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Subject: {ASSM} New Tg from Waldo - Marlowe - Part 6 of 9
Date: Tue, 17 Oct 2000 02:10:15 -0400
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Ok, I'm a big guy. I've been dumped before. Never as hard as this
time, but I've been dumped before and I know that I'll be dumped
again. So I plowed into my work. She was still my employer. I still
had her money in my saving's account and I owed it to her to do
the best possible job of trying to find her husband.
No wonder Greg ran off, if she treated him the way that she just
dumped me.
I found where Darci Taborski had entered the United States in a
rented car, then turned the car in to the rental company in
Palmdale California. I found where she boarded a train to
Washington State two days later. Then I found where she rented a
car and drove to Colorado. That's where I lost her trail.
Was Darci Taborski really Greg Browning? I didn't know. I just
know that I couldn't find anything to prove that either Darci or
Monica ever existed. And Darci's trail started where Greg's trail
disappeared. Because I didn't have any good photographs of Greg
nor any photographs of Darci, it was impossible to determine if
they were one and the same.
Buying a six-pack of beer, I took all of the photo's that I had of
Greg's face and went to a computer nerd friend of mine. Sitting in
his messy home computer center, I watched him as he tried to
come up with a good photograph of what Greg looked like then by
pulling different parts of the photograph onto one image. When he
was finished, it looked like a Frankenstein creation with so many
misshaped parts on his face.
If I ever saw a man that looked like that, I would run. Well so
much for a bad ideal.
Looking at the different parts of Greg's face, we started breaking it
into components. We started with the long solid Roman nose. It
was a nose that was good for a rugged man but would make any
wanna-be woman look like an ugly Barbara Striesland. So if he
was living as a woman, we decided that he probably got rid of the
nose. So we came up with options as to what Darci's nose
probably looked like. It either looked exactly like Greg's Roman
nose or exactly like any other nose in the world.
See what a couple of beers can do for you in a brainstorming
project?
Having struck out with the nose, we started looking at the facial
features that couldn't be changed. We decided that the oval shape
of the face couldn't be changed. So my friend told me that one out
of every twenty-eight people has an oval shaped face. Instantly we
were able to rule out millions and millions of possible facial
appearances leaving us with only 600 hundred billion other
potential face shapes. Then we talked about other facial shapes
and when my nerd buddy said Greg's eyes would always be brown,
I had to remind my friend that with contact lens, you could change
the color of your eyes to be almost any color. Recognizing that we
weren't getting anywhere, we finished off our beer. We called it a
night and I drove home.
When I walked into my apartment, I saw my home answering
machine light flashing. Grabbing another beer, I hit the button
and listened as a very familiar throaty voice came out of the cheap
speaker. "Hi Babe. Sorry about the other night. Went to the club
with them, then after several drinks while I was too drunk to think
what I was doing, I accepted an offer from my best friend to fly
down to Mexico for a couple of days in the sun with her. It was
fun. Cameron Diaz was there as was some more names of people
that I'm sure that you'll recognize. Sure wished that you had been
there to help me pass the nights. I thought a lot about you at
nighttime and when one of the local boys was putting lotion on
Cameron's back, I started to tell Cameron about how I had this
friend that could.... well, it was girl talk between us which would
probably make you blush if you know how dirty us girls talk
sometime. But Cameron said that she would like to meet you
sometime. Over my dead body. It's late or I'd ask you to come over.
But I'm in my bed and watching television and would like some
phone sex. If I can't have you here with me, I feel like
masturbating myself tonight. Why don't you call me when you're
undressed and lying in your bed? I'll bet that I can --.Ummm, I'm
getting hot just thinking about what I want to tell you. You've got
my number."
Yeah, I had her number. She was a fucking tease and I was her
new toy. She would use me, break my heart and dump me just as
she did the other night. I may be paranoid, but you don't have to
hit me on the head twice before I learn to watch out for you.
