Vicky Valentine's Erotic Adventures Volume 5: A Neo-Noir Erotic Series

By Smashwords

NEO-NOIR PULP EROTICA!
Gambling debts, blackmail, some microfilm, a bottle of rye. Tongue on the roof of her mouth, hard-boiled exotic dancer Vicky Valentine loves solving a mystery. A scream. A dead stiff. A nymph giggling. Black and white chiaroscuro shadows represent Vicky's world. She's a globetrotting babe who has sex with abandon and rocks out, while still finding the time to paint her nails. With her sidekick and double-agent ex-boyfriend mucking up the production, Vicky dances her way to erotic ecstasy.
In Volume 5, Vicky Valentine hits rock bottom in Bangkok’s seedy labyrinth of ping-pong shows and hustlers. With darkness everywhere, an old friend returns to deliver important information on the eccentric Countess Carmilla, the blood-bathing proprietor of the “nothing-off-limits” casino Arcadia Roulette. On an overnight train headed to Arcadia, Vicky plays with a mysterious stranger. At the casino, she daydreams of two Thai boxers and her in the ring while a former lover appears. He’s got intelligence vital to Vicky’s search for the nefarious Don Diab, the man who took everything from her. But first, he demands she steals a precious item from Carmilla’s safe. Can Vicky do the impossible while gunning her way through the rich and infamous?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Smashwords
• Release date: Jul 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005636647

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

Gambling debts, blackmail, microfilm, a bottle of rye. Tongue on the roof of her mouth, hard-boiled exotic dancer Vicky Valentine loves solving a mystery. A scream. A dead stiff. A nymph giggling. Black and white chiaroscuro shadows represent Vicky's world. She's a globetrotting babe who fucks with abandon and rocks out, while still finding the time to paint her nails. With her bisexual sidekick and double-agent ex-boyfriend mucking up the production, Vicky dances her way to erotic ecstasy.

Part One

LOST HORIZON

I lost True to Dokdo Island.

Three months later, a downward spiral threatens to engulf me. True’s last moment haunts my mind replaying in every minute of every day in waking life. Alcohol and hashish become my only respite. I bury myself in those demons hoping for solace, but I find none. When I sleep terrible nightmares consume me. When I wake I want to die.

Somewhere, I lost the horizon and I now search Bangkok for hope.

Searching for a clue concerning Countess Carmilla’s whereabouts amounts to nothing. Information about True’s background rests with this mysterious woman. Meeting contacts becomes tiresome. Most Thai locals speak limited English and I speak little Thai. I spend my days meeting Crepax’s acquaintances and my nights frequenting bars in a drunken stupor. I try to bury my rage at True and Wilder’s betrayals. Grim before, now I must seem like a real stick in the mud.

Bangkok is a beautiful city; there’s no doubt. It houses a vibrant street life, many cultural landmarks, and its notorious red-light districts. Haphazard city planning makes navigation a bitch. Canals make it worse, yet also more beautiful. Hot and sweaty, this colossal traffic jam called ‘The Venice of the East’ is a labyrinth of motorbikes, three-wheeled tuk-tuk taxis, and hustlers.

European diplomats and merchants used to live in the Old Farang Quarter during the early twentieth century. Now, I wander this dump all hours of night. Walking. Stumbling. Puking. Not caring if safety prevails. I stumble over to the Ratchaprasong, then to the sprawling Chatuchak Weekend Market, then over to the Taling Chan Floating Market. I enjoy the flowers at Pak Khlong Talat. At first, I savor the fresh durian and coconuts, but then this pleasure wears off.

I hate all of it because I hate myself.

My contacts produce little except for the Colt 1911 in my pocket and the brass knuckles in my handbag. Some are part of the criminal underworld with ties to other syndicates in Cambodia and Laos. Others are creeps. Crepax knows them all from his time searching out mystical texts for Diab. My only reliable contact remains a taxi driver, Boon-mee. Crepax vouched for him. I met Boon-mee in the slums concentrated near Bangkok Port in Khlong Toei District. Since then, we’ve formed a bond, so he’s the only one I trust. But I can’t really trust anybody anymore.

Nobody knows where to find this elusive Countess, and I grow tired of dealing with these people. They deliver rumors of blood drinking, but nothing tangible. She lives in a grand palace, but