Black Words-White Pages: Sesame Swallow by D. Scott Meek Tour

Sesame Swallow, Private Investigator

D. Scott Meek

Publication Date- November 13, 2013

Genre- Romance/ Mystery/Comedy

Blurb-

Looking for a chance to make a name for herself, Sesame Swallow, wanna-be Baltimore private eye, finds herself in the midst of her first real case and on a slipperier slope than usual to danger.

If Nancy Drew had come of age in the modern world, worn eye-popping short skirts and stilettos and drank Johnny Walker Black with the best of them, she would have been Sesame Swallow, a late-twenties party girl with an oral fetish straight from the not-so-hallowed halls of a local college and looking to make a splash in the shady world of private investigation. After months of questioning her career move, Sesame finally lands her first case: find a missing person, the web-famous wife of a local entrepreneur and wealthy businessman, but she’ll need to get her hands and her knees dirty to do the deed. A raunchy, laugh-out-loud adventure, this first in a series of seductive mysteries finds our sexy heroine doing what she does best: whatever must be done to whomever she must do it.

"I really enjoyed reading Sesame Swallow, there was a dark twist in the story line that just drew you in. The sex scenes were hot, and the connection to the characters was pretty deep. This story also brings to light a global crime that some may not even be aware of—human trafficking. I think it takes talent, like D. Scott Meek's, to bring a very real problem into a fictional story and make it work."

- Thom Cahir, author of "911 Avenged"

Sesame is in her favorite place doing her first research into the missing person, one Goldie Rains, an almost-famous internet porn star on her own website MakingItRain.com. Looking at porn in a public place can result in all kinds of interesting conversations.

*****Sitting in Starbutts with my tall, skinny, extra whip, white chocolate mocha and blueberry muffin was always enjoyable, and today was or was not an exception – the jury was still out. I had my favorite jeans on, the ones that hugged my ass just right, my white Towson Tigers Soccer hoodie – the tiger was pink and black like a little stuffed animal – and my hair in a ponytail, except for that one little bit that kept falling in my eyes. Comfortable and presentable, maybe even hot by the way I’d caught a few boys giving me the eye. I even had my tortoise shell-rimmed glasses on, my “academic look”, and I’d found the perfect kicks to go with my hoodie – black with pink swoosh. I gazed down at them and smiled, silently thanking Nike yet again for their outlet up in Lancaster. It was never too early in the day to look cute, and besides, my watch looked vaguely like noon, or was it more like one – I couldn’t quite tell because my vision was a little hazy still. Of course, there were a few downers. My head was on the very edge of exploding – probably accounted for the vision thing, and I’d taken as much extra-strength whatever as was possible without sending me into a coma. The pain was fading entirely too slowly, but there was some progress, and the stomach was not so much growling anymore, most of the muffin having disappeared down some dark hole recently reserved for other tasty snacks. Now, with a little caffeine, I was feeling content, if not fully alive. The patient was going to make it.

I was not raring to go, as my father would say. In fact, I was sure that I was supposed to be still sleeping. Wasn’t there a queen-sized bed with my name on it somewhere? I vaguely remembered being in it, and suddenly I was sure Bea still was. Bitch. I frowned, but the thought of her lying there naked in my bed reminded me of the other part of my body – besides my head – that was throbbing, and I squeezed my legs together. She’d expressly told me not to touch until I had gotten a move on in this case, and I didn’t want to disappoint her. To some degree she was right. I needed to get going on this thing and at least put some effort into earning the money I was looking at: ten grand. Otherwise, without a little forceful hand from a friend, I’d be spending most of my day in my yellow Towson Soccer baby doll t-shirt with my hands on my pussy, wasting the day away in an orgasmic frenzy – if she let me. I thought of the big yellow over-stuffed chair sitting in the sun next to bedroom window, my legs open and feet pressed against the warm glass – a window-washer’s dream come true – and I crossed my legs. Not now. As Bea said, if I was a “good girl” and made some progress, there would be something in it for me later. Double bitch. I was hoping it would be something large and hard, so I was going to be a good girl.

Back to work.

I focused on the muffin and stuffed the rest of it into my mouth, following it up with another swig of the mocha – what a combination! – and glanced down at my iPad again. I’d scrawled a few notes on it with my stylus using a very cool new note-taking app that I’d only downloaded a few days before. I stared at my handwriting, felt my eyes struggle to focus, and read off the notes I must have jotted down when I’d come in and was still operating in semi-sleep mode.

