San Francisco, 1935.

x

Green. She absolutely hated the colour green with a passion. Yet everywhere she turned at the funeral, she saw green. Green wreaths, green buttonholes, green hats. Green for Ireland. Ironically, her late husband, Jack 'Piggy' Malone, wasn't even Irish. You had to go back generations to trace that connection. No, Piggy was as American as apple pie. He had loved watching Pop Warner's Stanford Cardinals Football team and going for a swim at Sutro Baths on Ocean Beach. His favourite place to eat was at Cliff House, where he always ordered the lamb chops. He met and fell for his future wife at Cliff House. Phoenix Delaure.

Blessed with legs that go halfway to paradise, a thin waist, and tits like pillowy clouds, this perfect personification of lust had swept Piggy off his feet. The stunning brunette was the kind of woman who could lead a man down the path to temptation with just a glance into her incredibly seductive eyes. She was elegant and classy as hell. Born to French parents, Phoenix had been in Gibraltar, that crazy big rock between Europe and Africa. She had studied ballet from the tender age of six, but as she matured, her budding tits became a hindrance to keeping her balanced. She had sailed to America at age twenty-five in search of excitement and glamour.

Here she had encountered Piggy. He had been knocked out by her French accent, good looks, and figure. Standing at five feet ten inches tall, she weighed barely 130 pounds. Since she had given up dancing, she had become a model, posing for fashion magazines and acting in a few small French films. She was well-versed in photo shoots and had people around her while she was semi-nude. Being a lover of the silver screen, she had thought him to be the spitting image of the film star Gary Cooper, but with a thin moustache. He had earned the nickname 'Piggy' from the way he snorted between chuckles when he laughed. Not one of his finest attributes. But he was a superb and attentive lover and was very well-endowed. Things the insatiable Phoenix would miss terribly. When in her twenties, she had taken numerous lovers, sleeping her way from Monaco to Paris. She loved fine clothes, flirting, and making love. And now she was a widow at just thirty years old.

x

Phoenix sighed as she got to the second floor of number 22, Grand Avenue. The door to her late husband's office had a frosted window upon which read, Jack Malone, Private Investigator. She opened the door to see his secretary, Judy Morris, at her desk, all dressed in black.

"Why, Judy? Surely you don't need to come to work now."

Judy smiled inanely and shrugged. Phoenix lit a cigarette and put it in her long black holder. Despite just being at the cemetery, the leggy brunette looked elegant and graceful in her dress of clinging black satin. She gave off an almost feline look with her curvy look and with her top-heavy bust thrusting out of a square-cut neckline. The long sleeves were full to the elbow, where her tight kid gloves in black took over. She lifted her veil, took a long drag on her smoke, and let it out in a slow exhalation through pouting crimson lips.

"Thing is, Mrs. Malone. They wouldn't take no for an answer."

Phoenix folded her arms under her hefty bosom and turned her attention to Jack's inner office. She could see the silhouettes of two men inside.

"They?"

"Two men. They didn't give names. They just asked for Jack. When I told them..." The middle-aged woman dabbed her watery eyes with a tissue. "When I gave them the sad news, they said they would wait for you."

"I see. Thank you, Judy. I shall deal with them."

Phoenix entered the office to see that the men had trashed the place. Cabinet drawers had been emptied, papers tossed to the floor, and the table was upturned. They looked at the tall vision of beauty on the threshold and stood still.

"Merci, gentlemen. I wanted to redecorate, and now you've saved me the trouble of hiring help."

"Where is it?"

"Excusez-moi?"

The two brutes were both over six feet tall with wide shoulders and large biceps under their cheap suits. Their crumpled fedora hats sat awkwardly on their heads. She wondered if there was any truth in the adage that the bigger they are, the harder they fall.

"I do apologise, but I haven't the faintest idea what you're referring to. My dear husband kept his business affairs to himself."

"Well, we ain't making tracks until we get it. We can do it the easy way or the hard way."

The one doing all the talking sneered at the ravishing beauty as she sighed heavily. He cracked the fingers of one fist and raised it menacingly. His watery eyes never wavered from their predetermined target, that being the member of the gentle sex. The other, shorter one kept thumbing his permanently broken nose as he leered at her.

