Part 1: The deal
The plaque on the door was tarnished and one could barely make out the writing: Ted Lee, Private Investigative Services. A small desk lamp provided the only illumination, as the dingy skylight was displaying the overcast day outside. Ted was hunched over his clutter desk, going over the rolodex of previous clients for the past 5 years. His white sleeveless t-shirt and tight khakis were already clinging to his skin. With the air conditioning unit on the fritz again, the whole office, tiny as it was, reeked of sweat and deodorant. The wad of unwashed clothes piled on the overstuffed leather love seat gave off a hint of semen, probably from those nights spend alone here fighting off his frustration and need for relief.
Up to three months ago, business was fairly brisk and he had a bankroll, and then some. The last active case changed all that, almost in a blink of an eye. Now there were no calls and regular clients did not return his calls. These were desperate time, to put it mildly.
A sharp rap on the door, followed by a gush of hot air, brought Ted out of his depressed stupor. TJ Delfino let himself in and plopped half his ass on the edge of the desk. He and Ted met at the Training Academy during their rookie year with NYPD. TJ took to the job with great success, having the looks, personality and skills to master policing. He made detective after less than five years, and was being groomed for higher positions within the department. Ted, on the other hand, became disenchanted with the rigid military structure and ethnic ass-kissing that permeated the organization, and left after a year on the beat. He finished his AA degree in Criminal Justice and took out a license for private investigation. He found the work generally rewarding, sometimes sordid, but always providing the income he needed to maintain his low-maintenance lifestyle.
TJ had that sleepy-eyed look that always made one think of seductive “bedroom eyes”, matched by a slight stubble on his lower half of his face. Not unexpectedly, he was a gym fanatic, buff but not a muscle-head like some of his compatriots on the force. Being on plainclothes duty all the time now allowed him to dress in street jock fashion His open denim shirt with cut off sleeves showed off his well-developed guns. A grungy “wifebeater” undershirt was stretched over well-developed pecs, and hinted at nipple jewelry underneath. A pair of frayed skinny faded jeans provided peeks in strategic areas, most prominently the crotch tear that offered a teasing view of his left nut and blond fuzz. Unlaced hi tops completed his undercover costume.
His ass sort of grinded on the desk, leaning toward Ted, as he let his left hand run down his outlined cock.
“Teddy, my boy”, TJ started out, knowing how Ted hated being referred by that nickname, and more so by the “boy” putdown. “Things aren’t buzzing in this joint like it used to, huh?”, as if he didn’t already know the situation.
Ted’s response was to push back on his desk chair, arms behind his head, exposing his soaked pits. His khaki slacks were already unbuttoned and slightly unzipped to offer his body heat some escape, and he purposely spread them wider. He was always commando and this was obvious in the damp bulge that protruded from his left side.
TJ took up the response by placing his right hand on Ted’s knee, just below the outlined cock. He looked Ted in the eye, just an inch away from his face.
“I think I can help you out here, maybe get things rolling again for your business. Of course, I’d get something out of it for my job, so it ain’t all charity. Interested?”
The plaque on the door was tarnished and one could barely make out the writing: Ted Lee, Private Investigative Services. A small desk lamp provided the only illumination, as the dingy skylight was displaying the overcast day outside. Ted was hunched over his clutter desk, going over the rolodex of previous clients for the past 5 years. His white sleeveless t-shirt and tight khakis were already clinging to his skin. With the air conditioning unit on the fritz again, the whole office, tiny as it was, reeked of sweat and deodorant. The wad of unwashed clothes piled on the overstuffed leather love seat gave off a hint of semen, probably from those nights spend alone here fighting off his frustration and need for relief.
Up to three months ago, business was fairly brisk and he had a bankroll, and then some. The last active case changed all that, almost in a blink of an eye. Now there were no calls and regular clients did not return his calls. These were desperate time, to put it mildly.
A sharp rap on the door, followed by a gush of hot air, brought Ted out of his depressed stupor. TJ Delfino let himself in and plopped half his ass on the edge of the desk. He and Ted met at the Training Academy during their rookie year with NYPD. TJ took to the job with great success, having the looks, personality and skills to master policing. He made detective after less than five years, and was being groomed for higher positions within the department. Ted, on the other hand, became disenchanted with the rigid military structure and ethnic ass-kissing that permeated the organization, and left after a year on the beat. He finished his AA degree in Criminal Justice and took out a license for private investigation. He found the work generally rewarding, sometimes sordid, but always providing the income he needed to maintain his low-maintenance lifestyle.
TJ had that sleepy-eyed look that always made one think of seductive “bedroom eyes”, matched by a slight stubble on his lower half of his face. Not unexpectedly, he was a gym fanatic, buff but not a muscle-head like some of his compatriots on the force. Being on plainclothes duty all the time now allowed him to dress in street jock fashion His open denim shirt with cut off sleeves showed off his well-developed guns. A grungy “wifebeater” undershirt was stretched over well-developed pecs, and hinted at nipple jewelry underneath. A pair of frayed skinny faded jeans provided peeks in strategic areas, most prominently the crotch tear that offered a teasing view of his left nut and blond fuzz. Unlaced hi tops completed his undercover costume.
His ass sort of grinded on the desk, leaning toward Ted, as he let his left hand run down his outlined cock.
“Teddy, my boy”, TJ started out, knowing how Ted hated being referred by that nickname, and more so by the “boy” putdown. “Things aren’t buzzing in this joint like it used to, huh?”, as if he didn’t already know the situation.
Ted’s response was to push back on his desk chair, arms behind his head, exposing his soaked pits. His khaki slacks were already unbuttoned and slightly unzipped to offer his body heat some escape, and he purposely spread them wider. He was always commando and this was obvious in the damp bulge that protruded from his left side.
TJ took up the response by placing his right hand on Ted’s knee, just below the outlined cock. He looked Ted in the eye, just an inch away from his face.
“I think I can help you out here, maybe get things rolling again for your business. Of course, I’d get something out of it for my job, so it ain’t all charity. Interested?”
