Skittles - Sex Stories

Skittles

... things in my business. A dame like her rarely wore something so garish. “Skittles? Only effects those with a bit of fairy blood.” I held back a chuckle as I played connect the dots. I’d heard this story a million times. A little youthful rebellion. Younger sister out sowing her wild oats and getting in over her head with the fairies. Easy enough job if you knew the right people to pay off and I’d been at this long enough to know all the right people. “Tell me about this sister of yours, Miss Day.” “I can assure you, Mister Chase, that she’s pure of blood,” Valentine leveled a frosty, blue eyed stare at me.” Bingo. My day was complete. I’d managed to piss off one of the hottest dames I’d ever set eyes on. “Olivia’s been missing for three days. I’m concerned for her safety.” “Tell me the details.” oOo I’m not sure how I managed it, but Miss Day’s icy frown had thawed slightly, even after agreeing to pay me fifty buckaroos an hour plus expenses. I was glad it was going to be an easy case. I bring her sister in, maybe she’d warm up to me. Franklin Chase, eternal optimist. I might even get another smile out of her. Not the only thing I wanted to get a glimpse of; it was impossible not to enjoy the sight of her swishing derriere up until the moment the door closed behind her, the hinges protesting faintly. I made a mental note to have them oiled at the first opportunity. First, however, I had some calls to make. oOo Like I’d said, with a little grease, it was easy enough for me ...

... to track Valentine’s little sister down. Can’t say I was surprised to find out she’d been hanging around with Ivy’s crowd. Not a bad bunch, although thoroughly committed to hedonism. Sex, booze, and drugs, twenty four seven was how they rolled. I’d have to put a little extra charm on. Not to mention some new duds. Ivy would consider it disrespectful to show up dressed in my usual grey suit and navy tie. She appreciated a little effort, no matter how uncomfortable it might be or maybe because of it. Armed with only my wits and my fists, and an etched glass tube filled with over a dozen of the small round candies that the fairies craved. I’d been holding onto it for a long time in case of an emergency like impressing someone clearly out of my league. I caught a cab out to Tinktown, as the locals liked to call it, a section of Pratchett out on the eastside, bordered on one side by the lake. It wasn’t a bad place, as long as you knew your way around and were ready to bluff your way through it. Every once in a while life threw you a bone. This case, for example. I had a bad habit of playing the tarnished knight from time to time and this was right up my ally; rescuing a damsel in distress from the ‘evil fairies’ and her own indulgences, never mind that she probably didn’t want rescuing. I pulled the photo Valentine had provided me from my breast pocket, studying it one more time, not out of need, but as a way to pass the time. It sure as hell beat talking to the cabbie about the ...