It felt so good, that her rouge lips parted delicately to let out a breathless moan. He's the cat who got the cream and couldn't stop licking it, she thought to herself as his tongue played between her quivering thighs.

CHAPTER ONE | THE PHOTO

It was after midnight in the city when his metallic convertible glided down an empty rain-slicked street that reflected the neon-purple light from orbs, hovering where streetlamps once stood.

The driver was a clean-cut gent with a precisely combed fade, rugged-but-trimmed beard, and wearing a retro designer suit that cost more than the original. As for the final touch, a pair of hi-tech glasses with sleek buttons framed his tired brown eyes. The man gently turned into a vacant lot and eased up to a brick building with a novelty magnifying glass flickering neon-orange light in the window.

Inside, his dark minimalistic office was dramatically lit in the center by a neon-blue orb hovering above the antique mahogany desk and hazed in cigarette smoke. The flickering orange light from the novelty magnifying glass in the window, spliced through the blinds to enhance the moody aesthetic.

The clean-cut gent placed his blazer on the back of his office chair and took a seat at the desk, which contained a stack of case folders, a rotary phone, an empty glass for scotch, and a large magnifying glass. His hand, with the futuristic binary watch strapped at the wrist, slid open a desk drawer containing a red legal folder and a bottle of scotch.

He grabbed the bottle, filled his glass, took a sip, then, had a thoughtful moment before retrieving the folder. The man tapped it with his fingers and hesitantly considered whether to open it. An act that lasted but only a moment. He flipped the cover, and proceeded to gaze inside at the surveillance photo of a mysterious woman, wearing rouge lipstick and dark shades. In permanent marker, he jotted the name “Lady Rouge,” beside her.

Next, the man took off his hi-tech eyewear and landed them onto the desk next to a stray business card, revealing him to be Mr. Fox, a private investigator. His heartbeat increased, and his mind raced a marathon while continuing to stare at the photo of Lady Rouge.

Ten years on the job and I never thought it would be me. ...But I've fallen... ...fallen for a mark.

Fox hovered the magnifying glass over her face, doubling it in size.

I'm not even a figment of her imagination. And yet, I can't get her out of mine. …It's her fucking mystique. …It haunts me.

The tip of his index finger enlarged when he placed it underneath the magnifying glass and caressed Lady Rouge's face. “Take a picture. It'll last longer,” a woman's sultry voice spoke out from the shadows.

Fox, nearly startled out of his skin, scoured for the hidden intruder. But just then, in the darkest corner, a metallic lighter flicked and flamed a cigarette while revealing the luscious rouge lips of his fantasy fuck. Her eyes remained hidden as she capped the lighter and returned to darkness. Fox scrambled to place on his glasses.

He quickly tapped a button on his frames to cast a spotlight on the classy, sexy, mature, raven-haired woman in the corner, who wore her edgy undercut in a slicked-back style and sat with her toned thighs crossed in a red skirt suit, and barefoot.

A glass of scotch rested in the hand that was covered by a black velvet glove, and a shimmering diamnd ring over the middle finger. Fox was captivated, and nervous. The way her intense eyes defined by mascara, pierced in his direction, was unreal. Thus, he attempted to mask his truth with a legal threat. “Breaking and entering. A hundred twenty days, max.”

“Useful trivia,” Lady Rouge sarcastically replied, as she proceeded to take a drag, exhale, and comfortably inquire, “Why're you following me?”

The question stumped Fox just before responding, “It's my job.”

Lady Rouge skeptically offered a, “Hmm,” as she flicked cigarette ash down to the floor and said, “Is it? Or... was it?”

Once again, Fox's mask briefly slipped when he broke eye contact. Lady Rouge smirked, took a drag, and eye-scanned what she perceived to be the latter in their game of cat-and-mouse.

Fox pathetically tried to play it stern, but wasn't fooling anyone. His actions spoke when he chugged the rest of his scotch and asked, “How'd you get in?”

