Your erotic stories

The name's Jack Wayne. I'm a private detective. It all began on a sweltering Friday in June. I was sitting behind my desk thumbing through a paperback of "9 & 1/2 Weeks" and sipping a glass of bourbon when my secretary stuck her head into the office. "Hey, Jack." she said in an annoying tone. "Jack, put the book down for a minute!"

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I had just gotten home, trying to unwind from a trying day, when the doorbell rang. I opened the door to two men. One was tall, suave and polished. He was dressed to perfection, creased and pressed. Not a hair out of place, not a move that wasn't smooth and efficient. He didn't do a thing for me. He was too perfect, too practiced, and too straight. But the other guy, well, he gave me an immediate temperature rise, plus a rise in other areas.

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They say that a person's entire life flashes before their eyes when they know they are going to die. I don't believe that is true, I do know that the last three years did, though. I answered the knock on my door, expecting to be told where to go work, my heart skipped a beat when I saw the two goons standing there. They just shoved their way in, then stepped aside, separating themselves.

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