Welcome to Private Investigator Rick Short - a dick in more than one sense of the word.
Here are his first two cases - both laced with hot, steamy, beautifully presented black on white sex.
The Desert Rose case begins when an unsuspecting white woman ends up with some of her naked, lurid photos on the Internet and a big black guy by the name of Blackbird wants $20,000 not to publish more - or $20,000 worth of white pussy in compensation. Without the money, she has little choice, until Rick sets about finding out all about Blackbird.
In The Soccer Moms case, Rick is asked by Edward Houser to confirm or deny that his wife of five years is cheating on him. It takes Rick one evening to work out that she is, but what she is doing seems odd. Why is she frequenting a bar known to be the domain of white women seeking to service black cocks, and more to the point what happens when she takes them to the hotel bedroom!
This develops into a cracking PI case and as with Desert Rose they are laced with Shooter`s typical interracial sex scenes.
EXTRACT
“I found your card in my husband’s pocket,” she said. She said she was
Annabelle Billings. It took me a minute to make the connection. It had
been two weeks since I met Arnie Billings in the alley. “I want to
hire you,” she added.
“To do what?”
“I’m being stalked,” she answered taking the client chair I offered
her.
“Call the cops,” I said. “That’s what they do and they’re pretty good
at it. That won’t cost you a dime. I’m expensive.”
“I have money and I can’t go to the police. It’s…complicated. Can you
help?”
“I don’t know if I can or not. Tell me your story and we’ll see.”
***
Arnie and I have been married nearly four years. We met in college,
dated almost a year and got married. We moved here right after the
wedding because Arnie had a good job offer. Arnie is a real nice man.
He’s kind and considerate and I know he loves me. I don’t know exactly
where things went wrong. I guess it started with Arnie’s photography.
He’s a real good photographer. It’s his hobby.
We hadn’t been married very long when he talked me in to posing for
him. You know, wearing lingerie and swim suits. That sort of thing.
That progressed to topless and then into full nudes. He told me that
nobody would ever see them, so I did as he asked. I mean I have a nice
figure and all, so why not? Besides it was fun and it always turned us
on.
At first Arnie used film and last year he bought a real expensive
digital camera. Truthfully, I felt better with the digital stuff
because there weren’t any real photos or negatives around. You know
what I mean?
Arnie had me pose for him doing things…masturbating and that sort of
stuff. Arnie sometimes would use a timer and we made some action
shots. You know, me and him…together. I’ve read where a lot of married
couples do that.
I had no idea that Arnie was sharing the pictures with people on
line. When I found out I was really upset. I didn’t say a word to him
for a week, but I finally got over being mad at him.
I asked him who had seen my photos and he told me there was only five
or six people in his chat-room. I didn’t even know what a chat-room
was. Arnie showed me how to used the computer and I got on line.
Mostly to see what the attraction was.
What I saw blew my mind. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing there.
Couples of all sizes, shapes and age had posted pictures of them
doing…well, everything. I had a lot of spare time because Arnie didn’t
want me working. I spent a lot of it on the computer.
One day I was surfing and ran across a site that was advertised as
the place for lovers. It had a lot of video clips, pictures, and
stories. Some of the so-called true stories made my hair stand on end.
Also I’ll admit they were hot and got me excited. A couple of time I
nearly attacked Arnie when he came home from work. Not that he minded
it.
***
“Go on Mrs. Billings,” I said after she fell quiet for a while. “I’m
still listening.”
“I don’t know where to go from here,” she said tears coursing down
her face. “This is the part where I messed up big time.” I waited for
her to calm down.
***
Arnie showed me where he had my pictures stored on the computer.
They all were there. Fully clothed, swimsuits, topless, and full
nudes. The really dirty ones were there also, but in a separate file.
One afternoon I was playing around on the computer and got into a
chat-room. I chatted with a lot of people, but one seemed really
interesting. His screen name was Blackbird. I teased Blackbird a lot
over the next few days. I guess I sounded like a real slut, but I was
only fooling around with him. At least at the beginning. After about a
week we got out of the chat-room and used e-mail to communicate. After
that we would use the instant message thing. I knew he was a black
man. He told me that right at the beginning. I’m not a racist, so that
didn’t make any difference to me.
I wasn’t sneaking around, mind you. I told Arnie everything Blackbird
and I talked about. He was fine with it. I told him that Blackbird had
ask for a picture of me and Arnie told me to send him one. I picked
out one with me wearing a bikini. It was sexy, but not risqué.
