By CD-B2 (Seedee-Beetoo)
ïƒ“ 2010 by CD-B2
My name is G.T. Payde. I'm a private detective; I specialize in finding the "unfindable" and solving the unsolvable. I'm the best there is at what I do, but sometimes what I do isn't pretty. Still, if you've got a tough problem, I'm the tough that'll solve it for you â€“ for a price.
I was at the end of a very long day. I was working a case that had me trailing some low-life thug that I was hoping would lead me to a mob boss the cops had spent months looking for. I had gotten close, but the thug went and got himself picked up by the feds. I'd have to find another way to get at the boss.
I'd just poured myself a stiff drink, lit up a well-deserved Cuban and put my feet up to rest when someone knocked on my office door.
"It's open," I said. I didn't get up, but my hand went to my shoulder holster. I keep my insurance policy there. A second later, she walked in. I'm used to women in trouble showing up at my door, but the vision that stood in front of me was unlike any woman I'd ever seen before. She was tall, blonde and drop-dead gorgeous. She wore a lady's business suit that was so impeccably tailored I knew she had class, style and, most importantly, cash. Her hair, wavy and perfect, fell over one eye. Her dazzling blue eyes shone above her fine cheekbones and her full lips glistened with deep red lipstick.
"Mr. Payde?" she asked. Her voice was throaty and sexy â€“ the kind of voice that gets a man's attention right away. The drink in my hand wasn't the only thing in the room that was stiff. I had to secretly adjust myself before I could answer.
"That's what it says on the door," I said, playing coy. No sense in giving up my advantage so early in the game. "What's it to you?"
"I need your help," she said. Her posture â€“ and her diamond necklace â€“ implied that she was someone who was used to getting what she wanted.
"Sister, everyone who walks through that door needs my help. Question is: can you afford it?"
She reached into her purse and tossed something onto my desk. It was a roll of bills that would have choked a horse. I know I nearly choked when I did a quick count. It beat my usual rate of $125 per day plus expenses all to hell.
I sat up in the chair and motioned her to sit down across from me. When she did, the aroma of her perfume filled the room. It was spicy, with hints of leather and something enticing that I couldn't place. I've got a good nose for trouble and that's what I smelled: trouble with a capital Blonde.
"You've got my attention, Miss..."
"Fatale. Noel Fatale," she responded and sat down with a sensuous grace that really got my attention â€“ and sent a pleasant shiver down my spine and into my Johnson. "That," she pointed to the cash, "is a down payment on the job I'd like you to do for me." She slowly shifted in the chair and I caught the sound of legs encased in expensive stockings rubbing against each other. My mind wandered to places a "good" private eye never went. Well, I wasn't a "good" private eye, and thoughts of stocking tops, shiny high heels and Agent Provocateur panties flooded my mind. Wait. Panties? Why did I think of panties?
"Mr. Payde? Did you hear me, Mr. Payde?" Her voice brought me back to the here and now.
"Sorry...it's been a long day. What did you say?"
She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow and an enigmatic smile flashed quickly on those luscious lips before she answered.
"Someone has stolen a family heirloom from me and I want it back. I asked around and the word is you're the only person who can find it for me. Would you do that for me, Mr. Payde?" She leaned forward, allowing me a view of cleavage so stunning I couldn't help but think how wonderful it would be to just rest my face in it. The moment passed, but not before I felt a bit of drool collecting in the corner of my mouth. I wiped it away as casually as I could but I knew she'd noticed. Those ice-blue peepers of hers didn't miss a thing. Again the smile played across her lips.
"That wad of dough guarantees I'm on the case, lady. It also guarantees I'll find your chotchke. What's it look like?
"It's a bird, Mr. Payde. A black bird."
Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow.
Three nights later I wasn't making a lot of headway on finding the bird, but I did find out a bit more about my mysterious client. She was sole heiress to a family fortune that was almost twice as old as the U. S. of A. She'd recently moved to the city and bought a whole high-rise just for herself. She funded several research companies and charities, donated to all the museums and kept out of politics. She wasn't married nor did it seem she had anyone who shared her bed.
My mind was whirling with questions. Why was I even thinking about her bed? Why couldn't I get Noel's face out of my mind? Why did my Johnson jump to attention whenever I thought about her? And where the hell was that damned weasel?
