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Mistle
Oct 11, 2005

Eckot's comic relief cousin from out of town
Grimey Drawer
"Listen, dame," I advised with the point of a finger, "there'a more dames here walking into private dick offices than pigeons in Central Park, you wanna know which office to saunter into and get your 'gams for days' line, you gotta be more specific--just saying 'that one goon detective' ain't gonna cut it."

The dame stared daggers at me with eyes narrowed into holsters for a dangerous stare. The smoky eyelashes were a solid 8: good shape, sharp taper, no smudges. The gams, however were only about a 5: her shortness wasn't doing her any favors, and the backseam actively rebelled by snaking up her shapely calves in a haphazard manner. A run in the seam emerged at the widest point of the lower leg, but this dame somehow kept it from racing top to bottom like a bootlegger delivering the VIP hooch, so I decided to revise my gams score to a 6; she knew how to work with the disadvantages dealt her way, but you can only bluff so much with a bad hand.

With an utterance of contempt and a sharp upturn of the chin, she sauntered by my desk, fancy heels clicking on the wood panel flooring, and expensive Parisian perfume silently whirling around the air thanks to the desk fan. It wasn't my preferred fragrance--a musky lavender--but it's going to make some poor shmuck's day to be stuck in a small detective office huffing her essence.

"Fourth door on the left," I leaned backward, toward her as she passed, "If nobody's there, you can wait or saunter up to the second floor, they're all womanizers up that-a-way."

I went back to my typing while a smug expression crawled in from the corner of my mouth. Clearly this dame didn't know the very obvious rule for detective agencies: you don't sass the secretary. I memorized all the detectives worth a drat, and unless she stumbled into them at a nearby bar, she's not gonna meet any of them, I'll make sure of that.

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Mistle
Oct 11, 2005

Eckot's comic relief cousin from out of town
Grimey Drawer
She rushed past the entrance, wetter than a rainstorm and not nearly as pleasant. She smelled of algae, the swampy kind. I could hear the poor floorboards groaning under the weight, hushed by all the moisture. On her back, several people threw a ball back and forth, polo-style.

I tapped the sign as I spoke, one that I tap way too often in this god-forsaken town.

"Dames with gams, not dams with games."

I regretted resuming my typing; all that humidity was just ruining my hair, like an exciting suspect chase, but without a suspect or the excitement.

Mistle
Oct 11, 2005

Eckot's comic relief cousin from out of town
Grimey Drawer
I watch the detectives file out with their sweat, whiskey breath, cheap tobacco stink, and their sweaty tobacco-and-whiskey-stained trenchcoats closed tight for the pea soup foggy weather outside. A good thing, I thought, as the whiskey and tobacco deliverydame has arrived. That's a real dame with real gams, and I'll be damned if I let her saunter into any detective's office. It was up to me to protect her, and for a face that beautiful I'd risk my life.

Maybe not my life, but for sure my job. This city is full of crummy detectives-- dime a dozen--but I could at least protect one dame's smile from them.

Mistle
Oct 11, 2005

Eckot's comic relief cousin from out of town
Grimey Drawer

redshirt posted:

You've got a freelancing nightly detective gig! If you want it.

No thanks. The secretary job is just as vital and dangerous as the detective job, just instead of bullets and badguys, I deal with the gammy dames, paperwork, and questionable clients, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Someone's gotta take care of the dames while the gumshoes are all out connecting the dots, after all.

Mistle
Oct 11, 2005

Eckot's comic relief cousin from out of town
Grimey Drawer

redshirt posted:

There I was, investigating this missing dame, and it's Channel 6's Judy Wong, the last lady I want to meet.

I had doubts about was I was about to do, but I couldn't just leave Judy Wong of all people missing with no leads.

"Chief," I hesitated to speak, "I got some decent leads on your Judy Wong. You could say me an' her gotta history togetha' and less than half of it's any kinda good. But even though we were on-and-off with each other, I gotta do right by a dame, especially a dame with great gams like her."

I carefully laid out some folders with a bunch of leads on the desk, clearly labeled.

"I, uh, I was lookin' for dirt on 'er as an ex-lover does, but it seems she's in something way deeper than a one-night stand in a seedy motel with an agency secretary."

The chief furrowed his brow in a way that made it clear that I was a suspect, but before he could say anything I raised my hand to say something more.

"Not every detective joint's hot about a sassy secretary that gets involved with dames, but me an' Judy, we jus' had a fling... well, maybe a few flings. It wasn't serious, but we did a little tit for tat... information wise, I mean. Anyways," I shook my head to clear my own doubts, "this here's a buncha profiles on the people's she's been known to buzz around, pictures n' all, when she's lookin' for a scoop about some low-down creeps like Jimmy 'Muscles' Muscoletti and Giorno 'The Joe' Giopetti."

I sauntered out the office like one of those detective's dames, feeling about as low as loose change that rolled into a city sewer grate, but knew I had a job to do. Those great danes were due to return any moment, and a sassy secretary at the front desk always put those mutts in their place. But Higgins--the sassy secretary guy in the short shorts--has the day off, and that leaves me to cover the front desk at times like these.

Retiring is out of the question for me; being a detective agency secretary is the only life I know how to live now.

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