"How is for amateurs,” she replied. “Isn't why far more interesting?”

Fox bit the bait, and continued in a charmingly-rude tone. “I'll rephrase. Why, the fuck are you here?”

Lady Rouge raised her glass with celebratory flare. “Because you're a man who packs an incredibly stiff drink. Yes?” She would bring the glass to her lips, cascade it down, and delicately place it onto a nearby stand that contained an ashtray she neglected to use.

The private eye followed the glass and zeroed in on the lipstick smear. And after noticing her noticing him, Fox went out of his way not to ogle at her well manicured hands once she removed the diamond ring from her left middle finger, and slid off the black velvet gloves to reveal rouge-painted nails

Instead, he retrieved a cigarette from the Art Deco case inside his blazer that remained draped over the back of his chair.

Lady Rouge observed the way Fox's hand trembled when applying flame to tobacco. And yet, she was fully aware that it wasn't due to any fear on his part, but rather, his massive anticipation of just how explosive things might get.

This is why Lady Rouge uncrossed her legs for a peek at her black panties that sparkled hints of gold glitter, as she casually continued her game. “When people get the feeling they're being watched, it places them in a state of discomfort. ...But me?” Lady Rouge paused for dramatic effect, and whispered, “It turns me on.”

CHAPTER TWO | THE WATCHER

A charming two-story home in a cookie-cutter suburban neighborhood was being watched by Fox as he sank into the driver seat of an unmarked sedan. His fedora elevated just a tad when he spotted Lady Rouge exiting the home in a disguise straight out of a film noir. Classic trench coat, scarf over the head, dark pair of shades, and two sexy red heels swinging in her dainty hand.

At this point, Fox was used to tailing and photographing her from afar. But on this particular day, for a split second, there was something different about her. The private eye raised his 35 mm film camera when she stopped for a moment to ponder.

In the brief interval, he snapped the perfect photo just before she could strut barefoot to her black convertible, which had an identity scanner on the automated door that slid open just as Lady Rouge approached the driver's side. She hopped in, the door automatically slid shut, and then she proceeded to pull down the visor mirror, which doubled as a touchscreen device. Lady Rouge selected an option on the mirror, activating a facial scan, which isolated her lips as an area for retouch.

Through his zoom lens, Fox watched the tender way she applied the lipstick while replaying in his mind the exact moment he snapped her photo. He desperately wanted to know what compelled her to stop, and what exactly was she thinking.

The thought crossed his mind. Was she mentally weighing the guilt of fucking around on her husband of eight years? Or, was she momentarily paralyzed by the inescapable thought of her lover tearing her body apart in the middle of the day, while her faithful fool of a husband punched a clock just to buy her new jewelry to get fucked in?

Fox broke free of his judgment, and felt somewhat bad for thinking of her in such a way. Though, on the other hand, he truly believed that everything about her was suspicious. And it really pissed him off that after two weeks, he had not one shred of evidence to show her suspecting husband.

Every bone in Fox's body believed that she was a cheater, and that every afternoon when he followed her, she enjoyed some sort of delight inside of the private establishments she visited. Never public. And what really bothered him, was the way that her hair looked every time she exited. It appeared to have been disturbed, but skillfully put back together in a way that no one probably noticed but him.

This is because, when Fox was in his twenties, he photographed national beauty conventions that celebrated leading brands in the industry and offered education to hair stylists. Thus, inadvertently learning a great deal about different hair types and how they behaved under various circumstances.

However, as a man of reason, Fox did consider that it wasn't completely unreasonable for a woman of means to conduct a 'complicated' life behind high societal walls, that restricted common, unevolved, trash such as himself.

Because yes, no matter how well groomed, or how expensive his retro designer suits were, as a private investigator, Fox understood that everyone viewed him as a bottom feeder. Especially, during his early years as a P.I. The cheaters and crooks had an audaciously dark way of making him feel as if he were somehow ruining their lives by bringing truth to light.