"You would hit a woman? What a shame. I do detest violence. So be it."

The bemused thugs watched the voluptuous dame reach behind her back to unzip her dress. It fell to her heels with a whisper. She stood before them in her slip and stockings only.

"Check this out, Bill. The dame is a stripper."

The former ballet dancer suddenly went into the passé and then did a perfect pirouette. Her right leg came up, and she smashed the speaker full in the nose. Performing a delightful allegro and jete, Phoenix gave the other crumb three solid kicks to his solar plexus, and he duly collapsed to the floor. With an outstretched foot, she kicked the first goon in the nuts and he fell to the floor like a sack of shit.

"Had enough?"

The first one jerked back to life and turned to the half-dressed vixen. She kicked out, and the toe of her high-heeled shoe connected with his wedding tackle. He folded and went down on one knee. As he did so, Phoenix bent forward and brought her right leg up her back, over her head, and speared his hat with her spike heel. As they both rolled around moaning and groaning, the smug babe stood defiant with both hands on her hips.

"Good day, gentlemen. And take care of the stairs on the way out. The last step is a tad loose."

As she took a moment to gather her wits, the leggy brunette straightened her long gloves and fluffed up her hair that had gotten wild with the struggle. After the two goons had left, Phoenix pondered the meaning of the rude intrusion. What had been Piggy's last case? Had he discovered a theft of an expensive or desired item? She rifled through the drawer of his desk, but the contents were now and truly upset and trodden into the well-worn carpet. She stood up and looked out of the window at the view below.

"Mrs. Malone? I have a Miss Carmichael to see Jack."

"Merci. Send her in, Judy."

Phoenix should have known the dame was trouble from the moment she entered the office. The visitor had a tousled head of soft blonde curls. Her cerise mouth opened in a plaintive yawn as she seated herself. She looked around the office as she took a cigarette from a silver box and lit it up. She had a curvy body and a slender waist under her green dress, which accentuated the seductive softness of her hips and the sloping contours of her slim thighs. Green, thought Phoenix. Quite horrid.

"Feeling a little flushed?" asked the busty blonde.

Phoenix realised she was still only in her slip and picked up her dress. As she stepped into it, she motioned for the classy-looking woman to sit down in the chair in front of the desk. As they stared at each other from opposite sides of the desk, a pregnant pause came before the blonde blew more smoke from her Marlboro.

"So, where is Mister Malone?" she asked.

"I'm sorry to say that he died two weeks ago. An auto accident. I am his widow, Phoenix."

"I see. I'm sorry to hear that. And are you considering taking on his business?"

"I 'ave given no thought to the idea. Jack was the life and soul of the outfit."

"Indeed. Your husband. Your late husband was helping me with a very delicate and personal matter. Did he relate any of the details to you?"

"My husband never discussed his work, and I never bothered him in those matters."

"Is that a fact? The thing is, I had something for him to investigate. My banana is missing.”

"La banane? Ça alors!"

Phoenix looked at the woman and rolled her eyes in disbelief.

"When I say my banana. I mean my 'golden' banana. It's my luxurious yellow dildo fashioned from twenty-four-karat gold. It has a firmer touch than a typical dildo and runs cool to the touch. It warms up well, too, which makes it great for temperature play. I like to dunk it in warm water for a few minutes. And the curve, yikes! It’s just right for massaging pressure points on the front side of the vaginal wall, where it’ll bump up against the internal structure of the clitoris. I love it and it's worth fifty grand."

"Ah, oui. This makes more sense. I am reminded of the 'Queen of Montparnasse,' the outspoken Parisian model and actress who characterized the roaring twenties in its heyday. She exuded an unapologetic self-confidence, adorned in a daring mix of tulle, lace accents, and supple silk. She lived life to the full and indulged in pleasure-boosting sex toys."

"It was a gift from one of my dearest friends, Michael Papageorgiou. Maybe you have heard of him?"

Phoenix flicked ash from her cigarette and shrugged. She wouldn't have even been able to pronounce the name, let alone remember the man.

"He's quite well known in these parts, and he can be very generous. Alas, I seem to have mislaid the item. He will be very cross if I don't find it. He's even sent out some of his most loyal employees to turn the City upside down to locate it."

