October 14 Antagonist Background Story

She stood in front of my desk, her business suit on the leather couch. Her bra, with its large cups, was at her feet, as were the matching panties. Her hands were on her hips, her head back and tilted slightly to the right. A confident grin came across her face as she thrust her chest forward. She shook her long tresses of red hair. She looked at me with her seductive pale green eyes.

Her breasts were large; perhaps her greatest asset when it came to business deals. Men could not keep their eyes off them. They intrigued women, unsure if they were real. She loved it, loved that she titillated and fascinated both sexes simultaneously. It helped her land accounts. It made contract negotiations go smoothly. Like now, she was not above showing them to get her way.

“They’re magnificent, Mrs. Gibbs,” I said from my chair, “like you told me. But how does being naked in my office have to do with me taking your case? I’m a private investigator, you don’t have to bribe me with your body, though I must say, is something that I’ll be lusting over for the entire time of our association.”

Instinctively, she curled, placed her arms on her chest to cover her breasts. She was mortified, embarrassed. Her face was turning a color the same of her natural hair. She bent at her knees and reached for her black panties.

“I, I’m so sorry,” she started. She was humiliated. She had misread the situation. Her business sense had been wrong. She turned around and started to step into her underwear.

“I didn’t say you needed to get dressed, Mrs. Gibbs.” The lasciviousness dripped off those words. I knew once I said them I might regret them, but I was honest, and didn’t mind seeing her naked.

“Oh, really?” she said from over her shoulder. A wicked grin crossed her face as she dropped the satin panties. Slowly, seductively, she turned.

“Yes really.” I stood and walked to the front of the desk. I leaned against it, looked her curvaceous body over and inhaled deeply. “Glorious,” I whispered.

She repositioned herself, spread her feet further, placing her hands on her hips. “Get a look at it, Mr. Van Aldyn. Is there anything you’d like to change on it?”

I thought for a quick moment before shaking my head. “No nothing,” I whispered. I closed the distance between them quickly. I pulled her closed, causing her to yip in shock.

“Mr. Van Aldyn,” she whispered, her eyes closing, her head tilting to the left. I reached down with my lips.

The embrace was electric. There was a charge between us. I looked down and saw her toes curl. I felt heat rise from her body as my hands wondered across her body. She moaned into my mouth when my tongue met hers.

“Whew,” she announced as the kiss broke. “Does this mean you’ll take my case?”

“It means I’ve taken it,” I whispered before kissing the softness of neck. I led her to the couch and took a step back. I smiled and shook my head. “It’s going to be difficult to keep my mind on the case with you as a client.”

I brought a chair behind the desk and had Antoinette Gibbs sit close as she explained why she needed my assistance. She pulled a coffee-table picture book from her bag and gently placed it down. She opened to a page she had bookmarked and looked at me with anger in her eyes. She pointed to a picture of two younger women.

“This is why. She the girl with the ponytail, that’s me.”

I could see that the years had been kind to her. Though her breasts were larger – from childbirth and gravity – she still had a welcoming smile that hinted at a devilish nature.

“I had posed twenty years ago,” she continued. “I was a college freshman then, posing for a professor who said if I did, I’d get an A.” The anger softened, but it was still there. I saw a sliver of a smile come to her face, as if she was remembering something good from that moment.

“Did he say the pictures were for a picture book?” I asked, noticing the photographer’s name.

“It was a she, and she did say that she was doing the pictures for a possible project.” Antoinette closed the book and pushed it aside. She leaned down and removed a folder. “I contacted the teacher; these are copies of our emails.” She handed them to me. “When you read them, you’ll see that she never submitted the proofs or any prints to a publisher. She’s just as dumbfounded as me, as are the other girls, women, I contacted about this.” She exhaled exasperated and shook her head.

“I need to you find who this man, this ‘Nathan Childers’, is. I’m sure you know who I am, what means I have available to me.” She snuggled up to me, her large breasts wrapped themselves around me arm. “I’ve been told that you can find people that don’t necessarily want to be found, for a price.”

I had earned the reputation of being the only local private investigator that could find the “unfindable”, those people that wanted to disappear. It was something that came naturally, or unnaturally, depending on which side of the investigation you lay.

I smiled devilishly. I could feel she wanted to tell me something, something that other female clients have been saying to me ever since I got into this business. I didn’t push the matter, but I didn’t stop her from leaning topless against me either.

“I’ll do my best,” I told her.

“Thank you, Sir,” she whispered. Her tone was soft and unsure. I didn’t know whether her insecurity came from self-doubt in her submissiveness or shock that she’d allow herself to be so open to me right away.

I kissed her forehead and opened up the folder. “Let’s see what we have here,” I said, changing the subject. I picked up an email and read it. “This isn’t good,” I mumbled as I read the disturbing letter written by the former teacher.

“Someone stole the proofs three years ago,” she stated. “The police said there was nothing they could do, since it would be virtually impossible to track them,” she added.

“The police told her that it would be impossible to track down,” I repeated, more to myself than to Antoinette. “They should have talked to the publisher.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean, the supposed photographer signed a contract so he could receive royalties. It would be simple to ask someone at the publishing house to look at the contract and then contact the photographer’s agent or the man himself.” I shook my head at the missed opportunity.

“Do you know where the publisher is?” Antoinette asked.

I picked up the book and flipped it over. “I’ll be damned,” I said. “Tryon Books is right down the street, literally.”

“When can we go there?” She stood and walked to put on her clothes.

“Let me set up a meeting,” I told her. “I know someone that works there.” I reached for the phone.

“Thank you so much,” she whispered into my ear as she embraced me. She nibbled on my ear before kissing my cheek. “This will help me out so much.”

“I will do my best,” I reassured her. No longer embarrassed by her nudity, she stood and gave me one last look at her wonderful body.

She dressed quickly before leaving with a smile on her face. My assistant, Katherine Terry, met her at the office door.

“You were right,” she began to tell Katherine. “He was more than ready to help me.” The older woman hugged my assistant before leaving.

Katherine had worked for me for 20 years, fresh from college and in desperate need of employment. In the times since, she’s known how I’ve worked and my little idiosyncrasies. One of them was to see my prospective female clients without clothing.

She looked over her cat’s eye glasses and smirked. “How did she look naked?”

“Why don’t you look for yourself?” I walked to the bookshelf and moved the façade of fake books, showing a television and video machine. I hit the rewind button.

“Are you going to help her?” Katherine asked as we waited.

I nodded. “Of course. I could use the money.” When the tape stopped rewinding and began to play, I added, “Plus, you never know what else I can find out what she has done over the years.”