I wake from a deep sleep, staring at the ceiling fan spinning at top speed, doing a poor job of cooling the overly warm bedroom. I feel the heat emanating from Gwen’s body next to me on the bed, adding to the oppressive temperature and causing the sweat to pour from my body.
“Damn it’s hot,” I whisper as I throw the covers off, allowing the air to hit my naked, sweat-soaked body. My cock, hard as it usually is at this time of night, points straight up, begging for attention.
Gwen snores slightly as she sleeps. We haven’t fucked in months, and I know that she will turn me down if I wake her up for sex. I close my eyes and reach down, remembering my last visit to Zelman’s, the brothel that caters to men in the public sector who need the most discretion. Men like me. Her name is Jane. Well, that’s what she has me call her anyway. She is beautiful. Brown hair, perky, handful-sized tits, the body of an athlete, and a perfectly smooth pussy.
I can see our last visit clear as day as I stroke myself. She started on her knees, sucking my cock and massaging my balls as she stared at me with those big brown eyes. She took my cock into her throat, touching her nose to my abdomen and gagging herself. I placed my hand on her head, holding it there until her eyes teared up.
“That’s a good little whore,” I said, finally releasing her.
She pulled back, caught her breath, and said, “Thank you, sir,” before resuming her work. The sound of her slurping filled the room.
“Stand up, put your hands behind your back,” I say.
“Why, sir? Did I do something wrong?” she said, knowing the game I like to play.
“You’re a fucking whore, I’m going to have to lock you up.”
She pouted as she stood up and turned around, playing her part perfectly. Her hands went behind her back as I grabbed my handcuffs. I put them on and double-locked them. My cock throbbed in anticipation of what was to come.
“There, now what does the whore have to say for herself?”
“Please, sir. I don’t want to go to jail. Is there anything I can do?”
“I was hoping you would say that.”
She squealed in surprise as I slapped her ass, then bent her over the edge of the bed. I grabbed the middle of the handcuffs with one hand as I guided myself into her smooth, wet pussy with the other. The memory ignites my passion, and my hand vigorously pumps on my penis.
“Spread your legs wider, whore, I want to see your asshole.”
“Please be gentle, sir. I’ve never had anything in my ass before.”
“Just do as you’re told.”
She obeyed, spreading her legs wide and allowing me to see her forbidden hole. I spit on it then slid two fingers inside, pumping them in time with my still thrusting cock. She broke character and moaned in pleasure, earning her another hard slap on the ass.
I stroke myself faster, feeling my orgasm building as I recall the memory of filling that slut’s pussy.
My phone rings, snapping me back to reality. I lean over and see it’s Captain Miller calling. At 2:30 am, I know it must be important.
“Are you fucking kidding me,” I say as I grab the phone. “Yes, Captain, what can I do for you?”
“We have a problem, Jimmy. Get down to Zelman’s ASAP, we have a dead hooker. It’s Jane, I thought you would want the case since she was your favorite girl.”
“Dammit. Alright, I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
“What’s wrong,” Gwen asks.
“There’s been a murder downtown, Captain wants me on the case. Go back to sleep. When you get up, see about getting a repairman over here, the AC isn’t working.”
“Ok, bye James,” she says groggily as she rolls over and immediately falls asleep.
I dress quickly and make the drive to Zelman’s. Thoughts race through my head. Is my DNA still inside Jane? It was only three days ago when I last visited her. Who is the degenerate who killed her? It had to be another cop or city official, those are the only people Zelman’s served. No matter who did it, I have to stick to the facts of the case. If the clientele of this brothel gets out, we will all be finished. This could get ugly.
I arrive at Zelman’s, an old, nondescript two-story house just east of downtown. Caution tape surrounds the house, cops are everywhere. Local reporters are on the scene, trying to get somebody to talk to them.
Captain Miller sees me, pulls up the tape, and walks me to the front door.
“It’s bad, Jimmy. Three of our men were here when it went down, and so was the mayor. They were all in other rooms and didn’t see or hear anything unusual. I have Zel waiting inside, I thought we should talk to her together if she can ever calm herself down.”
“What about our boys and the mayor?”
“I snuck them out the back just before the press arrived.”
Sighing I say, “Hopefully they can keep their mouths shut, this will be messy enough.”
“Agreed,” Captain Miller replies.