But what really stung Fox, was that his clients thought even less of him, no matter how much they offered to pay during the initial consultation, or no matter how many times they desperately uttered that he was their final hope.

The fact was, if Fox had a hard time finding dirt on his marks, some clients would accuse him of stalling to run up the bill. Or, if he didn't find anything after an extensive investigation, they would feel as if they didn't get the payoff they paid into. And that's the way he felt his current case was going.

This is why Fox decided to get his mind out of the gutter and place more effort into his work that day. The way he saw it, should her husband go the predictable route, he could at least tell the ingrate, and himself, that he did all he could and a little bit more. Though, on a separate note, Fox still couldn't shake his aching desire to know what the hell was on her mind when he took the photo.

And as he kept watch through the lens, he thought, Perhaps betrayal is her talent, and she wanted to take a moment and bask in just how skilled she is. But little did he know, that was just the beginning of him questioning and obsessing over the photographic moment, and the mysterious woman inside of it.

*As the game of cat-and-mouse continued to play out in Fox's office, Lady Rouge expanded her web of seduction around him.

Lady Rouge's voice: “Nothing wets me more than being watched.”

*Still parked in his sedan, Fox kept a sharp eye pushed against the camera viewfinder, and on Lady Rouge as she puckered a kiss at herself in the mirror.

Lady Rouge's voice: “As a woman who is no stranger to shiny objects, I easily noticed when the sun reflected off something in the distance. Perhaps your watch. Perhaps your lens. But fact is, once I learned that I was under the watchful eye of a professional... ...I knew that I would spend the rest of my day creaming the seat.”

Lady Rouge sensually gripped the retro stick-shift and descended it from park, reverse, neutral, into drive, and dangerously sped her futuristic convertible out of the driveway and into the narrow street, nearly hitting parked vehicles. Fox smirked and shook his head just as he eased out of his spot and tailed behind the lawless woman with “LaFemme” on the license plate.

CHAPTER THREE | KISS KISS

Lady Rouge elevated from her chair and slowly walked over to Fox, taking a seat on the edge of his desk. This literally gave her the higher ground and forced him to look up as she played with the magnifying glass. “Do you know what gets me off more than being watched?” asked Lady Rouge. And the private eye waited with bated breath as she raised the magnifying glass to her enlarged mascara eye and whispered, “Watching... ...the watcher.”

Lady Rouge returned the magnifier to the desk, picked up the bottle of scotch, refilled his glass, and took a sensual sip. Fox couldn't help but notice the lipstick smear left behind as she rested it on the surveillance photo of herself. His eyes remained fixed on the vibrant smear until Lady Rouge delicately placed her hand onto his chin and redirected his attention to her. She wasn't finished. “It's astonishing. You're in love with me... ...and yet, you don't even know me.”

Before denial could utter from his quivering, lying, mouth, she placed a hushed finger over it, pushed aside her sparkling black panties with one hand, and proceeded to slip in the finger that she had covering his lips. Fox's breathing increased, as did hers when she passionately rubbed herself and whispered, “The thought of you wanting to know all of my dirty secrets, makes me wanna explode.”

Fox licked his lips as her clit swelled and peeked out of its hiding place. He was tangled in her web and hadn't planned on setting himself free, as she continued to corner him with sexy statements, and a dominatrix cop way of questioning.

Lady Rouge continued in a provoking, whispered, tone. “But you didn't find anything, did you? And yet... ...you keep me in your drawer. By your side.”

“You got it wrong,” Fox pathetically tried to explain.

“Hush,” said Lady Rouge as she slowly stopped rubbing herself, descended her breathing, and gently tugged at his necktie.

“You wanna know why, the fuck, I'm here? Well, my cunning little fox, it would appear it's for the same reason that you're still following me. So. This is the part where you stop being ambivalent, and you start fucking me all over this desk. Please.”

