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The Wakefield Cases; The Licentious Life Of Mr. Lacey, Part 2

The Wakefield Cases; The Licentious Life Of Mr. Lacey, Part 2

Mr. Wakefield goes to take over his father's old office and gets more than one surprise!
“I happen to be in some trouble, silly thing really. In my business you see, certain acquaintances are made and...” began Mr. Newcomb.

“What? In the hotel business?” I interrupted.

“Well, yes and no. Erm... Ira was it? You see I happen to be a bit low on money as it is right now. I may have borrowed some money some years ago,” he continued.

“Now they want them back?” I said, tilting my head.

“This is a delicate matter, my boy! Trust me, I am telling you this in the strictest confidence. There was girl. She was cleaning here. Nice and friendly was she. I think her name was Johnson. Bah, I shall have to check my files. The thing is, I took all I had out of the bank. These people, you see, are not be left disappointed. I knew it would likely almost ruin me, but I feared for my life.”

Mr. Newcomb paused as a woman, probably the cook, arrived with our dinner. It was nothing but a dry steak and some potatoes, but I if I had ever been hungry I was no longer. I sat there, waiting impatiently for the woman to leave. When she finally did, I turned to Newcomb.

“Mr. Newcomb, what you are telling me is rather unsettling. How, might I ask, do I fit in to this?”

“Don't worry boy. It will all be clear to you in a moment. So, I put the money in a suitcase and gave it to Miss Johnson. I told her the time and place as it had been given to me, but kept it secret that it was money. She was a good girl. She believed me, when I told her these were documents that should be delivered to an old friend. You see, I could not have gone myself, for my legs are not what they used to be and Mr. Lacey demanded them delivered at St. James's Square that very same evening.”

“Mr. Lacey?” I inquired. “Who is this?”

“He is quite a character, Mr. Wakefield. Not that I've met him myself, but so I am told.”

“He is a loan shark, isn't he? You borrowed the money from him, didn't you Sir?” I said.

“That he is, but he has numerous other occupations I'm told. Do not wonder to much about that. Anyway, I sent Miss Johnson on her way, and she promised to be back again in a few hours. But here's the thing, young man: She never did show. This was two weeks ago, and I fear I will be dead soon. Mr. Lacey doesn't not seem to have gotten any payment at all. I have been getting threats. I do not know what happened, not even if that poor girl even met with Mr. Lacey's man. You see, I am very much in trouble.”

I sat there startled and lost for words. Just a moment ago my thoughts were images of a naked Jane Dooley and hopes of maybe making it here, one way or another.

“I'm so sorry. I don't understand...”

“What I want from you? When I thought you were Charles, I felt a bit of hope. He was one of the best private detectives I ever known, and he would surely have solved this.”

“I am not my father,” I said.

“I know. I am out of options, young man. In a few days I shall retire to the countryside and see if I can escape it there. I just hope I will not have to do as your father and flee civilization to... Erh... What did you say it was?”

“France, Sir! You really want me to take up my fathers profession?”

“It couldn't hurt, could it?” He replied. “Besides you need a job. I bet you have his talent too!”

“Hmm... I would have to think about it,” I said.

“There is no time to think! It is now or never!” he replied, bumping the table.

“At least I would have something to do,” I thought to myself. “And I would already have a case.”

“Do you know how your father and I knew each other?” said Newcomb. “I was his tenant. Well, for his office. I still have it. It haven't been rented out since, due to the rats.”

I am a man, who loves excitement. I cannot in anyway deny that. Sometimes I will take actions I cannot explain afterwards for the thrill of taking a risk. 

These are what my father calls 'My foolish decisions,' but to me they are not really decisions, they just happen.

This was one of those moments, when I stood up and shook Mr. Newcomb's crooked hand.

“Jane, can take you there. I'll give her the key. She knows the neighborhood.”

I had had a goodnights sleep, when you considered the hard mattress and the smell and dust and alcohol in the air. When I woke up that morning, I felt something rather strange. It was a haunting feeling, that I was about to open Pandora's box. I had been in my fathers office as a very little boy, but I didn't remember much of it.

I got out of bed and washed myself in the bathroom. When I turned on the tap, it shook and spewed brown water for about a minute until it became clear. I examined my own face. The resemblance to my father was particularly eerie at that moment.

Stubble was beginning to show and I wondered if I should find myself a barber. Just then there was a knock at the door. I looked around for something to wear as I was still naked. I reached for a towel and went to answer the door.

“Good morning, Mr. Wakefield!”

It was Jane Dooley. She stood there with a grin on her face and her large eyes searching my body.

“That's a fancy dress, Mr. Wakefield!” she teased. “Are you ready to go out?”

