Periwinkle Pinch

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    Periwinkle PinchPussy Willow Series 3

    by

    XTICKS

    Clickfor more titles from this author.

    copyright 2012

    -disclaimer-

    This story is a work of fiction. Any

    resemblance to actual events, places,

    or persons is strictly coincidental.

    This title contains subject matter

    suitable for

    -adults only-Please ensure you are over the age of 18 years

    old before reading this title. Also, be sure tocheck the laws, in your local jurisdiction,

    applicable to the reading or consuming of

    materials intended for adults, before reading

    this title.

    XAMBooks| Toronto, Canada

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    Three

    I had flown over the island of Martinique a few

    years back on my way to Barbados on the tail

    of some cattle thieves. I remember thinking at

    the time how serene the waters were

    surrounding the island from 200 feet in the air

    the serenity also flowing inwards to the lush

    green vegetation below me. A couple of hours

    into my usual Friday evening that begins

    officially at 2 pm once a week I got a call from

    a mademoiselle on the tiny island. Shewanted to know if I could come and see her.

    After pondering briefly whether this might

    have been a blast from my past I was quickly

    set straight.

    Theyve pinched all the periwinkle.

    She wasnt very alarmed. At least from her

    tone one got the sense that this kind of thing

    happened all the time. That Ive never in fact

    seen a periwinkle and had no clue why anyonewould want to pinch one I decided she must

    just be reserved as tone goes. And so I kind of

    fell in love. I could tell from her breathing in

    between the words she was going to wear her

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    skin well. That with her obvious reservation

    made quite a package. I couldnt wait to get

    to Fort-De-France where I was to meetMerielle and see what all this periwinkle

    pinching was all about. If time permitted and

    the mademoiselle allowed it, I might do a little

    pinching myself.. all as a matter of business ofcourse.

    My plane was a little turboprop that seemed

    to be a few weeks overdue on an oil-change.

    As we descended from the sky above

    Martinique Isle a puff of dust exited the back

    of one of our engines. And after climbing from

    the deathtrap and securing my suit bag I could

    still see the dust pock we left there above thistropical paradise the dust trying in vain to

    decapitate. The stain was a matter of some

    embarrassment for our pilot I could tell too,

    for he couldnt stop raising his head to the sky

    in awe of itevery 5 seconds or so.

    All the same my flight wasnt all bad. I had

    shared the ride in with 3 other people also

    eager to exchange the warmest night in recent

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    months in Nassau for some hopefully fun ones

    in Martinique. There was the bagless almost

    shirtless playboy that made sure to sit in therearmost row of seats as soon as he entered

    so, I had imagined, he could take in the all

    subsequent rears of the entering passengers.

    There was the professor with the doctors bagwho didnt look like he was out for fun at all in

    FDF probably fossils or some kind of

    vegetation samples more like. And then there

    was Dorothy Moore the bombshell. I invited

    Dorothy to sit next to me even before I

    learned her name. It wasnt so much that her

    supple body and ample rack, which no doubt

    would provide every distraction I needed to

    quicken my flight across the Caribbean, mademe eager to ask. It was that I didnt want,

    under any circumstances for her to fall into

    the playboys trap. Player-hating or not, you

    dont allow fine wine to spill on cheap carpet.

    So you just dont serve it at this type of event.

    The quick move that saw Dorothy seated next

    to me on the way to Martinique was a blessing

    in more ways than one. As our plane swayed

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    and panned in the sky -seeming to be avoiding

    incoming anti-aircraft fire- Dorothy would

    bounce literally off of my chest and shoulders,her hair brushing my face over and over all the

    way east. Why a womans hair has to smell so

    good every time- is a subject of continued

    ponder for me. That ponder usually comesafter bathing in the sensation over and over

    thoughfirst as I am washed in it the aroma,

    and then like a broken record over and over in

    my mind till I cant even remember the smell.

    Then I start to ponder. What makes a

    womans hair have to smell so good?

    The playboy regarded me as expected before

    sauntering directly towards the casino nearthe top of the hill some 300 feet from the

    private airfield shed. He didnt like me

    blocking him at all, and I got the sense if he

    saw me in a dark alley anytime soon he might

    make a play for his gun. I didnt see one

    anywhere in his waist as his safari shirt blew

    behind him as he walked away. But I was sure

    he had one. It just seemed automatic for the

    package he wasall 5 feet or so of it.

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    Dorothy Moore gawked at me with big blue

    eyes as she circled the plane from the luggagecompartment.

    Im staying at Hotel Veuve I didnt

    immediately react and her brain went to work.

