The taxi chauffeured me across town. The low-class pushers, prostitutes, and criminals disappeared along with the sirens, replaced by a much higher quality of pushers, prostitutes, and criminals. The ever-present, evening rain beat down on the pavement, slickly glowing in the dim streetlights. Clean-shaven, wearing my good suit, I managed to relax a little as the cab neared Club Infidel. I’d been there before.

In Sintropolis, you can find any vice, any pleasure, if you look around the next corner. When you hit the more affluent areas, you don’t need to go looking at all. Club Infidel was well-known as the most luxurious, high-class den of inequity in the city. The rich, powerful, and elite congregated there to indulge their every whim, do business, and enjoy the finer things in life, such as all their favorite vices under a single roof. If you want gourmet cuisine, your cock sucked, to get high, or hire a hit-man, that was the place. It was, however, top-tier. You had to either be a high-roller, known in the area, or on the list to get inside.

Pulling up, my fedora angled just so, I strode out of the taxi, tipping the driver for his discretion, and viewed the pristine white plaster and neon exterior. Some fat cat in a tuxedo, a blond bimbo with huge tits falling out of her dress hanging on his arm, was greeting the doorman as they entered. The velvet carpet lining the walkway probably cost more than a full year’s lease for my office. Of course, the doorman, a big muscle-bound enforcer type looking like he just murdered his parents, stopped me.

“If you ain’t on the list, no entry.” His finely tailored jacket didn’t hide the sidearm-bulge very well.

“Dirk Paladin. I should be on the list, cupcake.” He growled a random obscenity in my direction and glossed over the guest list, mouthing the syllables.

Mouth-breather nodded at me. “Alright, guest of Gwen Ginnis, just in time. No funny business, or you’ll regret it.”

I stopped and turned towards the gorilla in the monkey suit. “I guess I’ll never fulfill my dream of being a circus clown, then,” and walked inside.

Softly lit luxury assailed me on every side. A coat and gun check on my right, a smiling blond in a see-through top handing out claim tickets; a bar on my left, handing out booze; and a velvet-covered, raised stage with a full band in front of me were all washed in classy ambiance and soft mood lighting. Spying the chief of police talking, laughing, with a mob boss, and then a corporate CEO sitting in a booth, being pleasured, orally, by a topless waitress, I finally spied an empty booth near the stage. People dressed to the nines were gambling at a roulette table; some very happy patrons, sniffing some substance off the table, were pawing at each other in a sexual frenzy, but my client couldn’t be found in the sea of affluent, half-dressed bodies.

Stowing my fedora and sidearm, receiving a claim ticket, I decided that keeping my backup firearm, a little Walther secreted near my crotch, and my tape recorder was a good idea. I might need the hand-held recorder in case somebody said something important. Experience showed that while a frisk will result in the shoulder-holstered weapon being confiscated, most guys shy away from patting down your Willy. That plays into the third rule of detective work, always have a backup.

Taking note of all the important people arrayed before me, a veritable who’s who list of the rich and powerful, all of them freely indulging in scandalous behavior, I headed for the empty, high-backed booth and took roughly two-hundred pounds of woe off my feet. Club Infidel was the nexus of sin in Sintropolis. Every imaginable vice was in orgy-mode around me.

“What’s your pleasure, handsome?” An enthusiastic, feminine voice sang out to me.

Looking up, a stacked brunette filled my vision. She wore high heels, sequined bottoms somewhere between a pair of panties and revealing shorts, and an open, matching vest, her perfectly formed breasts on display. Her manicured hands held out a round tray filled with pills, some tightly rolled herbal smokes, and some odd, unidentifiable yellow liquid in beakers.

”Not my thing, miss.”

“Would you like a blowjob, then?”

“Pardon?” She smiled at me.

”Your cock. How’d like me to suck it for you?”

“Yeah, real high-class joint, here, nothing but the best. What are all those pills, anyway?”

“The usual,” her response was accompanied by a lusty licking of her lips. “We’ve got the uppers, downers, some trippy ones here,” she pointed, “some snuff, and the antidote,” the final point designated the yellow vials.

“Antidotes?”

“Yep,” her low-class accent shone through for just a moment. “You see, sometimes people mix the downers with the trippers. Too much and it can kill you, make your body shut down.” She held one of the piss-colored vials up. “This little number will take care of that and make you right as rain.”

“Like I said, pass.”

“No sex, no drugs? Rock and Roll? How ‘bout a drink, then? You look like a bourbon kind of guy.”

I shrugged. “I’ll have water, on the rocks.”

“There’s a two-drink minimum.”

“Then bring me two waters.”

She gave me a respectful, waitress eye roll and scampered off, showing a nice, firm, round ass in her short-shorts. I watched the musicians tuning up for their next set as the emcee walked up to the vintage-looking microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his showman tuxedo shimmering in the lights. “Once more, Club Infidel is pleased to present the heavenly voice of the beautiful and sensual Miss Gwen Ginnis.”

