The night was hot, so hot the pavements seemed liquid, the very air sticky and textured; as sultry and breathless as the woman in the car. The Seacouver heat-wave had persisted for weeks making the city seem more like the decadent South than the sophisticated North West - hot, wet, languid, all energy bled out. As she drove Delta Blues flowed from the radio, promising liquid release, but ultimately failing to deliver.

She sighed as she parked the car in front of the dojo. It had been months since she'd last seen him and her need was as sharp as the sword lying across the back seat of her rented Chevy.

The light was on, she looked up and there he was, silhouetted against the blind, strong, solid. Amanda started out of the car, her eyes focused on the window. She stopped. His outlined figure was joined by another; soft, round and feminine. They kissed, passionately, his hand in her hair, her hands pulling him closer and closer.

In spite of herself Amanda swore, unwelcome jealously sparking through her. Tonight of all nights, the anniversary of their first meeting, she'd wanted, she'd hoped, she could be with him. Who was this woman? She knew someone who could tell her.

The main lock was easy, 'she'd have to see about getting him a new security system.' The door slid back into the deserted bar, the air here hotter even than that outside. A bead of sweat formed in the hollow of her throat and trickled, tickling down between her breasts. She took a deep breath and stepped in.

To her surprise the lock on the office was harder and by the time she was finished her blouse was wet, clinging to her burning flesh. She undid one, then two buttons, blowing cool air down her cleavage. There were no paper records, only a computer with a power-on password. After an age of guessing she gave up.

He was there as she turned to leave the room. Blocking the doorway, revolver in his hand. Tall, greying, his eyes still heavy lidded from sleep. Her breath caught in her throat. He wasn't conventionally handsome but his lined face was full of unspoken promises.

"What have we here?" he asked no one in particular "A little thief?"

She sidled up to him, her fingers caressing the barrel of the gun, totally fearless.

"Please, mister" she lisped "Don't hurt me...I'll be a good girl"

She pressed her hot, hard body against him, sensuously rubbing her thigh up and along his. He moved the gun. Sliding it down, along her sensitive neck, down to lodge above her heart. She stroked her hand down his cheek, the heat of her body stoking an answering fire in his.

"Oh, darlin' youv'e been so bad. I'm going to have to tie you up so you don't escape. Then....we wait for the police" He smiled and pushed her back onto a chair, his free hand caressing her thigh.

She was soon secured with a length of cord. Her wrists bound behind her caused her body to thrust towards him, hot and wanton.

She was beautiful, more beautiful than any woman had a right to be. It was all he could do not to stare. His eye was drawn to the hem of her short skirt,ridden up exposing slim brown thighs and a hint of lacy underwear. She caught his eye and licked her lips.

"Joe?" the little girl voice gone now, replaced by a breathy promise. "Joe, I'm so hot"

He knew what would help. He took the ice bucket from the bar. It's cool solidity anchoring him in the real world. He stared at her again.While his back was turned she'd moved, shifted her hips, spread her legs a little further exposing more wet, white lace.

Taking one clear wet cube he rubbed it along her lips, smearing her lipstick across her mouth like blood. She leaned forward as far as her bonds would let her, licking the ice, drawing his strong fingers into her mouth.

With a chuckle, he took another, running it down her neck. He watched as the melting water touched the edge of her blouse, turning the opaque silk transparent. Mesmerised he ran the melting ice over her breast, exposing her nipples to his gaze.....

********

Joe put down the pen and laughed. No, he didn't think Watcher HQ would appreciate a change of writing style let alone his little fantasy. He took another sip of the bourbon and with a wry glance at the stack of pulp detective novels on the desk, dropped the sheets into the shredder.