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Bourbon On The Rocks #38


Her eyes widened like a python's mouth trying to swallow an antelope.

"You're very perceptive, Mr. Randolph," she said as she moved away from the drinks cabinet and took a lounge chair opposite the couch.

"So I've been told," I said.

"You had quite a night this evening. Do you often have the business end of a pistol stuck to your forehead?" she asked as she finished her drink.

"Not usually this early in the week," I said and a beautiful grin spread across her lovely face.

Her body was begging to be let loose from that red satin prison...

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