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 Female x Male  BDSM  Historical/Historical Fiction  Erotica  One x One Roleplay In the Flash of the Bulb (TheLioness and CallyJoy)

Discussion in 'Roleplay Execution' started by CallyJoy, Sep 27, 2018.

  1. CallyJoy

    CallyJoy Undone by Lapsong Member

    Messages:
    12
    Local Time:
    3:07 PM
    Some time in the 30's or 40's... made in the shade of Noir...

    A lot of people had grand ideas of private dicks -- and yeah, everyone's made the joke. Private Eyes. Private Detectives. Men who walked the streets with a license and a gun, free to investigate, honest where the cops were crooks, hip deep in bourbon and corpses. God only knows that's why Richard Snow got into the racket. He thought he could be the one good man in a broken world.

    Turns out? The world might be broken, but good men couldn't pay their rent -- and even if they could, no one needed a private dick to solve their murders. They needed them to justify their divorces. Rick Snow got paid to follow people and not get caught snapping photographs. He had a gun in his desk drawer, and it had sat there since his second week on the job. He had bourbon, but he alternated it with buttermilk. His stomach. You know how it is.

    As it worked out, Snow was actually good at being a private dick. He had a good reputation of ferreting out philanderers and phonies, tracking down deadbeats and insurance scammers. And if the cops were crooked? Well, they still accepted Snow calling them from a public phone and reporting small time cons. He made an okay living -- twenty-five a day plus expenses, and usually he had two or three going at once. It was nice. It meant he had flexibility.

    Which brought them to today.

    The job came from Mister Bob Garrett, whose money came from oil. Not Robert. Not Bobby. Bob. Fifty-six years old and still went by the dullest variation on a name that was none too interesting to begin with. Bob Garrett had married a woman a couple decades younger than he was. Raven haired and dark eyed, with legs for days and a body that filled the rest of the calendar nicely. Five days he'd followed the unfortunate Mrs. Garrett. Five days he'd kept out of view and shot film. Bob Garrett suspected his beautiful bride of stepping out on him. Good old fashioned adultery. Or just plain old cheating. Either way. A lot of the time these cases were duds -- a paranoid husband or wife, a perfectly faithful mate, and two weeks worth of twenty-five bucks a day billing, plus meals and film costs, and Snow kept those costs down by developing his photos himself. Most gumshoes for hire did.

    This time? This time was different. This time the blushing bride didn't blush that much, and she certainly was cheating on old Bob Garrett. That usually meant bonuses for getting the goods -- shots that would ensure a divorce with no alimony or settlements, leaving the chippie with nothing but heartache and regret. And Garrett had promised bonuses for every incriminating photograph... so Snow had taken a lot.

    The thing is... the potentially Ex-Mrs. Garrett was stunning... and Snow had developed an intense dislike of Bob Garrett almost immediately. The man was a blowhard who treated people like hirelings at best. As for Mrs. Garrett herself? He wasn't sure Bob Garrett gave her three thoughts a week except for anger and jealous ones.

    Well. Snow was good at what he did. He had everything he needed. And he didn't do things for free. But that didn't mean he liked terrible people like Bob Garrett. And as for his wife....

    Dear Lord, she was astounding. The kind of woman Snow wanted to wake up with bacon and coffee every morning. The kind of woman Snow wanted to lull him to sleep or keep him awake all night. But Snow wasn't the kind of guy to draw women like this one to him... and lacking the fortune that someone like Bob Garrett had? Women like that usually didn't even notice Snow on the street.

    She wasn't innocent, but Snow had no love for Garrett. He had everything he needed to destroy her whole life... but he didn't need to do that...

    It all depended on her.

    He was sitting in his office when he saw her silhouette through the frosted glass decorated with his name. He'd sent her his address and one or two prints from his collection. Nothing too scandalous... but she knew what else she'd been up to those days. The message was sent. Now he'd find out how well she heard it.
    [​IMG]
     
    • Love Love x 1
  2. TheLioness

    TheLioness Sex Metal Barbie Homicidal Queen Member

    Messages:
    86
    Local Time:
    3:07 PM
    [​IMG]She thought she had been careful. She never tried to sneak out of the house at all hours of the night nor did she act wild in public. Aside from the few cocktail parties she had gone to, she mostly kept to herself. Perhaps that was what had started the whispers. When she was newly married, she wanted to be a part of high society. Her husband certainly had the money and he took care of her needs. Unfortunately with time, those needs had changed. He had changed. They had changed.

