�I may not look like a girl who wants to get both hands on a dick; but I do�, she innocently sincered.

�My momma said if you want a good private detective, go see Sam’. Momma and Sam’s mom, Natasha Splayed, were raised same town, and volunteered cop together. They were doing great at police college till mom copped a slug in her spine on parole patrol. She’s still wheelchair; but you better believe there ain’t no one more independent than my momma��

I could hear the sweet tears of love in Honey’s voice, as she spoke of her ma’s tragedy, and for me it was instant dime drop.

�Honey Godmade! You’re Senta Olove’s daughter. Senta Olove who was Senta Godmade before she married�what was her husband’s name?�. I queried, as if it was quiz night at the precinct canteen, cruelly forgetting that I was talking in Honey’s sweet presence about Honey’s dearest ones.

�My other momma was�. is �. Plenty Olove, but Senta and she got a divorce, a year after my sis was born?� Honey informed, with sadness in her tone.

�I remember now!� I rejoiced. �Sam and you and your sis did school together. Your sister is Unica Lee Godmade, am I right, or am I right?�

�You’re right alright Charley�, Honey purr-mewed, with sadness hinting, and diamonds glinting edge her eyes.

I sensed that under the sweet smile and the golden giggle, this stunning babe had worry. She clearly knew how to knock another girl dead with her charms, but I somehowed that she used her weaponry to hide her shyness, and, just now, to disguise that she was tears, but for her determination not to show it.

If Honey was the product of her ma and ma making a withdrawal from a sperm bank, then that was the kind of bank account that offered great interest to me. Looking the doll over yet once more, as I couldn’t resist, I almost wished I had the means of making a deposit.

�Sam’s downstairs talking to our landlady right now. But she’ll be knocked out to meet you again Honey. I know she will. She recalled you and your sis to me many a time. She said you were the prettiest pair in the school, and that must mean something, cos Sam’s a great looker herself�, I smiled, thinking of Sam’s kisses.

�It’s about Unica�, Honey sighed.

And, just as I was looking to resist kissing the tears starting in her eyes once more, there came a knock on the opened door just behind us.

It was Mrs Hodson. Mrs Hodson, the landlady, with a very flushed and very pleased face. Mrs Hodson with a seraphic smile playing on her rather attractive mouth. My guess that Sam had been sipping from Mrs Hodson’s honeyhive two-minutes since, would account for her florid face, I was sure.

�Excuse me Miss Moans, but Sam�. I mean Miss Splayed said to say she’d had a call from a Lieutenant Pat McClit at the station house, and was going over right now to see her, and a Captain Kismet Lipps�if I have all that right.�

�You have it dead right Jonita�, I assured Mrs Hodson.

�Did Sam say what McClit and Lipps wanted see her for?�

�No. I’m so sorry Miss Moans. And I never thought to ask�

�No apology needed Jonita. Sam could and should have said; but no mind�, I comforted.

�Does that mean there will only be one for afternoon refreshment now, or would your lovely friend be taking Miss Splayed’s place?�

I turned to see Honey blushing at Mrs Hodson’s compliment, and without consulting, I turned back to Mrs Hodson, and nodded tiffin for two.

������.

It was a tradition that had come from old England to New England, and one that, with my English ancestry, I liked to preserve.

Honey and I stepped into the main room, and, Mrs Hodson carried in the rattling china on a silver tray with pot, spoons, sugar bowl, and milk jug to match. The tray was silently slid onto the table between Honey and me.

So the table was an overturned wooden crate right now. Come unpack and I’d have got the real deal. But unpack was time to come yet awhiles.

I beckoned Honey to sit, and watched her dress glide up her suspenders, as her hem took a hike and her thighs metamorphosed to magnificent monuments before my eyes.

As she sat, because she was still pirouette in her ballet shoes, her toe-tips still kissed carpet. In consequence, her calves were curves to crave, and her dress slid up so short she was surely kissing the goddam lucky chair with her unclad love cave.

