After a rather harrowing, yet titillating, interview with the decidedly conflicted Father Bottomore, I was left with more questions than answers. While I couldn’t rule him out entirely as a suspect, his story certainly rang true. I would need to interview Mrs. Purdy Purity, but I decided my next move would be to interview Miss Heidi Honeypot. She’d been seen roaming about the house by several guests, although no one could confirm if she had been in Mr. Bucks’ bedroom the night of his apparent murder.

From what I’d read, Heidi Honeypot was a relative newcomer to the porn industry, but her star was rising quickly. Her vibrant red hair combined with her full, pouty lips, and nearly iridescent green eyes made for an exotic look that made men wild with lust. She had flawless skin, gorgeous tits, and a nice round ass. Topping this all off was the fact that her smooth, bare pussy was ridiculously pretty.

So, it was no surprise that billionaire, Sly Bucks, was dipping his wick into this hot new flame. What was interesting was that he was still enjoying the hell out of his number one girlfriend, Rosie Cheeks, and figured he could continue having both women in his bed, albeit not at the same time, without them realizing what a cad he was. He couldn’t have been more wrong!

In fact, there were multiple witnesses that saw these two dames in a heated argument, which was turning into a cat fight, when Mr. Bucks stepped in to separate the two. Apparently, Mr. Bucks had led Miss Honeypot to believe that his liaison with Miss Cheeks was ancient history. But when they both showed up at his soiree expecting to the woman on his arm, they were both bitterly disappointed. In fact, it appeared that old Sly was being a flirty scoundrel and encouraging the attention of any female who was willing to let him grab her ass.

I gave Miss Honeypot the option of being interviewed at the station or in the comfort of her own home. She chose the latter and asked me to come to her apartment at 10:00 a.m. She apparently was not an early riser.

I rang her doorbell at 9:59 a.m. She answered the door wearing a negligee that left nothing to the imagination, her magnificent tits threatening to spill over the top.

“Hello, detective,” she said demurely. “Please come in. Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Bourbon?”

“I’m good, thanks,” I said, wanting to get down to business and find out what she could tell me about the night of the murder. However, I also wanted to be able to conduct the interview without her hard nipples staring me in the face.

“Ah, perhaps you’d like a moment to put on some clothes? Or even a robe?” I suggested.

“Jeez, Detective Balls, we’re both females,” she said, looking mildly annoyed.

I said nothing, just looked around at the expensively appointed luxury apartment that Bucks had likely been paying for and waited for her to get the hint.

“Fine,” she huffed, exasperated. “I’ll go grab a robe. Have a seat, I’ll just be a moment.”

She was ten moments, to be exact, but she came back wearing a pair of cut-off jean shorts and a t-shirt that almost gave her an innocent, girl-next-door look. I wondered if it was a calculated move or not.

“Very well,” she said, sitting down on the couch across from me, “what would you like to know?”

“Well, Miss Honeypot, I’d like to know who killed Sly Bucks. But we can start with what you were up to that night.”

“Of course. I arrived late, fashionably late one might say, to Sly’s big shindig. I’d spent hours getting my nails, hair, and makeup done. I wanted to look my best you see. I figured that bitch, Rosie, would show up and I wanted to make it clear that she’s old news and that Sly needed a fresh younger star at his side, not an old has-been,” she began.

I could see she needed some guidance to stay focused on what I was asking, so I got specific, “What happened when you arrived at Mr. Bucks’ mansion?”

She continued, “Oh, well the valet was really sweet. He flirted with me a little when I got out of the car that Sly had sent for me. He’s a cutie pie, that’s for sure.”

I shook my head, rummaged around in my pocket for another sucker and said, “Miss Honeypot, what happened once you were inside the house?”

“Oh,” she said, as if it just dawned on her that I really didn’t give a shit about her pre-party preparations or the feel she let the valet likely cop. “I see. Well, I gave my coat to the housekeeper and I went directly inside to get a drink.”

“You’re speaking of Mrs. Purdy Purity, the housekeeper? Is that correct?” I inquired, wanting to make sure I didn’t assume otherwise.

