Reader
Open on Literotica

Bat Lawless: Private Dick

The wood on his desk was hard... just not quite as hard as his dick. His... private dick. Though that was his title, Bat Lawless made his living despite his dick being almost a public sensation, almost because his dick was too much for a sole individual to take... at least not all at once... at least not without plenty of social lubricant.

He pounded out an unfiltered cigarette on his desk, just like he had pounded out so many orgasms on and in so many women. Such a woman stood right in front of him, though he barely heard the words coming out of her mouth. In fact, the only thing he ever noticed coming out of a woman's mouth, was his own cum.

"And so... I mean you can see where the problem lies Mr. Lawless...."

"It's actually pronounced La-Less," He said, largely to distract from that fact that he had not been listening.

"Right... well Mister La-Less, I just don't know where to turn... I can't pay much..."

"But the details of your case impress me," Bat knew none of the details of the case, and if pressed, and he really hoped she would press him in another way, he would not have been able to remember her name. "But... I guess you do really need the help?"

She was a tall dame, with long blonde hair and long legs that seemed to stretch all the way to China before stretching back. And like the molten lava they would have been covered with after such a journey, they were right now... too hot to touch.

But it wasn't her legs Bat was looking at; it was her vagina. Not literally, since she wore a dress. He used his imagination, pretending he had the X-Ray glasses he ordered when he was a kid from his AMAZING! Science Fiction Magazine. And since he was pretending, he also pretended that those dark filmed specs actually worked.

"HUMMMM..." He said, mouthing the sound he imagined his functioning X-Ray glasses should make.

"Uh..."

"HUMMM...."

"Uh... Mister Lawless.."

"HUMMM...."

"Mister Lawless?!" She said, this time jerking him out of his trance like a Thai prostitute desperate to eat that night.

"Oh...yes, you were saying..." He said absently.

"No... I wasn't..." She was confused. So was Bat.

He just never let it show.

"I'm sure you were saying how you would leave the details with Danielle, my secretary. You know... right... over... there...."

He made some sort of hand motion which seemed to lead the young girl out his office. Bat hadn't expected this, and so had emptied his single-chamber revolver into his secretary's mouth less than an hour ago. It was too soon for another case!

He hit the large button underneath the large speaker.

"Danni... what did I tell you about sending in clients so soon!" He hissed.

"I'm... sorry... Mister Lawless..." The crackled voice came back from the next room.

"I've told you again and again. I only want to see a woman for business..."

"I... know... I..... am... sorry... she..."

"And by business... I mean some form of sex. I have no other business but giving the business."

"Barged in... Husband has lots of money..." Danni continued not hearing him.

"Uh... Mister Lawless... should I just... come back another time?" The unnamed woman said.

"CLEARLY!" Bat yelled. "And it's LA-Less. Now go home!"

She scampered out of the room, leaving a vapor trail behind that pretty tail. And Bat, seeing that he alone finally occupied the office, reached down and pulled from his desk his second favorite opium pipe. The other one was in the shop. He sucked down his first gulp of smoke like a baby breathing in air after that first smack on the back from the doctor, and became oblivious to the world around him.

Batholomew Lawless owed his eccentric name to the illiteracy of his parents, recent Scottish immigrants descended from a clan known for thievery and several sorts of unclassified villianary. As a nickname, instead of Bart, his parents debated vigorously between Bat and Bath. The argument almost cost them their marriage, that is before a tragic murder claimed the life of his parents.

His parents had been panhandling around the opera, masquerading as wealthy patrons who happened to misplace their tickets with their valet. Of course, this fooled no one at first. So his parents, in a moment of ingenuity, decided instead to grab the nearest brick to bash in the brains of the richest looking couples and steal their wallets.

It was during one of these murders/robberies that true tragedy struck. A wealthy baron came to the opera armed, and drew down on the poor parents of Batholomew Lawless as they tried to club him in shameless self-defence. Justice, in the city of Gotham, seemed indifferent to the plight of the orphan Batholomew, who determined to survive alone as a man, and simply as a Bat. A man called Bat. He was Bat the man... with no other connotation, or inspiration, despite his dead parents.

So touched (figuratively) he was by his parent's crime, that he devoted himself (figuratively), to touching (literally) all the females afflicted by criminals in his neighborhood. He set up his office in 1954, servicing (literally) the women of his community, and erected (literally) himself as a pillar in the community.

He also self-medicated with everything but the medicinal. If an addiction existed, Bat pursued it. Even during the late sixties, his indulgence in every manner of drug and alcohol gave pause to his closest confidents, that is, Danni and his clients, both of whom he regularly banged, whenever he could rise his cracken-like cock.