Blackbird must have liked it because he asked me for some more. I
sent a couple more similar to the first one. I soon ran out of that
kind of photos and I sent him one where I was topless but had my hands
over my breasts. I worried what Arnie would think, but he was fine
with it. He just laughed when he read Blackbird’s response.
“You got him all excited, Ann. What does he look like?” I told Arnie
I didn’t know and I immediately asked Blackbird to send me a photo.
He did and I was surprised at how he looked. Big and mean looking. He
had scars all over his face. Later he sent me one that showed him
bare-chested. He had a bunch of scars on his chest, also. I asked him
about the scars and he told me they were the product of a misspent
youth.
Over the next couple of weeks I sent him a couple topless photos
because Arnie wanted me to. I’m proud of my breasts and since
Blackbird didn’t know anything about me, I thought why not?
Blackbird sent me a picture of him naked. I nearly passed out from
shock. He was holding the biggest penis I had ever seen. At least
twice as big as Arnie. I showed it to Arnie and he got a kick out of
it. He told me that Blackbird had enhanced the photo. When I asked
Blackbird about it he said there had been no retouching and that it
was all him.
I thought it was time to cool it with Blackbird, so for a few days I
stayed off the internet. Unfortunately I didn’t stop thinking about
the photo of his big penis. When I got back on the computer there were
a dozen messages from him. He sounded so sad, I felt bad about
ignoring him. To make it up to him I sent him a full nude. It didn’t
show much because I was laying down on the rug. At least that was what
I intended to do.
Somehow I hit the wrong button and I sent him the whole file of the
real hot photos. The ones that didn’t leave anything to the
imagination. Me with dildos, fruits, and vegetables. The ones of me
and Arnie doing the nasty. I didn’t realize what I had done until
later that night.
“Ann, get in here!” Arnie yelled at me. “What the fuck is going on?”
He was pointing at the computer screen and a photo of me, legs spread
wide and playing with myself. I recognized the picture even thought my
face was blocked. I was flabbergasted.
“What the fuck did you do?” Arnie demanded, yelling at the top of his
lungs. I told him I hadn’t sent that photo out. I really thought I
hadn’t.
Arnie found five or six other photos of me on various sites, but they
all had the face fuzzed or somehow messed up. I was devastated. Arnie
figured out somehow what had happened and he was very angry at me. He
didn’t calm down for a couple of days.
I checked the e-mail and IM several times every day over the next
several days. Nothing from Blackbird. I was beginning to think we had
dodged the bullet. After all my face wasn’t recognizable in any of the
photos. Then the other shoe dropped. I got an e-mail from Blackbird.
“Give me a phone number,” it said. “We need to talk.” I wrote him
back and told him I couldn’t do that. He sent one right back. “Yes,
you can. Unless you want your face and cunt all over the internet you
will. By tomorrow noon.”
By the time Arnie got home I was a nervous wreck. I showed him the
e-mail and he went white as a sheet. He screamed and cursed like I
never heard him do before.
“Give him your cell number,” he said when he finally calmed down. “He
can’t trace it. Find out what he wants not to put your photos on the
net.”
I sent my cell number and waited for a call. Nothing that day or the
next day or that weekend. On Monday Arnie had to go out of town. He
travels to Chicago and New York a couple times a year. I got the call
on Tuesday about ten o’clock in the morning.
“How’s it going, Bittybird?” he asked. Bittybird was my screen name.
A play on his name and the fact that I’m kind of small. I had given a
lot of thought about how to act with him. Pissed, calm, nice, or what?
I decided on nice.
“I’m upset, Blackbird,” I answered honestly. “I sent you those
pictures by accident.”
“Yeah, I figured that out,” he said with a laugh. “Fuckin’ made my
day, anyway. You are one hot momma.”
“Thank you,” I said feeling my face flush. “It would be terribly
embarrassing for those pictures to get out.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet. I guess it would really fuck you and hubby up big
time, wouldn’t it? Probably get his ass fired, huh?” I told him I
didn’t think it would be that bad. “Sure as hell wouldn’t help, would
it?” he said laughing again. I didn’t answer, but I knew if Arnie’s
employer found out they would fire him for sure. They are a
straight-lace bunch.
“What will it take to keep them out of the public?” I asked. I didn’t
feel like fencing with him.
