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The Case of the Masked Belly Dancer f/m

spittingcobra

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I stared at the bottle of bourbon on my desk. I contemplated pouring a shot to help me get through another day with no clients. Business had been slow ever since I'd helped the police bust most of the Von Kleinstutterer gang. But then, my secretary opened the door to my inner office.

"Put that away," she said.

She handed me an address.

"Joey says he sighted one of the Carbone brothers going into that building."

Joey was a runner I hired to stake out the remnants of the Von Kleinstutterer gang. A couple of the old gang had shown up dead lately--both with odd frozen smiles on their faces. Word on the street had it that a new gang was muscling in on the white slave trade, and I was curious, even though I couldn't see how to angle any money for me.

I memorized the address, put the bottle back in the drawer, and took out my gun instead.

"You be careful," my secretary said.

"I will, kid," I said.

She was a mousey woman but with a perky nice figure. I had a feeling she had a crush on me. I gave her a pat on the shoulder and thought for a minute she as going to kiss me before I left.

I jumped in my Buick and raced off, taking a circuitous route to make sure I wasn't being tailed. I circled the address--an empty looking warehouse that used to hold stacks of ice before the newfangled electric iceboxes bankrupted the business about a decade earlier. I parked two blocks away in a rundown neighborhood. While I walked toward the old warehouse, a pickaninny thumbed his nose at me. I slipped in the back of the building through an unlocked door adjacent to the loading docks. It was pitch black inside. I could hear Arabian music playing near the front of the building. I reached inside my coat pocket for my flashlight and torched a path in front of me. That's when I found one of the Carbone brothers slumped and restrained in a chair. I shined the light in him, and he had an insane grin on his face. His eyes ogled me but didn't seem to see anything. I felt for a pulse. There was none.

I drew my gun and headed for the music. I heard a jingling body arise from the shadows behind me, and the body stuck a piece in my back.

"Drop it," a woman's voice said.

I didn't have a choice. I let my gun hit the floor but clung to the flashlight.

"Sit in the empty chair over there," she ordered.

The chair faced away from me toward the middle of the room. The chair had manacles. I was scared. I sat down and she manacled my wrists to the arms of the chair which was nailed to the floor. She flipped on a light and stood before me. She wore a belly dancer's outfit that jingled when she moved. She had blonde hair, big boobs, heavy hips, and long legs. A mask covered her mouth, but I could see her green eyes, and they gave me a lusty devilish look. She put her gun down and began belly dancing to the music.

"Look lady. You don't have to force me to watch you dance. You could've just sent an invitation."

"I'm not just dancing," she said as she shook her massive mammaries. "I'm the White Slave Avenger.. I'm getting revenge on you gangsters who enslave and prostitute women. I studied an ancient Arabian method of torture. A combination of belly dancing and tickling drives men into a nervous excitement that leads to death."

"You've got it wrong lady," I said with rising panic. "I'm just a private dick. I'm no gangster."

"Hmmph! What an excuse. There's no escape."

She kept dancing and I was aroused and shaky. Her movements combined with the music and the threat of torture were getting to me. She danced closer and closer. I tensed. She unbuttoned my shirt and reached inside with her long fingernails and tickled. I dropped the flashlight which I had forgotten was even in my hand. I tried mightily not to laugh. I strained. She tickled my neck and I let out a girlish giggle.

"Listen lady, I swear, If you let me got I'll show you my card."

She shook her belly in my face--it reminded me of a rear jiggling. She tickled my belly and felt around my pockets, tickling my legs and balls as she did so. By now, I was laughing out loud. She found my business card and read it.

"Philip Marlowe, private eye. You were right. I'm so sorry. But I can't take a chance on you blowing my operation. I'll have to tickle murder you too, an unfortunate unintended casualty."

"Wait. I'm on your side. I swear, I won't tell the authorities."

She ignored my pleas and danced, her back to me, her butt wiggling under her costume. She turned and faced me, her big bosoms hovering over my head. She tickled my sides. The combination of her movements, the music, and my uncontrollable laughing made my heart pound. It felt as if I was on the verge of having a heart attack. I knew I was about to die laughing.

"What are you doing to him?" my secretary asked.

The belly dancer stopped, turned and stared in astonishment at my mousey secretary. I was just as surprised...and grateful for the possible rescue.

"Stay out of this," the belly dancer said.

"You leave him alone," my secretary countered.

Much to my surprise, my secretary aggressively advanced. They grappled, my little secretary tackling the taller woman to the floor. Her glasses went flying into the darkness. My secretary sat on the dancer, shook off the hair pulling, and repeatedly struck her until she was senseless.. She groped the belly dancer and found the key.

She stood and came toward me, looking pretty minus her spectacles.

"Oh Philip, are you ok?" she asked.

She unlocked the manacles and kissed me.

"Better, now that I'm saved. My heart was about to explode into bits."

"I was so worried."

"How did you know I was in trouble?"

"This woman is my cousin, the one who has been staying with me. I went home this evening and found belly dancer costumes along with her diary. She planned to lure and tickle murder gangsters in this building. That's when I realized you could accidentally become one of her victims."

"Thank God you came in time. Another minute and the masked bellydancer or the White Slave Avenger, as she called herself would have tickled me to death."
 
Enjoyed that very much. It's different and well written. Do write more
 
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