Bleed Me Dry

The air was already stale when I at last had the taste of rum on my tongue. The police had kicked in the door downstairs while I was lost in a tangle of orange curls and black lace, thrown about like a ship trapped in her stormy blue eyes.

I never noticed the raid until the stomping on the stairs bled off onto my floor. Even then the sound didn't tip me off, I'd have happily ignored it save for the face she made.

Those eyes were wide and terrified as she straddled my waist, her thighs squeezing my middle as she sat up. In her haste her camisole was still pushed up on her chest.

I took a half second to admire her smooth, freckled skin before I pushed her toward the fire escape with the booze and helped her into a jacket for the frigid night outside. I saw her off with a quick, unfortunately chaste, kiss before I hurried to dress myself. I couldn't help but notice she had made off with my smokes as well, but that served me right I supposed, for wasting her time tonight.

No sooner had I thrown on my day dress and fastened my belt high on my waist, mimicing the tightness of her thighs, then that familiar rap on my apartment door rang out. I made my way out to the main room and opened the cheap door to stare at a mass of muscle I could hardly call a man.

"Can I help you, Detective?" I tried my best to sound innocently disheveled and not like I was just in bed with a woman and illegal spirits.

"That depends, Ms. Harlow," Detective Scott Williams said, I read his badge, "Can I come in?" He sounded innocent enough, and I didn't exactly need the heat so I waved him in.

"Oh yes, please! Would you like any coffee?" I don't wait for him to answer before I begin gathering a cup. He wouldn't refuse, not with the winter weather in Harlem.

He moved around my front room almost aimlessly. He made an effort not to be obvious in his snooping, but this happened often enough I was running out of apartments in New York to move to.

"We got a tip from one of the landlords that someone was smuggling illicit substances through this building. Know anything about that, Ms. Harlow?"

I did my best to smile pleasantly, "Just Haley, please, 'Ms. Harlow' makes me feel old." I laughed, hoping he'd find it charming, "What kind of substances? I knew that an old tenant was a drunkard before the law, thankfully, put an end to bars and louts like that."

Williams nodded sternly before gesturing to my pantry, "May I?"

I gawked at him, practiced, maybe, but did he really believe me so ditzy as to leave alcohol out in the open like that? "Excuse me Detective, surely you don't suspect me of this, right?"

His silence gave nothing away so I went to open the pantry for him. "By all means." I pretend to huff and make a show of being coyly upset. I had an Italian gal who would start a fight for the implication, but that wouldn't work so well for me at the moment.

He took his sweet time moving my nonperishables around before he nods again and begins to leave. "I'm sorry for the trouble ma'am, but we have to be thorough with these accusations. You know how it goes."

"It's no problem. Please do let me know when this gets resolved, I'd hate for a ruffian to be roaming the halls unchecked." I flash him a smile, which this time he returns. I'm smiling because this detective didn't even think to check my bedroom, he's probably smiling because he thinks I'm flirting.

"Of course Ms. Har-" he stops himself with a confident chuckle, "Haley. I'll be sure to drop by when we catch the crook."

Then he was gone and I was rushing to throw my bedroom window open to let my ginger prize inside from the frigid winter air. I threw open the window and climbed onto the fire escape but she was nowhere to be seen.

I looked around the iron platform for a few minutes before turning to head inside when I saw a folded note, pressed into the frame of the window, shielded from the snow and wind.

I snatch it as I crawl inside, opening it only after I close the window behind me.

"Thanks for the drink, Blondie.

-Red"