I was in my car on this rainy evening, waiting in a seedy part of town across the street from the office of a private accountant I had found out did some work for some people who did some work for one of Noel's charity events. I didn't like what I found out about him, so I figured he could be the break I was looking for. I hoped I wouldn't have to break him too badly, though.
Soon enough, he came slinking down the steps of the run-down brownstone and headed off into the drenched night. I jumped out of my car and tailed him discretely, never letting him out of my sight. It was a boring trip and my mind wandered back to Noel's red lips and intoxicating scent. I seemed to smell it here, on the street. I shook my head to clear it and followed the accountant into a run-down apartment building. The weasel had gone home to his burrow. I waited ten minutes before I made my way upstairs to the twelfth floor. I banged on the door.
"Police, Soreson! Open up!" I figured that would rattle him. Seconds later I heard lock after lock after lock being opened. This guy was a paranoid like Rockefeller was a millionaire. When the door finally opened, I pushed my way in and closed it behind me.
"What do you want?" he said. He was a little guy, mousy clothes, mousy brown hair, shifty eyes, and greasy hair. I noticed his suspenders were down and his fly was open. Then I smelled it: Noel's perfume.
"Alright you little creep," I said as I grabbed him by his shirt, lifting him onto his tiptoes. "I think you've got something here that doesn't belong to you! Where is it?" I scanned the room as his face broke into a sweat. The mouse began to squeak.
"I don't have The Bird! I swear it!"
"What do you know? Talk or I'll have to lean on you really hard!" I shoved the little weasel up against the nearest wall and made him do a pretty good impersonation of a battering ram.
"Okay! Okay! I was hired as an accounting subcontractor for one of the big downtown firms. They were doing inventory for Ms. Fatale and needed extra fingers on the adding machines. I saw The Bird, figured it to be worth more than I was getting paid, and I swiped it."
"Where is it now?"
"I fenced it at Mickey's last night!"
He was telling the truth but my instincts told me to play a hunch â€“ and I always listen to my instincts.
"What else did you take?" I asked.
"Nothing! I swear!" He was lying. He practically rained sweat on the arm of my trench coat. I'd have to add the dry cleaning to Noel's tab; weasel sweat was a bitch to get out.
I dropped him like sack of rotten potatoes and stepped over to the sofa. Draped across one of the arms was a pair of satin panties. Agent Provocateur (how I recognize the brand is a story for another time, involving a brunette and a bottle of gin). Black. A small "N.F." ornately embroidered in the front. They were heavily scented with Noel's distinct perfume â€“ again with an under note of something I couldn't place. I let out a low whistle. "This is some kind of nothing you didn't take, pal. I think the cops are gonna want to talk to you."
"You're not a cop?!" Soreson realized and took a swing at me. He telegraphed it by a mile, so I blocked it and worked over his stomach with a couple of quick jabs. He folded up like an accordion and dropped to the floor.
"Don't worry, I'll make sure the real cops know where to find you," I said as I grabbed the panties off the sofa. "I'll return these to Ms. Fatale after I see Mickey about a Bird." I stepped over the wheezing accountant and left the room.
The elevator ride down seemed to take longer, and in the enclosed space, the scent from the panties was almost overwhelming. I didn't want to think about what the creep was going to do with them. But I did anyway. I couldn't seem to help myself. I reached into my pocket and felt the delicate material. It seemed to slip and slide around my questing fingers, almost as if it was alive. I started to pull them out and hold them to my face but the jolt of the elevator stopping on the ground floor broke me out of the near-trance.
"What in the name of Hades am I doing?" Something weird was happening here, and I started to think that the sooner I wrapped up this case, the better.
I found a pay phone on the corner, called my contact at the precinct and told them about Soreson. Before I could figure out what my next move was going to be, someone made it for me. Two big gorillas grabbed me by the arms and shoved me into the back seat of a long black car that had pulled up next to me.
"Alright! What's the big idea?" My sense of smell was immediately assaulted and overcome by a scent I was becoming very familiar with. I looked over and I was suddenly staring into Noel's ice-blue eyes.
"Thank you for joining me, Mr. Payde," she said.
Her scent was even more intense than what I'd smelled on her panties. Much more intense.
"I...I didn't have much choice, did I?" My usually sharp as a tack brain was feeling soggy, like cornflakes at the bottom of a bowl of milk.
"Have you found my heirloom, Mr. Payde?"