Fox couldn't get up from his seat fast enough to take her in his arms, smell her fingers, suck them, mouth his way around her neck, and grip her thigh with one hand, while the other dipped into her slippery pussy and massaged her G-spot.

Then, like an uncaged animal, he spun her around, hiked her skirt just above her plump ass, and bent her over the desk in an attempt to fuck from behind. But Lady Rouge reversed just as fast as he spun her, grabbed Fox by his tie and directed him down to his knees like a good boy.

Pleased with his behavior, she spun back around, exposed her jiggly cheeks to his spell bounded face, and accepted an eager-but-delicious rim job. And as Fox ate her soft ass, her pussy creamed and ran down her thick thigh till she couldn't take it.

Lady Rouge radically swiped the stack of case folders off the desk and down to the floor, bringing Fox's snacking to a halt. And as she refaced him, Lady Rouge wrapped his tie around her clenched fist, directed him up to his feet, back to the desk, and pushed him down, so he lay flat.

Fox's attempt at unbuckling his belt resulted in her smacking his fingers, climbing on top, and sitting on his groin to keep his idled hands away from his devilish playground. It was clear that Lady Rouge had the compass, and that he was to follow her lead as she sensually dry-humped him and reached for his glass.

She paralleled the side with smeared lipstick to his face and teased his salivating mouth with false pours, just before abruptly spilling the scotch down his unexpecting throat. Next, she would run her middle finger with the diamond ring against his cheek to catch and suck off the spilled stream of scotch.

Fox nearly burst through his pants thinking she just as well could be sucking something else. But was quickly distracted when Lady Rouge scooted across his chest, with her skirt conveniently raised above her ass, and landed her pretty pearl in that famished clam he called a mouth.

As Fox consumed her juices, she unbuttoned the blazer to her skirt-suit, unleashed her braless C cups, and squeezed them like stress balls. It felt so good, that her rouge lips parted delicately to let out a breathless moan. He's the cat who got the cream and couldn't stop licking it, she thought to herself as his tongue played between her quivering thighs.

Her moans increased from the multi-sensation of him running his hands down her back and savoring her twat, while she twisted her stiff nipples. As for the cigarette-hazed light from the orb above, paired with the illumination from Fox's eyewear, it ensured that his starlet was in the dreamy spotlight she deserved, and that he could see every bit of pleasure as she melted in his mouth from the rushing climax.

Fox caught his breath as the mysterious woman eased off his face and removed his glasses. She tossed them aside and proceeded to deduct a cigarette from the Art Deco case he landed on the desk earlier. Gently, she slipped the cigarette into his mouth, grabbed his lighter from the desk, and placed it into his hand. Fox was turned on by the control and power she displayed.

And while he was occupied, Lady Rouge gracefully got off the desk and took an exhausted seat in Fox's chair. He marveled at the picturesque way her glowing pearl necklace smiled across her neck, while her shapely tits hung in between the open blazer.

Having caught a second wind, the dreamy seductress rolled herself forward in the chair, to come face to face with his zipper. Fox enjoyed his cigarette as she delicately unbuckled his belt, unfastened the button, descended his trousers which dangled over the desk, and then his drawers, to unleash a girthy cock that could break her in every way she imagined.

Lady Rouge gestured her index and middle fingers to form a "V", then placed his throbbing member in between, and slowly proceeded to smoke his dick like a cigarette.

The initial slurp caused Fox to elevate his back in ecstasy and watch her rouge lips sensually glide up and down; deep-throating head to hilt. As for choking, it happened with cocks as thick as his, but she refused to stop, and embraced the tears of pleasure. And as Lady Rouge continued to perform, her intense eyes, circled with runny mascara, looked up with determination. Akin to a lioness low to the ground just before the pounce.

Her slurps would become more forceful, and inhibit Fox's ability to smoke, which is why he stretched his arm and landed the cigarette into his glass making it (((sizzle))) upon impact with the wet foundation.

[Part Two Cumming Soon]