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...