We walk in the door. The interior of the house is opulent. Bright lights, expensive furnishings, the smell of perfumes and scented candles overwhelm me as they always do. Zel is sitting on a couch in the entryway, sobbing and being consoled by the other girls.
“Hello Zel, I’m sorry for your loss,” I say casually. This isn’t my first murder investigation, and I need her to know I mean business right now. “Any idea who was with Jane when she was killed?”
“I talked to him, in a way, just like I do with all the new customers.”
“What do you mean by ‘in a way?’”
“He would only whisper or grunt his responses, and he never took his hood off his head. He wouldn’t even look up at me. It seemed like he was ashamed he was here or afraid somebody would recognize him. I told him not to worry, but he would not relax. I figured he was just nervous since it was his first visit. That happens sometimes, you know.”
“Sure. Describe him for me please.”
“He was short, maybe only five and a half feet tall. He wore blue jeans and a red hoodie. He kept his head down the whole time so I couldn’t get a look at his face or eyes. I’m so sorry, I wish I could tell you more.”
“Did he sign the book?”
“Yes, but he used his pen, a red one. Carla, go grab the book please,” Zel replies.
Carla, a beautiful redhead, jumps up and runs across the room, her exposed tits bouncing with every step. She opens the page to the latest entries and points to Jane’s last customer.
“Detective Smith? We don’t have a Detective Smith in our department,” Captain Miller says.
“I know. But many men use an alias here and if you came here planning to kill someone you certainly would not use your real name. Let’s go see the body, Captain.”
“In her normal room,” Zel says.
I walk up the stairs and Captain Miller follows on my heels. The door is open, the medical examiner is there taking notes. The stench of blood and death mixed with the sweet aroma of perfume and the musky odor of sweat and sexual fluids. Jane’s body is on the floor, covered by a bedsheet. Blood is everywhere.
“What do we have doc?” I ask.
“Twenty-two-year-old female prostitute goes by Jane, real name is Anna Katerova. Her throat was cut. This explains why nobody heard any screams until the body was discovered. I have a time of death around one am.”
“That fits with the time stamp in the log book downstairs,” Captain Miller adds.
I pull back the sheet, Jane, or Anna, as it turns out, is fully clothed. Her eyes are open and she is lying in a pool of blood. “She is still dressed, did they have sex?”
“It doesn’t appear so, but I can’t be sure until I have run all of my tests. Although, considering her occupation, I assume there will be DNA from multiple men. It might not be much help without other evidence.”
I don’t notice anything out of place in the room, and there is no murder weapon at the scene.
“Let’s get our crime scene team in here and see if they can scrape up any trace evidence. It’s going to be a petri dish of hair, fingerprints, and DNA but we have to start somewhere,” I say. “I’m taking the logbook back to the station, maybe there is something in there. Let me know if you or the team find anything, Doc.”
I head downstairs, nod to the ladies, grab the logbook, and walk out. I need some coffee and a good blow job. I glance at my watch, 3:25 am, still plenty of time to get to Cleopatra’s, the strip club downtown, before they close at 4:00. They have good coffee, and Summer gives the best blow jobs in town.
Five minutes later I roll into Cleopatra’s parking lot. The bouncer, a giant of a man with one of those typical Italian goomba names, damned if I can remember it, nods at me and says,” Good to see you again, Detective. Business or pleasure tonight?”
“Business. I’m investigating a case and I have some questions for Summer. I need to talk to her, privately if you don’t mind. Oh, and a cup of coffee would be great, it’s been a rough night.”
“Sure thing. Head to VIP room four, I’ll grab Summer and your coffee.”
“Thanks.”
I enter the dark club and walk straight for the VIP area, Rob Zombie’s Dragula is thumping through the sound system, and the bass vibrates through my chest. The club is nearly empty at this time of night. The bartender gives me a nod and wink, I wave, not interested in engaging him any further.
Summer walks into the VIP room not long after me, carrying my hot cup of joe. “There’s my favorite Dick. Ritchie said you wanted to talk.”
Ritchie, that was the goomba’s name, I should probably remember that. “Right, thanks Summer,” I say as I take the first sip of coffee.
Summer is topless, her C-cup tits swaying with every move she makes. Her black hair is tied back in a ponytail, her bronze skin sparkles slightly with glitter. She smells of sweat mixed with cheap perfume. What else should I expect at the end of a shift? She wears six-inch heels, thigh-high black nylons, and a matching, barely-there thong, her cameltoe prominently displayed.
