Home > seduction, sex, writing > 2. Beryl O’Flies – Confidential Investigator

2. Beryl O’Flies – Confidential Investigator

I agreed to let Ms. O’Flies come to my home so I could give her a memory stick with all the pictures I’d taken for her. The white haired man and the stunning young woman were clearly visible and recognizable. Ms. O’Flies was beside herself with glee; she threw her arms around me and trapped my arms at my sides. She kissed me wetly on my chin before skipping about the room.

“We’ve got them, we’ve got them,” she sung like a schoolyard taunt.

“What do you mean ‘we’?” I said.

“You’re my partner,” she said. “What’s your name?”

“Irving,” I said.

“Is that your first name or your last name,” said Ms. O’Flies with feigned exasperation.

“Arthur, Irving Arthur,” said I.

“Very funny,” said Ms. O’Flies. “Is it Arthur Irving or Irving Arthur? What the Hell is your goddamn family name?”

“Family name is Arthur, my name is Irving,” I said, “and I’m not partners with anybody.”

“Listen, kid,” she said her hand on my shoulder, “I got enough sucker clients to keep us busy for six months. A year, if we milk it.”

“Look, Ms. O’Flies…”

“Please, Arthur, call me Beryl. After all, we’re partners.”

“That’s Mister Arthur. Mister Irving Arthur,” I said, getting really aggravated.

“Okay, Irv, let’s talk this through,” she said. “Aren’t you going to invite me to sit down?” I hesitated, thinking should I throw her out or hear her proposition. I looked at her more slowly. The red hair was obviously natural; there were traces of really very cute freckles on her cheeks that made her seem younger. There was an effervescent naughtiness in her sparkling green eyes. I gestured to an armchair. She walked past it and sat in the middle of the sofa. I sat in the chair I’d intended for her… for Beryl.

I began to notice details about Ms. Beryl O’Flies. The way she carried herself was as endearing as her rather adorable face with a straight, button nose and well defined cheekbones. When she sat on the sofa, every move was elegance personified. Her walk was almost like floating. When she lowered her very nicely shaped butt onto the sofa, she did not drop onto it, but rather seemed to float down and land gently.

I began to notice more about her clothing. She was talking away about what great things we could do together, how we’d be a great match working together. I recognized her perfectly fitted blazer as a St. Laurent design, the jeans were Ralph Lauren and the shoes were Bruno Magli. ‘So she’s rich’ I thought. So why does she work?

“Why do you work?” I said.

“It’s fun! I get to act like a sleuth, set my clients’ minds at ease getting answers for them to some very punishing questions. I know how it feels to be made a fool of while others are misleading you.” The hurt she still felt from whatever disappointment was torturing her was visible on her face. For the first time her eyes were downcast and the lashes were long and dark on her cheeks.

I stood and went to her with my hand out.

“Come with me to my bed, Beryl,” I said. She looked up at me for a moment, and then took my hand. We went to my bed. It was mid-afternoon. I did my best to make her happy.

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