Indeed, thought the widow as she surveyed the ruined office of her late spouse.

“Where did you see it last?”

“I can’t remember,” she said, “but I’ve looked everywhere in my apartment and my workplace, and it’s just not there. I've already spoken to Mr. Malone previously, and he assured me that he would find it.”

Cartwright raised a brow and tilted her head slightly as she scrutinised Phoenix as she spoke.

"Have you called the police?" wondered Phoenix in a not-too-interested manner.

"No. No, I haven’t called the police,” Cartwright admitted. "This is strictly a private affair, which is why I involved Mr. Malone. Plus, it might warrant undue attention to my older paramour."

"Monsieur Papappa... Papagreooo..."

"Papagereurgio."

"I have no idea where he might have stashed it, even if he did locate the item. I shall make a detailed search and then get back to you. Where do you live?"

"It's a place just off Pacific Heights. I've written it down."

"Merci. I'll be in touch."

Barely five minutes after the curious visit from the blonde, Judy Morris announced another visitor to see her.

"Merde! This office is as busy as the traffic on the Avenue des Champs-Élysées!"

Phoenix could not help but sit up in her seat as she took in the ruggedly handsome fellow who sauntered in. He had the classic square jaw and well-knit masculine figure of someone who could attract any female. He was tall, six feet plus, with a mop of fair hair under his hat, a dimpled chin, and baby-blue eyes.

"Mrs. Malone? We've never met, but I knew your husband. I'm Detective Antoni Grabowski of the SFPD. Mind if I sit?"

"Non, go ahead. Café?"

"Not for me, thanks. I was sorry to hear of Piggy's demise. He was one of the good ones. Anyhoo, I see you just had a visit from Honey Potts."

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the door.

"Non. That was Miss Carmichael."

"Right. That's her real name, but she goes by the stage name of Honey. She's a dancer and stripper at one of the busiest joints on Terrific Street in the Barbary Coast. The Gold Rush. Feller by the name of Mick the Greek runs it."

"Ah, mais oui. Would that be Michael Papap, Paparoogoo..."

"Papageurgio. Probably the biggest racketeer in the Bay Area. Piggy knew him. What's the deal, anyways?"

"I 'ave no idea," answered she in all innocence.

"I like your accent. French, right?"

Phoenix nodded and smiled.

"And you?"

"Polish-American. It looks like you had a visit from some interior decorators. I recognise the work. Two goons named Bent Face and Hamburger Bill. Did one have a broken nose? They work as bodyguards for The Greek. Were they looking for anything in particular?"

"They never specified. Is there anything else I can 'elp you with?"

Grabowski shook his head and rose to leave. Phoenix also stood, and the red-blooded hunk's eyes lingered on her slim figure, which her dress outlined to perfection. Piggy had been a lucky guy.

"Not right now. If you ever need help, call the Department. These are ugly people and don't play games."

"As you wish. Au revoir."

x

Two days later, a curious Phoenix Malone looked smart and sophisticated as she drove in Piggy's Derby Bentley to Terrific Street. It was late in the evening. Around ten, she stepped into the Gold Rush Club. She wore a loose blouse with a high tie-neck and flounced sleeves that cascaded over the upper arm. Her Deco Panel skirt had a wide hem and had a belt and covered buckle, which gave it a flattering high-waisted look. The skirt reached mid to low calf and flared out at the bottom. A microphone voice boomed out as some sort of an introduction.

"Come on, fellers! Give it up for the Gold Rush Fancies!"

Bright lights blinded her temporarily as she entered the main floor of the strip club. The show, one of many during a busy evening, began with snazzy jazz music blaring out of loudspeakers as a semi-nude figure came onstage and threw her arms up and out to catcalls and whistles from the mostly male onlookers. The classy stripper pouted, gyrated, and fluttered her eyes as she played to the seated audience. Her big tits were then bared to all and bobbed alluringly in her chest. The firm moons of her rear cheeks quivered in front of three other girls who followed like obedient ducklings in tow. Under the stage light, Phoenix could not make out any faces but heard them nonetheless.

There was not much of a routine, just the women prancing and getting around to losing their bras. The main girl stood topless with her hands on her hips and attempted to jiggle her tits as best she could. Then, a mass of bubbles descended from the ceiling over the stage, and there was more raunchy strip music, which seemingly meant that it was time to remove the knickers.

