Sin in the City of Angels

  Sin in the City of Angels

  A Noir Choose Your Own Erotic Story

  By Callista J. Hawkes

  @CallistaJHawkes

  Text Copyright © 2017 Callista J. Hawkes

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be copied or reproduced in any format, electronic or otherwise without prior written permission.

  Cover photo:

  © Carlo Dapino / Dreamstime.com (Model)

  © Albund / Dreamstime.com (Background)

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, alive or dead, is purely coincidental. All persons portrayed in this eBook are 18 years of age or older.

  This eBook contains sexually explicit situations and terms and is intended for a mature audience only.

  Introduction

  As a choose your own Erotic story, this book contains multiple paths leading to several different endings. At the end of each section, you will generally be given two or more choices. To progress, simply select your preferred option to continue the story. (No need for the page-flicking back and forth of similar books of yesteryear!) When you reach an ending, you can either skip back to the previous choice or choose to go to the chapter menu. Here you can start the story from the very beginning and enjoy an alternative path through the whole story, or skip to a later section to see how events might play out differently.

  You can hear the click of stilettos ten seconds before her silhouette darkens the frosted glass of your door. You quickly throw the whiskey bottle and glass into a drawer and close it just as the door handle squeaks as she turns it. The door swings open and she walks purposefully into your office. Strips of golden sunlight shining through the slats of the venetian blind behind you wrap around her tall and slender body. Her hips sway as she glides across the room to stand before your desk. An elegant pale blue dress clings flatteringly to her slim body, the hem revealing a tantalizing glimpse of toned legs before her ankles disappear into a pair of expensive looking high heels. A classy broad.

  “Mr Harlowe?” She inquires, reaching up and brushing some errant strands of her long blonde hair behind an ear.

  “That’s what it says on the door, lady.” You reply gruffly. Her blue eyes flick around the room. Her nose wrinkles and she sighs as if your office, your building, hey, probably your whole neighborhood is beneath her. Looking at this dame, it probably is.

  “Good afternoon Mr Harlowe. My name is Viola Vandergraaf.” She tells you her name like it should mean something. It does of course: The Vandergraaf family is one of the richest families in L.A., ever since they struck oil some fifty years earlier. You gesture to the seat opposite your desk which after a cursory glance of disdain at the battered chair, she reluctantly accepts, the hem of her dress riding up above her knee.

  “What can I do for you?” You ask, sitting up straight and wondering if she can smell the whiskey on your breath.

  “I believe my husband is trying to have me murdered.” She tells you. You raise an eyebrow.

  “That’s quite a claim, lady.” You reply. “What do you base it on?”

  “Five days ago, I was crossing a street and a car nearly ran me down.”

  “Accidents happen.” You shrug. “Sounds like you’re being a little paranoid.”

  “The car accelerated and swerved to hit me!” She protests. “It missed me by a whisker. Then yesterday the same car mounted the sidewalk and tried to hit me again! It’s only paranoia when they’re not out to get you.” You lean forward, your curiosity piqued.

  “What makes you think your husband is behind it?” You ask. She gazes at you coolly for a moment before opening her purse and pulling a small silver cigarette case from inside.

  “You mind?” She asks, flipping open the case.

  “Be my guest.” You grunt, pulling out your zippo lighter. She leans forward and takes a cigarette between her ruby red lips. You reach out and click the lighter open. The cigarette tip glows as the flame flickers over it. She pulls back and takes in a deep lungful of smoke before slowly exhaling, her blue eyes gazing back at you through the fog.

  “My husband is a very rich man.” She begins. “We married when we were young and naïve. We were very much in love but that was then and this is now.” She pauses, flicking some ash into the ashtray on your desk. Her gaze distant, her eyes full of regret. “Suffice to say, we have grown apart. We haven’t been… intimate for some time. I suspect he has taken a lover and is having an affair. It would seem he would rather see me dead than go through a messy public divorce and payment of alimony.”

