Sexy Erotica
"Little Boy" a sex story by Tondy Ford
Molly Dowright, in a white evening gown, which left little to the imagination, stood on the circular black stage and delicately touched the microphone stand before her. With complete mastery, she belted out her prepared torch number, a standard from the 1920s. She was insolent in her beauty, defiant in her gaze, as she stood in the midst of the Art Deco-styled lounge of the nightclub. The Palambra was filled to capacity with its usual black-tie crowd.
There was a hardened casualness about her beauty this night. Her dark red hair framed a face that concealed more than musical musings. Her brilliant eyes of green seemed cloudier. Her mouth was red-rouged and swollen.
Little Boy Farini was in the audience, as always. After all, he was the owner of The Palambra. In fact, Little Boy owned a lot of things in this town, Molly being one of them. But she didn't like being owned. Not by anyone, no matter how rich or powerful. She had told Little Boy that the night before and had gotten slapped around pretty good for it. Thus, the swollen lips and heavy makeup.
The Palambra was a private club and the most successful spot in town. This was where all the big money on the east coast came to roll dice and possibly lose millions. If Molly could just remain here, she thought, everything would be all right. But she knew she couldn't remain now, knew that she was on the outs with Little Boy. And that was the last place anybody in this town wanted to be.
When her song was over, Molly accepted the gracious applause with a kiss to the crowd and a smile. She noticed Little Boy didn't invite her over to his table like he used to, wasn't even clapping. As she slowly headed off to her dressing room, she knew she would have to leave. She would have to start over somewhere else.
*****
The building was getting old but couldn't quite be called rundown yet. With midnight fast approaching, Molly strode up the limestone steps, her heavy raincoat blowing in the gusty winter wind. She went inside the lobby and down a dimly lit corridor. Every business that used to rent office space had long since packed up and moved to better sections of town. All but the one at the end of the hall. It was the office of lone private investigator Cartland Prince.
"I need your help," Molly said as she went inside, the film noir moment not being lost on her.
"With what?" The man behind the old wooden desk was rugged looking, hadn't shaved in some time, and was polishing his .45 with a wash cloth. He barely glanced up at his late night visitor.
"I want to hire you."
Now he looked. Hiring, he thought, meant money. "To do what?"
Molly bit her lip. "I want you to kill somebody for me."
Cartland put his gun down. "I'm a cop, lady, not a killer. Go peddle your ducks somewhere else."
"It's Little Boy Farini. Does that change anything?"
"Maybe."
"I've got lots of money."
"You think money is enough to make me kill, even a scumbag like Little Boy?"
Molly looked blank. "What else is there?"
"You tell me."
They stared at each other in the dim lamplight. "I live close by. We can go there, if you like."
Cartland rose and leaned forward on his hands. "You want Little Boy dead that badly?"
"In a word, yes."
"How much money are we talking here?"
"My whole life savings -- $30,000."
"That's not enough for me to kill somebody, lady. Especially no big-wig like Little Boy."
Molly asked, "What about my other offer?"
Cartland paused. It only took him a second to make up his mind. "Lead the way."
*****
Standing outside the door to her suite, Molly fumbled with her passkey. She closed her eyes and turned the lock. She had offered herself to a complete stranger and she couldn't very well back down now, not with him standing behind her. Actually, she could back down. But what would that get her? She straightened her shoulders and held her chin high and, with a sigh, swung the door open.
She found the lights and Cartland came in after her. She took her coat and his, and hung them in the foyer closet. Then she showed him into the living room.
Cartland was staring at her back, exposed in the glittery nightgown she was wearing from The Palambra. He continued to watch her as she walked to the windows and lowered, then closed the blinds. He had sniffed Molly's perfume when she had first come into his office and now he smelled it again as it filled the apartment.
Miki by Charles Talkoff
"I ordered some champagne for the occasion," she was saying. "I thought we'd toast Little Boy's death." She indicated the iced bottle inside the silver champagne bucket on the nearby table.
"How did you know I'd say yes to your little arrangement?"
"Let's just say this dress has never failed me." Molly sat down on the plush tapestry couch. She looked up at Cartland, studying him. Despite his unkempt appearance, he was a handsome man, one whose smile was decidedly crooked. He stood before her with subdued calm, totally at peace with the situation. But Molly had butterflies fluttering all in her stomach.
Cartland walked over to the champagne and peeled away the gold foil from the bottle. He popped the cork. The frothy liquid ran down the neck of the bottle as he hurriedly poured it into two crystal flutes. Molly stood close beside him now, laughing at the mess he was making, ready to receive her drink.
She held her glass up. "To Little Boy's last days. May no tears be shed for him."
Cartland forced a smile and clinked his glass to hers. "Amen."