Honey was knees to knees with me now, and I caught the scent with which she would have gloried her panties if only she’d worn some.

To hide that I longed to stroke her, I lifted the pot in my right hand, and ensured it was warm with my left, before raising Honey’s saucered cup, and filling it with the hot brew.

�You’ll like this Honey. It’s Asian. It’s from a specialist on the corner of Leaf Street and Main. A balanced mix of Indian and Chinese, specially imported from the far east, where the girls produce the finest.�

�Milk or sugar?� I enquired after passing her the cup, but Honey was already answering that enquiry with her lovely lips sipping the heavenly heavily scented concoction, just as it had come, straight from the pee pot.

She looked distracted and on the edge of distraught. Her innate good manners were to the fore though, as was her sensational bosom when she leant forward to rest her sipped-from cup back on the tray.

Suddenly I was realise that I was letting my longing to prolong her presence hold sway over my duties.

�Sorry Sam ain’t here, sweetheart, but if you lay down the dope on Unica, I’ll promise you my fullest attention. You’ll be my first PI case, so I’m okay for pro bono for a coupla three days. After that, we can agree a fee�.�

�Money’s not a problem Charley�, Honey overrid in her urgency to say her say.

�I’m clearing more in an hour than most girls my age get paid in a year. You’re looking at the fashion editor of Hi magazine’s US edition, save that the appointment up from deputy hasn’t been announced yet�.

�It’s Unica we, momma and me, are worried lots about. We both did college at Bale; Unica and me, but Unica was two years behind me of course? I majored in English; Unica went for mathematics, and was prize winner two years running, till socialising got the better of her�, I watched Honey’s lovely lips as she fragranced the air with her beautiful breath.

Unica fell in with a crowd. You know the kind of thing I’d guess. First it was the drink. She was downing at least two bottles every single night the finest French and Italian girl-pee it was too. She was living way beyond momma’s means.�

�Then she took up smoking: you know: down there�

As she indicated with her index finger to show the general direction of down there’, a rose hue arose on Honey’s perfect pale countenance.

�At first it was just tobacco; but I’m sure she was into cannabis. Then she began to white-line?�.�

As Honey hung her head in despair, I longed to comfort her, but knew I must stay professional. So I let her recover, and stayed silent till she wanted to talk some more.

Meanwhile I overed in my mind what she’d said so far.

Like she said, I’d seen it before. I’d done beat officer in the docks area one time. The sailor-girls there just loved a rough shag. Many a time, late at night, I’d seen them: dead drunk in a doorway, three months pay from away at sea, spent in one night, on cheap girls and expensive girl-pee, or else stolen by the goodtime girls.

There they’d be, the sailorettes, squatting on their haunches, drunk out of their minds, with their skirts up, their panties down, and a cigarette or else a joint between their lips.

Like Honey’d said, I’d seen it before. I knew it was horrendously addictive, even if it was only tobacco they took. I knew that once a girl got into cunt smoking, it was and is hell’s own habit to break.

As for white-lining, if Unica had also taken to wet-fingering coke into her sheath, she was already beyond what even rehab could rescue.

Cocaine gave a girl a hyper high that way. But it needed the purest grain. That cost an arm and a leg. Most girls would end up paying for it with their whole body. Unable to live without the high it gave them. Out of work, out of money, out of a home to live in, coke-cunts were on every corner in the filthiest quarters of the town, begging for the dough to pay for the mix for their next fix.

Men took advantage of course. A cock gave coke-cunts a similar thrill; but was always a let down, and no real substitute. A good poke with a finger laden with snow, and a frisk to crescendo of her own, could take a girl to multi-cum nirvana. No wonder the coke-cunts needed more and more.

This was cinch for my first PI outing. I coulda told Honey where to go to find her sister pretty sure to show. Coke-cunts needed dollars by the heap. More wants more when the vagina gets a taste of good blow. And more wants more money in consequence.

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