A Dame to Die for

A DAME TO DIE FOR
Detective Dick Noir The night started off like any other usual mid winter night in this God forsaken shit hole of a city. Cold, damp, dark and with a relentless drizzle. Why the hell couldn't Old Man Winter just put us all out of our misery and pour buckets of rain or shovel fulls of snow? I took off my hat overcoat and scarf and hung them up, then walked over to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of scotch and poured myself a shot. Then I lit up a cigar and walked over to the window to watch the drizzle run down my window, not being able to remember the last time I saw a sunny day, or any day for that matter. The night life gets to a man. You become nocturnal and start to forget there is another world out there. A world of sunshine and blue skies and puffy white clouds and green grass and trees and sandy beaches and streets filled with happy ordinary good people. At night time the monsters come out. The Gangsters, thugs, thieves, rapists, murderers; the predators of the underground, and of course the Dames to Die for. Becky was one of those Dames to Die for. A stunningly beautiful stripper with long dark hair, big breasts and unbelievably filthy in bed. From the moment I met her I knew I was in serious trouble.