  “Sounds like a job for the cops.” You shrug. “I’m a private investigator.”

  “I want to be discreet.” She tells you. “The Vandergraaf family is extremely wealthy. If I go the police with this, it would be all over the newspapers the next day. I need you to quietly investigate him.”

  “So you want me to find some evidence and prove your husband’s trying to kill you.” You reply.

  “He is.” Viola tells you firmly. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. So how about it Mr Harlowe? Will you take the case?”

  Take the case

  Turn the case down

  “Sorry.” You tell her. “I’ve got a full caseload at the moment. Perhaps someone else?”

  “I don’t want someone else, I want you!” Viola implores you, her eyes watering. “Please, Mr Harlowe, take the case. I have an awful feeling that if you don’t, they’ll be dragging my body out of a ditch in the next few days. There’s been two attempts already. Please don’t let there be a third!”

  Reconsider and take the case

  Stay firm and turn the case down

  “Knock it off, sister.” You tell her, throwing your handkerchief across the desk. “Save your tears for someone who still has a heart.” Viola dabs at her eyes and glares across the desk at you, her anguish quickly turning to anger. She stubs her cigarette out in the ashtray on your desk and rises to her feet.

  “My opinion of you was already very low Mr Harlowe.” She tells you coldly. “And yet you have still managed to disappoint me.”

  “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.” You growl, losing your temper. She storms out, the door slamming shut behind her, the click of her stilettos fading rapidly as she hurries away down the corridor beyond. You shrug your shoulders and open your desk draw, retrieving your whiskey bottle. You pour a glass and swig it down, the altercation already forgotten.

  THE END

  Go back a few moments and rethink your actions

  “I’m a sucker for a nice pair of legs.” You smile. “I’ll take the case. My fee is twenty-five dollars a day plus expenses.”

  “Thank you Mr Harlowe.” She smiles, her relief palpable.

  “You might not thank me later.” You tell her. “Most wives don’t like what I find when I investigate their husbands.” She smiles grimly.

  “I think you’ll find I have thicker skin than most.” She stubs her cigarette out in the ashtray on your desk and rises to her feet. “I look forward to hearing from you.” She turns and walks back towards the door, your eyes sliding down to her narrow waist and her firm buttocks, the thin fabric of her dress stretched tightly across them. As she disappears through the door, you allow yourself a smile. An attractive broad. If her old man really is trying to bump her off, he must have a damn good reason. You reach for the telephone, picking up the receiver and pressing it to your ear before dialing.

  “Paige? Yeah, it’s me… Same as always… Look doll, I’ve got a job for you… Yeah right away.” You replace the receiver and recline back in your chair, opening the drawer and retrieving the whiskey bottle and glass.

  Half an hour later, Paige stroll
s into your office.

  “Sam.” She smiles, closing the door behind her. You drain the last of your whiskey glass and allow your gaze to linger on her. Her shoulder length dark hair is immaculately styled as always. Her creamy white blouse and dark gray skirt are tightly fitted around her slim form and her slender legs are clad in nylons. At twenty-three, her skin still has that youthful glow and her pretty brown eyes still sparkle with the life that has long since been dulled in your own. She’d traveled from the Midwest to Hollywood five years earlier with visions of stardom. Like so many others, she’d found only disappointment and shattered dreams. While she was no Rita Hayworth or Lauren Bacall, she was pretty enough, but there were thousands just like her in Hollywood. Maybe she lacked the on-screen magnetism, maybe she just hadn’t had the breaks. Hell, maybe she was just a crummy actress. Still, Hollywood’s loss, your gain. She worked a few hours a week for you, which paid for the rent on her squalid little apartment nearby while giving her enough time for the occasional audition. She worked part time as your secretary, typist, cleaner, maid or whatever the hell else you needed her to do.

  “Paige, I need you to go to the public records office and get me everything you can get your hands on for Viola Vandergraaf and her husband, Neville.”

