#StoryIn12 – Voyage


I’m turning my #StoryIn12 tweets into 500(ish) word blog posts! Some will be sexy, some won’t, but all of them will feature my tweet in full and unbroken.

I’d never been a fan of the sea. Getting green about the gills just didn’t float my boat. But I’d swim to the ends of the earth and back again to catch my quarry, so I was sitting at the ship’s bar, nursing my third Highball and ignoring the way my gut rolled each time The Dolly encountered a wave.

As I quietly ruminated on just how the hell the sonofabitch I was hunting kept evading me, I felt my hackles rise. I had a distinct feeling that I was being watched. The room was too big. Balconies, alcoves, and corners, all of them littered with blind spots thanks to the bar’s ostentatious chandeliers, velvet curtains, and wide marble columns. I had to get out of there, I was too exposed.

I smelled her before I saw her. Expensive perfume, cigarette smoke, and trouble. I lifted my drink to my lips, but I didn’t take as much as a sip. I used the glass to conceal the fact that I was watching her approach through the mirror behind a row of bottles that ran the length of the wall.

There were half a dozen empty chairs at the bar, but she sat in the one directly to my left. Out of the corner of my eye, I clocked bottle blonde pin curls, a ruff of what was probably faux mink. I heard the strike of a match, saw the tiny orange flame flare in the mirror, wrinkled my nose against the ribbon of smoke that drifted past my face.

“Martini. Dirty.”

I glanced at her reflection, making sure she didn’t catch me. A face like an angel, totally at odds with the way she sounded. She had the voice of a man who smoked twenty a day and took honey in his whiskey. The bartender looked confused for a moment but quickly sprung to action when she tapped her cigarette case against the glass bar top.

I could feel her gaze crawling all over me. The sensible part of me said drink up and head for the exit, but the curious part of me wanted to see her. Truth be told, I never was all that sensible.

When I looked at her she smiled, all red lipstick and white teeth. She took a draw of her cigarette, and when she lowered her hand my eyes followed. Fur collar, dress with a V-neck so deep I could see that she was almost completely flat chested. Narrow hips and legs for days.

If I hadn’t been working a case I’d have taken her back to my cabin and fucked her. But I had to find the guy I was looking for before he had a chance to get his feet back on dry land. Tracking him this far had been bitch enough, I didn’t want to lose him when I was this close.

I must have stared for too long because without warning she reached down and inched up the hem of her dress. She flashed some thigh and suddenly my voyage was fraught with danger. If anything could throw me off the scent of a suspect it would be the scent of musky cunt.

I tipped the last of my drink down my throat and slammed the glass down on the bar. It seemed to me that the music got louder as I walked away. Light caught on the crystal drops dangling above me, laughter assaulted my ears, smoke and drink and perfumes clouded my mind and made me feel sick.

It was cold on deck, but I was glad of it. The spray of sea foam was refreshing, the wind invigorating. It cleared my head so that I was in control again when I heard the door behind me snick shut.

When I looked at her I realised that I wasn’t in control at all. All it took was one lunge forward on my part for her to be in my arms. Her lips tasted oily, her tongue tasted like smoke. My fingers fumbled with my belt and zipper as I backed her towards the door.

A thought occurred to me when I lifted her skirt to her hips and felt the tiny pistol that was tucked neatly beneath her garter. Maybe I’d been chasing after the wrong person. Maybe the woman was one who’d shot the guy from the bank.

I should have arrested her on the spot, but I didn’t. I couldn’t have even if I’d wanted to because her thigh was hitched over my hip and I could feel the warmth of her cunt against my cock.

She used her fingers to guide it inside of her. I didn’t even have to thrust, she was doing it for me. Clinging to my shoulders, pulling me in closer until we were hidden in the folds of her monstrous coat.

She felt so good! So tight and wet, so fucking talented with her muscles and her hips. She was squeezing me, covering my face with red smudges, panting in my ear and begging me to fuck her harder even as she reached for her weapon.

My cock went off at the same time as the gun. So did her cunt. But only one of us felt it.


Prompt #323 – Passenger

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