All red satin dress, legs, lips, and perfect sensual beauty, my client took the stage. The dress was as blood-red as her lips. The rowdy club grew quiet; the musicians began a soft, soulful, mellow melody. She no longer wore her overly-revealing mourning garb. The red, skintight dress was cut elegantly and demurely, but painted on, making her seem nuder than if she hadn’t been wearing anything.

Her husky, throaty voice dripped like sexy honey, promising sweet release to everyone with ears. Slowly crooning about how a, “man like you,” makes her blood boil, she swayed to the tune as if her entire soul was about to orgasm. Just when then soothing sounds had everyone entrenched in smoldering sexuality, the guitar exploded in an incendiary power-chord, filled with distortion, and her throaty voice screamed out a primal, guttural, lust-filled phrase about fucking her hard, like a whore. It was almost as if she could read my mind.

Looking around, I wasn’t the only one delightfully surprised that the crooning queen turned metal and rocked the joint with her vocal, sexual assault of moans, screams, and lusty lyrics. Although I prefer a soulful sax, it was impressive. More impressive, was the way her breasts heaved, her hips thrust back and forth, and her tongue lashed out, promising delights of the flesh. If raw, heated, nasty sex was music, her vocals were the climax. Her nipples poked out of their tight, red confines so prominently that I could count the bumps on her areolas.

Finishing her number, she stared at me with a lusty smile, snaked her tongue out to moisten her lips, and walked backstage, her ass looking even sexier than it had earlier that day. The applause was deafening. She emerged less than a minute later, immediately greeted by a well-dressed, important-looking man I didn’t know. The way she touched him, how he cupped her ass when they kissed deeply, and their mutual body language told me that they knew each other quite well, intimately.

“Here’s your water, handsome.” My waitress had returned. She plopped my two glasses on the table, standing there, sticking out her chest. “If you want anything else, I’m on the house.”

“Tempting, but not the kind of business I’m doing. Who’s the popular blond guy with Gwen?”

“That’s Jacob Cumberbatch. I figured everyone knew him.”

“I know the man, just never met him. Is he always so hands-on with the ladies?”

“In here, everyone is, sugar, but Missus, I mean Miss,” she corrected herself, “Ginnis and Jacob have been quite the hot item for some time.”

My mental cogs turned, clicked into place. “So, you’re saying she and Bradley weren’t the happiest couple, ever?”

She looked around, nervously. “It’s Club Infidel; anything goes. But they were an item before Mr. Ginnis, bless his soul, swept in. Even after they married, they kept on with each other.”

“Thank you.” Now I smelled a rat. “I changed my mind,” I told her.

“Do you want me to fuck and suck you here, or someplace more private?”

“I’m working, tonight, but any other time I’d take you up on that. How about enough of those pills to have a party for me and some friends, plus an antidote. You know, for the road.” A few pieces of green paper with stately Presidents’ faces on them persuaded her.

She dealt out her capsules of sin, advising me that mixing two of one kind with one of another will feel like death but not be lethal; any others in addition to that could be real death. I thanked her, my eyes mostly on Gwen and Cumberbatch, but also on her physical charms. The widow and her late husband’s rival finished pawing at each other, and she approached my table. I quickly pocketed my contraband; sometimes things are just too obvious.

“Glad you made it, Mr. Paladin. Did you enjoy my song?”

Not as much as your nipples. “It was refreshing. I knew you were a singer, but you really have an impressive set of lungs.”

She sat in the booth, flashing me her bare pussy through the slit in her tight dress, scooting towards me until her body was pressed against my arm, her hand on my thigh. “You clean up well.”

“Bring the lady a Mai Tai, please,” I said to the waitress.

“What if that’s not my drink, Mr. Paladin?”

“I’d order one, anyway, just to watch you eat the fruit.”

She laughed at that, her lips inching close to my ear. She whispered into it. “Singing makes me so horny; I want you to fuck me, right now, right here.”

She didn’t wait for an answer, just started clawing at my fly, moaning into my ear. I could have resisted, had I wanted to. Freeing my cock, Gwen stroked it to full hardness, then straddled me, her already-soaked cunt impaling itself on my meat.

“Fuck me with that big cock, you bastard,” she shrieked.

Some people looked or watched, but mostly they minded their own business. I don’t know if being on display increased or hindered my arousal, but I had the sexiest woman I’d ever seen straddling me, humping up and down on my cock, and I was going to enjoy the moment.

Untying her dress, she bared her tits; they looked as perfect, round, and swollen, just as I had imagined. I grabbed her torso, pulling those tits close, and forced her swollen nipple into my mouth, flicking my tongue over it, just as she had done to my glans earlier that morning. My client screamed at the top of her magnificent lungs, one of her hands flying to her clit, flicking it hard and harsh. She was using me for her pleasure, not mine.

She rode me with verve, slamming onto my thighs, rattling my drink on the table, her hips gyrating as she raised and lowered herself on my cock so fast that she was a blur. Her hand sloshed over her cunt, wet sounds mixing with her moans, almost in tempo with the music the band was playing.