    My lack of a reply wasnt because I didntrecognise the obvious play for my meat. I was

    busy studying the depth and body of her

    feathers of blond hair and the salivation

    prevented me from speaking. I swallowed.

    What are you doing right now?

    Moments before burying my thoughts in her

    delicious hair I had briefly glanced at my

    Bulova. I was an hour or so early for my meet

    with Merielle and had to somehow pass thetime.

    Well neither of us have much

    luggage, she said lowering her gaze past my

    package and to the Samsonite in my hand.

    You feeling lucky? She was right about the

    luggage. And she was referring to the casino a

    stones throw from where we stood when she

    referenced luck me still ogling her hair and

    her my package. I took her bag from her hand.

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    We can leave these in the coat-check

    in the casino. I have an hour or so before my

    business. You wanna see how lucky we get?

    Dorothy nodded. The scent of her hair hit me

    again. It was going to stick with me for a

    while.

    She had an Ace showing and a 7. I suspected

    the blind card was a face-card. That made 18.

    It was her turn to get hit. I was holding 2 face-

    cards one up one down. I didnt think shed

    go for it. Wed been at it for most of an hour

    and I was planning to buy her a stiff drink with

    her $100.00 after I won. She needed to be put

    to bed. All the flirting had taken its toll on us

    both. The business I came to town to doshouldnt take more than a few days to sew

    up. And I was heavily favouring getting that

    business out of the way before complicating

    my visit with meat-action. Besides Merielle

    still had to weigh in. It was always the same

    thing. From the moment youre old enough to

    trick your way past the party-bouncer. Once

    you get inside, once you lay eyes on the room

    full of beautiful women, do you make a play

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    for 2, 10, or a hundred? Or do you sit back

    and watch the meat-market, play the

    gentleman, and go home with the pony.Lately, Ive been that smart.

    Dorothy took the hit. It was a 2. That meant

    she had 20. Then she made those blue eyesmeet mine.

    Side bet? I grinned and licked my

    lips. If I win, she said. I get to have my way

    with you. My grin became laughter.

    And what if I win?

    Well then you get to have your way

    with me silly! I couldnt argue. I showed my

    hand -20. And she showed her blind an Ace.

    She swiped my hundred up. And we crossedto the bar.

    Putting Dorothy Moore to bed was kind of like

    letting the prize fish off the hook. I dont

    welch on bets, but she didnt exactly say when

    I was going to have to let her beat my meat. I

    figured the scotch she slammed back as I

    sipped my Appleton was worth at least a few

    hours. I told her to ring front desk and ask for

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    me whenever she wanted to play. And then I

    watched her relieve her guns from their

    brassiere and peel the slacks from creamythighs. Then I poured her into bed. She kissed

    my cheek before her head hit the down pillow.

    I kissed hers back and stepped outside to my

    hired-car.

    The convention Centre, I said. The

    driver, 18 or so years old, looked back briefly

    before sailing the Bentley around the semi-

    circle driveway. On the edge of the driveway

    the car came to a sudden stop. And out of

    nowhere another car, only slightly less shiny

    pulled in behind us. I regarded my .38 seated

    in its holster under my blazer. The driver sawthe move but only smiled back at me in the

    mirror. And the curbside door swung open -

    Merielle Ledue sliding in.

    Careful, she said. You might shoot

    that thing off. Her thigh grazed mine. It was

    a large car. There was plenty of room in the

    back. But Merielles presence seemed to take

    up most of it. Her hips burst from the split in

    the side of the Hot Kiss dress, and the string

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    straps of the front of it barely contained her.

    If she was any more of a woman I (might) have

    shot my gun off. And when she spoke, mymeat sort of stood up and took notice.

    Mr. Willow. Your reputation is you

    move quickly. This is what I need. She

    leaned into me raising one hand to my chest.There is a very important spectacle fasion in

    exactly 2 days. Someone has broken into the

    secure dressing rooms and stolen every single

    garment. The play of her hand on me as she

    spoke, her bosoms rising, alive, jutting forward

    like they wanted to jump from her own

    garment made me focus on her eyes. I was in

    need of relief from this womans unwitting

    assault on my every sexual attraction. If mypremonition after speaking to her on the

    phone were any more spot on, Id be

    convinced I could pass as a psychic. I wanted

    to tell her to stop. But I dont think she could.

    She wasnt doing anything. It was her body.

    This was the culprit. Oh how I wanted to

    spank itfor being so bad.

    Mr. Willow, she repeated.

    Call me Jack. I swallowed. Please!

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    Jack, we need the periwinkle back. I

    nodded.