He had hired Danni solely on her looks. She had dark red hair, an hourglass figure that like her, certainly should have quit, but didn't despite a thousand reasons to, along with breasts that seemed to spill out like Niagra Falls. And Bat was that man, desperately clinging to any small semblance of wood as he went over her falls in a barrel.

He pulled out an unfiltered cigarette, lighting it as he went toward the door.

"Danni, I'm leaving the office!" He said hurriedly as he put on his fedora and coat.

"Are you going to get the photographs, Mr. La-Less?" She said, pronouncing his name perfectly.

"Yes..." He said, reaching into his pocket for the model airplane glue. "And... it's pronounced La-Less.."

"Um... " Danni seemed confused. "What did I say..."

"La-Less..." He said confidently.

"And... that's your name?"

"YES!" He said confidently, as he raced out the door.

He shut the door behind him, squeezed the glue into a plastic bag, and then leaned over for a large huff. Bat sighed in relief, another addiction abated, as he rushed into the mean streets of Los Angeles.

He knew exactly who to talk to, his main man, the prince of pornographers, the sultan of smut, the usperer of the upskirt... Huckleberry Barry. Blind Barry waited patiently on the trolley, his large camera disguised in an equally large book as he used his dark glasses to pretend he couldn't possibly see, let alone be positioning his book camera underneath the nearest skirt.

Bat Lawless came to buy his pornography at least once a week, and served as Huckleberry Barry's most and onliest reliable customer. Barry recognized the private dick by smell alone, his musky aftershave "Smoosh" being detectable for nearly a nautical mile.

"Mister La-Less..." Barry said, thumbing the hidden button in his book camera to take another illicit photo. "You are early this week."

"I had client this week, no.. this day... She seemed interested in your photographs."

"I doubt she's another customer..." Huckleberry Barry said slowly.

"No... no... not another customer... I don't think."

Bat looked at Barry, then at the rest of the cab. Seeing only about a half dozen strangers looking at him, Bat Lawless decided to sit down on the seat next to Barry, tapping his vein seductively as tied off his arm and shot up a syringe full of heroin.

"Hitting it pretty hard eh, Bat?"

"Just my allergy medicine..." Bat lied, completely confidently, as he'd done to a thousand different women a thousand different times, not simultaneously.

"I got the goods Bat, you got the money."

"Yeah..." Bat said, his hand absently rubbing against the stirring Sputnik in his trousers.

"Ones, I assume."

"Ones, you presume," Bat said, not really understanding English or any language due to the many, many highs he was riding. All he knew, was that he needed his pornography, especially if others were after his pictures, no matter the price.

"OHH-kay," Barry said, accepting blindly (because he was pretending to be blind), the money. "Um.."

"Yes... um..." Bat said.

They sat awkwardly for nearly a minute before Bat recalled the purpose of his visit.

"Bar, Bare, Barry.... There's something simmering beneath the surface of this case... You might want to lay low for a little while..." His hands clasped over the envelop of dirty photos, as though they were the cure to all the problems in his life. "There, there... all is well."

Huckleberry Barry had heard all of his before.

"Um... okay. I'll see you next week then... or sooner."

"Or sooner," Bat said absently to himself. "Or sooner indeed."

And suddenly, the drugs took hold and Barry's face turned into A Flock of Seagulls.. The entire band... twenty years before their existence. It was admittedly a very strangely vivid hallucination that pierced the fabric of the space time continuum and stared straight into the abyss that was Bat's soul. And so, staring at that new wave 80's band, he jumped from the trolley car, and Bat Lawless ran, he ran so far away.

Bat was certain he was being followed. The band seemed to mirror his every movements. And using every remaining ounce of his guile, Bat snuck quickly into the nearest alley and poured his dwindling bottle of ether onto a rag that he promptly wrapped around his face.

He huffed, he puffed, and he returned to his hurried walk. Bat Lawless walked down the dirty streets dirtier than anything or anyone he encountered, looking only for any sort of sign or landmark that might point him toward his own office building. He convinced himself that the circle he made around his building made him impervious to any stakeout, but as always Bat Lawless left behind him a trail of drug and alcohol deduced terrors even Huckleberry Barry might easily follow.

"Danni!" He said, rolling unnecessarily into his office.

"Did you get the pictures?" She asked.

"Yes," His eyes darted from corner to corner of the room. "Now who to trust..."

"Me," Danni said certainly. "I've worked for you for five years..."

"Hmmm..." Bat said. "Or have you worked for them these five years..."

