Dizzy

This is something I wrote for a women's/lesbian open mic night. It's inspired by the hard-boiled detective stories of the forties. I would have used even more slang, but I think it would have started sounding forced. I do know I need to practice my reading skills - apparently I'm too fast and don't sound my characters out enough. (Heck, I was proud enough of myself for standing up in front of an audience.)

I may expand this story - I think there may be potential to make this into a story that could be submitted for publication somewhere. Maybe. It's always hard to really judge your own work.

The title is subject to change - I was thinking along the lines of being made dizzy or a dizzy dame, or dizzy in love.


Dizzy

By Pixelgoddess


This was one hit I wasn’t going to enjoy. It’s easy to kill a male shamus, but a dame, especially one as hot as Vivian Falcon – well, she gets to ya. Just looking at her picture was enough to make my stomach do flip-flops. I had been warned, though.


“It’s not going to be easy,” Dobler had told me. “She is a difficult target.”


“You’re joking, right?” I chuckled, not believing him. “I doubt she has the brains to match the looks. This should be easier than usual.”


Dobler made a wry smile. “Ah – but she does. Do not underestimate Ms. Falcon; she is a professional. There have been several attempts on her life, all failures.”


I leaned back in the over-priced, over-stuffed chair and propped my boots on the edge of the desk, noting with some satisfaction the annoyed look on his face. As far as I was concerned, he had more money than was good for him and the entitled attitude to match. “The others were incompetent asses.”


“Including your brother?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow.


I scowled – my brother was one of the reasons I got into this line. An arrogant asshole who thought having a dick gave him the right to use it. I was working my way up to him. I hadn’t known it was Falcon who beat me to it; I should thank her. “Are you trying to tell me she’s the one who took him out? Hell, he was one of the best in the biz.”


“Was - until he set his sights on Ms. Falcon. She has never failed on a case. That is what makes her so very dangerous,” he said, leaning back in a plush leather chair.


I walked across the thick red carpeting to stand in front of an ornately framed painting. It looked old – some barely dressed muscled guy surrounded by a herd of fawning, even less dressed women. It was probably ridiculously expensive – Dobler didn’t do anything by half. Studying it gave me a minute to think; did I really want a contract on someone who could take my brother out? It wasn’t like we had been close or anything. I had no intention of ‘avenging’ his death. In fact, he had long been on my short list of ‘better off dead’.


“So get the guy who hired her to call her off the case,” I shrugged.


“That is not possible. No one hired her. She is after my organization because she has no other case. Ms. Falcon is bored.”


“So set her up with another case.” Jeez – couldn’t this guy do anything for himself?


“Unwise. Trying to divert her attention would only serve to make her more determined.”


“So I guess sending someone to tell her to back off would only make her more suspicious.”


“Exactly.”


I felt his eyes studying me. I wondered what he saw. “You seem hesitant to take this contract, Ms. Peterson.”


“She’s a real dame,” I said, studying the glossy again. “Seems like a pity to rub out such a nice piece.”


“In spite of her deviant proclivities, I doubt your equally abhorrent tastes would be sufficient to distract her attention long enough to protect my interests.”


I twisted around and raised my eyebrows at him. “Your point?” I growled. He was a straight-laced, self righteous bastard – I had a good idea what he was referring to but I was going to make him say it. Hopefully it would make him uncomfortable enough to squirm.


“Ms Falcon is a practicing homosexual.”


“Good,” I smirked, just to annoy him. “Practice makes perfect. Do it enough and you make it to Carnegie Hall.” Finding out she walked down gay street as well made me even less willing to take the contract.


“Very funny, Ms. Peterson,” he said mirthlessly. “Are you going to take the contract or not?”


“I dunno. I don’t like to take a pointless risk…or make an unnecessary hit.” I didn’t mind a reasonable amount of trouble, but I wasn’t about to get myself killed over something useless.


“I assure you, this one is very necessary. Ms. Falcon does not report her findings to anyone until her research is complete and she has solved the case to her satisfaction.” He relit his pipe and drew a few puffs. Suddenly he leaned forward, his whole body tense. “Don’t you understand? She’s getting too damn close. Another week or two and she will report her findings to the authorities. Then my business will be at risk.”


“And you’ll be in the slammer,” I shrugged. “Who knows – maybe you’ll be some guy’s butt monkey.”


Dobler glared at me through the smoke. “I would die before allowing that to happen. And if I’m dead, there will be no one to pay you,” he threatened. “Ten grand to get rid of her.”