“Fuck me; fuck me. I love your cock; I love your cock. Finger my ass, harder!”

A gentleman always pleases his dames. I did as she asked and added in my own hard, upward thrusting to show my enthusiasm. Cursing and swearing, she had an orgasm, screaming so loudly that it drowned out the band’s music. Her hips pumped me for all they were worth, which is a lot, and I barely held out.

“Fucking cum on me, you hot stud,” she screamed.

Gwen climbed off my pulsating cock and began slobbering on it, pumping it hard and fast, aiming it towards her face. She alternated between pumping my rigid cock with her hands and deep-throating me, fucking me with her mouth.

I noted that our waitress had returned, standing there watching. Her nipples were hard as diamonds, so she must have liked what she saw. Gwen’s action on my cock and the sexy waitress watching almost made the sight of Mr. Cumberbatch leaving with his bodyguard fail to register.

Cumberbatch glared at me, not that I was in any position to make faces back, and then left, his bodyguard holding his long coat and hat. His hired muscle, dressed overly gaudy, in clashing colors, seemed familiar, but I couldn't quite place from where I knew him. In my defense, my mind was occupied with something much more engaging.

That was all that I could register at the moment. Gwen’s cock-wrangling skills were the best I’ve ever felt. “I’m going to cum,” I announced.

Without missing a beat, she angled my quivering member towards her face, opening her mouth wide to take the first spurt. As soon as my hot spunk hit her mouth, she aimed it at her face, then her neck, then towards her bare tits, moaning all the while. My waitress caught her eye and immediately dropped to the floor and began greedily licking my spunk liquid from Gwen’s face. I watched as they ended up in an open-mouthed kiss, their tongues lapping at each other’s lips.

Composing herself, paying no heed to the few onlookers, most of them involved in their own debauchery, Gwen downed her drink, plucked a cherry from the nearly empty glass, and sucked on it. She reached into her handbag and pulled out a wad of cash.

“Your retainer and advance, Mr. Paladin.” Her Cheshire smile was creamy white.

“Come by my place, later, if you have something for me.” Subtle, like a hammer.

With that, she turned on her stiletto heel and strode out of the club. I zipped up, made sure to get the waitress’ phone number, and went to claim my hat and piece. I had no trouble getting my firearm back.

“Hey, sweetheart, can you call me a cab, will you?”

“Fine. You’re a cab.”

“Funny. Please call a taxi to come get me.”

“There should be a few waiting outside, by now.”

“Thank you. Nice place you got here.”

The rain hadn’t let up one bit. The moon took its cue from the day’s sun and was deep in hiding. I spied a black and yellow, a block away, and made for it. I walked. Rain doesn’t bother me; it’s not like I was going to melt.

“New suit, same bullshit attitude,” a menacing but half-familiar voice said from the shadowed alley on my left.

I turned, seeing a menacing figure emerge, dressed as if he were colorblind. He was tall, gaunt, with an acne-scarred face. I knew the man from long ago, Robert Smythe; that’s why he looked familiar when I saw him in the club. We served on the force together. He had left in disgrace for being too obvious about being on the take. I didn’t like him then, didn’t like him now.

“Smythe,” I chuckled. “I heard you gave up busting the low-lifers and joined them. How’re tricks?”

His hyena excuse for a laugh was my answer. Two more brutes emerged from hiding in the alley, one of them slapping a length of pipe in his palm.

“Still the same white knight attitude, I see. You always thought small, Paladin. Just ‘cause it’s your name, doesn’t mean you gotta be everyone's savior. You should join up with me. High class, high style, high rollin’.”

“Not if I have to dress like that. Let me guess, you and your buddies are going to school me on the perils of standing for something.”

“Nah,” he jeered. “We’re just going to warn you off Gwen Ginnis; she’s taken. If my word ain’t good enough for you, we’ll persuade you a little. Why don’t you step into the alley where it’s, you know, more private-like?”

“Sorry, Rob, I’m not in the mood for a blowjob right now.”

“I’m serious, Dirk.”

“Then why are you wearing that hat?”

“You were a smart-ass when you were a flatfoot, too. Some things never change, small-time, small-minded do-gooder. Pay attention. Stay away from Gwen Ginnis or the both of yous will regret it.”

“Well, consider me warned. No need for your chin-music.” I tipped my hat to the scumbag and made for the taxi.

I was born at night, but it wasn’t last night. Somebody felt I’d figured things out, which I think I had, and wanted me to tuck my tail between my legs and hide. So it was stay away from Miss Ginnis, or else. I chuckled as I got into the cab. If my hunch was correct, the culprit might have money and power but was a little lacking in the brains department. Had there not been those three mistakes, all within a few hours of each other, it might have taken me ages to work this one out.

“Where to, sir?”

“1313 Mockingbird Lane; the Ginnis estate. You know it?” He flipped the meter on and drove off. I had some reconnaissance to do. A glance showed my unwelcoming committee still standing there, getting the rain all dirty. The bad guys always tip their hand, sooner or later. I just didn’t think it’d be so soon. It was time to find out, for sure.