  “Really?” She pouts. “You know how hot it is out there?” She saunters across the office and perches on the end of your desk, the top two buttons of her blouse open, the soft curve of a breast visible through the gaping garment. “I can think of better ways to spend the afternoon.” She purrs. “Whaddya say Sam?”

  Why not? The case will wait

  You don’t need any distractions

  “Sure.” You grin. “Nothing like a little afternoon delight to get the blood pumping.” She smiles, sidling around the desk to sit before you. Her chestnut brown eyes lock onto yours and she begins to slowly unbutton her blouse. She peels it open and you reach up, squeezing her breasts through her ivory colored bra. You smile and open your mouth to speak.

  “I know.” Paige rolls her eyes at you. “There are two good reasons you hired me!” She leans forward and presses her lips to yours. You kiss passionately, your cock stiffening as your excitement builds. Paige pushes off the edge of the desk and into your lap, propelling your chair back towards the window behind you. Her fingers work at the buttons of your shirt, her lips still pressed to yours, her tongue darting into your mouth. As she opens your shirt, one hand slides lower, cupping the growing bulge in the front of your slacks. She coos appreciatively, beginning to rub it through your pants.

  “Damn Paige,” You groan, “You sure do know your way around a man.”

  “I like to think acting’s not my only talent.” She chuckles. You resist the urge to make a sly disparaging remark. After all, only a fool would insult a woman while she pleasures him. You hear your fly being unzipped and feel her hand fishing inside before grasping your throbbing shaft. She pulls it free and begins to stroke it, her hand sliding up and down slowly but firmly.

  “Now, what shall I do with this?” She grins.

  Ask her to take it into her mouth

  Guide it inside her

  “I’ve an idea.” You tell her, reaching beneath the hem of her skirt that has ridden up to the tops of her thighs. Paige bites her lip to stifle a moan as your hand slides up past the lacy tops of her nylon stockings before grazing over the smooth flesh of her inner thighs. She gasps as your fingers brush across the cotton gusset of her panties. You grin as she trembles at your touch, her eyes closing and a low moan escaping her lips as you slide your fingertips along her slit, the thin material moist with her excitement. You hook your fingers inside the gusset and yank it to one side. Paige gasps, her eyes flicking open, her lust filled gaze meeting yours.

  “Do it.” She begs. “I need you inside me.” She shuffles forward a few inches, guiding your straining cock to her sopping slit. You both groan in unison as she presses the tip between her labia and lowers herself down onto you. Biting her lower lip, she slowly slides down your aching length until your whole cock is buried inside her.

  “Damn, that feels good.” You grunt, your hands sliding back up her body to peel back the open blouse. Paige shrugs it off her shoulders while your hands slide behind her and deftly unhook her bra. She pulls the straps off her arms and tosses it over her shoulder onto your desk. You gaze at her full breasts, the dark areolas and hard buds of her nipples just begging to be sucked. You lean forward, trapping one between your lips and gently sucking on it before doing the same to the other.

  “Yes, oh yes!” Paige moans, cradling your head. Your chair creaks as she rocks her body back and forth, your cock sinking deeply inside her every time she thrusts down into your lap. You can feel your balls tightening as you feel your climax beginning to build. At that moment, you hear the familiar click of stiletto heels approaching your door. Mrs Vandergraaf is returning!

  It’s too late to disguise what you are doing

  Quickly move into your adjoining bedroom and pretend you are out

  “Someone’s coming!” You hiss at Paige. Her eyes widen and she quickly clambers off you. “Into the bedroom!” You whisper, stooping to pick up her blouse and dragging her towards the door. You close the door just as the office door begins to open. You stand with your ear to the door, your hard cock still poking through your open fly, listening as footsteps enter the office.

