It was the kind of smoky bar right out of an old black and white film, filled with dames and broads and guys with cigars and fedoras. It was the kind of place that made you have a craving for smooth scotch and bourbon that burned on the way down. It was the kind of place that begged for smooth, mellow jazz, for soft swing and sensuous sounds. For red lips and dark hair. For quiet conversation and hushed whispers. For snatched snippets of meaningless voices somewhere in the darkness. It was the kind of place that just oozed suave out of every pore, and made me want to be the coolest guy since Mr Freeze..

Which is why I was doing my best to ignore Mack, despite her being at her most irritating.

“Baby, you’re so money you don’t even know it”

I carefully raised my glass to my lips, lingering over the sip, resolutely staring at the mirrored surface behind the bar. There was a moment’s silence, then, “I said, ‘Baby, you’re so money, you don’t even know it’”.

Again I ignored her, taking a deliberately slow sip of scotch, savouring the sweet sourness. As she took a breath, I put the glass down, sighed, and spoke, so softly that only someone right next to me would be able to hear.

“I get it, Mack. You don’t have to keep quoting Swingers at me, just ‘cause we’re in a place called the Derby, and there’s swing music”

“Sure I do, Kal, and you know why?”

“No”, I breathed in my very best ‘I should win a medal for this patience I’m showing’ voice. “Why’s that, Mack?”

“Because it’s fun, and because it pisses you off!”. God, I could hear the grin in her voice, could picture exactly her lips curved up in a shit-eating grin so wide it showed the chipped tooth right at the back of her mouth.

“Is that wise, though, Mack? I mean, I am the one who has to be charming tonight, and you’re kinda harshing my vibe here.”

“Harshing your vibe? Jesus, Kal, at least get into the lingo or something. Fuck, man, be cool”.

“Fine. Fine. You’re…you’re…fuck, I don’t know. You’re counteracting the booze, Mack, and that’s not good. Who are we after, again?”

“You need reminding? Seriously? Ugh, fine”. I heard a turning of a couple of pages, over the mic, then: “You’re looking for a Mrs Eloise Keighley. Answers to Ellie. Twenty-five, maybe 5’5, maybe a little overweight for her height. Great set of tits on her, though. Let’s see now, uh….long black hair- a little curly, apparently- and…ooh, she’s got that thing you do. Left eye blue, right eye brown. Shouldn’t be too hard to spot. Client- a Mr Leon Keighley- wants us to work our magic and see if he’s right, and she is a quote ‘cheating whore’ unquote. Charming. Is that all, Bond?”

“That’ll do, Moneypenny”, I replied in my best Connery impression, smirking despite myself. “We got any intel on when she’s turning up tonight? What she’s wearing, who she’s with, anything like that?”

“Jesus, don’t want much, do you? Give me a…moment”, she paused, there was more scuffling of papers, and then: “Okay. Here. She’ll be coming in in…about ten minutes. Thinks she’s meeting her husband here, but he’ll text her about five minutes after she gets here, cancelling. He thinks she’ll stay out anyway, and that’s when we- or rather you- pounce. We’ve got a picture of her from him, which I’m sending to your phone…now.”

I squirmed a little as my phone vibrated in a place it really shouldn’t, then pulled it out, going through the menus until I had the picture; our…victim, dressed in something blue and slinky that I was pretty sure she’d had to glue herself into. “Not bad. I wish she hadn’t worn that dress, though”

I heard a snort from the other end of the line, and frowned, immediately defending myself. “Look, laugh all you like, but it’s not you who has to keep eye contact with a woman, when a few inches lower there’s breasts practically throwing themselves at you. There I’ll have to sit, making polite conversation about oh, dear, don’t you look sad, why is that, you’ve been stood up oh no, here, let me buy you a drink; when all the while, I’ll just have breasts breasts breasts running in a loop in my mind.”

“You’re talking to me like I don’t know what it’s like, Kal”, she retorted, then added, in the most patronising tone possible, “poor baby, having to keep that libido in check for a while because there’s boobs nearby”

“It’s alright for you”, I muttered darkly, “you’ve got a couple right there whenever you look down, and you can get two more whenever you like, just by being all…you.”

“Anyone would think you’re jealous, mister. And don’t talk about my tits, okay? That’s sexual harassment, you know”.

This time it was my turn to snort, at the faux-innocent tone in her voice. “Sure, sure. Who would you tell, Mack? It’s just you and me, and neither of us is the fucking HR person”

“We’ll hire someone to be HR, and get them to fire you”, she replied promptly, a moment before cracking up.

"Sometimes I wonder why the fuck I even signed up to do this with you", I sighed, slipping into another impression as I muttered, "I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody.."

"Instead of a bum", she finished with a chuckle, and I winced slightly at the tone in her voice.

"You do realise you're gonna have to go radio silent when she turns up, right? I mean, Jesus, Mack, how will you cope? How will you deal with actually having to be quiet?"

"This is harassment, you know, and I'm going to go to HR about this", she retorted, a moment before sighing. "Fuck's sake, she's early. All crew members to battlestations. Red alert. This is not a drill. Repeat this is not a dr-"

I cut her off in the most succinct way I knew, mostly by dropping my earbud into a glass of water on the bar next to me, then straightened a little, shifting so I could watch the entrance without being obvious.

My phone buzzed, and a quick glance at the screen showed a message that contained far too many expletives in it than were truly decent. Ignoring it, I turned my attention back to the door, just in time to see the target walk through the door.

Excellent, I thought, smirking to myself. Showtime.

So, first up, you have options! dun dun duunn. You can play the target- either the version mentioned here, or a different one. You can play Kal's utterly irritating partner, Mackenzie, where the only requisite is that she thinks she's far funnier than she is- and annoyingly, she's hilarious. You can even play a rival from another agency, maybe trying to honeytrap our man Kal.

Whatever you choose, here's the deal; I'm not imposing limits or kinks on this thing. Obviously some won't fit- necrophilia, bestiality, extreme ageplay, tons of mutilation- but beyond that, just know that ace detective Kal Cavanagh does whatever he has to to get the result he needs.

I don't have a ton of ideas for plot or whatever, but then, half the fun's making shit up, right?

So hit me with your roleplay stick, hit me, hit me; hit me hard, c'est fantastique, hit me, hit me, hit me.

If this is up, I'm still up for it.