“I’m investigating a murder at Zel’s, if you hear anything about it, make sure to let me know.”
“Oh my, that’s horrible. Was it somebody I know?”
“Don’t you worry about that right now, what I came here for was your talented mouth, not to be asked twenty questions. Get on your knees and suck this cock, I’ve got blue balls and need some release before I head to the precinct.”
“And here I thought you just wanted some conversation,” Summer says in her thin Hispanic accent as she seductively walks towards me, slowly sliding her thong down, revealing a thin arrow of pubic hair pointing straight to her otherwise hairless pussy.
She drops to her knees and slowly unzips my khakis, releasing my rock-hard cock. I hear Rammstein’s song Pussy blaring over the speakers as she licks up and down my shaft. I undo my belt and pants, she reaches up and grabs my waistband, removing the khakis and boxer briefs beneath them.
Summer smiles at me, her hand pumping away. I grab her by the back of the head and say, “Swallow that cock like a good little slut.”
Summer nods and takes my throbbing dick into her mouth, she attempts to deep-throat me and gags. She tries to pull back but I hold her head there for several seconds until I feel her start to squirm. I release her, she quickly pulls away. A string of saliva is connecting my cock to her lips as she catches her breath.
“That’s a good girl,” I say as I remove my shirt and lie on the leather VIP couch. “Now get up and straddle my face, I want to taste that pussy of yours while you suck me.”
“Mmmm, yes sir,” she purrs in reply.
She climbs on top of me, kneels, and grinds her perfect pussy into my face. My tongue laps up her flowing juices, and her thigh-highs rub against my ears causing them to chafe. Summer leans forward, grabs my cock, and licks up the precum as it oozes forth. She takes me into her mouth. I moan in pleasure as she works, this is one expert cocksucker and I get her attention for free. Being a lead detective does have its perks.
She bobs her head up and down my cock, alternating between shallow licks and deep throating. Her pussy lips are wide open, allowing me to stick my tongue inside and taste her very essence.
I hear the DJ announce “Last song before closing gentleman, grab your favorite girl and get one more dance.” You Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC begins playing.
My balls are aching for release, I know I will cum shortly. While slapping her ass I say, “Get back on your knees.”
A loud slurp is all I hear as she removes her mouth and begins to move back to the floor. Once there, she resumes her work on my cock, her eyes staring straight into my soul. I stand up, cum shots are always so much hotter from this viewpoint.
The slut pulls her mouth away, jerks me off, and says, “I’m ready for my reward, Sir, can I please swallow your load?” I watch in amazed lust as she bites her lower lip and moans before deep-throating me again.
“Mmm, that’s it, Summer. Yes, yes, yes!”
As I finish speaking, she grabs my balls and squeezes, intensifying my orgasmic bliss. My cum shoots into her, she moans her approval as her mouth fills with my heavy load.
My orgasm complete, she slowly slides my cock out of her mouth, opening wide so I can see the semen I gifted her. Some of it escapes down her chin as she does so, splashing over her boobs and landing on the floor. She smiles and tilts her head back, swallowing what remains in her mouth.
“Wow!” Summer exclaims as she begins wiping the cum from her chin and chest, returning it to her mouth. “You’ve never had a load that big before.”
I watch as she licks the cum from her fingers before saying, “Yeah, that was epic. I was a little backed up from last night.”
I redress and prepare to leave. “See you soon, Summer. I may visit earlier in your shift next time before your pussy is all sweaty and gross.”
I walk out of the VIP room and hear her huff in anger and say, “I thought you liked used pussy, Dick,” just as the door shuts.
I see the bouncer walking towards me. What was his name again? Fuck, I can’t remember. “Hey, I may have more questions for Summer tomorrow. All depends on where the investigation leads me”
He smirks, “No problem, Detective. See you again soon.”
I tip my hat, take another sip of coffee, and walk out. It’s just after four am and the streets are dark and quiet. I guess it’s time to get to the station and see where this case leads me.
The station isn’t far. I arrive, take a seat at the desk, and put my feet up, leaning back in the chair. The early wake-up call and the incredible BJ from Summer have me feeling groggy. I relax and allow my eyelids to shut. I quickly fall into a dreamless sleep.
My cell phone rings, startling me awake. The clock on the wall tells me I’ve been sleeping for about two hours. The station is fairly empty with the dayshift still a couple of hours from arriving. It’s Captain Miller calling again, maybe he has new evidence.
“What do you have for me, Captain?”