"Get 'em off!" Came a chorus from the punters who shifted excitedly in well-worn seats.

One by one, the girls plucked up the courage to remove their sequined triangles of material. They all turned their backs to the audience and wiggled their rumps. Then, an about-turn to show off their exposed bushes. They quickly moved about in a simulation of ecstasy designed to ensure that the customers got a fairly good view of what was between her legs.

Phoenix had stood to one side in the shadows and looked at the lecherous paying customers with their shirts and trousers glued to their bodies with sweat. The air was thick with blue smoke and the stink of cheap liquor. On the filthy floor were numerous stains. Fifty percent alcohol and fifty percent of you know what. Nothing much actually happened on the stage, really, just a lot of flashing, dashing about, and being caught in the spotlight with nothing on. Still, even in 1936, it was considered fairly shocking at the time to see a young naked woman prancing about.

"Now let us see what's what."

Phoenix had not spied Honey Potts on this occasion, which was actually a boon as she wanted information about her rather than hear more of her side of the story. After two minutes, Phoenix made her quiet way backstage and sought out the main stripper of the show. She heard titters from all four corners as another set of girls prepared to do their act.

She saw the bubbly blonde as six other half-naked strippers dashed here and there. The woman was a knockout. Entirely naked save for a large jewel jammed into her navel and a plume of blue ostrich feathers atop her head. At six feet tall in her high heels, this bodacious woman had a body that was capable of stopping traffic during the Indianapolis 500! Blessed with an ample bosom, she also had legs that went all the way to her tush, where they got cheeky.

"Hi. I'm looking for Honey Potts. Do you know her?"

The blonde's eyes blinked rapidly from the thick cake of blue glitter on each of her eyelids. Her brows had been immaculately tilted up into exotic arches, and her mouth was a slash of glossy scarlet.

"That bottle blonde? Who wants to know?"

The stripper sat on a metal folding chair in front of a makeup table with a mirror that had a dozen naked bulbs bordering it. She busied herself with decorating her face with white powder and glitter stars. Her mouth was full and had just the right amount of lipstick to ooze sexual innuendo.

"Oh, we just met, and she told me that she worked here. The name's Phoenix. Phoenix Malone. And you are?"

"Gypsy Lee. Or Lois Lee on the street. I was number one around here once."

"Miss Potts mentioned a lost item she was eager to retrieve. Do you know of this?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. That slut isn't even a real blonde let alone a good stripper. She only got where she was by getting into Mick the Greek's pants. Now leave."

"Maybe I could take a look around."

As Phoenix moved about the small changing room, Lois eyed her up.

"You strip too? You have a nice body."

"Non. I have danced and acted some. Oh, what is this?"

Phoenix found a loose floorboard and scuffed it with the toe of her shoe.

"I said leave."

Lois rose from her table and pushed Phoenix in the face with the heel of her hand. Temporarily off balance, the French brunette took a tumble but managed to roll in the small confines of the room to land on her haunches.

"That was quite rude."

"If you want more, bring it on."

She fumed and then catapulted herself at the stripper with all her weight. Makeup and hair brushes fell to the floor as Phoenix straddled the other and dug her nails into her hair. The knee of Lois came up and forced Phoenix onto the floor beside her, boobs bouncing and feet flailing. Now Lois was on top of the tall Frenchwoman and smacked her face on either cheek. Phoenix scissored her silken-clad legs around the other's waist as they struggled. Phoenix reached out and grabbed a hairbrush and swiped it across the top of the head of Lois. When Phoenix got up, she noted that her crepe skirt had been ripped in twain, so she finished the job and tossed it into a corner. Now she faced off in just her blouse, underwear, and stockings. She crouched menacingly before the other and then slapped the busty female repeatedly in the bared tits.

"Bitch!"

"Salope!"

