The Lipstick Detective


“Greece!”
Billie wasn’t punching the heavy bag at the Gargoyle Gym, she was pummeling it. Punishing it,
actually.
speed boxing. She flurried her fists against the heavy bag, delivering a powerful jolt with each
strike. She threw hooks, crosses, jabs, and uppercuts, all with precise accuracy and
tremendous strength. The bag bounced wildly on its chain, hanging tough against the
onslaught of punches.
She grinned at Andy, then sneered at the bag like it was an enemy. Billie finished her workout
with a blistering Left, Left, Right blitzkrieg that knocked it off the hanger, slamming into the
nearby wall.
“Okay, all done!”
The manager groaned. “Really, Billie? Again?”
After a quick shower she changed into her work clothes. She examined what she saw in the
mirror: A solid 200 pounds of toned muscle packed onto a 5’7” frame with a ghost of baby fat
here and there. Pretty, pert breasts supported by a pectoral wall. Six abs the size of her fists
proudly making their presence known below her peaches and cream skin. She slipped on a
sleeveless shirt and flexed her right arm, a rock hard hill of muscle forming beside her big
shoulder.
“Flabby bitch!” she laughed.
The sign on that door read “Billie Payne - Detective and Bodyguard Service,”and business was
booming. Los Angeles was full of visiting foreign princesses wanting protection on their
shopping trips, industry executives anxious about sabotage, sports stars worried about being
interrupted while they entertained their extramarital harems. The visitor of the morning
introduced himself as Guy Michael the 3rd, an elite-level accountant looking for a shield as he
made a messy divorce from his current client’s cartel. Michael was going to have a very messy
insurance, he said a day before in their phone conversation.
The new client walked in her door with an A++ trophy girlfriend on his arm. He didn’t bring
gangster vibes. He seemed like a Yale economics yuppie ready to retire at age 40. A very self-
satisfied one at that. The girl - well, she was something else.
“Guy,” he said, holding out his hand, which Billie shook in the manner of a businesslike
hydraulic vise. The high-priced beauty by his side gave Billie a look. Not the expression of a
beautiful girl assessing another hot babe to see what opposition she offers. She all but drooled
at the sight of Billie.
“This is my life partner Ashley Bradbury,” Guy said with self-confident pride. “We met when she
was on a big Hollywood movie set, and we just hit it off. Maybe you’ve seen her work. She's
famous in the theater, a real thespian.”
“So happy to meet you, Ms. Payne,” she said with a hungry grin, her tongue licking her lips.
“Gosh... those legs could crush a dude’s windpipe in seconds.”
Oblivious, Guy said, “What’s your rate?”
“My services cost $2,000 a day. Or more, if it requires hospital ambulance calls.”
“’m just a law-abiding citizen. That’s pretty expensive for basic protection.”
“And worth it. I've protected lots of rich and powerful people from the most ruthless crooks
and scumbags. You can trust me. I'm your bodyguard.”
Ashley was beginning to feel a warm energy flowing into her crotch. Billie didn’t need facial
recognition software to recognize that.
main entrance, Guy and Ashley in the lead positions. As Billie scoped the doorway, she knew
this dispute would involve emergency paramedic units. Lots of them.
The cartel doubled down on security by posting teams of big-shouldered thugs outside the
main entrance for nonstop “cigarette breaks” where they eyed incomers suspiciously.
exchanged a glance and pulled out guns, rather than smartphones.
“The fuck you will,” snarled Billie, scattering the pair like a bowling ball slamming into pins.
One man went flying into the reinforced glass doorway. The one remaining charged at her with
a fierce growl that usually preceded his snapping a neck, but this time, the tables were turned.
She deftly sidestepped his grab and launched a swift palm strike to his nose that made him
howl in pain and drop his pistol. The other jumped to his feet, charged Billie and ate an elbow
strike that cracked his nose like a claw hammer. They came at her again two against one and
she spun around and delivered a devastating kick to the gun less thug’s solar plexus, leaving
him gasping for breath and clutching his midsection. He stumbled back, making a strange
gagging sound, and collapsed. The one still armed got his gun twisted from his grip until his
shooting finger snapped against the trigger guard. Before he could say why he disliked that,
Billie’s left fist knocked his jaw off its hinges.
Dragging the pair off the street to conceal the rumpus, Guy, Billie and Ashley took the elevator
tothe executive suite