Larry Kent 799 The Weirdos by Don Haring

Author:Don Haring [Haring, Don]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: communes, private eyes, crime ebooks, piccadilly publishing, don haring, larry kent, hard boiled crime novel, golden age detectives
Publisher: Piccadilly
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6 ... fisherman’s luck ...

Sandra had the bed sheet up to her face. Her clothes were folded over a chair.

“How’d you get in?” I asked.

“Pass key. Of course, I waited until old Sour Puss cleaned up in here.” Her full lips went into a pout. “Ain’t you glad to see me, Bill?”

“Of course I am.”

“Then come and crawl under the sheet with me.”

“I have to take a shower first. I’ve been fishing.”

“Everybody in town knows that. They’re all talkin’ about the eight-pound bass you gave to Saul Bogart.”

“It wasn’t quite seven pounds,” I said.

“It’ll be nine by tomorrow.” She laughed and her large globular breasts danced against the thin bed sheet. “Didn’t you know that fish keep growin’ and growin’, especially after you’ve had ’em for supper?”

“Be right out,” I said, heading for the bathroom.

“Wait,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“I hope you don’t mind, but I had a few nips of your scotch while I was waitin’.”

“I don’t mind at all, Sandra. Have another while I have my shower. And pour one for me.”

“All rightee.”

I heard her bare feet hit the floor as she got out of bed. I entered the bathroom.

“Billy boy ...” She sounded hurt. “Don’t you even want to have a look at me?”

“I’m doing that right now,” I said, nodding in the direction of the bathroom mirror, in which she was perfectly framed standing by the bed.

“You sneaky thing, you,” she chuckled, her breasts going into a little jiggle. She placed her hands on her buxom hips, lifted her chin. “Tell me what you see, Bill.”

I studied the image in the mirror for a moment. “I see a vision of white-pink skin stretched tighter than the hide over a drum.”

“You’re not gonna beat me like a drum, are you?”

“Sandra, it’ll be more like I’m gently running the tips of my fingers over the strings of a harp.”

She shivered deliciously with a long “Ooooooh!” that made her breasts slap against each other and then shimmer.

“I’ll be right out,” I said, closing the door.

It was one of my quickest showers. I left the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my middle. Sandra handed me a drink and smiled down at the towel.

“Fraidy cat.”

“Patience,” I said.

She clinked her glass against mine. There was, I noticed, about four inches of scotch left in the bottle, but I saw this only through the corner of an eye because the rest of my vision was concentrated on Sandra’s voluptuous body. Her strawberry tipped mounds were perfect globes that laughed at the law of gravity. Her body was a panoramic wonderland of curves and swellings that didn’t show a hint of suet.

“To us,” she said huskily.

We drank.

“Bill ...”

“Yes?”

“Sit on the bed.”

I did.

“Want me to dance for you?”

“I don’t think I could stand it.”

“I’ll know when to stop.”

She did.

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