|Photo courtesy of Christian Schulze|
If I’m right, in about a half an hour I’ll be recuperating from la petite mort. If she’s right, I’m five minutes away from the big sleep. Either way, I’m a goner. Never fall for a client. It’s bad for business and may be bad for your health.
I’m the guy on the left with the ruggedly handsome jaw who’s about to lay a lip lock on that pouty mouth. Maxwell Princeton; Most call me Max; she called me Prince. I’m a dick. A private dick.
That’s Belle on the right. She’s my client. Well, officially, she’s now just another beautiful dame.The case is closed and she’s paid me the two g’s. But, there’s still the matter of the curse.
And those lips.
You don’t live in this town and ignore curses whether you believe in them or not. My grandmother told me, “curses have as much power as you give them.” Too many here believe in that power. Belle is one of those believers.
It doesn’t help that her godmother is a well known Voodoo priestess – Marie LeFaerie. It helps less that she’s the one who put the curse on Belle. It’s a sordid tale of love, betrayal, the death of a lover and a witchy woman. We call that Wednesday, here, in the Big Easy. Let’s just say that Belle’s mother played with fire and Belle got burned.
Belle had reason to be afraid. Her last two beaus are now pushing up daisies in Lafayette Cemetery No. 1. That’s why she came to me. That’s the case that I cracked.
Baiser de la mort is what it’s called. That’s the kiss of death.
It wasn’t a curse, though. It was a cheap hood who had the hots for Belle and bumped off the competition. That scum is now making license plates and clinging to his soap in the shower.
She was grateful that I’d put the bum behind bars but wasn’t convinced that it wasn’t the curse at work, “They are still dead,” she told me as she looked at me with those big baby blues.
The doll had a point. Two of them. It’s chilly in here. I pulled her into my arms.
She trembled and her lips quivered as she spoke, “But, I – I’m cursed, Prince. I’m cursed.”
I had to taste those lips.
“It’s okay, beautiful. I’ve got a lucky charm. Now let’s go back to my place and I’ll show it to ya.”
“My prince charming,” she whispered as her lips met mine.
This little flash fiction was a #Submission to the #DailyChallenge for #EroticReaders utilizing the photo featured here.