That wasn’t much for someone with her reputation. Dobler either wasn’t serious about this or he was trying to lowball me. “Fifty,” I said, deliberately pitching high.


“Twenty.”


“Who the hell are you trying to kid, Dobler? Talk real numbers or I’m walking.”


He tapped his pipe in the ashtray, frowning as he thought. “Thirty. Half up front. That’s my final offer.”


“Show me the green.”


He nodded and reached into the desk. After a minute he counted out 15k and dropped it on his desk.


“Done,” I said, making the cash vanish. “Any particular method?”


“Use any means you wish, just make it happen.”


“Yes sir,” I had said, grinning.


I had actually grinned. Then. Now that I had met Vivian Falcon, I was beginning to wish I hadn’t taken this contract. I should have sent the cash back to Dobler and told him to go to hell.


Meeting her hadn’t been deliberate. Not by a long shot. I mean, why give the cops a potential lead when the hit goes down? That’s why the pros in my business were so hard to catch. No meetings, no ties, no associations – just done and gone.


But I had fucked up.


I was doing surveillance, checking out her patterns, scouting out potential locations…the usual. I was working on foot today, eyeballing her house on a hill. It was big – practically a mansion compared to the houses around hers. White and sparkling, with lots of windows. I considered a high powered rifle through one of them, but discarded it. The vantage point sucked – too open. And the sun reflecting off them – they must be coated with something – made the light flare blindingly in my eyes. I had pretty much discarded a frontal assault while she was in the house – it was too much of a fortress.


Unfortunately, she spotted me. Too bad I didn’t spot her.


When I came to, I was cuffed to a hard wooden chair, hands behind my back. Vivian Falcon was sitting in front of me in a comfortable looking wing chair, just finishing field stripping my gun. She was fast and efficient, picking up the pieces laid out on a table beside her and sliding the weapon back together.


“Mama was military,” she said to an unasked question, as she reloaded the gun and set it beside her.


I didn’t say anything. I was at a disadvantage even before we started and didn’t want to give her more ammo before I knew what the game was. I just stared at her – studying her openly. A real femme fatale, almost a throwback to the 30s and 40s, worthy of an eyeballing by Bogie himself. Definitely easy on the eyes. Flame red hair, green eyes, long, long legs; she looked like a Vargas pinup come to life. The slim skirt and short jacket emphasized every single curve; Bacall would have been hard-pressed to compete with this dish. I wondered how women like her could stand, let alone walk, in those heels. I would have fallen off and busted my ass.


I looked around the room as she went through the contents of my leather jacket. Interior office, sparsely but tastefully furnished in modern beiges and creams with some splashes of decorator colors. There was a strange hush to it, making me suspect it was soundproofed.


She flipped through my wallet, studying the IDs, looking at the few pictures. It only took a minute, and then it joined my gun on the table.


“So – Samantha Peterson—”


“Sam,” I interrupted.


“Samantha,” she repeated ignoring me. “It appears we have a problem. You’ve been sent to kill me. I don’t intend to let that happen.”


“What makes you think--?” How could she possibly have known there was a contract out on her? I work alone – no ties to anyone. Dobler had to go through a series of dead drops and cut-outs to even contact me.


“You aren’t stupid. Don’t act it,” she said, face hardening. “I knew you were being hired even before you did. You should have held out for the fifty.”


I made a snap decision – denying it or playing dumb wouldn’t work with this bird. “How the hell do you know that?” I demanded. “Did Dobler sell me out?” If he had, then I’d forget this contract, keep the cash, and rub the guy out instead. Dobler was so suspicious I didn’t think a bug could have been planted on him, but if she was as sharp as she was supposed to be she might have succeeded.


She made a shark-like smile and picked up a folder, thumbing through it. “I know more about Dobler than he realizes. And you. You have a very interesting history.”


I scowled. “So?” Considering her reputation, I doubted my history would get much longer. I’d been trying to work free of the cuffs, but they were too tight. Even if I got loose there was the problem of trying to navigate through an unfamiliar building to escape.


“Why didn’t you kill your brother? I would have.”


How the hell? As far as I knew, that wasn’t in any written record. How could she have figured it out? “Couldn’t – then,” I snapped, instantly reminded of old bitter anger and shame. How long had I wanted to kill him for daring to touch me like that? “I hear you’re the one who beat me to it.”


She smiled, entirely too calm and relaxed. “His psychology was quite twisted - trying to seduce me while trying to kill me. He thought boasting would make me want him…one last fling before dying, I guess. When I refused, he was foolish enough to try the same thing with me, and I eliminated him.”


