I sat in my smoke-filled office, cigar in hand, feet on desk. The sign on
the door said "PRIVATE DETECTIVE", the sign on my desk said "NO SMOKING".
Someone knocked, and I called them in.
She was a classy broad, not the type we usually saw around here.
I motioned to an empty chair, and took another gulp of my cheap whiskey.
She chose to sit on the desk, and lit a cigarette. Her sultry eyes took in
our surrounds; the cracks in the ceiling, the reddish glow from the neon
sign across the street, my chiseled good looks.... I was hypnotised by her
red lips as she leaned in and blew smoke in my face, "I need your help".
She was in trouble and I was in love. How could I refuse?
Swinging my feet off the desk, I nudged the sign, "No smoking Lady."
She raised one eyebrow in quizical fasion and took a final lungfull of smoke
in. I was begining to notice those long legs draped across my desk as she
added her half smoked butt into my already overfull ashtray, "Better?" she
again exhaled at me.
"You got a name Lady?" This causal game was driving me nuts, but I had
learnt over the years that, bruises heal, the sun always rises, and chicks
dig a slient type. "Doesn't a Lady get a drink anymore?" she pointed to the
glass I had just put down, "Mind if I take my coat off?" She slowly
raised herself off my desk and broke the spell, by turning away towards my
battered hat stand. I took this time to notice the slight way she was favouring her left side, and
the wince as she removed her jacket she couldn't hide.
I pulled my desk draw open and rumaged past my six-shooter and loose bullets
to grab my other glass. It needed a clean. I wiped it as I placed it on the
desk and slowly filled it with a generous two fingers worth of wiskey. I have also
learnt that a sober client talks alot less.
The Lady settled into the chair opposite me, long legs crossed, her blonde
flowing hair cascading around her shoulders. I pushed the glass towards her.
She took a small sip, and coughed, looking to see if was watching. I
chuckled to myself, her fascade was slipping and I knew I had unnerved her
now. "So how can I help you?" I asked, leaning forward with my
elbows on the desk in my best 'I'm about to listen to every word that
comes out of your mouth, then fix all your problems' way. Clients like that too.
She took a deep breath and said...
Created for the Everything Quests - Smoking
future plotlines from here could always include:
Regarddless of what comes out of her mouth, it is in fact only a half truth. She actually shot her identical twin, who had been crossdressing and pretending to be her husband. (whether girl A knows this yet.. who knows) the whole thing is an insurace sham.
As i was posting this I thought, "she didn't even do it, her sister has done it and she's covering... but why???"