Clue Ch. 3

We gathered at the foot of the stairs. I was more than pissed off. I had just been cheated out of a thorough licking by a nineteen year-old virgin. Opportunities like that don't come along every day. I hated my job.

"So what do you think, Ms. McCoy?" Professor Plum asked me. "What do you think happened to the body?"

"I think somebody moved it," I said grumpily. "It didn't get up and walk away."

"Why would somebody move it?" Mrs. Peacock asked.

"I don't know," I snapped. "What do I look like to you? Sherlock Holmes?"

"You actually look a little like Philip Marlowe," Ms. Scarlet said, putting me in my place. "Only with nice tits."

"Whatever," I grumbled, secretly flattered. The interlude with Mrs. White had put me in a decidedly lesbian frame of mind, and Ms. Scarlet was looking good. She had squeezed herself into a bright red, lacy bra and crimson panties, which covered up her naughty bits, but not by much. I could still make out her firm, gumdrop-sized nipples, still hard just behind the silk, and I was dying to pop them in my mouth.

"How much progress have you made so far?" Mr. Green asked. He had one arm around Ms. Scarlet's shoulder and was holding her close, comforting her. Every time she looked away from him, he would study her cleavage. It was apparent from the lump in his trousers that she had been looking away from him quite often.

"I've only just started my investigation," I said unhappily. "And it would be a lot easier to make progress if people would stop interrupting me."

"You don't consider a missing body important?" Colonel Mustard asked, realizing I had been singling him out.

"Not as important as questioning possible witnesses," I fired back.

"How could your witness answer questions when her tongue is busy lapping at your crotch?" Colonel Mustard shouted, stepping forward.

"I happen to be a professionally licensed investigator, Colonel," I announced loudly. "I have closed over two hundred cases. I have received numerous commendations from a number of state and federal law enforcement agencies. I have also personally met with the President of the United States. If you feel you are more qualified to conduct this investigation, I'm anxious to hear your thoughts."

He fell silent, looking suitably chastised.

"Very well," I said, grabbing Mrs. White by the wrist. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a witness to question. The rest of you should search the house for the body." I pulled Mrs. White into the kitchen with me.

I shut the door and anxiously began unbuckling my belt. "Now," I said, "Where were we?"

"Um, Ms. McCoy?" she asked, hesitantly watching my pants drop.

"What?" I asked.

"I thought you were going to ask me questions," she asked uncertainly.

"Of course not," I said. "You're going down on me, remember?" "That was before," she said. "Before Mr. Boddy went missing. I really think we should find him."

"God Dammit," I said, letting out a sigh of frustration. "I never should have done you first."

"It's just not respectful that his body could be hidden in the house somewhere," she said. "Aren't you curious? Aren't you anxious to solve the crime? With all the credentials you listed…"

"Credentials?" I asked. "What credentials?"

"The licensed investigator, the commendations, the president…"

"Oh," I said, dismissing my credentials with a wave of my hand. "I made all that shit up. Except the President part." My lips tingled with the memory.

"Still…" Mrs. White said.

"All right, all right," I said, bending down and pulling up my pants again. "We need a plan."

"I'll help any way I can," Mrs. White said.

"Really?" I asked, pausing at my belt buckle.

"With the investigation," she added.

"Right," I said, pulling my belt tight. "There's at least one way you can help."

"How?"

"I need to find out who has a motive," I said. "No one's going to tell me anything. But you…with your sweet face and smooth legs and cute ass and juicy cunt and—"

"What can I do?" Mrs. White interrupted.

I snapped out of it. "The guests might be more willing to open up to you. You could ask the questions and I could watch from the secret passageway. From the same place you took those pictures of Mr. Boddy."

"Okay," Mrs. White agreed. "Where do we start?"

"Show me how the passageway works," I said.

She took me on a brief tour, showing me which way to walk, where the peepholes were, and where to get a clear view of each room. To practice, we watched Professor Plum pour himself his umpteenth cocktail of the evening while perusing volumes in the library.

"He doesn't look too interested in finding the body," I noticed. "Maybe he already knows where it is."