I twisted a wry grin back. She seemed to be willing to talk – usually not a sign of imminent death regardless of what the tv shows say. “Maybe I should thank you.”


There was that shark smile again. “Maybe you should.”


She got up and walked around the room, fiddling with designer knick-knacks here and there. She’d periodically pause and turn to study me, inquiry evident in the tilt of her head and the narrowing of her eyes. I wondered what she was stalling for. Had she called someone else in to do the job? That might explain her willingness to talk to me; she didn’t plan on being the hatchet man.


No – I was beginning to believe I would survive this. There was a dangerous set to her, but it seemed to slide out of sight as she strolled around the room. Maybe if I cooperated I’d get a chance to escape. Decision made, I relaxed as much as my awkward position would allow and let myself enjoy the view.


It was too bad we hadn’t met before this – she was definitely my type. The pictures Dobler showed me didn’t do her justice. Those legs made me think of the clichéd line about them going all the way up. She paced the room in elegant grace, her fingers tapping at a Blackberry as she walked. Her skirt flowed and twisted around her knees with each movement. When I found myself staring at her breasts, wondering what color bra she was wearing I tore my eyes away. Letting myself get that distracted was dangerous.


“So what happens now?” I asked, trying to get some kind of handle on this fucked up situation.


“What do you want to happen?” she said softly. Her attention was completely focused on me and I felt pinned by her gaze.


“Aren’t you going to kill me?” My voice wasn’t as firm as I intended, wavering on the final words.


“Should I?”


I glared at her. No way in hell was I going to fall into that trap. I would not beg for my life.


“Maybe I should have you arrested,” she continued, unperturbed.


“For what?” I demanded. “I haven’t done anything.”


“How about a double handful of murders?”


“Prove it,” I snapped.


Her red lips twisted in a wry grin. “Maybe I should – it would be an interesting exercise.”


“You’re already working on a case. You plan on keeping me here until you’re done?”


She laughed. “Maybe you’d like that. Do you? How are you doing with those handcuffs? Comfortable enough? Or maybe you’ve managed to get out of them and you are just waiting for the right moment to fling yourself at me.”


I barked a bitter laugh. “Sorry, not one of my skills. I’ve never really been a fan of cuffs.” I’d like to fling myself at her, but I doubted that was the kind she was thinking of.


“Really?” she purred, gliding to stand in front of me, so close she was touching. She tipped my head up, red lacquered nails under my chin, and forced me to meet her intense green gaze. “They’ve always been one of my favorite toys.”


“Oh,” I breathed, catching her scent – roses and cloves. Her fingertips slid over my cheek and I couldn’t hide my shiver of helpless desire. Maybe it was the kind of flinging she was thinking of.


She bent low, head near mine, her curve of her breasts tantalizingly in view. “I’m not going to kill you,” she whispered in my ear.


“That’s what you think,” I murmured.


She laughed, gave me a peck on the cheek, and whirled away. “I like you,” she said, scooping up her Blackberry again. “You try to look so hard and macho in your leather jacket and boots, but I’ll bet you’re really a soft little pussycat.”


“And you’re a tiger,” I replied, stung. I meant it as an insult, but it didn’t seem to come out that way. She grinned and swept behind me. I twisted my head a little, but didn’t crane it all the way. I hated having someone behind me, but no sense in letting her know how much it made my skin crawl.


“Yes I am,” she purred in my ear, and I jumped. I hadn’t realized she was so close. One of her long slim hands slid against my neck, fingers curling around my chin to force me to crane my head to look at her. “And you’re my prey.”


“So I’m a deer?” I demanded, trying not to drown in those green eyes. I was somehow helpless in the face of this hunter, totally thrown off balance. I shivered at a flash of memory – a nature video about the hunting techniques of tigers – racing up from behind and pouncing, catching its prey by the throat. I really was the prey.


She laughed and licked the shell of my ear. I almost moaned – only biting my tongue stopped the sound from escaping. I think she knew though – there was a breathy little laugh and her other hand slid into the opening of my shirt, her hand threatening to touch my breast.


“Stop that!” I snapped, trying uselessly and belatedly to squirm out of her grasp. The heat of her body so close to mine was driving me mad and my guts churned with the god-awful wish that she wouldn’t stop.


Her hand slipped into my bra, spending a fleeting moment teasing my already hard nipple, releasing it at my gasp. “Really,” she said, the predatory smirk obvious in her voice, “You want me to stop this?” I held my breath, unable to deny her, as her long fingers slipped even lower, tormenting me.


I couldn’t tear my eyes away, watching in some weird mix of arousal and fear and helpless need, as she deftly unbuttoned my jeans with one hand.