Lois grabbed the head of Phoenix and shook it from side to side as they circled each other in a bear hug. For a few moments, it was a stalemate. Phoenix rolled and twisted so that she was suddenly beneath Lois with her balletic pins around her head. She could feel a warm nose pressed hard against her mound under her knickers as she tightened her grip. Phoenix had a wetness now that dampened her undies. In her fervour, the delectable thighs of Phoenix felt soft and unyielding as Lois stopped struggling. Instead, she nuzzled her sex and pressed her lips on her mound. Phoenix relaxed and groaned in surprise at the change in tactics and let her legs spread out. Her gusset was moved to one side so that she could delve into her pussy with her tongue. Phoenix experienced a growing thrill in her belly as she held the head of Lois firmly on her cunt. She realised the tables had turned as the French beauty was caught up in a delirious sensation of delight. Her back rose and fell in a haze of pleasure as the two began to make out.

"You're one hell of a broad, you know that?"

"Stop yakking and eat me out."

Phoenix felt her cheeks burn as Lois probed her wet slit. As the blonde moved deeper inside her, Phoenix hummed in a blissful state from the consistent licking of her tight quim. It had been a while since she had let herself go sexually and as her pussy trickled she welcomed the rewarding arousal. She raised her head to see the stripper between her splayed pins and sucking on her ever-swelling clitoris. Lois buried her middle finger fully inside and lapped at her clit at the same time. Her entire loins became heated, and all sorts of moans and groans emanated from her mouth. Phoenix pushed against the stripper's face, loving the way she was being licked out.

"I am so wet!" Purred Phoenix as Lois sucked, slurped, and drank the clear juices from within.

Lois came up for air and swiped her tongue up and down, with her nose nestled on the hard button of the French beauty. Driven mad by this unexpected turn of events, Phoenix eventually came, and her juices flowed out of her muff and drenched the face of Lois.

"You like girls, too, huh? I love eating pussy when I get the chance. Say, do you like feathers?"

Lois plucked one of the ostrich feathers from her once-proud head display and fanned the bare body of the wilting Phoenix Malone. She moved the feather down her throat to her heaving bosom. She made huge circles around each perky breast, lingering at the under-swell of each. Phoenix had a gaping mouth from the exquisite touch of the light feather as each of her aching nipples was stroked in turn. Her back arched as Lois flicked at one nub as she nibbled on the other with her teeth. Once her nipples were like two bullets sticking out in relief from her firm tits, Phoenix hissed in delight as the feather was dragged across the soft roundness of her belly to the insides of her thighs, just at the point of the tops of her stockings. Lois moved from one to the other, tickling the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Her legs opened wider to allow it to move unhindered to her plump mound, where the tip of the feather collected the moisture there.

"It's like nothing I 'ave ever felt!"

Phoenix gushed as the feather was flicked backward and forward along her bush of dark pubes. Again and again, Phoenix bucked up in an attempt to capture more purchase on the tormenting brush. Her nails tore at her stockings in her lust-crazed state as the feather was traced up the crack of her ass to her clit. Just when she was about to explode, Lois whispered in her ear.

"How about a cock now?"

Lois ceased her sex play and jumped up in excitement.

"Quoi?"

She fiddled about by the feet of Phoenix and retrieved a pillowcase from under the loosened floorboard. She peeled back the cotton wrapping to unveil a shiny yellow object.

"La banane!"

The dildo had been beautifully crafted from gold. It resembled a half-peeled banana, and the open petals looked like a folded back foreskin. The shaft had a curious upward curve, unlike any other sex toy Phoenix had ever seen.

"I admit it. I stole this from Honey. That overbearing slut had it coming. If it weren't for her, I would have Mick fawning all over me. Try it."

The tapered head of the gold cock touched her pussy entrance and then pressed in. Phoenix felt her pussy lips open to enclose the head. She was about to be fucked by a woman! As more of the fake cock entered her she couldn't help but compare it with Piggy's dick. But she was soon grateful for the consolation of the golden dildo that slid in and out of her muff. It seemed absurd that she enjoyed intimate congress so soon after her loss, but she was at heart a sexual creature.

Her eyes closed as the yellow shaft curved up inside her beautifully, rubbing her inner walls superbly. Lois got onto her knees and began to move it slowly in and out. Phoenix was grateful for her natural lubrication as she coated the dildo. The penetration went smoothly, and she groaned with each thrust.

"Oh... my... goodness!"