  “Mr Harlowe?” You hear Viola call out. “Hello? Mr Harlowe?” After a pause you hear the chair before your desk scraping on the floor as it is dragged back. “Oh! Hmmm.” She adds with a disapproving tone. After a few moments you hear the chair shift again and Viola’s retreating footsteps before the office door closes behind her. You open the door a crack and move back into the office. A small oblong of paper sits in the center of your desk. You move closer, reading a check made out to you from Viola Vandergraaf for five hundred dollars. Three inches away is Paige’s discarded bra. You grin to yourself before wandering back towards the bedroom door, your semi-hard cock swaying from side to side. You push the door open to find Paige is sprawled out on the bed before you, naked apart from her tan stockings and garter belt. Her legs are parted and her right hand is idly teasing her clit.

  “Now Mr Harlowe.” She purrs, “Where were we?” You flash her a smile and quickly pull off the rest of your clothes before clambering onto the bed to join her. Your cock has quickly returned to its fully engorged state and you guide it back to her pussy, pressing the tip between her puffy labia. Paige moans with delight as your shaft slides easily back inside her and she wraps her legs around yours, pulling you in tighter. As you begin to thrust into her, she rakes her nails down your back, moaning with pleasure, her hot breath against your cheek. As you find a rhythm, you can feel a tingling in your balls as your excitement builds.

  “Yes, yes!” Paige gasps, as you thrust inside her. “I want to feel you erupt inside me. Come for me! Fill me with your seed!” You are only moments away and gaze into her face, her chestnut brown eyes filled with lust as you drive into her.

  “I’m close.” You warn her.

  “Do it!” She tells you, her face contorted with pleasure. You feel your balls twitch as your come races up your shaft to explode deep inside her. The sensation sends Paige rushing to her own climax, her body trembling beneath you as you grunt with each powerful eruption. Her eyes are closed and she pants breathlessly as her orgasm sweeps through her. You groan as the last of your seed spurts into her raw, quivering body and roll off to lie next to her, panting for breath. You gaze up at the ceiling fan, grateful for the gentle breeze against your body. It was already hot as hell and your vigorous physical exertion has made you both hot and sweaty. Paige leans over and rummages in the nightstand draw, pulling out a packet of Lucky Strikes and a lighter. She takes a cigarette and puts it to her ruby lips, lighting the tip. She inhales deeply before exhaling a long plume of smoke.

  “You’re something else, you know that?” You tell her, just about getting your breath back.”


  “Uh huh.” She replies, rolling onto her side and propping herself up on an elbow. “You’re not so bad yourself.” She smiles and reaches for your wilting cock, playfully squeezing it, your shaft still sticky with her juices.

  “Still, time to get to work, sweetheart.” You tell her.

  “What?! But...” She protests.

  “We’ve had a swell time and all, but I still need you to get those records for me.” You tell her firmly.

  “You’re a rotten son of a bitch, you know that?” She objects, climbing off the bed and quickly dressing.

  “I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart.” You sooth.

  “You’d better.” She pouts, before storming out of the bedroom, the office door slamming shut a moment later.

  Continue

  With your clothes either in disarray or scattered on the floor around you, there is no time to get dressed before you are discovered. You thrust up into Paige, her squeals of delight echoing around the room just as the door creaks open. Paige had evidently been so wrapped up in her enthusiastic riding of you that she had not heard the footsteps. She gasps, glancing over her shoulder as Viola Vandergraaf steps through the door. Viola stops dead in her tracks, her mouth dropping open and her eyes widening in shock

  “Mr Harlowe! I… I…” She stutters, tearing her eyes away from you and turning to face the door. “It would appear you are currently occupied with other matters so I shall return when you are… decent.”

  “That would be just swell Mrs Vandergraaf.” You smirk as she pulls open the door to leave. Just as she does, she casts a furtive glance over her shoulder and you think you detect the subtlest hint of a smile play across her lips. The door shuts behind her and you hear her rapid footsteps in the corridor as she hurries away.

  “That’s our new client?” Paige asks.