“It’s simple,” she continued, “all you have to do is say, ‘Please Vivian – stop.’”


I groaned as her fingers slid into my pants, rubbing me through the fabric of my underwear. This was stupid – this was insane to let her. I was crazy to want this. I was handcuffed – helpless. This wasn’t a case of lady or the tiger – she was both all rolled up into one sexual beast.


“I’m not going to rape you,” she whispered in my ear, her other hand joining the first to work my jeans down around my hips. “I want you to want me. Tell me to stop…ask me to let you go and I will.”


Want her? Oh gods, I wanted her, but this was madness. I shouldn’t be enjoying being this helpless – shouldn’t I be resisting this seduction? “Why are you doing this?” I gasped, not sure why I didn’t ask for my freedom; I wasn’t sure if I even wanted it.


“Because I’ve been watching you for a long time,” she purred, nimble fingers working at the buttons of my shirt. “I have a proposition for you.”


“Are you going to try to buy my loyalty with money?” I wasn’t sure if I could be bought – it had never come up before, and a dame like Vivian could recruit me just by breathing.


She purred – oh my god, she purred, “What else is there I can buy you with?”


If I wasn’t handcuffed to this damned chair I could make it very obvious what she could buy me with. As it was, I was so lost and turned on I had somehow managed to forget the mess I was in. If I had met her before, I would have told Dobler to go to hell – how could anyone want to hurt, let alone kill, such an amazing dame? “If all you wanted was sex—”


She laughed out loud. “A business proposition – although I’m more than willing to mix business with pleasure. Would it help if you considered this opening negotiations?”


She came around, her movement purely predatory, and kneeled between my legs. I don’t know why I didn’t kick her then – she was close enough and unarmed…but I didn’t. I just stared at her red hair, green eyes, and that enticing shark smile.


“What kind of business?” I asked warily.


“Work for me.”


I laughed, “Oh, that’s likely. You want me on your payroll.”


“Actually, I do. I was going to contact you before Dobler did – he beat me to it.” She grinned, “Too bad he was too late.”


I tried hard to forget the delicate fingertips that were tracing random designs on my exposed flesh, doing my best to concentrate on what she was saying. “Why too late?”


“Because I had already closed my case and turned the information over to the authorities. They were on their way to arrest him while you were unconscious.”


“What?!” I breathed, stunned and suddenly panicked. He’d tell the law about me and my ass would be locked up. I tugged on the cuffs again, trying to get loose.


“Calm down,” she purred, standing up and leaning over me, mouth so close to mine I could have kissed her with no problem.


“Calm down? Calm down?! Do you realize what you’ve done?” If he sang I’d go to the pen. My career would be over – who wants to hire a hatchet with a record? It’s too hard to vanish when they know who you are.


She smiled again, all teeth, and straddled my lap, her body pure heat against my flesh. “Actually I do, dear Samantha. I’ve saved your ass.”


I fought not to shift around to rub myself against her, but the feel of her body close to mine was driving me mad, pushing all thoughts of self preservation out of my head. “How? Why?” I breathed, inhaling her dizzying scent.


She sighed and leaned back, staring down at me in frustration. “This is completely ruining the mood, you know.”


I swallowed hard, trying to will myself to stop talking – if I could just stop worrying about the law and the consequences and any other shit I’d be more than willing to let a dame like her have her way. “Just tell me what you want,” I pleaded desperately. This twist was making me dizzy.


She grinned again and took my face in her hands. Her fingers were soft and strong, somehow gentle and commanding at the same time. If I was going to be rubbed out, I could think of much worse ways to go. “I want you to kiss me.”


I smirked, resigned to my fate. “You are a pushy kitten.”


I swear she purred, pressing our mouths together. I couldn’t help myself – she tasted so good and her lips were so soft against mine…I groaned. How could this sweet, seemingly innocent dame become so completely carnal? Her tongue, her lips, her teeth on my flesh promised nothing but passion.


I tried – oh how I tried to give as good as I got, but I everything about her just made my head spin. Her hands were firm, tipping my head for better access, taking complete control of everything including my breath. When she finally drew back, releasing her hold, I panted, desperately trying to remember how to breathe, completely aware of her taste on my tongue.


She smiled, obviously secure in the knowledge her seduction had succeeded. I should have smiled back, but I couldn’t, too wrapped up in my figuring out I could get her to kiss me again. Kisses like that could almost substitute for sex.


She leaned close and I was sure she was going to, but then she leaned a little to the side and breathed in my ear, “This is your last chance. Say no or I am going to fuck you.”


