Did You Say the Basement or Debasement?

by Maurice Pirelli 10 months ago in fiction

Chapter 3 of the Woman With the Unbuttoned Blouse

Did You Say the Basement or Debasement?

Waking up with morning wood was always a nice reminder of my virility—even if my wife was more interested in waking up with the woman next door. Maybe Micki would ask me to move out today after she spent the night in someone else’s bedroom. In the meantime, I had some work to do. Masturbating would have to wait.

My job as an investigator was often boring, but every now and then it became worthwhile. I work for a lawyer, and today’s assignment was to interview one of his clients about a transient who was last seen alive in the client's neighborhood, going through recycling bins. The client owned a two-story Victorian in northeast Portland. She was a professional woman who rented out at least one of her extra bedrooms, so I wasn’t sure if the petite, dark-haired woman answering the door was the landlady or the tenant. She was wearing a knee-length dress with a shawl and had her hair up in a bun.

“No solicitors. See the sign?” She was polite but firm.

“I’m Decker, and I’m expected...uh...looks like a couple of minutes ago...by Ms. Cootch. I can wait here, if you like.”

“No, you should come in. It’s raining,” she said, opening the door a little wider.

“Thanks.”

“Please sit down. I’ll let her know you are here.” I was standing in the living room, admiring how well it resembled something an interior decorator might come up with when Ms. Cooch came in with two cups of tea, accompanied by the woman who answered the door.

“Decker? Hi, I’m Rati Cooch and this is Fiona.” Rati, which rhymed with “nutty” when she introduced herself, was wearing jeans with a blouse, buttoned up almost to the top.

I pulled out a notebook and pen. “Nice to meet both of you. I suppose you recall why my boss asked us to meet…?” I said, looking at Rati.

“Yes, and it’s okay if Fiona is here. She’s my tenant, and she may know something, too. Please have a seat.” Fiona handed a cup of tea to me, and I noticed that she no longer had her hair up in a bun and that she loosening up her shawl, pushing her breasts outward.

“I always warm up when I drink tea,” Fiona said, smiling as she sat down on the couch next to me. Rati sat in a recliner, directly opposite of us.

“I’m feeling a bit warmer myself,” I said, allowing my eyes to linger on Fiona a little longer. I looked at Rati and asked, “This is going to sound kind of ridiculous, but what I always tell people is to just pretend this is a tv show and I’m asking all those standard questions that tv detectives ask, like when was the last time you saw the victim alive?”

“Ha. Ok. A day or two ago. It’s creepy to think that he was shot right outside my house while I was at work. I guess there was a firetruck that showed up, too.”

“They hose off all the blood and stuff once the forensics people are done. Did they get all of it? It goes everywhere, and I wouldn’t be surprised if some of it made its way onto your house.”

“Really? That far? Gross. Now, I have this urge to wash the whole front of my house.” She lifted one leg and crossed it over the other, reminding me of Sharon Stone in Fatal Attraction. Then again, every woman who crossed her legs reminded me of Sharon Stone. I couldn’t stop myself from trying to see her crotch.

“Ms. Crotch, uh, Cooch, the police have called my boss about this house....”

“Maybe you should call me, Rati.”

“The police know you are his client, Rati, and he wanted me to make sure that there is no connection between you or your tenant, and the deceased. That’s the first step they take, you know. Looking for some sort of connection. Is there one?”

“Well, I talked to the guy once about not going through our bins. Although we like to be good Portlanders and recycle everything in sight, we really hate it when people look at our stuff. Maybe the next thing he does is peek into our cars for things to steal, or poke around in the back shed. You never know.”

“Understandable. My boss said the police are going to ask for a warrant to search your place. Apparently, the blood was sprayed out in a pattern indicating that he was shot by someone in or near your house. Since they haven’t been here yet to execute the warrant, you have time to, uh, make sure that there isn’t anything in here you wouldn’t want the police to become aware of.”