“Yes, she seemed distraught, but then again I could be imagining things. I was a bit preoccupied, you see, being rather in a hurry to get inside to the festivities. I wanted Sly to see my new dress. But when I went inside, he was flirting with some little blonde bimbos. I made sure to sashay my ass over there tout suite to chase those cheap floozies away!” she huffed.

Now we were getting somewhere I thought, sucking on a mystery flavored sucker. Was that pineapple I was tasting? Jeez, now I was the one getting distracted.

“What happened next?” I asked pointedly.

“Well, as soon as Sly saw me, he shooed away those little tarts himself,” she replied. “I guess I can’t blame a man as handsome as he is for attracting every little slut in town. Well, as handsome as he was. Oh, my poor Sly. I miss him so much. I just can’t believe he’s dead. He was so sweet and so good to me. He was the best damn lover I’ve ever had. Why his cock was…”

“Miss Honeypot, if you could just answer the question and stick to the facts, please!” I interrupted, my irritation showing.

“Well, you don’t have to be so callous! After all, the man I loved is dead now!” she cried out dramatically.

“Yes, Miss Honeypot, and I am very sorry for your loss. Now, since it’s my job to find out who killed him, could you please tell me what happened next?”

She sniffled a bit and regained her composure.

“Well, just as I thought I had Sly all to myself, that bitch came moseying up to the bar and had the nerve to tell me to take a hike!”

I clarified, “That bitch being Rosie Cheeks?”

“Yes, that bitch! Flaunting her tits as she entered the room, she made a beeline for my Sly. She just didn’t seem to get the fact that Sly was done with her. Of course, he didn’t help matters any by continuing to be so nice to her. There were nights he’d come over late because he let her cry on his shoulder. He was always such a sweetheart, never minding the lipstick she was getting all over his nice white shirts.”

She sensed my frustration at her veering off topic again when I rolled my eyes and crunched the remainder of the sucker, very definitely pineapple, in my mouth.

“Well, anyway,” she continued, back on track, “she was very snippy with me, telling me to run along like a little puppy. I was so angry! She had no right to treat me like that. Everyone knows that I’m Sly’s girl now, and that Rosie was old news.”

“Go on,” I prompted.

“I told her to go to hell. I called her a bitter, aging bitch and told her that she was the one who should run along!”

She paused, as if waiting for me to nod in agreement. Instead, I prompted her again, “What happened next?”

“As I was looking at Sly to tell him to set her straight, she pushed me. So, I pushed her back. It got ugly. I’m embarrassed to say that we made quite a scene. Everyone was staring at us, and Rosie started shouting that if she couldn’t have Sly that nobody could, or something like that. Sly asked me to give him time to get her calmed down and told me to try to have a good time until he could return to the party.”

“So, he left the party?” I said, finally feeling like this interview was finally going somewhere.

“Well, he left the ballroom. He took her by her arm and escorted her out. He said give him a few minutes. So, I had a few drinks and listened to the band play while I waited for him to take care of her. He was gone for about a half an hour,” she added.

“Then he came back?” I asked, slipping another sucker in my mouth, ignoring the recent suggestion by my dentist to cut back on those little cavity creators.

“No, then I went looking for him. I bumped into him in the main hallway and he suggested we go into his study. He was upset and he needed me to soothe him like only I know how,” she said, practically purring.

I knew I would be sorry I asked, but I had to ask anyway, “And how did you do that?”

“Well, we went into his study…” she began.

“Wait,” I interrupted, “you said the study? Not the bedroom?”

“No, not the bedroom. He took me into the study, bent me over the desk, lifted my dress, and unzipped his pants. Then he took out his thick, hard dick and fucked me in the ass!”

I nearly choked on my sucker.

She went on, “He grabbed me by the hair and just plowed into my ass like a jackhammer. It hurt like hell.”

“The ass-fucking?” I asked, unable to staunch my curiosity.

“Oh, God no, I love being fucked in the ass. It was my hair. It got stuck on his ring while he was pulling it. But I just let him keep going. Once Sly starts ramming, there’s really no stopping him. Besides, I didn’t want him to stop. He was fingering my clit something fierce and I was already cumming. He kept pumping, hard and fast and deep, while I came a bunch more times. He started spanking me, while he rammed me with his thick cock, until he shot his load deep in my ass,” she said, just as unpretentiously as if she was describing what happens at a dinner party.

