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Subject: {ASSM} Daguerreotype (MF, nosex) TBD
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Date: Mon, 16 Apr 2012 20:10:03 -0400
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Daguerreotype
---

I turned away from the dingy window and caught the bimbo staring at
the faded daguerreotype that held the place of honor on my desk.

"Yeah, babe.  It's real--and I took it."

"That's..."  She shook her head and faced me.  "Posed?"

"Nah.  They were as real as I am.  Working girls.  Just like I'm a
working man."  I settled in my chair and leaned on my elbows to study
her.  "And a working man in need of money.  You got it, I'm your man,
or Dick, if that's what you need."  What the hell, she was dinner for
a few days but I'm used to starving.   She was desperate, we both knew
it--or she wouldn't have found me instead of some more respectable PI.

Her eyebrows shot up, then she left them there and laughed.  It was a
throaty laugh, filled with amusement.  "You're good, Frank.  I like
that.  Maybe you are the Dick I need."  She reached into her purse and
came out with a c-note.  She laughed some more when she noticed my
hungry stare.  The note got moved to her chest, then placed on the
desk in front of me.  "Yours.  You'll need it."

I came back to reality and made a casual effort to gather in the
money.  Hell, I hadn't seen a c-note in over a year and this...  I
caught myself and sighed.  "OK.  What's the catch?..."  I angled for a
name.  "I like to know who my clients are."

"Jessica.  Call me Jessi."

"Jessi, then.  That c-note gets you a lot.  Name it."

She got up and ankled to the window.  Yeah, she was a man's dream but
that c-note was telling me I didn't want to mess with her.  Money like
that in this part of town meant backing.  Backing I didn't want to
mess with.

She casually used the sleeve of her blouse to wipe part of the window
clear.  "Lot of stories on the streets, Frank.  About a failed cop and
the reasons he has a faded daguerreotype on his desk."

Shit.  "And so here you are."

She let her accent and manner change.   By the time she faced me again
I was feeling the bottom drop out from under me.

"One of those bitches was my mother.  I want to know which one.  Tell
me the name of the bastard who fathered me on her, then walked
away--and there's nine more c-notes in it for you."

Memories...

"Stella by Starlight was her working name."  I got up and joined her
at the window.  I turned her so we could look out together.  "See that
Woolworth's?  They tore down Jimmy's to make room for it."

I didn't need to see the picture.  "Gabriella, Stella and Jane.  We
had some good times together, back then.  I'd screwed up my life by
putting the arm on the wrong man.  I was on the streets with nothing.
They hid me out until the heat cooled.  I protected them, they
protected me.  It was Stella's idea to help me become a PI.  'You're a
Dick, Frank.  Might as well make it pay.'  The other two girls
*couldn't* get pregnant.  Didn't matter, we all fucked each other.
Some days their juices and my semen were the only 'food' we had.
Sometimes, after a real slow day, I'd fuck one of them and then we'd
share a 'Douche Cocktail'."  I shook my head but didn't look at her
when she gasped.  "Survival has its own rules.  Bet you already knew
that--or you wouldn't be here."

I was lost in memories again.

"Jessica.  She never told me your name."  I touched the window and
leaned against it.  "God knows I looked for her after she left.  I
never did find her, or you."

I reached and pulled my wallet out.  I sighed and studied the c-note.
" 'Failed cop', you said.  Yeah.  I'm all of that.  I like to think I
was an honest one."

I put the note in one of her hands and turned away.  "Keep it.  I'll
starve before I let my daughter pay me for something I always wanted
to tell her."
---

End: Daguerreotype

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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