"And you don't get stoned," she said when it was all over. "Jesus, Joe, if you only knew what grass does to you."
"I don't feel it," I said stubbornly. In fact my head seemed to be a little askew and I wasn't too sure of the rest of my body. I got up and Looked at Vinnie. He had deposited his feeble ejaculation on the carpet and stood over it holding his raw cock in his hand, looking up at me as if waiting for the same old reproach. For some reason he looked very funny, and I started to laugh. It was the kind of laughter that propagates itself. Once I'd started there was no way of stopping, and pretty soon I was rolling on the floor, pointing at him and laughing myself silly. Peggy joined in, then Vinnie saw the humor and began to cackle.
Luckily the phone rang or we might have done ourselves an injury. Peggy struggled to her feet and answered it. "Joe, it's Mrs. Van de Kut's secretary. She wants to know if you can see her this afternoon about a case. What will I tell her?"
"Mrs. Van de Kut? Say yes," I said. "Jesus, I could use a job right now, especially when a millionairess is asking."
"Mr. McCanoczek is free this afternoon. Three o'clock? Very well, I'll tell him when he comes in." She put the phone down and grinned at me. "It sounds like a big one," she said. "That secretary had the shakes!"
"I don't care if they want me to find their pet poodle," I said, "as long as they pay and it keeps me busy. I'm going crazy just sitting around the house with you two perverts."
"You love us both," said Peggy. "How long have we been working for this uptight asshole, Vinnie? Must be near on ten years, right?"
"Must be, Peggy," said Vinnie. He had tucked his cock back into his pants and almost looked human as he sat down on the couch beside her. "He's just an uncut marshmallow, that's my opinion."
"Ten years! I must be crazy. Anyway, don't go taking me for granted, I'm a man of many moods. You could be fired any day. Nobody's indispensable."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," said Peggy, impatiently, "now go on up and shower. It's two o'clock already."
Half an hour later Vinnie drove me to the exclusive section of Beverley Hills, the part where only multimillionaires are allowed to live. The car swept by palm trees and sprawling mansions, rolling lawns and vast flower beds being tended by small, swarthy gardeners, sprinklers cast thin streams of water far and wide, everything was peaceful and prosperous. One day I wanted to be able to afford a house here, a place to loll about in and hobnob with the smart set. But for the time being I had to be content with my status as a private dick at the $200-a-day with-expenses level.
Mrs. Van de Kut lived in a palace that had been disguised by a plain facade to fit in with the general condition of democracy. The moment I walked inside I knew it was a feudal barony. The servants were all subdued, half visible, going about their work with their shoulders pulled up as though they were expecting a blow with a knout at any moment. The marble floors, the objects of art, the ornate ceilings, all told me where my place was. My fingers experienced a desperate urge to tug a forelock.
"Mr. McCanoczek?" A sophisticated woman swept along the marble and fixed me with a haughty look. "I am Samantha, Mrs. Van de Kut's private secretary. I have been told to tell you to relax for half an hour or so until afternoon tea has been served. Mrs. Van de Kut is entertaining."
"She might have told me," I said. "This will go on her bill, you know."
"Mrs. Van de Kut will be upset," said the secretary dryly. "Come this way, please." If I could have come that way I'd do nothing else; but I swallowed the little quip and followed her into a room that was less stately and more cozy, but still resembled a baroque ballroom. Samantha pointed at some antique chairs and left me to sit and twiddle my thumbs.
A few minutes later a bright, girlish face appeared around the door. "Hi!" she said, coming in and closing the door after her. "What are you doing here? Waiting for my mother?" Was this Van de Kut minor? My eyes travelled over her young body and my mouth watered. She was nineteen, give or take a year, dressed in jeans and riding boots, a scarlet jacket, and in one hand she held a riding crop. Her body was lean, a small ass and slender thighs, but somehow her breasts had developed at their own pace. They pushed out against her T shirt, arrogant and full, big nipples making emphatic dents. She stood in front of me, hands on her hips so that her jacket was pushed out of the way of her tits. I got the impression that she was using her splendid tits to break the ice between us.
"My name is Joe," I said, after swallowing deeply. What was it with me, anyway. My cock was hard, my breathing seemed inadequate to keep up with my body's demands, all because a young girl came close. Was it the aftereffects of the grass? "What's your name?"
"Martha," she said pertly. She sat down beside me and peered into my eyes. "Do you have a hangover or have you been smoking?" I tried to deny both, but she just gave me a mocking smile. "Your eyes are too bloodshot, it must have been grass. Do you have any with you?"
"No, sorry, all gone."
"What a pity. I'm so bored!" She crossed her legs and leaned against me. "Nothing ever happens in this house. My father's always away and Mother's always entertaining. I wish I could go to boarding school like my sister. But they won't even let me do that… and you know why?" She lowered her voice and looked around before answering her own question. "Because they say I'm a bad girl!"
Now she had my full attention. "Bad in what way?" I asked.
"Do you want to find out?" When I nodded she beckoned for me to follow her out of the house. The French windows led into the gardens, and at the back of them stood a gazebo that was surrounded by trellises bearing a heavy load of vines in flower. Martha checked to see if we'd been spotted, and when she was satisfied that the gardeners were minding their own business, she went inside and closed the door after us. "You know what I like to do?" she asked, looking impish. "Try to guess."
I didn't know what to say. There were many vices that I wanted her to have at that point but none of them seemed to fit in with that blonde, innocent-eyed, angel face. She was extremely attractive, all the more so because she was sitting in the dimness of the gazebo just where a beam of sunlight could highlight her face. Now her eyes looked almost colorless, glowing with light, and her cherub's mouth looked fuller and redder than before. The shading also did wonders for her breasts. She took off that scarlet riding jacket while waiting for my answer, and for a moment it seemed as though her nipples were going to poke holes in her T-shirt.
"You like to blow men?" I asked in a fit of recklessness.
"How did you know! Did someone tell you about me? I bet they did. Men are such gossips." She pouted unhappily.
"No, no one said a word," I assured her. "I just thought of what I would most like you to do, and that was it."
"You like to get blown?" Her tongue ran along her lips and she came a little closer. "I do love to do it Mother said I should remain a virgin till I'm married, but she said nothing about my mouth. Can I do it to you, Joe? I love the feel of cock between my lips, always have. Perhaps I wasn't properly weaned." She laughed shortly at her own joke but then the time for levity was over. Her hands strayed over to my lap where my cock formed a thick ridge of flesh that bulged up under the material of my pants. Briefly I wondered if this was worth risking a good job for. Of course it was. Her face closed in on my lap and her long blond hair fell over her face to make a little tent in which she could work in private. Now nimble fingers were opening my fly. I sat back and marveled at my good luck. She had my cock out and was nibbling at it in the confines of her blondness, hidden from my view but making me very aware of her presence. In my mind I could see those full lips circling about my glands as vividly as I could feel them.