I was not in the mood for jokes.

“Give me a minute,” I said and began to close the door, but she stopped it with her foot and snaked herself inside.

“Oh, I don't mind waiting,” said Jane with a laugh.

She leaned against the wall. It was weird for me to see her like that. The grey uniform was now buttoned and she didn't seem as nervous and clumsy I thought, until I noticed her hitting the back of her head slightly against the wall and trying not to cry out.

What was she expecting of me? I honestly didn't want some chick hanging around me.

“Listen, Miss Dooley...”

“Jane.. Please say Jane.”

“Listen, Jane! Let me get dressed will you?”

I pushed her outside and she stood there sulking. I didn't care. I did not want her to assume anything. I got dressed in a hurry. I was not as respectable as I'd like to be, but poor men do not have time for beautification.

The first 30 minutes we walked Jane said nothing, but eventually her talkative nature got the better of her sulking and then she was impossible to shut up.

“So... Why are we going there? Newcomb told me it was your fathers office! What's this about?”

I told her that Newcomb had hired me to investigate a personal matter, and I was going to go in to the same line of work as my father. I however said nothing about the nature of the personal matter.

“Oh,” she said. “Really? A private eye? That must be so exciting!”

“I don't know,” I replied. “I've never been one before. I don't even look professional. I could really use a shave.”

“Really? We're almost there! You know there's a barber around the corner. He's really cheap too! Why don't you go there? Then I can go window shopping meanwhile!”

I agreed, as it was not a bad idea. We parted on the pavement and I began walking and just around the corner there indeed was a barber. Not a fancy looking one – not that you would expect one in this neighborhood, but it looked like something I could afford.

As I stepped inside a small bell hanging over the door rang. An elderly bald man who was polishing the counter looked up. There was another man sitting in one of the chairs – reading the paper and not at all looking like he was there to get a haircut.

“Welcome Sir! How may I help you?” said the bald man.

“Hello, I wondered how much you charge for a shave?” I said.

The man pointed to an old blackboard on the wall.

“Oh! Alright then! I would like one then, please!”

“Certainly, Sir! My name is Peters. Will you sit down please?”

I sat down next to the other man and removed my hat.

“Say you look a bit familiar, son! Have we met before?” said the man to my side, who sported a very wild beard.

“I wouldn't presume,” I replied.

“Oh, are you from out of town?” said the barber as he foamed my face.

“Well, yes. No. It's complicated. A friend and I were just heading towards my fathers old offices, he used to be in business in this neighborhood once. I might be a loyal customer.”

The last part I said more as warning as he approached me with the knife.

“Business, you say? What sort of business?” said the bearded man.

“He was a detective,” I mumbled and the barber began.

“Hmm... Detective,” said the barber. “Wallace! What was the name of that detective down the road? You know the guy with the wife?”

“Elenore? Now that was a lady,” said the bearded man, whose name was apparently Wallace. “It was 'field' something, I'm sure! Greenfield. Erh... No.”

I waved my hand to stop the barber.

“Wakefield, Sir?” I suggested.

“Why, yes!” said Wallace.

“Oh, of course! Old Charlie!” grinned the barber. “Yes, he came here often. Sometimes he brought his wife, or she brought him, I'm not sure.”

“Oh, what a lady,” said Wallace mostly to himself.

“He was my father,” said I. “I'm taking over his offices.”

The men's eyes grew wide and they exchanged glances.

“Oh, of course! I'm sure you'll be able to fix them up too! That old man Newcomb is not too good at maintenance!” said the barber. “If young Sir will just hold still. I shall be very quick about it.”

As he finished my shave there was an awkward silence. I did not have time to care. I had a mystery to solve. I paid barber Peters and went about my way. I saw them looking at me through the window glass.

I had not been on the street for long until Jane caught up with me.

“Hello, Mr. Wakefield. Oh, look! You're no longer a wild man,” she said and stroked my cheek with her hand.

“Where were you at?” I asked.

“Oh, I saw the prettiest gloves! You wouldn't believe it, but I couldn't afford them!” she replied and pushed herself against me.

I didn't blame her for wanting fine things. They sure would suit a girl like her. She wasn't radiant, and then it was hard to look good in rags. I eyed the worn coat and hat that she wore over her uniform.

She took my arm. I didn't mind the discourtesy much. We were walking down a narrow street, and Jane assured me that the office lay in the other end. She kept talking about gloves and God knows what! 

Then I began to notice something peculiar. It was weird, but I could swear I saw... Yes, we were definitely being shadowed. Not just by one person. I began seeing solitary people eyeing us then look away and rush on when I got eye contact.

I alerted Jane, but she just giggled.

