King Coral - Honey Bare

“May I take your coat?”

I peeled if off and handed it to her and she took it over to a closet and hung it inside. “Would you like a drink?”

“Scotch, if you have it.”

“You’re in luck, Mr. Ice.” She threw me a dazzling smile. “Would you like to help?”

I followed her down the short hallway, enjoying the quick movements of her legs. They were pretty good. Almost as good as Suzy’s. And then I remembered our fight, and decided her legs were better than Suzy’s.

As I passed an open doorway I saw that it was a bedroom. There were a couple of bags sitting on the floor, half packed, and stack of clothing was on the bed.

Apparently the rain was drying everyone out of Los Angeles.

And then we were in a kitchen. It was rather disorderly. With lots of soiled dishes in the sink. “Isn’t this a mess?” she asked, as she brought out the ice tray.

“I don’t mind,” I said, not wanting to agree with her and perhaps blow the first client I ever had. Obviously it was going to be a divorce action.

She dropped the ice tray onto the sideboard and then her right hand moved an unruly strand of hair away from the side of her face. “So am I,” she said. The palms of her hands slid down the front of her, pressing the shift against her.

“I’m a terrible mess.”

She was trying to convince herself that the shift was soiled. It wasn’t really.

I couldn’t see any spots except the two little spots where her nipples were digging into the cloth.

I had to get my glance and mind off her immediately. I picked up the ice tray and broke the cubes loose. “You are Sarah Leighton, aren’t you?”

“Darling!” she squealed, “how rude of me. Yes I am. May I call you Lincoln?

Please call me Sarah.” As she handed me two glasses she smiled up at me. “After all, we’re going to become very informal before the night’s over.”

She was standing close to me and as I looked down at her I saw that the neck of her shift had dipped forward a bit. Without any effort on my part I was staring down at her jutting pink breasts. They were set wide apart and the valley was prominent. That gave me an unobstructed view right down the pink and bare front of her.

“Oh fine,” I said, and then I concentrated on getting the ice cubes into the glasses. How in the hell would I be able to handle a client like this in court?

But it wasn’t that at all. She gave it to me quickly while I was making the drinks.

Sarah Leighton was convinced that someone was trying to kill her. A couple of nights ago, while going across the street to pick up some things at a drugstore, a speeding car had almost picked her off in the crosswalk. Last night, as she was walking in a small part nearby, someone had shot at her. The bullet had barely missed her, striking a tree.

Sarah was an actress and tomorrow morning she was leaving for Europe where she was going to do a couple of segments in a TV series. She wanted me to stay with her that night and protect her from whomever was trying to kill her. I handed her one of the scotches, staring at her.

She’d mentioned nothing about wanting legal advice.

“Oh, thank you,” she said. “Come into the front room where we can sit down and relax.”

We sat down but I couldn’t relax. I took the easy chair and she curled up on the couch. Somehow the hem of her shift had slid up her thighs and somehow those thighs fidgeted around a lot to give an occasional and fleeting glimpse of the Y. First from the top, and now from the bottom I’d had unobstructed views.

I liked it. And yet I didn’t. Something didn’t make sense – even though I wanted to think that the sight of me had brought it all on. We all dream at times! “Sidney Griffin, the producer, suggested I call you, Lincoln. You won’t recall, but I saw you on the set-the time you were doing a job for Sid.”

So that was it. Almost a year ago I’d done a job for Sid. His wife was being unfaithful and he wanted proof so that he could divorce her. At the time I’d been a private eye. Working just enough to pay for beans and board while I was studying for my law degree. I’d gotten the pro for Sid and he was very grateful. He’d promised to flood me with clients.

“I’ve got five hundred saved up,” Sarah was saying now. “I know it isn’t much but I’d it if you’d take it for the night’s work.” She moved aside the big ash tray. There were five one hundred dollar bills underneath. “Help yourself.”

I was ready to turn her down because the moment I’d passed the Bar I’d promised myself that my private-eye days were no more. Never again. Stuff like that.

But at that time, while I was making the solemn promise to myself, the setting hadn’t been the same. First of all there hadn’t been a Sarah nearby. Secondly, she hadn’t been sitting across the coffee table from me. And thirdly, she hadn’t been leaning forward, her hand outstretched and shoving the bills towards me.

And I hadn’t been looking at the front of her shift, with the neck part dropped forward by gravity, and within, the two luscious pink breasts, defying the force of gravity because they were firm jutting cones.

I had to make the usual excuses. Get the police to protect you. It was too complicated, she didn’t want to get involved, and she wouldn’t feel safe. Why not hire a private guard that would be stationed all night at her door? Too obvious, and she didn’t want any bad publicity at this time.

Now she’d suddenly straightened up again, her glance locked with mine as the rim of her glass massaged her lower lip. “Besides,” she said softly, “ever since I saw you on the set, I’ve been waiting for an excuse to get you into my pad.”

I believed her and I had my answer. I picked up the five bills and shoved them into my coat pocket. There wasn’t anybody trying to kill her. It was an excuse.

Apparently she wanted to lay in a supply before she took off for Europe. Like Suzy, before she took off on her vacation. But Suzy, at least, had been honest about it.

Sarah didn’t want to come right out and say what she was buying with five bills. Maybe she was coy. Maybe she got her kicks doing it this way. It didn’t make any difference to me.

After all what else is there to do when it’s raining in Los Angeles? On a Friday evening.

I said, “Do whatever you planned to do. I’ll check the doors and the windows.”

“They’re all locked.”

A man had to keep up his strength. I said, “How about going out and having dinner?”

She hoped to her feet and her face was radiant. “I’d love that! Do you know I haven’t eaten all day? I’m starved! Fix yourself another drink while I dress.

Okay?”

“It’s a deal.”

She disappeared in one of the rooms and I went into the kitchen again. I poured myself some more scotch,’ added an ice cube and then stared out the kitchen window. It was dark now and it was raining harder.

It was an ideal night for a murder, I thought. Just like you read in every crime thriller. Oh, that Sarah. That strawberry blonde had planned it perfectly; But why fight it?

Fight it? I wanted to love it the moment she stepped into the kitchen. She’d done something to her hair and her face was radiant, her green eyes sparkling.

She was some package!

She’d slipped into a knit dress the color of heavy cream that hugged her figure, outlining the lush curves of her hips and the gravity-defying breasts that were a solid ledge. The pumps made her legs look even better.

“I believe I have a date for the evening,” she said softly.

Through the downpour I drove to La Cienega. Because it was one of the best restaurants we had to wait more than a half hour for a table. We had a couple of drinks while waiting.