"What?" Dannie said incredulously.

"What indeed!"

In the inner sanctum of his office, Bat pulled out a flask of whiskey, downing the drink as he poured over the pictures of girls inside the manilla envelope. He remembered last the gorgeous blonde in a long white skirt, her hands clutched over a subway grate as it blew her clothes up into her arms, her short hair tossed back in almost mock embarrassment. Bat could not quite place where the feeling came from, but something in his seven inch dick ached like he was holding in his hands a seven year itch.

Bat Lawless pulled out another Camel, only to faceplant directly on his desk, his body finally giving in to the litany of drugs coursing through his veins.

*****

"Again, congratulations, Mr. Lawless!" The man in the uniform said.

"It's, it's La-Less," He managed, his eyes finally blinking into awareness.

"Yes, I'm sorry, what have I been saying?" The Chief of Police managed. "You broke this case wide open Inspector La-Less. Please... accept this medal on behalf of the city."

"I accept..." Bat said, with an inflated sense of unmerited pride.

"Without your help... I'm afraid this heist would have proceeded as planned."

"Of course I knew photographs were the key to the case," Bat blustered. "It was obvious... even elemental my dear.... Person!"

"Well your photograph of the red Plymouth Roader Runner, the notorious getaway car for the hole in the hole gang, gave us an id on the getaway driver. Just as you knew it would when you passed along that message in the nick of time. He was in the paddywagon before he friends made it into the bank.. And from there..."

"Yessshh...." Bat elongated the word, as he did often when too thoroughly confused by the conversation to make any other contribution. And so he stalled, usually allowing the illicit chemicals to play their tricks until the other person provided enough context clues for him to fumble his way back into the conversation.

Dannielle might have told him that during breaks from his lucrative trade as personal pornographer for Bat Lawless, Huckleberry Barry also indulged himself during sexy stakeouts by photographing his favorite cars. Of course, he had no idea that Road Runner was the most recognizable symbol of the H and H gang, nor that it sat parked directly in front of the largest branch of Wells Fargo in the neighborhood. He just liked pictures of red cars.

It was a common accident for various pictures of cars, random scenery, and even his fat fingers to make their way into Bat's porn envelope. And so, when Lawless returned back from his case with the important pictures and passed out, Dannielle first organized the pornography into their different categories in the four massive file cabinets.

It was during this duty, deciding whether the upskirt of a dark haired girl without underwear belonged in the brunette, nude, ass category or the brunette, partially clothed, ass category that she discovered the photo of the getaway car mixed between the upskirt photo and another of the same girl, her cleavage almost clearly visible as she bent forever in front of Barry. Understanding the importance, she phoned over the police immediately, neglecting her duties as pornographic shifter.

Bat was still waiting for the chief to speak, wondering if the older man would even notice if he soaked himself in a rag of ether. Maybe he would even want to partake... No, no that was foolish thinking. That bottle of ether needed to last him at least the rest of the week. He could not risk sobriety, especially not from sharing. So Bat decided to be discrete, largely to avoid an awkward refusal to share his drugs with the most powerful police officer in the city.

In one fluid motion, using every one of his cat-like reflexes, he threw himself under his large, mahogany desk, only to find himself needed to reach up to retrieve the bottle and cloth, which was sitting in the open right in front of the Chief of Police.

Drats! He thought to himself. The dog has surely caught the scent of my ether. I must stay vigilant, lest I reveal to even this bumbling officer the illicit details of what is happening under my desk.

Unbeknownst to Bat, he said this all aloud.

"Uh... Mister Lawless..."

"LA-LESS!" Came the shrill cry from under the desk.

"Yes... look I'm gonna leave you alone... with your... ether. Uh... thanks again.

No, thank you my dear ether. Thank you for the sweet, salacious taste! And now that we are alone... let me suckle on your sweet cottony pillows.

"Uh... Mr. La-Less... I haven't left yet."

"OOOOOH YEAH..." Came the moans from under the desk.

*****

He let the bag of sugar melt in the serving spoon over his pitcher of absinthe. He couldn't find any cool water as he hadn't look for any, and used slightly warm vodka as a replacement. He was just about to ingest the entire container through a specially designed funnel, when a voice came through the intercom.

"Mister La-Less," Danni said.

"I'm incredibly busy, Dannielle," He said, eyeballing his latest experiment in alcohol poisoning.

"It's Ms. Debutante. She wants to discuss... your... um payment."

"SEND HER IN!" He screamed, so as to not need the intercom.