I felt cynical on life. I felt hatred for her simply because I knew
that I wanted her and could never really have her. Oh, I might get
lucky and spend a little time in her bed. But she was a free spirit
who ran in a world of famous actors and rich people. And I'm just
an ex-homicide cop who's barely making enough to pay my
apartment's rent. I couldn't even support my ugly ex-wife in the
style to which she was accustomed, which when we were out for a
night out on the town meant McDonalds and a movie. So how
could I compete with all of those movie stars for someone as
beautiful as Tanya Browning?
Unbucking my belt and slipping out of my trousers, I laid on my
bed as I finished my last beer and thought about Tanya. I ignored
what Richard was telling me as I tried to separate fact from desire.
She's a tease.
She will break my heart.
She will hurt me.
She's my boss.
Deciding that I had crossed over the boss/employee relationship
too far, I jerked my phone cord out of the wall so that she couldn't
call me later and torment me anymore. Lying on the bed with
Richard tightly clasped in my right hand, I tried to pretend it was
her hand wrapped around Richard again.
But the thrill was gone. My hand was big and callused. Her hand
was small, soft and had a vitality that caused electrical shocks to
flow through every nerve in my body.
Even Richard didn't like the feel of my hand anymore. When you
get where your own hand can't satisfy you, you're almost at the
end of your rope. I glanced at the phone cord and wished that I
hadn't been so hasty. Not that I was going to call Tanya. I was
going to call my ex and try to make up with her after the shitty way
that I dumped her a few days ago.
But as I thought about getting in bed with my ex, Richard told me
that he wanted Tanya and he wasn't going to perform for anyone
else.
Shit. My cock was rejecting my hand and even my ex-wife's pussy.
What's next?
*****
I found a lead. The now-closed bank account that Darci Taborski
used to pay for her charges had another card on the same account.
A card made out in Lenora Johnson's name. And Lenora Johnson
rented a car about two weeks after Darci's trail disappeared. Then I
got very lucky. There were a lot of gasoline charges for Lenora
Johnson from a resort area in Colorado so I started calling some of
the rental agencies. After about five hours, I found someone who
had some old records of a cabin rented to Lenora Johnson for a
month. No one remembered her but she stayed there for a month
before driving back to Los Angles. Where she turned the rental car
back in to the rental agency, was only about four miles from my
office. And that's where that trail ended so far.
It was five p.m and I was considering going down to the local bar
for a quick hamburger and coming back to make a few more phone
calls before I called it quits for the night. That's when I heard the
elevator door open. Glancing at my watch, I knew that the
Accounting Firm wouldn't have anyone coming in that late so it
must be one of the other occupants of the floor coming by to pick
up their mail.
But then I heard the footsteps of a woman's high heels clicking on
the floor and I knew exactly whom it was that was now proudly
walking down the corridor toward my office. For the first time in a
couple of days, Richard seemed a little alive as he listened to her
footsteps coming closer to my door.
She didn't bother to knock as she pushed open my door with her
toe as she stood there with her hands in her coat's pockets. She
was wearing one of those full-length fur coats, which seemed awful
suspicious to me for a hot afternoon in LA. Leaning against my
door jam, she slipped an unlit cigarette into her mouth as she did
her Lauren Bacall impression. "Hey, you gotta a match?"
Not bothering to get up from my desk, I flipped my matchbook a
couple of inches so that it landed a few inches from me on the
corner of my desk. Smiling that Mona Lisa smile of hers that I had
learnt to be so dangerous, she came walking toward my desk.
Halfway across the room, she shrugged her shoulders and let her
fur coat fall to the floor. She was almost totally naked except that
she was only wearing the mid-thigh hose, garters and high heels. It
looked like she came prepared to fuck me to make up for the
mental torment that she had already caused me.
Picking up my matchbook, she took her time lighting her cigarette
acting as if she was unconcerned that the door was standing wide
open or that someone could walk by my office and see that except
for the hose, she was totally naked.
