Chapter Five
Harry sent a text to Claire, in hopes she would respond.
Harry: It is lonely here without you, can’t write…please call
Claire:
No response. After an hour of staring at his phone, his eyes started to grow tired. Claire had taken the TV, so unless he wanted to start a new series on Netflix, the games on his phone was the only entertainment.
It buzzed on his chest, lit up to alert him that he had received a message.
He opened up the screen, stared at the unknown number and remembered he had placed an ad. It must be a potential client.
Harry sat up, opened the text and let his mouth fall open as he stared at the image that was sent to him. A large black woman, her breasts so large they hung to her oversized belly, and her legs spread wide open revealing a very large, surprisingly, very pink pussy.
Unknown: Can you send me a picture of your dick….
Harry was shaken by the request, confused by the image, and unable to think of a proper response before his phone buzzed again.
It was another unknown number, but this time from someone other than the black woman with the wide pink pussy.
Unknown: Are you available tonight?
Harry was relieved to have finally received a legitimate response to his ad. He decided to ignore the woman, answering the new unknown texter instead.
Harry: Yes, what do you need?
Unknown: Your private dick please…
Harry again was left with confusion. The text did not feel professional, but more sexual in nature.
A picture was sent immediately after the last text. It was a man, fat, hairy, and naked. He was on all fours, his cock and balls dangling between his massive thighs and his ass spread open towards the camera.
Harry: I’m afraid you have the wrong guy…
Unknown: You’re a private dick for hire, right?
Harry: Yes….
Unknown: Then, I would like to hire you to fuck my hairy hole with your big dick…it is big, right?
Sam scrambled to get the picture from his phone and dialed Sam’s number.
“Hey Harry,” Sam answered.
“Hey Sam,” Harry replied.
“Everything ok?” Sam asked.
“No, I’m getting a lot of response from my ad,” Harry said.
“Well, why is that bad?” Sam asked.
“The responses are a little strange,” Harry said.
Sam was unwittingly capable of understanding what Harry meant, so he forwarded him the texts he had received just recently.
Sam busted out in laughter over the phone once the texts were received on his end.
“Holy shit,” he exclaimed.
“Yeah, what do I do?” Harry asked.
“I supposed that private dick for hire could mean a male prostitute…” Sam said.
“Yes, I’m getting that connection, Sam. What do I do?” Harry asked, somewhat irritated by his friends indifference to his serious situation.
His phone had buzzed several times while talking to Sam. He checked out the images, most of men, but a couple of women, and read the texts to Sam as he continued to laugh at his discomfort.
“Maybe change the title, like private detective services for hire…” Sam suggested.
Harry was frustrated that he had listened to his friend in the first place, but he knew he was right. The term ‘private dick’ wasn’t used by many anymore, with the exception of Sam, who had used it so much recently that it stuck in Harry’s mind when making the ad.
“Ok, I’m changing it now,” Harry said.
“Forward me anymore pics you get, but only from the women please,” Sam said.
Harry opened the laptop, deleted his Craigslist ad and started over. The title was changed to Private Detective Services for Hire, with the other details left the same.
A picture popped up, a young girl, maybe 20. She had long blonde hair, small breasts, and wore a G-string, barely covering her plump, pink pussy lips.
Harry deleted all the pictures, except that one and laid back down on the couch. His phone rang, so he answered without checking who the caller is, and assumed it was Sam.
A woman on the other end of the phone said ‘hello’. Harry paused, unsure if he should respond or just hang up.
“Hello,” he said softly.
“Did you get my picture?” she asked.
Harry’s cock hardened at the thought this could be the beautiful young blonde in the picture. He was willing to forego his morals just for one night and become the private dick this woman so desperately needed.
“Yes,” he said.
Her voice was soft and sweet. She sounded young, blonde, and just like the woman in the picture he had saved.
“So, do you come to me, or do I come to you?” she asked.
“I can come to you,” he said.
He felt his cock twitch. The thought of being inside this woman made him want to cum in his pants. He knew he would have to jerk off before arriving, just to ensure he could have the stamina he needed to offer the satisfaction-guaranteed promise.
“How much, and what do I get?” she asked.
“Whatever you want, $100?” Harry answered with more of a question in his tone.
He wasn’t sure what hookers received, especially male ones. He would have paid her for sex; he knew Sam wasn’t going to believe he was getting paid to fuck her.
“1245 South Front street,” she said.
“Give me 40 minutes,” Harry said, realizing he needed some time to jerk himself off and then recoup before arriving to her doorstep.
“I can’t wait…” she said softly and then hung up the phone.
Harry jumped into the shower, pulling on his hard cock as he killed two birds with one stone. His erection was tight and hard, his hand slippery and wet, making it easy for him to push out his juice onto the shower floor.
He dressed in his best brown slacks, a tweed blazer with a tan shirt underneath and a pair of loafers with only a few scuffs. After squirting himself with some cologne, he picked up his phone and checked the message that was left.
Unknown: I hope you don’t mind, I’ve started without you….
Harry’s heart raced as he opened the image that was sent along with the text. He couldn’t wait to see the little blonde again, hopefully this time without the lace panties.
The large black woman appeared on all fours, her ass spread open and a pink dildo hanging out from between her legs. Harry felt sick.
Harry: Sorry, got busted. I can’t show up, and don’t call again. They are taking my phone…
He fell onto the bed, feeling the warmth of the mattress. Claire had taken the sheets and all the other bedding, but he didn’t care. He had just avoided a very awkward situation, and he was impressed with his quick thinking. Maybe he would be a great detective, he thought to himself, but he was certainly not a very good male prostitute.
The End of Book 1 of 5
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The Bedroom Detective (Book 1 of 5) Page 5