ladylike at all when I fell apart. My etiquette class taught me to be reserved and demure, but I wailed with the pleasure, unable to keep it contained. I cried out as my arms and legs twisted with unconstrained lust. My pussy squeezed his cock eagerly, as if welcoming him inside. I looked into his eyes, begging for something that I couldn't name. It was my most private pleasure, and I was letting strangers see every bit of it.

The blonde was smiling at me as I fell gasping back to earth. She looked unconcerned about interruption, and I realized that I probably hadn't sounded much like I was in distress.

"That was pretty, wasn't it?"

"Yes," he gasped, after a moment of distraction. "Oh yes."

I wanted to glare at them, but in the moment I couldn't find the energy. My ecstasy had receded but left me gasping for air in its wake, trying to regain control of myself.

I realized, though, that the man's pace hadn't slowed, no matter how much he'd appreciated my climax. He held tightly to my hip and drove himself against me, his cock hard and eager as it thrust into my pussy. He'd wanted to see my pleasure, but he wanted his own too.

"We can't stay all evening," the blonde said. "Even though you've been a lovely hostess."

I twisted against her grip, but she hadn't slackened. I frowned at her, trying to put words together to demand that she let me go.

"I'm going to leave you a calling card, though," the man gasped. "Something for you to remember me by."

I suddenly understood what he meant. He was rising toward his own peak, and there was nothing to stop him from giving me his seed.

"No," I gasped. "Stop!"

I struggled, even though I could see I was doing nothing but entice him. He'd wanted my pleasure, but the desperate motions of my hips as I tried to escape him were just as exciting. I could hear his rough breathing as it sped up, and feel it as he pressed his body against mine. The rhythm of his hips fell apart as he chased his pleasure, his cock plunging desperately into my unprotected pussy.

"Stop!" I wailed.

"No," the blonde chided. "He was a gentleman and made sure you went first. So now you be a lady and take his load."

I couldn't tell if she had stirred him up or if he just couldn't bear any more pleasure, but he groaned, first once and then with every breath. His hips pounded against mine, the energy of my twisting hips and kicking feet only feeding his passion. I tried to fight him, but my pussy did the ladylike thing and welcomed him, squeezing his cock until he came apart.