The Bedroom Detective (Book 1 of 5)
The Bedroom Detective
by Ella Gottfried
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Copyright © 2016 All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
This story has erotic themes and is suitable for adults, 18+ only.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter One
Harry Harrison sat in the corner booth of an older diner with his one and only friend, Sam Lurch.
The clatter of the dishes and the ranting between the cook and waitress in no way distracted Harry from his rantings about Claire, his mystery novel, and his big chance at becoming one of the greats. He could see it now, his name next to Raymond Chandler, Dan Brown, or even Edgar Allen Poe.
“You’re a great writer,” Sam declared, without ever reading any of Harry’s material before.
“All she wants is me to go back to work; she just doesn’t understand the writing process,” Harry replied.
The waitress brought the tuna melts that the men ordered, rolling her eyes at the strange, somewhat smug men that sat in her section as they spoke about Harry’s plot for his novel, and this woman who obviously had more sense than either of them to urge him to go back to his day job.
“It’s a cruise, a dark stormy night and the captain is missing…” Harry continued his story summary for his friend.
Sam sat with his elbows on the table and his fists supporting his chin as Harry spoke. He was slightly too large for the small booth, his large scruffy beard held onto pieces of the tuna melt he nibbled on and his outfit unflattering for his shape, gender, or age.
The waitress caught a glimpse of the tight bicycle pants, bright orange, and the tight t-shirt that barely covered his belly and was partly the reason for her eye rolling, but not entirely. Harry’s words, his on and on, never-ending summary of a ridiculous mystery and the ranting about a woman who the waitress thought probably too good for him was the main reason for her disgust.
“And Claire read the manuscript?” Sam asked with a surprising tone.
“Yes. She didn’t seem to understand what I was going for in the book. It is a work in progress; I don’t know what she expected so quickly,” Harry said.
Harry had been working on the book for over six months now. So quick he was not, and as far as Claire, his girlfriend of two years was concerned, talented he was not either.
“She is surrounded by old books all day long. Maybe she has just lost appreciation for newer ones?” Sam said, offering his dimwitted support.
Harry met Claire at the library, so it was true she was surrounded by old books all day long, but she also was very eager to get the list of new arrivals, so he knew Sam wasn’t correct in his assumption, even though he wished he was in this case.
She was tall, beautiful and extremely kind. Her shy nature kept her from meeting anyone, and luckily for Harry, she grew fond of him as he spent almost every lunch break in the library reading.
Harry always felt that Sam was jealous of Claire, especially since he had no one to call his own. It had always been Harry and Sam all through school. They were best friends with never a girl to come between them. Now, Sam seemed glad to see Claire upset with Harry, and was all too supportive about telling Harry to let her go.
“She is not right for you, Harry,” he told him, shoving another bite of tuna melt into his mouth.
“You need to spend your time on the book; that’s what’s important,” he said.
“I know you’re right,” Harry said.
He really didn’t agree with his friend, at least not entirely. He knew Claire was too good for him, and that he would never get a chance at another woman so elegant and beautiful, but he wasn’t willing to give up his dream for her.
“Did you see that waitress?” Sam said with a chuckle.
“I think she winked at me,” he continued.
Harry smiled, entertaining his friend’s unfounded self-confidence. He noticed the eye roll from the waitress, but his own unfounded self-confidence wouldn’t allow him to believe it was due to his rantings, so he assumed it was due to the pieces of tuna stuck in Sam’s beard.
When she returned to the table with the check, Sam perked up, pushing his chest out and smiling at the woman with a strange, almost psychotic grin.
“Can I get you anything else?” she asked.
“Just your number,” Sam said.
Harry held back his reaction and continued to smile politely as he pulled out his wallet.
The waitress rolled her eyes, let out an exhausted sigh and scooped up the cash and the check before walking away.
“She’s a little rude, don’t ya think?” Sam asked.
“She just looks busy,” Harry said.
“Well, playing hard to get after flirting like that is just ridiculous,” he said, pushing the table away from his belly to climb out of the booth.
Harry watched his friend walk out of the diner, climb onto a woman’s ten-speed bike and ride off.
“I’m sorry about my friend,” he said softly to the waitress who was now cleaning the table.
She smiled, but it wasn’t friendly. It was more of a sarcastic grin as she moved away from Harry.
Harry began to think that Sam was right. This waitress is rude. Maybe he was right about everything, including Claire. Maybe it was time to let her go.