RICK THE DICK
The Desert Rose Case
The first time I laid eyes
on him he was whaling the hell out of some poor bastard. They were in the alley
behind the Desert Rose strip club. Arnold Billings was using a piece of iron
pipe about two feet long and an inch in diameter. I had ducked in the alley to take a leak. The
beer served at the Desert Rose just ran right through me and the Rose has the
nastiest restrooms in the country. I always use the alley because it’s cleaner.
Arnie stopped thumping the black
man when he realized he had an audience.
“Who are you?” he snapped.
“You must be mighty pissed
off at that dude,” I observed.
“I am. You a friend of
“No, I don’t think I know
“Then go away and let me
get on with it.”
“Yeah, about that,” I said
going closer to look at the victim. “You know the cops are going to get real pissy if you kill him, don’t you?”
“What, he ain’t dead yet?” He looked genuinely surprised that the man
was still alive.
“No, there’s still some
life left in him. Not much, but enough to stop it from being murder one.”
“You a cop?” He took a
better grip on the pipe.
“No, I’m a private
investigator. Why don’t you call it a night for this guy and let’s go get a
cold beer.” Arnie gave that suggestion some thought and then threw the pipe
“Hey, Buddy,” I said. “None
of my business, but were you ever in the service?”
“Yeah, Navy. Why?” He had
started out of the alley.
“No big deal, but your
fingerprints are on file.” He looked confused. “The pipe,” I said. “Your
prints?” He caught on and wiped the handle of his club clean with his shirt
tail, careful to avoid the bloody end.
I took another look at the
bloody black man laying in the alley. His head was a
mess, but he was still breathing. I caught up with the man I would later find out
was Arnie. I stuck my head in the entrance of the Desert Rose long enough to
tell the bouncer that there was a man in the alley and that he needed some
medical attention. The bouncer knew me, but I knew he wasn’t going to tell
anybody my name.
Some might call what I did
obstructing justice. Maybe so, but I’ve discovered there is justice and then
there’s justice. Besides, I would find out all about Arnie and if push came to
shove I could always trade him for some favors with the cops. Also, I just knew
there had to be one hell of a story in there somewhere and I do love a good
“So tell me, Arnie,” I said
after the introductions. I told him I was Rick Short. “You have a good reason
to rearrange that guy’s head?”
“He fucked my wife,” Arnie
“Rape?” He shook his head.
“No, she let him,” he said,
looking miserable. “Partly my fault. I guess, but he had to pay.”
“Yeah, I guess. Did you
think that maybe you were whipping-up on the wrong person?”
“Can’t whip my wife’s ass.
Can’t whip my own ass. That just left him.” That logic defied argument, but
there were a few holes in it.
“Who is he?” I asked. In
the light of the bar I could see that Arnie was a pleasant looking guy. Maybe
thirty or so with sandy colored hair that was receding. He’d be bald in a few
is the name he used. Maybe it’s his real name, but I don’t know.”
“When did he fuck your
wife? I mean how long ago?”
“First time was a couple
months back. They been coming around while I was at work since then. Him and
some of his friends. Hey, you’re a PI.
Maybe you can help me find Blackbird.”
“Blackbird? What the hell
“He’s the leader. He’s the
prick that got it started and I’m looking for his ass. Can you help me?”
“So you can bash his head
in, too? I don’t think so, Arnie. You seem like a nice guy, but you keep up
this revenge shit and you’re going to get caught. You’ll end up being some big
black dude’s wife. Why don’t you go on home and forget about it. You beat the
hell out of one guy, let that be enough.” He didn’t comment.
I bought him another beer.
We talked a while and then he thanked me and left. Later I drifted back down to
the Desert Rose to see what was going on there. They had hauled Mark Bigalow off in an ambulance, apparently still alive, but
the detectives were still there. I recognized a couple of them from my days on
the force. No cop shouted it, but I
moved along because there was nothing to see anyway.
“I found your card in my
husband’s pocket,” she said. She said she was Annabelle Billings. It took me a
minute to make the connection. It had been two weeks since I met Arnie Billings
in the alley. “I want to hire you,” she added.
“To do what?”
“I’m being stalked,” she
answered taking the client chair I offered her.
“Call the cops,” I said.
“That’s what they do and they’re pretty good at it. That won’t cost you a dime.
“I have money and I can’t
go to the police. It’s…complicated. Can you help?”
“I don’t know if I can or
not. Tell me your story and we’ll see.”
Arnie and I have been
married nearly four years. We met in college, dated almost a year and got
married. We moved here right after the wedding because Arnie had a good job offer.
Arnie is a real nice man. He’s kind and considerate and I know he loves me. I
don’t know exactly where things went wrong. I guess it started with Arnie’s
photography. He’s a real good photographer. It’s his hobby.
