siskin – part 2

by underswansea


“Hi Harry, long time no see.”

Her voice was silk. She wore a tight dress that dared at any moment to split open and overflow. Her heels were high and her toes were pointy along with several other parts.

My head was light while blood raced to parts used infrequently.

Her lips were shiny. She snapped her fingers in front of my face, “Is that a gat below your belt or you just glad to see me.”

My .32 was in my desk.

“What’s up Lou?” I said like an idiot coming to his senses.

She glanced down, “Not sure,” she said, “But something is.”

“Come in and sit down.”

This was a business after all and she was a client.

She walked across the floor with a grace that made men like me believe in God. I sat down behind my desk, happy to be off my feet.

Instead of sitting in the chair she sat on the edge of my desk.

The fabric of her dress stretched even more. She leaned forward. I leaned back. I wasn’t prepared for this so early in the morning.

“He is out again,” she said, her lips and dark hair had me in her grasp. Her eyes were dark deep pools. She smelled like summer.

“Who?” I said.

“Thompson,” Lou answered.

The mention of his name brought me straight back to reality. Even her ass on my desk lost my interest. I had tracked David Thompson once before. The 250-year-old explorer was spry for his age. He was also handy with a shotgun, just about blowing my head off on two separate occasions.

“Listen Lou,” I said, “If he is the same Thompson I remember. He will be in the bars or whorehouses. He won’t be hard to find”

“You know I don’t frequent either, Harry,” she shifted.

My eyes went back to her ass.

“I need you on this one,” she said

I knew what was happening but I couldn’t resist.

“I’m going to need danger pay,” I said.

“Of course,” she said.

She got up and walked to the door. It was spectacular. I was leaning back in my chair, bewildered, like I’d just been taken advantage of.

I put my hand around my glass of whiskey, my second choice, but more prudent considering the company.

She was closing the door, then hesitated and turned, “He’s been seen hanging out at a magazine and smoke shop

“Where?” I said. Invermere hadn’t had one of those for fifty years.

“Svendsen’s,” she said, “Just up the street.”