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Chaos: Don't Stress, Undress

morelikeasong said:
🍑🖤🤍
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"Alright, Princess, Dekkert said you need something. What's the lowdown, Librarian?"

She took a deep breath. That took my attention for a moment. Maybe more than a moment. "Someone is following me," she said at last. The banter was gone, replaced by trepidation. Or more.

"Go on."

"For the last few nights, there has been someone following me home. I recognize the same car, every night."

"Did you get a license plate number?"

She shook her head. "But I recognize the car."

I nodded. "Fine, do they do anything else? Just follow you home?"

She pursed her lips at my tone, but continued. "I have also noticed someone hanging around the house as well. Not on my property, but just out of sight, watching the house. I saw him pretty clearly, and I think I saw him here in the library as well." She shook her head, and her titan locks danced. "I see your look, mister. I am not imagining things!"

I could see in her eyes that she was worried, maybe scared, but trying not to show it. That tugged at me, but I shut it down. Hard. "Ex-husband? Ex-lover? Ex-anything? Anyone you have..." I searched for the right word. "Spurned?"

She shook her head again. "No, nothing like that. And I saw they guy, but I don't know him. I think it is because of the list."

"List?"

"Yes, a list of names. When I was checking in some books, I found a piece of paper, probably used for a bookmark. Happens all the time. But it was a list of eight names, and the first two were crossed off. I looked in the newspapers, and both of the names were people who had disappeared in the last fortnight."

I nodded, but groaned silently. I think the librarian had spent too much time in the murder books. "Okay, so you think someone is following you because of a list of names you found used as a bookmark in a book they returned to the library."

She sighed. "When you say it out like that, it sounds pretty silly." But she looked back up at me with those hazel eyes. "But I am scared, Mister Dreams."

She was. That was apparent. "Fine, why did Dekkert send you to me?" I had a sneaking suspicion. Dek was a Pinkerton, and they wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire if there wasn't a deposit laid down already.

She looked down at her feet. "I don't have the money for the full fee," she said quietly. "Mr. Dekkart said you sometimes helped people out..." Her voice trailed off. I felt for her. Fear fighting pride. Fear winning. Dammit.

But an image rolled through my brain: Amanda's beautiful eyes, and how that had all fallen out. The last time I got involved with my heart and not my brain. "I'm sorry, Princess, but I can't help you. I don't stick my neck out for free. I don't stick it out for anyone. Sorry."

She looked stricken, then scared again, and then sad. "I understand, Mr. Dreams." She turned away.

Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit. The Burleson Insurance Agency had a paying gig for me if I took it. Not great money, but it would pay the rent. Be smart, for the first time, maybe. Be smart, Unquiet. Be smart, you idiot. Let her walk away. Do not say it. Don't you fucking say...

"Listen, give me the paper. I will look into it." She turned back, her eyes full of something I did not want to see. I put my hand up. "I am just looking into the names, see if there is anything to it. Nothing else. I am not your guardian angel, okay?"

She nodded as she put the paper into my hand. "Thank you," she said, closing her hand around mine. Hers was warm and soft. "Oh, thank you."

Fuck, I should have known I never had a chance when I saw those eyes...

-"Siren Songs, Time, and Things," Undressed City of Chaos: A Case File of Unquiet Dreams
 
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Biggalute said:
🖤🤍
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The thug was an idiot. He shoved the gun at my face, way to close. I could practically grab it from him. "Shut up!" he yelled, and spit ran down his chin. Too easily rattled. "I'm going to blow your fucking face off!"

"With the safety on?" I asked, with as much sarcasm as I could load into a sentence. And I could load a lot.

He looked confused as he actually pulled the gun sideways to look at it. As he moved, I reached out to grab along the barrel and keep it moving towards him. His wrist was already bent when he looked at it, so it was almost easy to lock his hand. He was whimpering in frustration when my left hand looped up in a fast, short hook to the side of his neck, once, twice, thrice. He went down like a sack of crabs, and I reached down to relieve him of his handgun. As I stood, I heard a gentle cough, like someone clearing their throat.

Slowly, keeping the gun lowered, I turned around.

Standing there was a big galute. Tall, dressed in pinstriped pants held up by leather braces over a sleeveless undershirt tucked in at his slim waist. Prodigious amounts of both hair and hard muscle filled out his arms and shoulders. His hair was short, his smile gentle, his eyes professional, and his pistol, a big .45, not in any danger of being grabbed.

"I'd like to apologize for my associate," he said, and the level of derision on that last word was astounding. "He was an idiot to threaten you. He was an idiot to get too close. He was an idiot. But please — don't shoot him. I would have to escalate the issue, and we don't need that, either you or me." He moved the pistol slightly. "Don't mind this. It is just to give a bit of weight to the conversation and to insure no one gets...hasty."

I nodded, and took my finger away from the trigger. Moving very slowly, I held the pistol up, the barrel pointed at the ceiling, then released the cylinder to let the rounds fall to the floor. Then I set the gun on the table. "Not hasty at all," I said. "I hate these things."

He nodded, his smile firm on his handsome face, then safetied his gun and slid it into a leather holster on his belt. "See, I heard you were smart."

I had heard the same of him, though we had never come to cross purposes. In a town of with a well of cheap thugs, he was top shelf. "So where are we in this conversation?"

He smiled, but it never reached his eyes. He had pro's eyes, gunslinger's eyes. "As the idiot said, our employer would like to speak to you. He was too keyed up to get to the pitch. Not that you helped with that," he said, laughter in his voice. "My employer would like to speak to you. Just talk. I have your day rate in an envelope in my pocket, for maybe a half hour of your time. And we both know, if it was going to get messy, you already would be messy, right?"

I had to give him that. I was too focused on the idiot, which may have been his purpose. "Fair enough," I agreed. "You want to help me with that?" I pointed to the thug on the floor.

He shook his head as he handed me an envelope. "I'm not paid to collect garbage," he said. "There is a car out front. Three of my compatriots will take you to my employer. They work with me, and they are not idiots. They will also bring you back here after the conclusion of your discussion."

I nodded again. See, I could control my mouth when it suited me. Sometimes. "Okay, see you around," I said as I walked past.

"No," he said quietly. "Not if I am looking for you, you won't..."


-"The Maltese Cock," Undressed City of Chaos: A Case File of Unquiet Dreams
 
Amanda330 said:
I know I posted this just a couple weeks ago but I think it deserves a second go round... Just this time in 🖤🤍
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Unacceptable!

giphy.gif


(who am I kidding, you can post it everyday if you like, I will not object 🥵)

(also, I even used a b&w spanking gif, pretty much on theme if you ask me lol)
 
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