Screwed and Screwed Again Duet

Screwed (Box Set)
J. Hali Steele
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2015 J. Hali Steele
Excerpt from Screwed

It was the crack of dawn. Purple P. Rose woke up with a hairy one in her face -- Boyd's ass. Shit, had she had too much to drink? She couldn't think straight. Everything was askew -- even the view out of her ritzy loft's window. The trees appeared to bow and wave at her as she listened to the shower run in her bathroom.

What the hell had happened last night? Something about the new guy. She looked back at Boyd, who still slept peacefully. Purp gazed across the park and tried to remember. She did have some memories intact -- the worst being her partner Dick. She thought he'd gone soft. Maybe not. She shook her head to clear the clouds of confusion.

Richard E. Rection was a real son of a bitch known as Dick to his friends. Purp found she'd rather have no one else back her up in a tight spot. He'd done that last night. Warmth crept down her thighs as she turned over the pictures in her mind of what she could remember. She'd seen a new side of Dick. Flashes came to her in living color.

They'd checked out the club Mons Venus, a cheap strip joint on the Westside, as planned. The girls there were known to go all the way with customers. So, needless to say, the place stayed full.

Every nut-sac in town turned up at Mons Venus. Purp and Dick had met there last night to interview a bartender involved in their latest case. It wasn't their usual type of job, but she'd taken it for the money. Car repairs had left her flat broke, and it was the first of the month, which came too fast lately.

Her real problem -- so did Dick.

Now she remembered. He'd been the first to interview the bartender in question. Dick then disappeared with him to a room behind the stage.

After he'd left, Purp ordered her second gin and tonic. She'd decided to enjoy the show. The girl on stage had hair the color of a magnificent western sunset. The bush between her thighs carried the same flaming color. Red knew the pole she used intimately. Purp's panties were soon full of morning dew. But it was nighttime and she wanted to be full of something else. A hefty dick, a sliver of tongue, it didn't matter. Anything would do the job right now.

A tremor of premonition lanced through her. She studied the other patrons. As she looked around, her eyes lit on a dark corner table. Someone stared back at her from the table there. She could make out the outline of a body. Male. Smoke wafted around him, obscuring his face. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and her pussy clenched on itself. Who was he and why was he watching her? It wasn't the first time she'd had the feeling lately. Shit, just what she needed -- the witchy stuff following her around.

Purp shook it off and felt her side for the gun holstered there. The wave of raw lust that slammed into her left her weak. Between her thighs, her cunt pulsed. She went through life horny, but what hit her now was hell.

Dick hadn't returned, so Purp went to find him. What she found didn't shock her. Not much did nowadays. She'd opened the door to the room where she heard thumping and bumping inside, and found him in a big wingback chair with his pants around his ankles and the bartender's face buried between his muscular Adonis-like thighs. Purp had never seen Dick in this light. Hmm.

"Purp --"

"Don't worry, Dick. I like what I see." Did she like it?

Dick's joy stick, as she called it, was huge. A broadsword. He knew how to wield it, too. Most of the time. Purple spent many nights with it stuffed in her goody basket. There, at least something brought a smile to her face.

They'd shared women before, but this was something different. Excitement blossomed in her chest. She watched the jubilation written on Dick's face, and processed this new information about him.