    I have some questions. I had to clear

    my throat. You say the dressing rooms were

    supposed to be secure.

    Of course, she replied. The entire

    collection came by way of air-cargo a weekago. Looking into her eyes didnt help me

    forget her. It kept my own eyes off her

    incredible body, but exposed her soul. That

    made me hotter. ..from Paris. I started

    closing my eyes more frequently.

    Jack! It was to get my attention.

    Our designer, Micquel.. he is due in in the

    morning. There are fittings and last minute

    preparations. She caressed my face in bothher soft palms. I couldnt close my eyes then.

    Jack. I need you to get on this immediately.

    I nodded. The car still hadnt moved from the

    edge of the road in front of the hotel. I only

    now noticed the glare of the headlights of the

    car behind.

    Your driver Toby will take you

    anywhere you need to go. I suggest you start

    at the Convention Centre. My eyes met

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    Tobys in the mirror again. She opened her

    purse. It contained only a neat envelope

    which she removed and slid in the insidepocket of my jacket.

    Your retainer. Before removing her

    hand she regarded my blix.

    Thats a big gun. I hope you wont beneeding to use it. She opened the door and

    slid from the seat. When she stood I witness

    perfection. The door slammed shut, waking

    me.

    So where to Jack?

    Toby, I said. Open my window. Let

    some night air in.

    There was nothing out of the ordinary insideor outside the dressing room area on the

    lower level of the convention centre. Manny,

    the custodian gave me the walk-thru as far as

    what to expect on the afternoon of the show.

    The models would from one of the 3 dressing

    rooms pass final inspection just outside their

    respective door. From there they would walk

    the short hallway to the stairs leading up the

    back of the runway, and after scaling the flight

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    of stairs would emerge to their audience, walk

    to the front of the catwalk and then back and

    down the stairs. The security Merielle spokeof consists of the guards on watch upstairs at

    both of the public entrances to the auditorium

    where the show was to be held in 2 days, and

    the fact that each of the service entrancessave the one used by everyone related to the

    execution of the show were chained shut. The

    third service entrance was also guarded and

    had the added security of a sign in and out

    system that even at night I was made victim

    to. Anyone who entered the building since the

    missing collection arrived a week earlier would

    have had to enter through one of these 3

    guarded entrances. The fashion collection about 75 mainly dresses in varying shades of

    periwinkle arrived in a sealed cargo container

    that now sat empty in a locked storage in the

    back of the basement near the dressing

    rooms. 75 dresses is a lot of cargo to sneak

    past a security guard unnoticed.

    It was just past midnight when I finally exited

    the auditorium to the car waiting near the

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    back service entrance. There was nothing in

    my studying the detail that suggested the

    pinch was executed as part of any kind ofbreak-in. The fact that at any time of the day

    or night there was someone, a security guard

    on duty, would have prevented any kind of

    sneaking around by a stranger. I was sure wewere dealing with an inside job. Manny let me

    know his usual hours in the building were 7 am

    to 7 pm. Before he left at 7 both front

    entrances were locked and those guards

    dismissed. That left the 1 guard in back at

    night. The guard kept the service door locked

    during those hours of the night unless there

    was an official delivery. I was going to need to

    speak to that guard. He wasnt on duty when Ivisited the auditorium as there was no

    expected delivery that night. I asked Manny to

    arrange my meeting of the guard. Then,

    before having Toby drive away, I watched him

    lock the door behind me and head toward his

    bicycle.

    There were 2 messages waiting when I

    entered Hotel Veuve to retire for the night.

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    Merielle wanted me to meet her at the marina

    on the other side of the island at first light.

    And Dorothy Moore had attempted to haveme paged 3 times beginning at about 11. I

    guess the scotch didnt hold up as well as I had

    hoped. Either that or she was really hungry

    for late-night meat. I was going to have to getup real early in the morning. I decided to hit

    the sack. Dorothy could wait a little while

    longer.

    The beauty of Fort-De-France is really best

    appreciated in the early morning. The sun off

    to the east above the island is the thick yellow

    or mango flesh. And you can take it in with

    eyes only without having to feel it yet morning dew suppressing the heat. Lush

    hibiscus plants greet you along the walkways

    all over the island and the breeze blowing past

    you is something you would expect were you

    to accost world-peace. Toby didnt appreciate

    having to wake up so early. He has probably

    had his fill of the sun and the sea, the hibiscus

    and the breeze, and elected to wait behind in

    the car after dropping me.