I found myself starting to feel disconcertingly aroused after listening to her tale of anal debauchery. I hoped I wasn’t turning red as I felt my face grow flush. If I was, however, she seemed not to notice or care.

“So, ah, after he, um, that is to say, after you finished having anal sex with Mr. Bucks, what happened next?” I stammered, trying to reformulate my thoughts.

“Well, I sucked his cock clean, like I always do, and then he threw me back on the desk with my legs in the air and went to town on my wet, needy pussy. He’s got a tongue…”

I interrupted again, “Miss Honeypot, what happened after you were completely done having sex with Mr. Bucks?”

“Oh, well I excused myself to the powder room to freshen up and I went back to the party to get another drink. I chatted with a few of the other guests, waiting for Sly to come back to the ballroom. But he never did. I was going to go look for him again, when I got distracted,” she explained.

“What distracted you?” I asked impatiently.

“Miss Purity came into the ballroom looking very upset! I was about to go and ask her what was wrong when one of the blonde bimbos from earlier bumped into me and spilled her drink all over my dress. I was furious! I stormed out to go find some towels to dry myself off. I was in the bathroom when someone started screaming and yelling. I finished blotting the dress, thank goodness it was a Gin and Tonic and was clear liquid, so it wouldn’t stain. That dress cost Sly a fortune! The next thing I knew, Father Bottomore was telling me that Sly had gone over the railing of the balcony and all hell had broken loose. I ran to see for myself and saw people fucking everywhere!” she cried out.

“I know you’re upset, Miss Honeypot, but there’s no need for vulgarity,” I chided her.

“NO, I mean people were having sex everywhere, they were literally fucking. It was like a big ole orgy had broken out and it seemed like utter chaos!”

“Oh, gotcha,” I said, sucking like mad on my sucker, wanting to pull out my own hair at the moment. I needed to get this interview back under control.

I pondered as to whether I should bring up the fact that she was not the only one having sex with Sly Bucks and decided I needed to if I was going to figure out who Father Bottomore saw in the bedroom with Bucks that night.

“Miss Honeypot, Father Bottomore has stated that he saw Mr. Bucks in his bedroom that night with a woman. If that woman wasn’t you, do you know who it might have been?” I watched her face carefully to gauge her reaction.

She was less than amused, “Look, here, Detective Balls! I know what you are insinuating, and I don’t care for it one bit. Sly told me he was done fucking those other women and that I was the only woman he could ever want or need. Besides, Father Bottomore is a notorious liar! There’s something very peculiar about him. He’s always popping up in the oddest of places. He lurks around like a creeper.”

Then her face contorted, and she started to ball like a baby. “I know he wasn’t faithful, but you don’t have to throw it in my face! I know it made him feel like a man to fuck multiple women. But I’m the only one who really enjoyed having my ass fucked and he knew it! He couldn’t get enough of my ass!” she cried hysterically.

I’d had about all I could handle of Miss Honeypot. I didn’t figure I’d get much more out of her as she had burst into tears.

“Is there anything else you’d like to tell me Miss Honeypot?” I asked. I had the distinct feeling there were details that she was leaving out of her story, but it was clear she was too distraught to continue for now.

Admittedly, though, the tears seemed genuine when she said softly, “Well, no, not that I can think of. Detective, I loved Sly Bucks. I know he was a player, but he loved me too. We were happy together and I’d never do anything to hurt him. I didn’t kill him.”

My irritation softened as I reached into my pocket, “Miss Honeypot, if you think of anything else, please call me. In the meantime, I need to ask you to not leave town,” I said, handing her my card.

“Detective Balls, are you suggesting that I am a suspect?” she asked incredulously. The fact that this possibility was just dawning on her made me irritated with her all over again. Was she really that dense? Or was this all part of the act? It was hard to tell.

“Everyone there that night is a suspect until I determine otherwise, Miss Honeypot,” I replied.

Then her voice turned bitter and she added, “You should be interviewing that bitch, Rosie Cheeks! I wouldn’t put it past her to give Sly a push!”

I ignored her last comment, knowing it was human nature to try to cast doubt on someone else. But it did make me wonder if I shouldn’t take a much closer look at Miss Cheeks. That wasn’t an interview that I relished having to conduct. My head was already pounding. Fuck me!