Phoenix looked down as Lois concentrated on forcing the dildo to stretch out her pussy folds. Each inward stroke of the insistent spiral twisting caused the woman to experience an almost erotic agony. A guilty sensual stimulation that fired her up. Her legs kicked up as she panted for breath. Her hands became fists as she gave in to the unrelenting thrusting and her love juices dripped out from within the inferno that was her conquered cunt. Her thoughts went to Piggy and the wonderful love life they once had. Phoenix chuckled when her left leg was lifted. Lois lay on her side. In this position, the stripper simply banged the shit out of the brunette with the golden banana. She thrust it back in, not hard but with a steady pressure that had Phoenix tingling all over. She was so wet by now that there was almost no resistance, and she rammed it hard into her, making her gasp each time it filled her.

"Are you going to cum?"

"Oui!"

Phoenix embraced that wonderful feeling of orgasmic heat spreading out from her pussy and climaxed with an arched back. Her entire body was dappled with spots of perspiration, and as the dildo was pulled out of her cunt, she squirted a little moistness. She had been well and truly fucked by a banana!

x

"So, what now?"

As Lois checked herself out in her mirror and reshaped the plume on her head, she looked at the reflection of a very ruffled Phoenix.

"Can I borrow a dress? My clothing is ruined."

"Sorry about that, honey. There's a green cocktail number in the closet I use in my Saint Patrick's Day routine."

Merde! Green! Phoenix stepped into it as Lois waited with the sticky banana dildo in her fist.

"I 'ave an idea. There are always opportunities for American strippers at the Place Pigalle. I shall give you the address of a woman I know who will 'elp you. I suggest you leave the States if you want to live. I've seen what the Greeks' hoods can do firsthand."

"And the banana?"

Phoenix fixed her unkempt hair and smoothed the dress out over her hips.

"Give me the dildo and I shall see that it gets back to the rightful owner. Your name will not be mentioned."

"It's a deal."

x

It had been one of the longest days in the life of the thirty-year-old as Phoenix got back to Piggy's office at midnight. Judy had left hours ago, and she fully expected to find the place empty. But someone was waiting for her. Sitting behind the desk like he owned the place was a well-groomed individual dressed in a white tie and tails. Beside him were Honey Potts, Bent Face, and Hamburger Bill. She knew who this man was, even though she had never met him before. Lois told her that he had big-time mob connections and a rap sheet as long as her arm.

"Your name Malone?" he asked with a sneer in his voice.

"Phoenix Malone. Correct."

"Do you know who I am?"

"Mick the Greek?"

"Correct. And if you know me by that name, then you know that no one fucks with me."

The imposing man with greased-back black hair and diamond rings on each of his pinky fingers stood up and loomed over a slightly nervous Phoenix. He wagged an index finger at her as he continued.

"I hear you visited the Gold Rush. Find anything interesting?"

"Where is my dildo?" shrieked Honey as she stepped in front of her sugar daddy.

Phoenix slipped a hand into her purse and retrieved the precious sex toy.

"Where did you find it?"

It was sticking out of my pussy, Phoenix thought dryly but she just spread her hands.

"It just fell into my lap."

She sat in Piggy's chair and put her heels up on the desk in triumph.

"Come on, toots. Let's get going. I don't suppose we'll ever run into each other again. Malone was a decent dick. I hope you can move on and keep out of my way."

And with that, the party shouldered past Phoenix and all stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind them.

x

Six months later.

Judy opened the door to the office and introduced the very first client for Phoenix. On the door below the frosted glass window was a brass sign which read 'Phoenix Malone, Private Detective.' And below that was the promise, 'I get it done.' The office had new furnishings, and a brand-new carpet covered the floor. On the wall opposite the one window was a print of Piggy Malone with Phoenix standing beside him, taken with the Golden Gate Bridge behind them. Apart from the predominant desk, there were two chairs and a sofa in one corner.

"You handle divorce cases, don't you?"

"Oui, Monsieur Masters. I do. Amongst other things. Missing persons, legal issues, and surveillance."

The fellow cleared his throat and lowered his voice.

"It's my wife. I can't take any more. It's too humiliating. I have reason to suspect that my wife is cheating on me, and I want you to find out if it is true."

Phoenix took a long drag on her cigarette and sat back in her new leather upholstered chair."

"Tell me all."

To be continued...