Rati and Fiona stared at each other, saying nothing for a moment. It looked like they were communicating telepathically. “We can continue this conversation later," I said. "then you can use the time to do what you need to do.”

“This might be a little embarrassing,” Rati said, “but it would be great if you have some time to help us move a few things into storage, temporarily. All of it is confidential, right? I mean, you do work for a law office.” She stood up and began walking toward me, unbuttoning the top two buttons of her blouse.

“Yeah, I can do that. You can’t store anything at his office, but I can help you load up your car. You don’t need to tell me where you are taking the stuff.” Rati brushed up against me while she picked up my tea.

“Thank you. Please begin with Rati’s room while I tidy up the basement.”

When I walked into Fiona’s room, I understood exactly what kind of work she was doing to pay the rent. There were three desktop computers arranged so that their screens were pointed toward the bed. On the bed, I could see a couple of dildos. One of the computers made the sound of a chime. Fiona pulled a couple of flattened cardboard boxes out from underneath her bed.

“I’m a camgirl, and I use these two computers for business. One of them is just for camming, but the second one has my business records on it. Let’s put second one, the webcams, and the external hard drive in this box. I really, really appreciate your help with this. No one needs to know that I’m a sex worker.”

“Camming is legal, so what’s the big deal?”

“Some cops will try to take advantage of you if they know you do sex work of any type. I would prefer that they see me as a computer geek with a little more hardware than the usual person. The high-end cameras would tip them off. On the other hand, we’re going to set this table up and put a deck of tarot cards on it, right next to this candle. If you put the box on the kitchen table, I’ll tell you your fortune when you come back. I know that boxing up stuff is not part of your responsibilities, so it’s my way of saying thank you for the extra help.”

I picked up the box and put it on the kitchen table. The door to the basement was ajar and I could hear Rati rustling around below. I guess if she needs help she knows where to find me, I told myself as I walked back to Fiona’s room. Inside, Fiona had turned off the lights. She was sitting on the bed, naked, holding a candle in each hand. Another candle burned on the table with the tarot cards. She twisted her body and set the candles down on the cabinet behind her.

“Close the door and give me your hand, Decker.”

I moved toward her. She grasped my hand with both of hers, and placed it on her cheek. She moved it to her mouth and kissed my palm. Unbuttoning my jeans, she said, “I see your future is looking up.”

Her bed didn't have a headboard so I sat back against the wall behind her bed. "Would any of your camming clients like to watch?"

“Some other time. I don’t feel like performing right now. What I do want right now is your cock inside of me.” Slowly, she climbed on top of me, straddling my cock while steadying herself by placing her hands on my shoulders. I reached up and squeezed her breasts. They were small and firm. Her nipples had become hard. “Put one of my tits in your mouth and suck as hard as you can.”

She pressed herself into me, trying to get as much of her breast in my mouth as possible. I began biting and sucking at the same time, making her gasp in pleasure. “The other one. Suck the other one, now.”

“Are you on the pill or something? I’m going to come.” I could feel her vaginal muscles contracting around my cock. She moved her hand down and began fingering herself.

“Pill. Don’t come yet. I want to save some of you for...uh…mmm.” Fiona moved slowly up and down, trying to keep me from reaching a climax while she got closer and closer. Her cheeks were flushed as she continued to finger herself. After a few more minutes, she clamped down harder one last time and...

“Oh! Oh, that felt...good.”

She sighed and rolled off of me before I could come, and placed a couple of her fingers in her mouth to lick off the secretions. It was one of the quickest quickies I ever had. “So much for all women needing a lot of foreplay. You were saying something about…?”

Fiona was now in a post-orgasmic stupor and mumbled in a low voice. I couldn’t quite understand her so I said, “Did you say the basement or debasement?”

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Maurice Pirelli

Mr. Pirelli, a former cab, bus, and truck driver, is writing the sequel to his first novel. He enjoys the company of sophisticated women at local brew pubs, and is considered to be the second most interesting man in the world.

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