"Maybe," Mrs. White agreed. She was very close to me in the tiny passageway. I could smell her perfume, and feel her breath on my neck while she peered over my shoulder.

"He's been drinking and he's alone," I continued. "Definitely the best person to start your investigative career with." I turned to Mrs. White. "Sure you don't want to go down on me?" I asked.

"Um," she mumbled, searching for a polite way to say no. "Maybe later?"

"Okay," I agreed, deciding that would have to do. "Go and talk to the Professor. Find out what his secrets are."

"Okay," Mrs. White agreed. She hurried toward the passageway exit, leaving me alone with a clear view into the room. I watched the purple-clad professor continue downing his drinks.

"Hello, Professor," Mrs. White said, stepping into the library a few minutes later. "Do you mind some company?"

"Ah," Plum said, looking up from his book happily. His speech was a little slurred. "The enchanting Mrs. White." He raised his glass to her. "Do come in."

"Thank you," she said, entering the room. She hugged her arms close to her body. "Chilly in here," she commented.

"I like to keep things cool, I get a little flushed when I've been drinking," Plum confessed. "Perhaps you could use a cocktail, as well? To warm you up?"

"Sure," Mrs. White said, sitting on the sofa.

"Wonderful," the professor said, getting up out of his chair. "I'll fix you one." He went over to the bar and concocted something, using several different bottles with no labels. When he turned around he was holding a rocks glass filled with lavender liquid, which he brought proudly to Mrs. White.

"What's this?" she asked.

"I call it the Professor's Predilection," Plum said, swollen with pride. "I think you'll like it."

"Thank you," Mrs. White said, taking the glass. She took a sip as the Professor moved back to his chair. "It's been a terrible evening," she said.

"That it has," the professor agreed.

"I can't imagine who would want to hurt Mr. Boddy," she continued. "He was such a nice man."

"He certainly was," the professor nodded. "Very generous."

"How do you mean?"

"Finish your drink and I'll tell you," the professor said, motioning for her to drink up. She slowly drained her glass.

"Done?" he asked her.

She nodded.

"What did you think?"

"It was very good," she said. She looked warmer to me. "How do you mean, generous?" she pressed, like a good little detective.

"He used to send me videotapes," the professor told her. "Being deeply involved with scientific study, as I am, I have little time for a personal life. I simply do not have much free time to spare for romance."

"I understand," Mrs. White said. She started fanning her face, as if the temperature in the room had gone up considerably.

"Ironically," Plum smiled, "my field of expertise happens to be in the arena of passion, and the chemical inducement thereof, so I am often in need of research material. Material I am usually too busy to compile myself. "

"What?" Mrs. White asked with confusion, apparently not catching most of the big words.

Professor Plum went on. "So my good friend Mr. Boddy would send me videotapes, for my amusement and edification. They were quite informative."

"So he would help you with your research?" Mrs. White asked, wiping some sweat from her brow. She looked like she was losing interest. Almost as if she was about to fall asleep. "What sort of videotapes did he send you?"

"Videotapes taken around the mansion," Plum said. "Of Ms. Scarlet. And you. I certainly will miss getting those tapes." He sighed mournfully. "I hope they catch whoever did this."

"My God it is fucking hot in here," Mrs. White said sleepily.

"Make yourself comfortable, my dear," the professor said. I thought I sensed a crafty look creep into his eyes. "Take off your uniform," he suggested.

"Yes," Mrs. White said, getting unsteadily to her feet. "I think I will." In one smooth motion, she pulled her French maid uniform over her head and dropped it to the floor.

"Good Heavens," whispered Plum at the sight of Mrs. White's suddenly naked body. I agreed. She was a nineteen year-old work of art, every inch firm and fuckable. I'd only seen her shaved snatch before, but her whole was much greater than the sum of her sensitive parts. She collapsed back into the sofa, her breasts jiggling.

"You were saying?" Mrs. White mumbled dreamily.

"Um, yes, I was saying," the professor stammered, trying to regain his line of thought. "About the videotapes, yes…they featured you and Ms. Scarlet, in various stages of undress." His eyes ran all over Mrs. White's body like a track runner on amphetamines. "Delightful footage of Mrs. Scarlet, sucking, fucking, objects inserted into her orifices…" he cleared his throat. "But I must confess, I was especially charmed by the prodigious amount of material that featured you masturbating."