They sipped the champagne, eyeing each other over the rims of their glasses. Shortly, he reached out and grasped her drinking hand. Molly dropped her glass to the floor, spilling it. She looked at the stain on the white carpet and watched it spread. Cartland still held her hand in his.
Molly looked up into his eyes and knew it was time. "Now?"
He nodded.
She lowered her eyes, swallowed, and brought her hands up to the straps of her dress. Cartland dimmed the lights. Molly eased the spaghetti straps down over her shoulders and turned to reveal the laced-up straps held in satin loops.
"Will you undo me?" she asked almost inaudibly.
Cartland appeared behind her and Molly could feel him gently tugging at the back of her flocked chiffon gown. His breath was heavy on her bare shoulders. She turned around then and locked her eyes on his, then with only a slight rustle of fabric, pushed her bodice down to her waist. She wore no bra and her nipples hardened with anticipation beneath his steady stare.
Cartland reached out and let his hand slowly caress the curve of her shoulder. His touch brought a shiver to her spine. He brought his lips, still wet with champagne, to the base of her throat. His tongue tasted her soft skin. His mouth moved across her flesh and she tingled wherever he kissed. Molly saw blatant desire in his expression and wondered if she looked the same. She watched as his face descended to her bosom, but she stopped him.
"Not out here," she breathed in almost a whisper. "Take me -- take me to my bedroom."
He picked her up in his arms. Molly watched him as he carried her, looking at his tender features and reached up to stroke his bristly cheek. She could no longer deny that she longed for this man. She was struck blind with desire, consumed with the urge to know him more deeply.
*****
His eyes held hers, and after what seemed an eternity, Cartland brought his face down to kiss her softly. His whiskers scratched her cheeks. Molly reached up to embrace him, to pull him nearer. He placed her in the center of the circular bed, treating her like delicate china. She watched him as he slowly undressed. He pulled off his sweater to reveal a healthy, magnificent frame. He undid his pants and pushed them down his muscular thighs. Her mouth went dry as he stood before her completely naked.
Cartland hovered over her and pulled her satin panties down the length of her legs. They fell to the floor in a whisper. Then he brought his naked flesh to hers, hotter than burning coals. She could feel the hardness of him against her bare belly. It scorched her with its touch. He brought his mouth down over hers and Molly was suffocated in sweetness. His fingers strummed her body like a harp, leaving then returning, until she thought she could bear it no more. When his tongue ran along her breasts, she arched upward to meet him, driven by a burning intensity every bit equal to his own. She watched in utter rapture as her excited nipples disappeared inside his mouth. His lips left her heaving breasts then as he ran his tongue along the flatness of her belly, dipping into her navel and lingering there before traveling even lower.
With a firm touch, he opened her thighs.
Molly moaned. Her breath was sucked away. She could make no sound. She lifted herself and kissed him any place she could find. Her mouth sought fulfillment. Sensations totally new to her rippled through her body. Cartland's lips trailed lazily where her heat was at its most intense. And Molly knew she had to have him inside her.
"Please," she cried. "Please, now."
Molly was past rational thinking now. She wrapped her arms around Cartland and held him to her chest. She urged her writhing body to accept him. He entered her then and Molly felt her flesh part like warm water. Her breathing became shallow as she wrapped her legs around his hips and locked her ankles. Her nails dug into his skin. His mouth found her breasts again and he loved them, circling Molly's nipples in wet warmness, drawing them into his mouth and sucking them until they were firm, ripe berries. She moaned and held his face close.
Their bodies thrust in mounting intensity as everything around them faded away and his body became one with hers. Her heels locked hard around his waist. They reached a united climax; their cries for each other filled the room.
As they lay spent and unwinding, bodies sated and exhausted, Molly felt herself being wrapped in Cartland's arms. Heabsorbed her into the cocoon of his body and brought his cheek to rest upon her chest. He could hear her heart pounding loudly against the softness of her breast. There they remained -- softly still -- for the longest time.
Over and over in her mind, Molly replayed the delirious sensations she had experienced, basking in the afterglow of passion. For her, this had been the most incredible encounter of her life. She wanted to make it indelible in her memory. Never before had a man aroused her as had Cartland Prince. Never had she known a man who had loved her so deeply. And for that she was eternally grateful.
*****
When Molly awoke the next day, daylight was peeking through the curtains. She turned and saw Cartland was gone. The pillow he had shared with her was now cold. Sleepily, she sat up. As she stirred, something fell from the bed to the floor. She looked down to find the folded morning edition of the newspaper. She opened it and stared at the bold front page headline. It read:
"LITTLE BOY" FRANCIS FARINI FOUND DEAD IN HOME, KILLER UNKNOWN
Molly grinned broadly and fell upon her pillow and began to read the article. She laughed joyously. All at once her life and her future seemed a lot brighter.
Originally published April 2006 - "April Showers"