I looked into her eyes and swallowed, completely aware I had lost my marbles – and didn’t care. “Yes,” I mouthed, my voice stolen away.


“What?’ she said, shark smile back. “I didn’t hear yes – you must not want me.” She leaned back enough to start buttoning my shirt closed.


I swallowed again and sucked in air, desperate to make her stop redressing me. Want her? Of course I wanted her! I’d wanted her since I first saw her mug shot. My next ‘yes’ came out as a strangled croak.


“You have to say it, Samantha,” she grinned down at me, enjoying my struggle.


“Yes damn it!” I finally gasped out, my voice much too loud, seeming to echo off the walls.


In an instant, Vivian’s mouth was hard against mine, teeth grinding in the urgency of the kiss. Her hands curled into my shirt, ripping away the buttons she had so deliberately fastened. A firm hand cupped one of my breasts, squeezing and kneading it as if she owned it. Her fingers found my nipple and she pinched it hard, making me gasp into her mouth. Her touch turned tender as if in apology and she switched to the other one, this time with a delicate touch, gently caressing and teasing.


I pulled on the cuffs, trying uselessly to follow her when she shifted off my lap, pushing my legs apart so she could settle between them.


“These are in the way,” she said, tugging at my jeans. They weren’t skin tight, but working them up over my ass was always an exercise. I started to lift my hips to make it easier for her to remove them, but she grinned and got up, crossing over to the desk.


I raised my brows in alarm when I saw she was returning with the knife she had taken from me.


“Don’t you dare!” I growled. “These are my favorite jeans and they are broken in perfectly. It was bad enough you ruined my shirt, but mess with the jeans and the deal’s off.” Somewhere in the back of my mind was something saying I’m supposed to be afraid of a woman approaching me with a knife while I was helpless, but I couldn’t seem to get that reaction to rise to the surface.


Vivian flipped the knife through her fingers, watching me, probably trying to decide if I really meant it. I didn’t stop glaring at her, and after a minute she made her shark smile and flipped the knife across the room to land with a solid thunk in the wall just behind me.


“Okay Samantha – not this time.”


The adrenaline rush made me dizzy – I had experienced a thrill of fear when the knife left her hand, for a moment not sure if she knew how to use it. If she didn’t have the throw right… I swallowed hard.


“So where were we?” she asked with a grin, bending to pull my jeans off. I cooperated completely, lifting myself off the chair far enough for her to work. She stopped short of pulling them off completely, leaving them tangled around my boots, effectively tying my ankles together. I started to protest and she smirked up at me from where she knelt, obviously pleased with herself.


Vivian’s fingers teased the inside of my thighs and I dropped my head back with a groan. I knew if I begged her she’d just tease me to see my reaction, but if she didn’t touch my pussy soon… I was already wet just from thinking about what she would do – I wasn’t sure if I’d survive actual physical contact.


Maybe she could read my thoughts. She crawled up my body, the fabric of the suit she still wore rubbing against my skin, making me shiver at the rough texture against my sensitized flesh. Her hands cupped my breasts, teasing my nipples, making them impossibly harder. Her tongue was in my mouth, tasting and exploring, sliding against mine in the only battle I was still capable of.


She released my mouth, nipping at my bottom lip before slowly sliding her body against mine, working her tortuous way down… Her mouth and hands were everywhere, caressing and stroking, teasing and tickling, every touch a promise of more pleasure to come.


Her thumb brushed over my clit and I arched into the touch with a cry. Fingers and tongue were everywhere at once, making me twist and writhe as she stroked me inside and out. I panted and gasped and moaned, crying out her name, no longer caring that I was begging her; I’d long since surrendered. My fingers curled, mimicking her motion as she wrenched my orgasm free, screaming as my release poured from me.


When my eyes unrolled from the back of my head I was pleased to realize she was back in my lap, shark smile firmly in place.


“You’re good. You’re very good,” I said, looking at her in a kind of dizzy euphoria, one of my favorite movie lines sliding into my head.
She laughed knowingly at the line. “I haven’t lived a good life,” she quoted. She knew her hard-boiled dick movies at least. “I’ve been bad – worse than you could know.”


“You know, that’s good, because if you actually were as innocent as you pretend to be, we’d never get anywhere,” I grinned, giving her the follow-up line.


She chuckled again. “Why am I not surprised? This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”


END

Note - I'm always surprised at the lack of reviews on yuri/lesbian stories. People read but never comment. Does it suck? Or are readers embarrassed at reading it? Is there a reason? Yaoi always get more reviews.