“Are you seeing ghosts, Mr. Wakefield? Oh, here it is!”

I looked at the building. It was old and had four floor. Jane opened the front door, and together we climbed the stairs. Not for long though, for the office was on the first floor. The ground floor apartment seemed abandoned. I based this on the amount of rotten garbage at the door.

Now I stood in front of it. On the door was an old sign saying 'Charles Wakefield, Private Detective'. I remembered this from long ago. Jane took out a key and was about to open the door. Then she reconsidered and handed it to me.

“I guess, it's yours now! You should have the honor!”

I took the key and opened the door. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw inside. It was all there! Everything! The furniture! The cabinets! There was even one of his whiskey glasses on the the desk! It was covered in dust and so I could see not a thing had been moved for years.

“Oh my God!” I whispered. “Why? Why is it all this still here?”

“I don't know,” said Jane. “Maybe your old man didn't want it? Newcomb surely never sets his legs here.”

“But wouldn't somebody have stolen it?”

“Maybe they think it's haunted,” said Jane teasingly.

She walked in, swaying her hips. Her stilettos left marks in the dust.

“Well, come on! Isn't this what you've been waiting to see?”

I closed the door behind me as I followed.

“Look at that,” said she. “All alone. Oh, and I'm so defenseless!”

She crept closer to me.

“What would I do? How would I defend myself, if someone was to come and ravish me?”

“Jane, stop it will you? I didn't know what you're expecting, but I don't want you to take us seriously!”

“Oh, I'm not serious. You are. Oh, so serious!”

She put her arm around me neck and I pushed her away, against my own male instinct.

“Stop that, Miss Dooley! What do you mean?”

“Oh, so it's Miss Dooley again?” said Jane angrily. “Oh, really? You know what? I've been nothing but kind to you! You know what you are? You're a pussy! You're a boring, fucking dick!”

I really don't know what happened. I just got furious. She lost her balance as my hand hit her cheek and she fell to the floor. She covered her cheek with her hand and looked up at me, like she couldn't believe I just slapped her. I tried to calm down.

“Listen, Jane, I'm really...” I began.

“Do it again,” she said.


“Hit me again! Do it now!”

She rose from the floor, obviously aroused. I held her and looked into her eyes – trying to find some answer in them.

“Hit me, Mr. Wakefield!” she begged.

I did. I smacked her and she stumbled backwards to the desk.

“Take me, Mr. Wakefield. Take me now!” she cried.

“Call me Ira,” I said and threw my coat on the floor.

I pushed her down onto the desk and kissed her wildly – smearing her lipstick on both our faces. She moaned and pulled of her coat with my assistance. Then she looked at her uniform.

“Rib it off.”


“Do as I say!”

I ribbed open the buttoned section so hard most of the buttons fell off and pulled the rest down her legs. She laughed. We shed out clothes faster than any of us had though was humanly possible.

Jane knocked the glass down from the desk and I threw her all the way up.

“Ram me,” said Jane.

“Wait,” said I and slid down between her legs.

She smiled. I began to massage her inner thighs as I breathed in her scent. I circled her pussy with my tongue and bit slightly at the lips. Jane held on to the desk and moaned. Slowly but surely she began dripping. 

Tasting her, I felt like a thirsty man discovering the purest source. 

Her breath was getting heavier. I found her clit with my tongue and pressed it hard against it as I licked.

“Oh, Ira! More! MORE!” she almost shouted.

Then I slid a finger inside her. Then another. I wiggled my fingers about in her and her body responded beautifully to me.

I got up to get a condom and I was now ready. As I opened her up, she grabbed me with her arms and pulled me down on top of her, forcing me all the way in.

I rode even harder than I had the day before. I bit and pinched and with every thrust she screamed with delight. She was crazy. She was having several orgasms in a row and I could feel myself getting ready to come.

I roared as I did and grabbed neck tightly, which made her come together with me.

It was just then, at the height of our ecstasy, that it happened. A loud crash sounded a the same time as my roar and I felt something brush the top of my back. Then I heard a large bump as something landed on the far side of the room.

I jumped up with my cock swaying all over the place. Jane was sighing contently on the desk. I turned and saw a huge hole in the window. On the other side of the room lay a brick with a letter tied to it.

“Oh my God, Jane!” I yelled.

“Yeah,” she giggled. “You just did me on your fathers desk!”

“No, the brick!” I said.

She got up with a question mark on her face. I got the letter of the brick and sat by her side on the desk. 

The letter was written crudely and it read:

Mr. Wakefield. 
We will not tell you this again.
Stay out of these affairs.
Return to France.
If not, we guarantee
you will be a dead man.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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