"Listen Mist...," I caught myself. I was going to say "Mistress." Why? I fought to clear my head. "...Miss Fatale, I don't like being followed or pressured about doing my job. I'm the best and I'll find The Bird for you," I said defensively. "I'll have it in your finely manicured hands in no time."
Her posture softened and she slithered across the seat until she was leaning heavily against me. The sound her body made on the plush leather seat was the most sensual sound I'd ever heard. She touched me on the arm with a gentle but insistent pressure.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Payde. It's just that The Bird belonged to my great-grandmother and I desperately want it back." With her that close to me, I couldn't help but look at her lips as they formed the words. Such a perfect mouth with lips that glistened. Her short skirt was partly open and flashed a quick peek of red panty before she brought her legs together. "Please hurry."
My Johnson throbbed to life again as she slid back to her side of the limo. Good thing I always wear the trench coat. I shook my head to clear it, without much success.
"Don't worry, Miss Fatale. I'm close." Too close, I thought to myself. I quickly got out of the car and watched it drive off. As it turned the corner, I caught a glimpse of her finely sculpted face looking back at me and I shivered. I ducked into a nearby bar to collect my wits, and calm the erection that was straining against my pants. What is it about that woman? I knocked back a belt of bourbon and finally got my groin under control. In a few minutes I could think straight again. Something was queerer than a three-dollar bill, and I intended to find out what it was so I could be done with the case. But first I needed to find The Bird. That meant a trip to Mickey's pawnshop for a little tete a tete. I patted the concealed .45 at my shoulder. Mickey could get rough, but I was ready.
What I wasn't ready for was Mickey, a.k.a. Mikala Russovitch, to be waiting for me. With open arms no less. Her place was well-lit for a pawnshop but then again she wasn't a typical fence. She stood behind the expansive counter, smiling at me. That was enough to make me very, very cautious.
"Payde! Where have you been for so long that I haven't been seeing you in my humble shop?" Her Eastern European accent only accentuated her Eastern European beauty. Brunette with wide brown eyes and a proud jaw line, she was someone I'd come to trust to always have her hands in everyone's pockets.
"Mickey. Long time no scam. What's new?"
"Nothing under the sun." She was playing coy.
"Don't play coy with me, Mickey. I know that weasel accountant, Soreson, sold you The Bird, and my client wants it back. So make like a Labrador retriever and bring it to me."
"Are you sure you are not wanting to have seen my newest merchandise? I am sure you will be appreciating them." She touched a button on a panel next to her hand, and a hidden compartment slid open in the countertop. A display shelf rose up and I took a step back, surprised.
"I am just getting this from the, how you say, 'weasel accountant'. He didn't want to be parting with them but I am very convincing, yes?"
I was staring at a several pairs of panties...all of them with the ornate "N.F." emblazoned on them. I couldn't help but inhale and take in the accompanying scent. The scent of my Mistr... No. Noel's scent â€“ the scent that was perfume and so much more. How did Mickey get...? I had to hold it together. I pulled the .45 on her.
"Where's The Bird, Mickey? Hand it over or I'll plug you where your heart's supposed to be!" The tough guy act helped me think a bit more clearly but I knew I needed to finish this up quickly.
"No need to be threatening, comrade. I am getting it for you now." She stepped through the door behind her.
I watched carefully, but I couldn't take my eyes completely off those panties. Thongs, fullbacks, French-cut, boy-short, all in different colors and fabrics. And the smell of the perfume was accompanied by what I finally realized could only been the scent of Mistress' pussy. Heavenly scent...
"Here, Payde! I am giving you The Bird!" She tossed me a shoebox-shaped bundle wrapped in brown paper. I caught it and motioned her to stay where she was while I opened it. The paper came off readily enough and I opened the box. I laughed.
Inside the box, carved in jet, was a statue of a hand with the middle finger extended! She literally gave me the bird! I laughed again. I should have been watching her more carefully, because she'd slipped behind me and clamped what could only have been one of the panties over my nose and mouth. Mickey's a doll, but she's bred from stout Eastern European stock. Her grip was too much for me in my muddled state. And the smell of the panties didn't help. Nor did the erection that instantly sprang to life. None of that was much of a concern because the lights went out and I slumped into her arms.
