by Nix Winter
All rights reserved
Lynn Hemming, Pinkerton Agent, straightened his glasses just slightly, dark blue eyes surveying the dock. San Francisco. The documents he carried were worth his life, several times over. This fact hadn't bothered him the whole voyage over, slow as it was on the barely legitimate sail powered ship.
He strode from the ship, down the slightly swaying gang plank. His chestnut hair was longer, making him look more like a ruffian and less like the organized professional that he was. Not dressing like a professional had not bothered him too intensely on the ship, but now that he San Francisco presented itself, he felt the lack of his appearance ever more keenly.
Air clung to him, salt, smoke from pipes and chimneys, the steam of a Chinese laundry, crabs set out in boxes, and he found the first embrace of this new city invigorating, even if slightly embarrassing as he was. It wasn't as if anyone would know him here. He was average height, average looks as far as he was concerned, and wearing plain pants, a loose white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, not even the heavy black leather satchel he carried really set him apart. Making his way through the dock, he wondered if San Francisco could swallow him whole.
It seemed a more open city, with broader streets and the blue of the sky still caressed life into the city. It was very different than New York. At what passed for a main street, he reached out to hail a cab, but found himself assaulted from behind. The scent of roses, lace under his chin, these sensations kept him from violently throwing his attacker from him, but then slender fingers caressed his jaw and the scent of life under the roses caught him.
"Oh there it is, the real man," a voice said. The voice could have been a woman... perhaps, but it was sultry, deep, and his instinct told him male, even if all reason said that couldn't be true. "I could see your naughty little secret as you walked down the street. I want to fuck you."
"Not hardly," he said, recovering his voice, he turned, pushing the ... person ... back to arms length. The person was beautiful, by all objective standards. Not quite as tall as Lynn, with long blond hair, piled high in curls and graceful swoops, he or she had pale blue eyes, a small mouth which smiled at him under just enough forbidden red to rule out any hope that he or she might be, at least in some regard, respectable.
He or she certainly looked like a she, clothed in an elegant green satin brocade, fine lace at cuff and collar, dark polished shoes with a pointy toe that no decent man would ever find himself in, yet the scent and touch had been male, the voice had been male.
"What about softly? With heat and the quiet desecration of a cab?" One delicate hand pressed over Lynn's.
He swallowed, blinking, swallowing suddenly more of an issue that it should have been. "Madame," he almost said sir, but, really that couldn't possibly have been politely. "Unhand me."
"Oh, but why? That's the best that a brave Pinkerton Agent can do?"
His assailant stepped forward, until he could so easily imagine the bush of soft full lips over his. He took a step back and found himself hard against a cab. "I really must be going now. Just how did you know?"
"Silly." One hand still against his chest, his captor pulled a strand of silky blond hair down, slender fingers stroking the curve out. "How do you think I knew?"
He opened the cab, meaning to step back and up into the cab, and safety. The weight of the blond carried him over though, onto the rather stern carpet of the cab. With the ease of practice, the blond hiked skirt and straddled him, pulling the door closed, then the blinds on the close door and then the far, which managed to get lace and warm brocade pressed into Lynn's face.
"Now," he complained, trying to find his way out from under all the folds of brocade and underthings. "Now, see here! Just exactly.... Oh my."
His assailant sat down on him and it was very evident that the underthings only went so far. Warmth, hard flesh and demonstrated desire impressed itself upon him. "Yeah," the blond said, grabbing up the satchel and setting it out of the way. "I thought as much. When did you last get off? You're hard as a tax collector's compassion!"
Lynn's mouth dropped open, blue eyes even wider. "Just exactly... Oh good lord!"
Adept hands opened up his trousers, pushed them back just enough, and stroked his hard cock, all so quickly and with such a fluid of motion that his confused mind could hardly tell which came first. "Oh you just wait a moment, honey!"
Heat descended around him, tight, hot, slick, and what confusion had been multiplied like happy rabbits.
"Are you a man or a woman," Lynn begged, his hands on hard, muscular thighs as the blond moved up and down, "I must, I must, I want to, I want to bring you pleasure as well! OH good lord!"
"Do you, honey," the blond asked, surprised, "You want to touch me?" The movement slowed and skirt was suddenly thrown over Lynn's hands.
Fumbling he reached to find a very male cock, hard, and sweeter than he'd actually imagined one might be. This cock was lean, curved just slightly, and he groaned as he ran his fingers around the head, found the silky fluid. Quite without warning, the cock tightened, pulled back in just a slight way, and warm thick cream flowed over his hand. So like his day dreams, night dreams, and he cried out, head tilting back as he trust up into his lover, spilling his own seed into him. "Yes!"
San Francisco had swallowed him whole and he hadn't even begun to clear his thoughts. "Yes! What," he paused, to catch his breath and study the beautiful face above him. "What is your name, lover?"
Pale sky blue eyes rolled, but the smile was genuine, if tolerant. "My name is Fox. Rex Fox. You're sweeter than I expected."
"You were waiting for me. You intend to rob me," Lynn said, his wits finally waking up.
Rex tucked a bit of blond hair back behind his ear. "Intend is rather premeditated." He smiled. the smile growing to a grin. "I rather think we met suddenly and you gave me a gift."
"No," Lynn said, reaching to grab hold of his satchel before Rex could. "You'll be disappointed in any case. The contents are simply old papers."
"But very old papers," Rex pointed out, rocking slightly where he still straddled, distracting Lynn with all his wiles.
The cab cornered and sunlight flashed over them both as the door jerked open. Lynn ground his teeth together. Not only were his hands covered in ... evidence, but his only pistol was hidden beneath a maze of silk and underskirts. The pistol pointing at his head was hidden by nothing.
"Come then," a very female voice said. "Give me the bag."
"Never," Lynn shouted, using the bag as a cudgel, knocking the pistol back as he rolled, pulling himself free from his new lover.
"You bastard," Rex growled, drawing Lynn's attention.
Lynn spun, pistol out now, only to find the pretty blond, held close in the arms of another man, bandana over his face, pistol nestled into disheveled blond hair.
"Give my partner the bag, or I'm gonna see that you never get your cock in this mouth ever," the man growled. "Set the bag down or I'll blow his head off."
"You know he's a man," Lynn said, furious now, "You're probably his cohort."
"Fuck that," the man growled, reaching up to grab a blond wig off with tearing force.
Tears filled Rex' eyes, but as he reached for his head, the other man grabbed his arm, pulling it behind him. "Recognize him now, Pinkerton?"
"Why should I?" Lynn said, backing into a corner, hardly a defensive position, but the best he could manage in that moment.
"I am a public defender." Rex rushed his words, the short black hair making him look in some way respectable. "I need what's in that bag."
"I'll bet you do." Lynn wrinkled his nose, not lowering his pistol at all. "I need to deliver it to the client."
"At the cost of a man's life?" The man holding Rex pressed the pistol harder to Rex's head. "You're a great Pinkerton man though! I bet you see people die all the time. How many right after you've fucked them?"
Lynn felt bile rise in his throat. His eyes met the pale blue eyes of the man who'd as much as accosted him in the street. "You won't get away with this."
"OH where's your white hat," the man asked, jerking the precious satchel out of the cab.
He gave Rex a hard smack to the head with the hard but of his pistol. Rex slumped forward and Lynn lunged to catch him. A trickle of blood ran down Rex' temple.
Both doors slammed shut and the robbers disappeared.
"Stop the cab! We need a doctor!"
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