“Twenty grand,” he said. I was shocked. We didn’t have that kind of
money laying around. We would have to take a second mortgage on the
house or borrow against Arnie’s insurance. I was trying to come up
with a reply when he said, “that, or some pussy.”
“What do you mean?” I knew what he meant, but I couldn’t think of
anything else to say.
“Hey, you been teasing me for months. Time to stop teasing and pay
up, bitch. Twenty grand or some pussy. You tell me which.” My mind
stopped working. I couldn’t think of what to say. “I’ll get back to
you tomorrow for your answer,” he said. “You have yourself a nice day
and be thinking about my big hard cock in your white cunt.” He
disconnected still laughing.
Arnie always calls me at night when he’s away. By the time he called
that night I was beside myself. I managed to tell him what Blackbird
said. Arnie was quiet for a long time.
“Shit, Ann,” he finally said. “I don’t think we have that much equity
in the house. Maybe I can get it from the credit union at work, but I
doubt it. They have a limit and I think it’s under twenty thousand
dollars. I don’t know what to do.” We both were silent for a long
time. I think we both knew what was going to happen. It was our only
way out.
***
Annabelle Billings stopped talking and stared at my floor for a long
time. I let the silence remain until she decided to talk.
“You have anything to drink here?” she asked. “I never drank much
until recently. Now I drink like a fish.”
“No, but there’s a nice little pub down the block,” I said. “The sun
is over the yardarm somewhere, I guess.” I took her to the watering
hole, bought her a drink and waited for her to continue her story.
***
It’s funny how things can go from bad to worse. I had assumed that
Blackbird was from some place out of state or maybe even out of the
country. Looking back on it I seemed to remember telling him what
state I lived in. Maybe it was a regional site. I just don’t know, but
he was from right here in the city. He told me that when he called the
next day. I told him I couldn’t travel and that’s when he told me he
was right here. Another plan down the drain. I just couldn’t seem to
catch a break.
“So, Biddybird, what did you decide to do? Money or pussy?” Arnie and
I had already decided that it wouldn’t go any good to appeal to his
sense of fair play, but I gave it a shot anyway. That got a big
laugh. “Hey, you’re looking at it all wrong, Biddybird. Twenty
thousand dollar pussy is mighty rare. Now admit it. You’ve been
thinking about my big black cock and you know you want to try it.”
Of course I never admitted it to Arnie, but I had thought about it.
What normal woman wouldn’t? Blackbird looked dangerous and that should
have been a turn-off, but it wasn’t. I guess there is an attraction to
the gangster types. At least for some women.
“How would this happen?” I asked him. “I mean you’re not coming to my
house and that’s for sure.”
“Naw, you’ll come to me, Biddybird. Tomorrow afternoon at one
o’clock.” He gave me an address and directions. I thought about
telling him it was the wrong time of the month, but I realized it was
just putting off the inevitable. His way was the only way and I think
he knew it. “I want you to wear a nice dress with high heel shoes and
hose. No fuckin’ pantyhose. I want you dressed like you were going out
on a date. Nice underwear, you dig? Shave that hairy box, too. You can
leave a little hair for a landing strip if you want to. Don’t be late,
cunt.” He hung up and I just stared at the phone for a while. I cried
a while and waited for Arnie to call.
“Not tomorrow, Ann!” he screamed. “I won’t be home for three more
days. Tell him you have to wait!” I told Arnie that I would try, but I
didn’t know how to get hold of Blackbird. I told him if he called I
would try to put it off. Blackbird didn’t call and I was certain he
wouldn’t.
That night I had a dream…a nightmare really. I dreamed I was having
sex with a man with a ridiculously big thing. Maybe two feet long.
Crazy stuff. I had terrible nightmares all night long, and all of them
weird.
The next morning I showered and shaved my pubic hair like Blackbird
said. I tried on several different dresses and finally decided on a
black cocktail dress. Since I didn’t have any stockings other than
pantyhose, I didn’t wear any. My legs were tanned so I didn’t look too
bad. I finished dressing, summonsed up my courage and left the house.
I found the address Blackbird gave me after only a couple wrong
turns. It was an older house in a poor neighborhood. There was no
grass and only a few weeds in the small yard. There was a car in the
drive beside the house and I parked behind it. An older black Pontiac.
I don’t know why, but I wrote the license number down on an old bank
envelope.
I wasn’t sure my legs would hold me as I went to the door. I was
shaking like a leaf. I almost turned and ran away, but I didn’t. I
made it to the front door and just as I did it opened. There was
Blackbird.