I have no idea how long I was out, but I woke with a head that pounded like a New Year's Day hangover and a mouth that felt like it was stuffed with cotton. It didn't take me long to I realized that my mouth was stuffed with cotton! I was gagged and tied to a chair and I was naked except for my under shorts. I quickly made my eyes focus and I scanned the room. Very well appointed. Modern and classic at the same time. Roomy with a high ceiling. There was a tub that could have doubled as swimming pool in the center of the room. I'd never been here, but I knew where I was.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Payde," the musical lilt of Noel's voice echoed as she glided into the room. She stood before me and I had to look up into her utterly beautiful face. She was radiant in a black sleeveless dress that flowed to the floor. Her diamond necklace caught and reflected light from the skylight overhead. My mind started getting fuzzy again and the word "Goddess" came to mind.
"Yes. 'Goddess', Mr. Payde. And Mistress. You will refer to me as either because that's what I am to you now."
I shook my head defiantly. No one owns G.T. Payde!
"Silly man. Of course I own you! It's much too late for you to resist me. You've inhaled so much of my pussy scent already, and that panty gag in your mouth is soaked in my pussy juices. Oh, and your cock is trapped in a pair of my boy short panties!"
I looked down in horror. A pair of sheer black panties covered my erect manhood â€“ covered and tightly contained it. The more I thought about it, the harder my Johnson got and the tighter the panties held it. Noel chuckled to herself and leaned down. She lightly trailed her fingers along the panties, and you'd think she was shooting electricity the way my Johnson jumped. It was tremendously pleasurable. I had to fight to keep from begging for more.
"You will beg for more, pet. Trust me. Oh, and I can read your mind, now that you're becoming mine."
I tried to strain against my bonds but my muscles wouldn't do what I told them to. I couldn't break free.
"Thank you so much for returning my property." She held out The Bird. I could see now that it was carved with runes and symbols I couldn't understand. "That little weasel of an accountant thought he could steal from me, did he? Well, he'll soon wish he'd never been born. I couldn't have gotten it back without you, though, Mr. Payde. You are the best private dick in the city and soon you'll be my very own private dick. I'm going to have to thank Mickey, too, for bringing you to me â€“ after I've punished her sufficiently for trying to profit from my property. She's most helpful in finding me new toys to play with." She touched my penis again and I almost broke the ropes from ecstasy.
"Mmmmm. So responsive! You're going to love this, then!" She closed her eyes and her lips moved silently. Then she tossed The Bird high into the air. Its defiant middle finger flipped end-over-end and the sculpture crashed into the bottom of the pool-sized tub.
I heard it smash and tinkle as though it was made of glass. Seconds later there was a sound like something growing in it. Before my eyes, the tub filled with thousands upon thousands of pairs of panties! I couldn't believe it!
"Something one of my research teams came up with, but my own magical touch enhanced it. This was just a test in miniaturization and compression. Now..." Noel untied me from the chair and pulled the pair of panties out of my mouth. I wanted to run or fight, but I couldn't raise a hand against her. My mind was defiant, but my body was compliant.
"Now to do something about that rebellious spirit of yours, Mr. Payde." The sensuous blonde grabbed me by my cock and pulled me along behind her to the edge of the enormous tub. Her touch nearly made me cum, but the pressure of her grip held me in check. My tongue lolled out of my mouth and drool hit the floor, though.
"Kneel," she commanded. I fell to my knees with my back to the tub full of panties. She extended one beautifully shaped foot from beneath her dress. I was staring at five perfectly formed toes, painted a deep red. "Kiss," she ordered and I obeyed my Goddess. My lips grazed the top of her foot and I couldn't help but passionately kiss her there. With the suddenness of a striking cobra, Noel kicked me hard enough to make me fall backwards. Into the panty-filled pit.
Strangely enough, all those panties acted like a viscous liquid. They had the consistency of what I could only describe as quicksand. I churned around, trying to grasp the edge of the pit but the panties squished around me and I couldn't get any traction. What was worse, they slid against the panties I was wearing and aroused me even more â€“ which I wouldn't have believed possible. And what was even worse than that, Noel's pussy scent was on all of the panties. I was drowning in her panties and her pussy smell. I felt my mind growing blank and my dick growing even harder. I wanted to orgasm so badly, but something, some unholy power, kept me from releasing. The more I thrashed the harder I got. The harder I got, the more I sank into the panty pit. The more I sank the more I thrashed. It was a cycle that threatened to drive me mad with passion and desire.