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I sat in my smoke-filled office, cigar in hand, feet on desk. The sign on the door said "PRIVATE DETECTIVE", the sign on my desk said "NO SMOKING".

Someone knocked, and I called them in.

She was a classy broad, not the type we usually saw around here. I motioned to an empty chair, and took another gulp of my cheap whiskey. She chose to sit on the desk, and lit a cigarette. Her sultry eyes took in our surrounds; the cracks in the ceiling, the reddish glow from the neon sign across the street, my chiseled good looks.... I was hypnotised by her red lips as she leaned in and blew smoke in my face, "I need your help". She was in trouble and I was in love. How could I refuse?

Swinging my feet off the desk, I nudged the sign, "No smoking Lady." She raised one eyebrow in quizical fasion and took a final lungfull of smoke in. I was begining to notice those long legs draped across my desk as she added her half smoked butt into my already overfull ashtray, "Better?" she again exhaled at me.

"You got a name Lady?" This causal game was driving me nuts, but I had learnt over the years that, bruises heal, the sun always rises, and chicks dig a slient type. "Doesn't a Lady get a drink anymore?" she pointed to the glass I had just put down, "Mind if I take my coat off?" She slowly raised herself off my desk and broke the spell, by turning away towards my battered hat stand. I took this time to notice the slight way she was favouring her left side, and the wince as she removed her jacket she couldn't hide.

I pulled my desk draw open and rumaged past my six-shooter and loose bullets to grab my other glass. It needed a clean. I wiped it as I placed it on the desk and slowly filled it with a generous two fingers worth of wiskey. I have also learnt that a sober client talks alot less.

The Lady settled into the chair opposite me, long legs crossed, her blonde flowing hair cascading around her shoulders. I pushed the glass towards her. She took a small sip, and coughed, looking to see if was watching. I chuckled to myself, her fascade was slipping and I knew I had unnerved her now. "So how can I help you?" I asked, leaning forward with my elbows on the desk in my best 'I'm about to listen to every word that comes out of your mouth, then fix all your problems' way. Clients like that too.

She took a deep breath and said...

Created for the Everything Quests - Smoking

future plotlines from here could always include:

Regarddless of what comes out of her mouth, it is in fact only a half truth. She actually shot her identical twin, who had been crossdressing and pretending to be her husband. (whether girl A knows this yet.. who knows) the whole thing is an insurace sham.
As i was posting this I thought, "she didn't even do it, her sister has done it and she's covering... but why???"

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