Songbird, Sing for Your Supper

Chapter One: She's So Heavy

One, two, three. One, two, three. One... two...

The job was like a waltz. Listen to your partner but still have the lead.

"Oh, Mistress Tremain!" the man beneath her cried, his head thrown back in pure pleasure, but his back burned with hot intensity.

"What is it, boy?" The mistress replied with venom laced in her words.

There were no words. Just a begging look from the man, his eyes cast in a shadow of lust. The mistress grew a bit angry by the lack of words. She grabbed the man by his shoulder-length hair and pulled it tight in her grasp. Earning a yelp from the man beneath her. She slowly ran her hands down his chest, pulling tightly at the ropes around his chest, humming as she did so. 

"Use your words," She sneered, but her eyes were speckled with worry. 

Her job always carried the risk of backfiring but she was always there to set things back on the right path. She let go of the man's hair, his head sitting back up, strong and tall. She could see something in his eyes. Something that gave her the impression that something was off. His mouth opened to bare the words she knew she'd have to obey. 

"Porcelain," The words spilled out of the man like water over a cliff. 

Her heart dropped. She quickly scrambled to get the man free of his ties. Stuttering out apology after apology. The strapping man couldn't help but laugh at her sudden change.  She quickly stood up, grabbing the man's clothes and hurriedly handing them to him. Not bothering to look him in the eyes as she knew she had done something wrong. She turned her back to him, wondering just what went wrong. She bit her velvet-covered finger and wouldn't dare look into the vanity's mirror. 

"Miss Tremain, I meant no harm of startling you," The man said, gently placing his calloused hand on her smooth shoulder. 

"No, I overstepped my bounds. I truly am sorry," She gently turned to the man, placing her gloved hands on his covered chest. 

This client wasn't like the others. She had a very odd and deep connection to him. Even though he had only been her client for nearly a year, she felt like she knew him for forever and a day. They were closer than most in the underground sex and new blossoming BDSM culture. He was the only one truly allowed to touch her or remotely love her during and over business hours. But when her time ran thin, they didn't see one another of maybe weeks on end. Then the love would come back. 

He merely chuckled, placing a small kiss on her high cheekbone. Her worried brows settling but it remained in her eyes. He held her hand and placed a fairly thick wad of cash in it, "Until next time Miss Tremain." 

"Until next time Mr.Norton," She sadly sighed, watching as her favorite client left her. 

                                                                              ✂︎✂︎

Colors of red and blue bounced off the siding of the young starlet's home. Gatherings of press and police surrounded the house, making the area feel smaller than it was. In the gorgeous house lay the body of the young starlet, who was cut open like a holiday turkey, blood pooling around her like a freshly rolled carpet. No one expected Elanore Norfolk's time in the spotlight would be cut so short. 

"Captian!" a young officer shouted as he scurried over to a tall man dressed in a neat suit. 

The captain cocked his brow and looked to the young officer. The captain was a handsome man with long hair that was neatly slicked back and features that were so stern he seemed to be made of marble. 

"The chief just called and he wants you to go to the Faulkheart residence to get Detective Folkheart," the young officer panted and quickly maneuvered the captain out of the house. 

The captain let out a heavy sigh and stepped back into his navy blue Chrysler Roadster. Driving as even more woodsy countryside passed him. He could see the grand property come into view. With the large Georgian house with its grand pillars and patio, a few barns and a large sparkling blue pool. He parked the rumbling car into the gravel driveway. He took a look around the property, finding that a woman was in the pool, sunbathing. He carefully walked down the steep hill to the pool. Hearing the radio grow louder and louder as he got closer. He quietly walked up to the edge of the pool and with a soft click turned the radio off. 

"Excuse me, ma'am, but do you know where I could find detective Faulkheart?" the captain placed his hands into his pockets. 

"You're looking at her..." The woman looked at the captain over her cat-eye shades. Her eyes went wide, "You!" She gasped and fell out of her pool float and into the water. 

It took a moment for the captain to realize who the woman was, but when he did his face went beet red. She came up from the water and held the edge of the pool. 

"You remember our damned rules now or else," She sneered and lifted herself out of the pool. 

She looked even more beautiful out of her leather catsuit. With her finger waved hair and perfect figure. He was in awe of her as the heat on his face spread to his neck and ears. As they stood in a mix of silence and anger, it dissolved away and that soft love that was there when they usually met came to light. 

"Thank you for being understanding last night," He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

Her face furrowed in anger. But how could she be mad at him. With his sweet face and kind eyes. She let out a soft sigh and patted his cheek as she stepped under a small awning and wrapped herself in a towel and slipped on her dainty blue sandals. She grabbed her small radio and walked back up to the house, the captain trailing behind her. 

The Georgian house was more beautiful on the inside than the outside. With its grand Foye with rooms on either side with a staircase that parted down the middle to open the house to more rooms. But what made the house more interesting was a large amount of taxidermy. In the Foye stood a giant polar bear standing tall on its hinds and across from it was a grizzly. Both of them guarding the entry into the rest of the house. As he and the detective stepped deeper into the house, it started to look like a jungle, with its many plants and taxidermy. But when they entered the kitchen it was very plain compared to the rest of the house. 

"Coffee? Tea?" Detective Faulkheart hummed as she placed the kettle on the old cast iron stove. 

"Coffee, thank you," The Captain whispered. Looking at all the minute detail of the kitchen. 

"So, Charles, tell me, who you are in the grand scheme of the police system and why you come to me," Faulkheart hummed as she leaned against the countertop opposite the dark stove. 

Charles let out a soft sigh and folded his arms over his chest, "Well first off, If we are to keep this professional, its Captian Norton. Second off, Elanore Norfolk was found murdered in her home this morning by cleaning staff," 

Detective Faulkheart couldn't help but smirk, she sauntered up to Charles and ran her hands up his chest, " Captian. I like the sound of that," she purred, getting him to blush, "But poor Elanore. Her time was cut too short," She sighed as the kettle screamed for attention. 

Faulkheart hummed and walked over to the kettle, placing it on the stone counter, she hummed as she got the french press ready. Charles couldn't help but get doe-eyed for her. There was some kind of love between them that he couldn't place his finger on.  

"Lezibeth, call me Lezibeth," she hummed as she handed him a mug of fresh coffee. 

"Lovely name," Charles chuckled, smelling the warm, almost holiday, smelling coffee. 

"I should say the same to you," Lezibeth hummed.

They exchanged flirtations over their coffee. But when Lezibeth's mug was done she placed it in the sink and walked out of the kitchen, with a cat-like saunter. Teasing Charles to come follow her. He let out a soft laugh and kept drinking his coffee, rolling his eyes and looking out the kitchen window to the vast property.