Lindsay Rains, aka, Goldie Showers. 23. MakingItRain.com. I tapped the icon next to the url and pulled up the site. It might give me something; it might not. It certainly gave me an eyeful. After the entrance page and typing in my year of birth – getting carded on the web was at least the stupidest thing ever invented – I was brought to the guest/intro page, and there was Lindsay, her torso anyway – from the top of her head to what looked to be just above her nipples, and her eyes shut as a clear liquid came squirting down onto her, splashing first in her hair and then onto her face. She made a little cooing sound and opened her mouth, where the stream was then directed. Then the clip restarted, and she was smiling at me, great big grey eyes, long eyelashes (piss-proof mascara?), and the tops of her massive jugs. The piss started again, and she took it with a smile.

I took a deep breath. Damn, the bitch really went for it. She figuratively, and literally, I guess, drank it down. I stared at it bewildered, not sure how I felt about it – I hated anything on my hair or face, which is why I always swallowed. But this was piss. Or maybe it was water and looked like piss – there was no way to tell now, but maybe it would be clearer as I went deeper into the site. Still, she smiled and she swallowed, and suddenly I wondered if that’s what I’d look like, and if I’d go for the hot steaming stream like she did.

I shuddered, and I squeezed my legs together. Not sure. Didn’t want to think about it.

Suddenly, from behind me, I heard a chuckle. I spun – too quickly, and my head screamed out in pain; I’m not sure if I screamed or not. Behind me, when my vision cleared, were two stupid boys, staring at my iPad. Jesus! Just what I needed – caught in a Starbutts watching a girl get pissed on and trying to decide if it was hot or not!

“Kinky,” said the douche on the left. He had his hat on backwards – clear douche sign. The other giggled and sipped his iced coffee through a straw. He was cute, but that made no difference to me at the moment; he could be the Crown Prince of CasholaStan, and I’d have kicked him in the balls. After all, they’d both nearly killed me by making me wrench around so quickly. And they both needed to – .

“Fuck off,” I grumbled through a polite-ish smile, keeping my voice low but forceful enough that they’d know what they were getting into. I hoped they could see the murder in my eyes.

“Say, sweetness,” said the one with the hat as he leaned down on the back of the chair, entirely too close for my comfort, making me wish I had a taser, “if you are looking for a little wet work, Bobby and I can probably oblige. Right, Bob?” Bob nodded, and I could see the sudden hope light up his face like a firework display on a dark night. Yeah, it’s early on a Saturday, and we are out sipping coffee and hoping to run into a girl who likes to be pissed on – what the fuck? Was this the real world? And then I realized it was the B, and in the B, stupid assholes were everywhere. They didn’t call it “Charm City” for nothing, right?

I squinched up my face as if I was contemplating it and then set them straight. “I tell you what, boys. If you are down, maybe later I’ll come by and show you what a hot shower is all about, huh?” They seemed to both brighten at the prospect, and if I’d looked, I’m sure I would have seen the hint of a boner in both, but I kept my eyes locked on theirs for the moment. “I have a thing for golden showers, as you can see, so if you boys are game, I can stop by and piss on you both. Is that cool?” The smiles faded away quickly, and I almost wanted to laugh. “Just both of you be naked and laying together, say in the tub, and I’ll pull my panties to the side and make it rain. What do you say? I love pissing on cute little boys like you. And afterward, maybe you can make out or jerk each other off. That shit makes me hot.”

They didn’t hang around. “Fuck you, freak,” said Douche Number One, and he walked off. Bob, the cute one, gave me the once over as they headed out the door, and he looked back again when they got to the door. Maybe he thought that was hot. Maybe he didn’t mind grabbing on his boy’s junk for a hot chick – hell, boys weren’t that bright around here from what I’d seen. As for me, well, I certainly would have enjoyed it – not gone through with it, of course, but the idea of pissing on those two dickheads suddenly made my head feel better. So did the idea of getting a taser. I giggled to myself as I watched them disappear and turned back to my business. Douches defeated; it was time to get serious.

About the Author

What's a mid-40's divorced man to do after wrapping up twenty years in the US Navy? Why, start a career in teaching and writing, of course. Oh, and explore the world some more. And read everything possible. And go back to school. And enjoy every moment to its fullest.

A teacher for the government by day, I ply my wares at night on my laptop, where I'm cranking out silly blog posts, socio-political commentary, poetry, short stories and novels at an excessive rate. If I was driving, I'd have been pulled over by now. Meanwhile, I have kids to raise, a girlfriend to love, and a spunky wiener dog named Sloppy Joe to goof around with.

Beyond that, I'm busy with life, having fun, working out, going to parties, traveling, etc. When I burn out and die, I want to be able to say that I did everything that was possible for me to do. I want to die like I live: with a smile on my face.

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