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    The first 2 speedboats came around the bend

    north of the marina well ahead of Merielle. Bythe time she appeared in the haze of morning

    sauntering towards me, the splash and hum of

    another boat was already in the air. When the

    third boat sailed past Merielle its spray rose sohigh in the air the wind carried the thin top

    spray to her place, and she surprised me, not

    ducking or trying to avoid the spray. She was

    close enough for me so I could see the glisten

    of the ocean spray on her forehead, shoulders

    and collar. It made her more delicious to look

    at. The Chemise dress of last night is now a

    relaxed Basque. But it still hugged her

    perfection, putting it on display. I decided tobe more professional, pushing the image of

    her body away. 3 more boats sail by.

    Good morning. She was blocking the

    sun from the sunglasses covering her eyes.

    Buenos dias.

    Im sorry to have you get up this early.

    Really I wanted you to see the island at its

    best.

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    She isnt a native, but came to the island a

    year earlier to study fashion and just never

    left. Her birthplace is actually just a few moreislands south in Trinidad. In the light of

    morning I was able to make out the lineage

    more easily. In the pumps she wore to the

    marina she topped off just a few inches belowme and I liked that. The big hair added

    another few inches of course but we would

    have made perfect dance partners if it ever

    came to that. We had been standing on the

    edge of the marina watching the racing boats

    speed around the marina, each one taking

    about 3 minutes to circle the track fully. She

    seemed to enjoy the spray of the ocean as it

    caressed her face, and I was enjoying lookingat her enjoyment of it. I had gotten to wonder

    what Merielles real reasons for inviting me to

    the boat races were when she looked up and I

    followed her eyes to the advancing parade. It

    was an obvious army of fashionistas. And

    Merielle first softly regarded my arm on the

    rail of the marina before sauntering off to join

    her army. The lead of the advance was a small

    man whose sunglasses rivalled Merielles in

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    size. When he saw her approaching, he

    quickened his pace leaving his entourage

    slightly behind. His and Merielles arm locked

    in an embrace before he spun her around back

    towards me. From that distance Merielle,

    what with the heels, seemed twice his height.

    His denim hung loose from his hips, theSaturday t-shirt stopping just below his waist.

    They stopped 6 inches in front of me, a whisk

    of sea-current almost blowing Micquels funny

    hat from his head.

    Jack this is Micquel. She motioned

    with a display arm. Micquel, Jack. I took his

    hand. His grip was firm.

    Micquel. Your collection is missing?

    He let his eyes answer. Then lowered themand stepped back in line with the rest of his

    entourage that had just arrived. Merielle drew

    closer to me.

    Have you made any progress? I

    sensed the question was for Micquels benefit.

    It wont be long, I replied. Micquel

    raised a glance in my direction, my words it

    seemed greeting him with particular interest.

    He back-stepped to Merielle and I.

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    Find my periwinkle Jack! He then

    locked arms with an equally diminutive

    member of his group and they skipped aheadof the pack and away from Merielle and I. The

    sky 50 feet out above the sea was thick with

    boat exhaust fumes. The mix of this smell and

    Merielles was nice -contrast.I can rent us a boat. My senses

    greeted her words with surprise. It will be

    nice to boat around the marina in the sun.

    She pointed. Well have to stay on the other

    side of the marina of course away from the

    race. I wrapped an arm around her waist as

    answer.

    My biggest surprise about skipping across theocean off the coast of Fort-de-France,

    Martinique with Merielle on the drivers side

    was just that. That she could be this beautiful,

    and at the centre of the islands fashion

    community, wake in the morning this put

    together, and still steer a boat at top speed

    across the ocean seemed at odds.

    You look confused. The mist of the

    ocean spray made her hair fuller.

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    Me? No.. She chuckled. Dont be

    confused. There are eyes and ears

    everywhere. I looked to her eyes hoping tomake sense of her words. Jack. I lied. I

    didnt get you out of bed this early to go

    swimming. You need to know there are forces

    that want you to fail. She panned scanningthe surface of the water. And theyre

    watching us. She stepped aside and with her

    eyes motioned for me to step in front of her.

    I had the boat swept for listening

    devices. All the noise out here was to allow us

    to talk freely. I took the steering wheel and

    she stepped in close behind me placing both

    her hands over mine. When she leaned in

    peace greeted me the moist ocean spraymixing with the smell of her. I inhaled deeply.

    Last night after we met, I saw a car

    following me. When I got home to my place it

    parked outside for hours. I didnt sleep half

    the night. I let go of the throttle of the boat.

    And it sails almost to a stop as I turned. Her

    bosom was pressed against me, our lips

    almost touching.

    What are you saying?

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    Am scared. And then she kissed me.

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