    Time was a fickle thing. It never promised anything positive or negative. The only thing it promised was that one day they'd all croak, and if she was to live life, she couldn't live life the way she had been. It wasn't that she didn't care for her husband. It was simply the fact he was gone so often now. She rarely saw him, and when she did, he holed up in his office more times than she could count. A part of her was suspicious that he was seeing another woman. He always cared for the younger girls. It was how he snagged her with sweet promises and financial security. These paranoid thoughts also brought on the fear of her own ageing.

    Undoubtedly, time didn't stand still either. It kept ticking away whether anyone cared for it to. The more it ticked, the more everything rotted. Age, relationships, money--it all rotted and returned to the earth. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. It was a bitter thought of course, but one she couldn't help but think about when trying to reason with herself.

    Lenore Garrett really wasn't in love with anyone. Well, she did love her husband to an extent. Merely for the financial security now. It wasn't always dreary. Still, she didn't think anyone would blame her for wanting to step out on her husband. She did it merely for the animalistic needs and desires a woman requires from her husband. She wasn't in love. Not in the slightest. That didn't stop her for wanting to feel that little bit of love she once felt...too long ago now, it seemed.

    It had surprised Lenore when she had received those pictures. They were of her now doubt, sneaking around on her husband. One was her at a bar, where a man had his hand on her knee. The other was her waiting for that same man at a hotel. Written on the back in neat script was an address with a date and time. Someone knew of her affair. Someone knew just how low she was willing to go to keep one shred of humanity left.

    The obvious threat had hit home for her. It made her think real hard on how she was going to hush this person from giving her secrets away. Should word get out of her infidelity she would surely wind up on the streets without a penny to her name. A socialite like her? It'd be all that the city would talk about, and she couldn't have that happen.

    The address given to her was for a Mr. Richard Snow. Private Eye. The mere intention in that name made her scoff and laugh at the same time. Too many puns to run with it was silly. Still, if this was indeed the man who was blackmailing her he was sure to know the game as well. Money might not be an option and therefore made the situation a higher risk gamble.

    So Lenore opened the office door slowly if not hesitantly. Intent on masking her nervousness, she held her head high as she sauntered in wearing a dark blue dress and matching hat. Her white gloves stood out in stark contrast to her outfit and yet proved she was from upper-class material. She said nothing, only looked at the man seated at the desk before her. Her eyes questioned his intent but she was sure she already knew the answer.
     
    • Love Love x 1
  3. CallyJoy

    CallyJoy Undone by Lapsong Member

    Messages:
    12
    Local Time:
    3:07 PM
    Snow looked Lenore Garrett top to bottom. He'd seen her plenty of times before of course -- he'd taken so many pictures of her he was practically on a first name basis with her shadow. Still, it made a difference to have her look at him. A private dick didn't interact with his assignment most of the time. The idea was to not get caught while you were catching them -- like playing tag, but instead of a home base there were divorce papers. Talking to someone -- even just sharing a glance -- changed things. You saw things you missed when they didn't even know you were there.

    In this case, he saw that as beautiful as he'd known Lenore was, the look in her eyes beat every photo he'd snapped hands down. Even angry. Perhaps especially angry. And there was no question that she was angry. Still -- she was playing it cool as she sized him up, and he was polite enough to do the same. Legs long as a prison sentence for murder, holding up a body that made his pictures look retouched -- no woman could be that perfect, right? She was wrapped in a blue dress that set off her eyes and a hat that half-concealed them. And no matter how cool she was playing it, those eyes were smoldering. Smoldering with anger, sure -- but the embers still burned bright. A lot of people would storm in like a hurricane, but not Lenore Garrett -- she knew better. She wanted to know just how in over her head she was before she swam out to sea.

    Snow had no doubt, of course. She was so far over her head she could bunk down with tuna.

