Art had somehow instantly produced a tiny coke spoon with a small mound of gleaming white crystals and slowly waved it under her nostril. And somehow it seemed completely natural for Suze to hold a forefinger to block her other nostril and sharply inhale the proffered drug. It packed a kick, she realized at once. Stuff was for real.
Billy was groaning in disbelieving shock. He stood in the shower near the spraying nozzle, water running down his back, as Suze gleefully soaped his chest with the motel giveaway bar. This had to be a dream, and if so, he hoped fervently he wouldn’t wake. He had admired, hell, outright lusted for Suze for almost all his sexual maturity. Now here she was, voluptuous body glistening in front of him, taking charge as she kept up a running commentary.
A plastic surgeon’s waiting room is a great place to people watch, especially in Beverly Hills. On this repeat visit, I sat in the waiting room and like everyone else in the room I tried to discreetly check out the other patients.
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