"Masturbating?" Mrs. White asked quietly, eyes half closed.

"Yes," Plum continued. "Very pure and sensual. Most arousing."

"I like to masturbate," Mrs. White confessed. Eyes closed, she smiled, recalling some fond memories. Then she decided to make new ones. Her thighs, wrapped in ivory stockings, slowly slid open and her hand lazily drifted toward her cunt. From the peephole, I realized she'd been drugged, and I knew I should go down there and rescue her. It was near the top on my list of things to do…right after I got my own rocks off. I anxiously yanked down my trousers and shoved a hand into my panties, hugging the wall for a good view through the peephole.

"That's it," Professor Plum grinned happily, pulling at his zipper. "Make yourself comfortable, my dear." He took his stiff prick in his hand and began beating at himself.

"You disgusting pig," I whispered at him, fingering my clit furiously.

Mrs. White moaned softly as she humped her palm. Her free hand was kneading at one of her breasts. It was clear she either didn't care that she had an audience or didn't even know.

Professor Plum stood and I got a better look at his dimensions. As I'd suspected earlier, he had a prick that any geek would be proud of. Not as impressive as Mr. Boddy's, but big enough for me to want to mount for a quick, meaningless poke.

He approached Mrs. White, still whacking his meat. He leered appreciatively at the writhing body in front of him. "Very good," he said. "This is exactly the sort of experience I require for my research. Don't you agree, young lady?"

"I like to masturbate," Mrs. White whispered in response. She sounded a little breathy, like she was getting close to cumming.

"I like things, too," Professor Plum said. I watched him climb onto the sofa, putting his feet on either side of the masturbating girl. He jerked on his cock, the head just inches from her face. "I don't get them very often, but I do like them. Now open wide for the doctor…"

I pulled up my pants with a quick curse. I couldn't let this happen, I realized. I couldn't let a half drugged girl be forced to swallow some pervert's prick, especially when I was just a few feet away and more than happy to swallow it myself.

I hopped through the passageway, trying not to trip as I got dressed. I pressed the button that swung open the secret panel to the kitchen and I raced through the house to the library.

I flung the library doors open. The professor was humping Mrs. White's face, his pants around his knees and his butt clenching and unclenching as he fed his cock in and out of her mouth. He looked like a horny dog fucking someone's leg. Mrs. White was far away, focusing on the activities she was orchestrating between her legs. I was about to shout out something, to put an end to it, but I could tell by the look on Professor Plum's bright red face that it was too late.

"Oh God Yes," he moaned, holding Mrs. White's head still as he drove the length of his shaft down her throat. He held her there for a moment or two, her nose buried deep in his pubic hair, as he shuddered. I could see Mrs. White's throat contract as she swallowed his load.

"Excuse me," I said loudly.

Professor Plum looked at me with surprise, letting go of Mrs. White's head and stumbling off the sofa. "Ms. McCoy," he gasped, pulling up his pants. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough," I said, moving to the sofa to check on Mrs. White. She looked as if she might be coming to.

"God," she said dreamily, holding her head. "Where am I?" A little cum dripped out of the corner of her mouth as her eyes slowly opened. "Why am I so cold?" She looked down and saw that she was almost completely naked. "Jesus!" she shouted, suddenly fully awake. She threw her arms around her body to cover up. "How did that happen?"

"I'm not sure?" I said, looking at Professor Plum. "How did it happen?"

"Haven't the slightest," he said, not looking very convincing. His clothes were rumpled and his penis hung out of his open fly.

"Really?" I asked doubtfully.

"Ms. McCoy," he huffed, insulted. "I wouldn't lie to an investigator. I am willing to do anything I can to assist you in solving this terrible, terrible crime."

"Really?" I asked doubtfully again.

"Really," he insisted. "What can I do?" he asked, to prove it. "Name it. Anything."

I looked at his penis, now softening, almost useless, dripping some final drops of semen on his pants. "There's nothing you can do to help me," I sighed. "Not anymore."