    "Thank you for coming," he said, chin up to let him look down at her, even with her standing while he sat. No crassness or sneering -- if anything, he was more professional now than he'd been with her husband. God knew she was worth at least that much. "I was hoping you'd be curious about my little art project." So saying, he began to lay more photos on his desk. The more incriminating ones. Crisp black and white. Sharp. Good composition -- not so easy to do when you're trying not to get caught. Lenore with her 'friend' at a wine fete. The two stepping out of a nightclub. The two hailing a taxi.

    The two at the hotel. The two upstairs, going into the hotel room. Each had their own key.

    Shots through windows -- more than one hotel room, even. Lenore Garrett in less clothes that made a louder statement as she walked to close the drapes. A shot of a silhouette that was clearly her head tossed back -- he'd sworn he could hear her. There was no mistaking what she was doing.

    "Before we begin, I'll mention that the plates for these are tucked away somewhere far from here," he said, watching her as he laid out his case. His voice was firm, but not angry or mean. Professionalism counted as much as courtesy, especially when you were being exceptionally rude to begin with. "I'll also mention that I didn't take these photographs on spec. I was hired by a Mister Bob Garrett who thought his wife might be having an affair. He hired me to follow her, to document her movements, to capture them. He offered bonuses for proof of what he suspected. I don't see a good reason to evade those facts, since they're undoubtedly the first things you wanted to know. The third is who the Hell I think I am, which is a fair question. You saw the name on the door. Richard Snow. My friends call me Rick. You can call me Mister Snow -- and yes. I've heard the jokes."

    He finished laying out the photos. Plenty to expose Lenore Garrett's infidelity -- and to prove it wasn't an isolated incident or happenstance or force. There was intent. Planning. And clearly collusion. Everything that took a rich couple and left a rich ex husband and a flat broke ex wife. "So. What should I call you?" he asked. "Lenore seems impolite, but I'm not sure Mrs. Garrett is appropriate under the circumstances. Do you have a suggestion? Or do you just have questions?"
     
  4. TheLioness

    TheLioness Sex Metal Barbie Homicidal Queen Member

    Messages:
    86
    Local Time:
    3:07 PM
    His voice was a deep baritone; accentless yet his tone was inclining to his dark intentions. She knew why she was there. She also knew immediately what he wanted before she even arrived. His pictures told a thousand words. As she watched him place photo upon photo before her, it was as if he was digging his nails in deeper.

    Lenore watched him with a cool gaze, her face expressionless. Well, as expressionless as she could withstand. She could feel her face paling with each piece of evidence to her guilt. Guilty for loving a man. Guilty for doing what she could to survive the masculine-driven world. Did he really understand what he was doing to her? Yes, clearly he did. Of course he did.

    A crack in her facade broke free as a smirk formed on her face, before taking a seat on the edge of the chair across from his desk. With her legs cocked to the side and her ankles tucked in daintily under her, Lenore scoffed at the private eye's attempts. She broke her gaze as she did so, lost more in her thoughts and how to approach the matter at hand. It was an attempt to hide her nervousness about the news of her husband's suspicions, sure, but it was more to keep her from giving her thoughts away prematurely.

    So big ol' Bob suspected she was up to something. The damn bastard. How could she have been so stupid? She was stupid for falling for a man who would eventually toss her to the side when it was convenient and her usefulness had worn out. But when someone showed a lick of interest, or her eyes wandered the other way...watch out. All of a sudden, Bob was out for blood. What was it that made men so juvenile?

    "I see," she replied softly, "I don't suppose my husband offered you enough to be happy with. Instead, you're here to milk me for more, is it?"

    Lenore's gaze returned to the private eye and the smug look on his face. This time, her expression was cynical. She picked up a picture that Mr. Snow had placed before her in an attempt to examine it. It was a picture of her and her lover at the motel room. She remembered that night clearly. It was the first time she had given into temptation. She had been so lonely, and he was the only one who had noticed her and had given her any kind of attention. He didn't seem to care who she was married to. He wanted her, and he was looking to dote upon her needs. Still, this was what it call came down to.

    Tossing the photo down upon the desk, she gave the detective a long hard look. "I don't believe we will know each other long enough to use names, Mr. Snow. Obviously you have some grand disillusion that your threats would get you more than what my husband has already offered you. There's nothing I can give you that my husband hasn't already offered you. After all, Mr. Snow...my husband is the one that provides for me. You said that much yourself. If he can't offer you anything to make you happy, then what is it you think you can get from me?"
     

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