“Another body, same MO. We may have a serial killer on our hands. Get down to 752 W. Oak Street, apartment 206. I’m already here.”
“You got it, Cap.”
Dammit, this case is going to be big now. Keeping the mayor, all of my boys, and I out of the news will be even tougher now. Zelman’s will be finished for sure, but I can’t allow the rest of us to go down with that whorehouse. I grab a fresh mug of coffee and make the drive to the murder scene.
Captain Miller is waiting for me at the bottom of the staircase. “Even less to go on here, Jimmy. The victim is a 20-year-old Hispanic female who lives alone. A neighbor noticed her door open when he left for work. He peeked in and saw her body lying in the entryway. Her throat is cut, just like Jane’s. Crime scene guys are up there already.”
We walk up the stairs of the cheap apartment building. The dank smell of mold in the air is slowly replaced by the smell of blood as we approach the second floor. Floorboards creak with every step and the light in the stairwell flickers as we walk under it. It’s a wonder there isn’t a murder in this building every day of the week.
We reach the room, I nod to the crime scene guys, kneel, and pull the cover from the victim. “Holy shit,” I exclaim as I jump back from the body.
“You OK, Jimmy?”
“I know her Cap,” I whisper. “Name’s Summer, she’s a stripper at Cleopatra’s.” I lean in close as I speak, can’t have the entire precinct know about my connection to both victims today. “I saw her regularly, she provided a certain service that I indulged in. I usually went to her when Jane was unavailable or I didn’t have the money. Sir, I saw her this morning, after I left Zelman’s. My DNA is likely to be found.”
“Dammit, Jim. You couldn’t keep your pants on for one day! Let’s hope she saw so many men last night that it won’t matter if we can’t identify every DNA sample. These cases are connected so I have to keep you on it or else raise suspicions. Why don’t you go start interviewing the rest of the neighbors, and see if any of them saw or heard anything? I’ll finish up with the crime scene team.”
“You got it, Cap. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Never thought getting my dick wet would be something I lived to regret.”
I head down the hall and knock on the door to unit 207, beginning what is bound to be a long morning of interviews.
It’s now 12:15, lunch is long overdue, and I’m bored to tears from the banality of my door-to-door interviews at the apartment complex. No new information, no new leads. I leave the decrepit building, grab a meatball sub, and go back to the station to eat and unwind. Maybe I’ll get a chance to look through Zelman’s logbook.
As I finish stuffing the last bit of sandwich in my mouth, I notice a big blob of marinara sauce has fallen on my shirt. “That’s going to stain, Gwen will be pissed,” I mutter to myself.
My phone rings, it’s Gwen. “I wonder if her ears are burning,” I say as I pick up the phone. “Hey Gwen, what’s up?”
“The AC repair guy is here, he says there is a big problem. I don’t understand anything he is saying. Can you come home and talk to him?”
I sigh and look at my watch. It’s a little after 1, there should still be time before any lab results come back from either murder. “Ok, I’m on my way.” I shoot Captain Miller a quick text, so he knows where to find me.
The AC repair vehicle is parked on the street in front of my home. I park and walk in the house. “Gwen, I’m home,” I shout upon entering.
No response. I walk into the den and see a body lying on the ground. He is short, wearing a red hoodie and blue jeans. “What the hell is going on Gwen?” I shout.
I suddenly feel a burning sensation on my neck. The warm feeling quickly spreads down toward my chest. My hand instinctively reaches up to investigate as I lower my head to look down. I see my hand is covered in blood, my blood. The marinara stain on my shirt is no longer noticeable as my blood pours down, covering my shirt and dripping to the floor.
I try to shout but no sound comes out, only a sickening gurgle. My hand clamps down, trying to stop the flow of blood. It’s then that I turn around. Gwen is standing behind me, knife in hand and anger in her eyes.
“I killed your whores, James, and now you will join them. No man cheats on me and gets away with it.”
Feeling lightheaded, I stagger to the wall trying to steady myself. The room starts to spin and I slump to the floor.
Gwen casually approaches me, unholsters my gun, and shoots the man on the floor. I notice the gloves she is wearing, ordinary disposable rubber gloves. She walks to the body, opens the hand, and plants the knife.
My vision begins to fade as she walks back to me and says, “Rot in hell you cheating bastard.”
As she sets the gun on the floor next to me and everything fades to black, I can’t help but think, “I never thought getting my dick wet would be something I lived to regret.”