He noticed her legs first, and gradually tore his eyes away from that strange stain on the carpet that might have been anything. By the time he looked past her ankles, his cock was as hard as JFK's, and a long as LBJ's. He poured absinthe, vodka, and sugar into his mouth, tilting the pitcher so the latter went straight towards his nostrils. He coughed, nearly gagged, and then sneezed out the sugar in a spray of disgust.

"Sorry...." He managed after a second "I thought I hid cocaine in my sugar... but for reason, someone seems to have hidden sugar in my sugar. There is a larger game here, and yes, we both are only flies, FIREFLIES CAUGHT IN A FIERY WEB OF OUR OWN MAKING!"

"Mister La-Less..." The blonde started.

"Lawless!" He mis-corrected as he drank down more of the hallucinogenic alcohol.

"Yes... well I just wanted to thank you... for helping with my case..."

"Oh..." He lit another smoke. "Right.. Right... Danni sent you the pictures..."

"Um... no... you told me to go home. Somehow, you knew... and I caught him. My husband with, with some red haired bimbo!"

"Oh... well good for him!"

"IT'S NOT GOOD FOR HIM!"

"Why?" Bat said, spreading out a line of real cocaine... he thought... on a plate on his desk. "Is she a butterface?"

"I... he.... I didn't really see her face," The blonde said angrily. "Just a tattoo, of some sort of lizard."

Suddenly Bat made a connection. Danielle had such a tattoo, a T-Rex on the back of her shoulder. Amazing, she must have rushed to Mr Debutante's address - And the thought was gone, overcome by the swirling synergy of ether, absinthe, and vodka.

"So.... I solved the case," He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head.

"Yes... look Mr. Lawless..."

"La-Less..." He said gently.

"La-Less... I don't have much right now... but maybe there's something else I can give you.... At least until the divorce..."

In an instant, she removed the belt around her coat like a lion-tamer brandishing a whip. She shrugged back her shoulders, and in the next second, the blonde stood stark naked in front of him. He release Jumbo from his pants, only to watch him flop down like an overused bendy straw. Her milkshake certainly brought him to the yard, but the private dick now sported a tailor's tape measure when he needed the strong wooden yardstick his women were accustomed to receiving.

"Hold on..." He said, bending her over his couch, as he lined white powder up and down her ass. He took a deep breath, then inhaled through his right nostril a line that went from ass to mouth.

She had been lying at a very awkward angle.

"Oh fuck!" He said.

"More sugar?"

He shook his head.

"Flour...whoever is behind that surely is the world's greatest criminal mind! Even the world's greatest private dick would have never expected such a dastardly scheme."

He tossed the bag aside. It was clearly marked flour. Yet somehow, the ingestion of raw ingredients brought his dick back to life. Closing the distance between them, he slapped her in the face with his dick like a bear pawing at a jumping salmon. She opened her lips like Billy the Bigmouth Bass, and instead of singing "Take me to the River" she only sang "Take me", and the chorus went a little something like this:

Take me.

She continued.

MMMHPHPF, MMMHMPHPF

Slow down!

MMMHMPHPF MMMMMMMMMM

It's too big!

MMMHMM PPF

I can't take it!

Only she did.

He pulled out, pimp slapping her face with his dick. She turned on her back, exposing the egg salad spread of her sex, a salad Bat Lawless was ready to toss. His anaconda came at her like she was Samuel L. Jackson, Jennifer Lopez, and Ice Cube, and his anaconda wanted every inch of her buns, hun, even if he had to destroy both a large boat, a 747 airplane, and the whole Amazonian rainforest to get at it.

He had her. And so his long cock turned into a divisor as it entered her, forcing her dividend to reveal that beautiful quotient again and again. Her quotients multiplied by power of three, until they became to unwieldy to count. And so she reached into her purse and brought out her abacus, becoming ready to tally his xxx-intercept. He continuously compounded interest from the neighbors as he gave her the full focal of his radius. And at the last moment, he switched things up, causing an inverse function with her. His dick gave one last contraction....
And he came all over her ass.

"That was aces..." He said.

*****

A few hours later, after inhaling another ether rag, Bat went over to check the mail. And as he walked through his secretary's office, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. All of his cocaine, replaced with common baking supplies. Who could do that? Only... only a Rembrandt of Crime.

And then it came to him, shooting him in the face like the last cum shot in a bukkake scene.

"DANNI!" He screamed. "DANNNNNI!!!!!"

"I'm six feet away from you," She said patiently.

"Did you file my upskirt photos under nudes? Damnit Danni, I've told you a thousand times, if she has any clothes on, it goes in the non-nude category!"

The End
Log in or Sign up to continue reading!