Sitting down in the client chair, she propped her head on the back
of the chair and propped her feet on my desk. With both of her feet
firmly propped on my desk so that I was looking straight down her
long legs, it was mighty hard to look at her face instead of looking
at her hairless pussy.
"Called you last night but you didn't call me back. Called you today
but you didn't answer."
I've got caller-id and saw her number when those calls came in so I
didn't answer her attempts to ring me. "I was busy."
"Too busy for some loving?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "Everyone's got their priorities. I was
busy working on your case. I think that I've got a lead in Colorado.
I think that Greg started using the name Lenora Johnson."
Slowly rising to her feet like a cobra moving to a charmer's horn,
she never broke eye contact with me. Walking around my desk so
that she was standing beside me, she pushed the back of my chair
so it spun around so that I was facing her. In one smooth motion,
she lifted one of her long slender legs and straddled my lap. Then
she sat down facing me on my lap so that her naked breasts were
only a few inches below my chin. I refused to look at her breasts
and stared at her mischievous green eyes as we played our game of
poker. She had just raised the stakes and was daring me to either
fold or play. If I was to accept the offer of the breasts that were just
inches from my face, I would win a fucking as I lost my soul forever
and allowed her to dominate me.
I considered several different options. Richard was telling me to
pick her up, clean my desk off with one swing of my arm and lay
her bare ass on top of my desk. Richard was ready to do his part.
My mind was telling me that she was one bitch that I didn't want
to have any further involvement with and that the sooner that I
finished this case, the better off that I would be.
But when you've got an almost totally naked chunk of desirable
woman-flesh sitting on your lap begging for it, the mind's logical
thought processes usually loses to the body's desires.
Taking her lipstick coated cigarette out of her mouth and nudging
it into my tightly clinched lips, she put her arms around my neck
and stared down at me as if trying to figure out how to get me back
to my horny old willing-to-do-anything self of a few days ago.
Then she did something that I never suspected her to do. Her legs
tensed and she eased off of my lap into a standing position.
Walking around my desk, she bent over quickly to pick up her fur
coat and she walked out of my office without ever looking back or
covering up her naked body as she stepped out into the hallway.
I listened to her high heels click on the hallway's hard floor as she
walked to the elevator. I knew that she expected me to run after
her and beg her to come back. But I wasn't going to chase her.
I've got my pride. Nothing else but it's all I've got.
Still holding her cigarette in my mouth, I tried to think what she
was going to do next. Go home and fire me. That's what I would
do. After all, the city is full of detectives who can do whatever she
wants them to do.
As I heard the elevator door shut carrying her away from me, my
phone rang. I looked at the caller-id and didn't recognize the
number. For a moment, I started to ignore it but knew that I had
placed a lot of calls and requested people to call me back.
"Marlowe!" I stated when I answered the phone.
"Your caller-id didn't recognize this cell phone number, did it,
Babe? I'm on my way up the roof. I told you that I like to fuck in
public places. I'm going to climb out on the ledge and the only way
that you're going to get me off the ledge, is to come up and 'really
get me off'. See you on the rooftop."
She giggled when she said, "really get me off". Shit, a naked
woman on my roof who expects me to fuck her on the building's
ledge.
No. I won't go. I'll call the Police Department and have them get
her off the roof. They have the training and equipment to handle
crazy people.
Chapter 4 - A flagpole stuck up my ass
One of these days, I'm going to take a sharp knife and do a hack
job on Richard. He gets me in damn much trouble.
I took the stairs up the roof. The elevator was too slow. By the
time, I got to the roof, she was already over the roof's wall and out
on a small ledge that surrounded the wall. I saw her waiting on
me and when she saw me come up on the roof, she laid down on
the ledge. Running over to the wall, I looked down at her. She was
lying on her fur coat. The ledge was about three feet wide then it
was a steep drop-off of exactly eight stories.
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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