We hadn’t been married very
long when he talked me in to posing for him. You know, wearing lingerie and
swim suits. That sort of thing. That
progressed to topless and then into full nudes. He told me that nobody would
ever see them, so I did as he asked. I mean I have a nice figure and all, so
why not? Besides it was fun and it always turned us on.
At first Arnie used film
and last year he bought a real expensive digital camera. Truthfully, I felt
better with the digital stuff because there weren’t any real photos or negatives
around. You know what I mean?
Arnie had me pose for him
doing things…masturbating and that sort of stuff. Arnie sometimes would use a
timer and we made some action shots. You know, me and him…together. I’ve read
where a lot of married couples do that.
I had no idea that Arnie
was sharing the pictures with people on line. When I found out I was really
upset. I didn’t say a word to him for a week, but I finally got over being mad
I asked him who had seen my
photos and he told me there was only five or six people in his chat-room. I
didn’t even know what a chat-room was. Arnie showed me how to used the computer and I got on line. Mostly to see what the
What I saw blew my mind. I
couldn’t believe what I was seeing there. Couples of all sizes, shapes and age
had posted pictures of them doing…well, everything. I had a lot of spare time
because Arnie didn’t want me working. I spent a lot of it on the computer.
One day I was surfing and
ran across a site that was advertised as the place for lovers. It had a lot of
video clips, pictures, and stories. Some of the so-called true stories made my
hair stand on end. Also I’ll admit they were hot and got me excited. A couple
of time I nearly attacked Arnie when he came home from work. Not that he minded
“Go on Mrs. Billings,” I
said after she fell quiet for a while.
“I’m still listening.”
“I don’t know where to go
from here,” she said tears coursing down her face. “This is the part where I
messed up big time.” I waited for her to calm down.
Arnie showed me where he
had my pictures stored on the computer.
They all were there. Fully clothed, swimsuits, topless, and full nudes.
The really dirty ones were there also, but in a separate file.
One afternoon I was playing
around on the computer and got into a chat-room. I chatted with a lot of people,
but one seemed really interesting. His screen name was Blackbird. I teased
Blackbird a lot over the next few days. I guess I sounded like a real slut, but
I was only fooling around with him. At least at the beginning. After about a
week we got out of the chat-room and used e-mail to communicate. After that we
would use the instant message thing. I knew he was a black man. He told me that
right at the beginning. I’m not a racist, so that didn’t make any difference to
I wasn’t sneaking around,
mind you. I told Arnie everything Blackbird and I talked about. He was fine
with it. I told him that Blackbird had ask for a picture of me and Arnie told
me to send him one. I picked out one with me wearing a bikini. It was sexy, but
Blackbird must have liked
it because he asked me for some more. I sent a couple more similar to the first
one. I soon ran out of that kind of photos and I sent him one where I was
topless but had my hands over my breasts. I worried what Arnie would think, but
he was fine with it. He just laughed when he read Blackbird’s response.
“You got him all excited,
Ann. What does he look like?” I told Arnie I didn’t know and I immediately asked Blackbird to send me a
He did and I was surprised
at how he looked. Big and mean looking. He had scars all over his face. Later
he sent me one that showed him bare-chested. He had a bunch of scars on his
chest, also. I asked him about the scars and he told me they were the product
of a misspent youth.
Over the next couple of
weeks I sent him a couple topless photos because Arnie wanted me to. I’m proud
of my breasts and since Blackbird didn’t know anything about me, I thought why
Blackbird sent me a picture
of him naked. I nearly passed out from shock. He was holding the biggest penis
I had ever seen. At least twice as big as Arnie. I showed it to Arnie and he
got a kick out of it. He told me that Blackbird had enhanced the photo. When I
asked Blackbird about it he said there had been no retouching and that it was
I thought it was time to
cool it with Blackbird, so for a few days I stayed off the internet.
Unfortunately I didn’t stop thinking about the photo of his big penis. When I
got back on the computer there were a dozen messages from him. He sounded so
sad, I felt bad about ignoring him. To make it up to him I sent him a full
nude. It didn’t show much because I was laying down on the rug. At least that
was what I intended to do.
Somehow I hit the wrong
button and I sent him the whole file of the real hot photos. The ones that
didn’t leave anything to the imagination. Me with dildos, fruits, and
vegetables. The ones of me and Arnie doing the nasty. I didn’t realize what I
had done until later that night.
“Ann, get in here!” Arnie
yelled at me. “What the fuck is going on?” He was pointing at the computer
screen and a photo of me, legs spread wide and playing with myself. I
recognized the picture even thought my face was blocked. I was flabbergasted.