F*U*C*K Radio

{Dedicated to Eye of Serpent, who was, indirectly,
responsible for prying this one loose. Here’s hoping
that, sooner or later, some intrepid hero finds and
opens that damned crystal coffin 🙂 It probably would
help readers if they were familiar with Warren Bandan,
Bubbles and the events from my “I Fought the Law”
stories, but this one goes by so quickly it might not

“Ooooooh, like, I HATE that bitch!!!!”

Steam was coming out of her ears and her pigtails had
grown rattles again and were hissing as they moved
through the air all on their own. It didn’t happen
often, but Bubbles was mad. And not Twiggy, “I can’t get
my stockings to line up straight” incensed, but a full
Dolly Parton, “You left the toilet seat up AGAIN and I
got pee all over my ass,” TRIP.

Last time I saw something like this, Downtown Courthouse
#3 ended up in the news and I ended up in a coma. Not
something I was looking forward to revisiting, let me
tell you.

“Why don’t you just turn the damned thing off.” I
replied and reached for the volume knob.

“Don’t you DARE!!!” I could feel the tank on wheels we
were riding in shudder – along with Henry and Bailey in
the front seat – as the unholy fury of hurricane Bubbles
expanded to fill the entire area. I could swear the
little Mazda Miata in the lane next to us swerved across
two lanes as the little lady behind the wheel fought
against the headwind. Or maybe it was just a pothole.
You never can tell with the Public Works budget in this
part of town. In any case, I pulled my hand back
suddenly for fear of getting my knuckles torn off. “I
wanna, like, hear what the little nazi says next!”

I don’t know exactly when my little schoolyard lawyer
got hooked on talk radio, but there it was. And not just
ANY talk radio program, but our local version of the
blowhard, know-it-all, “everyone agrees with me and
those who don’t aren’t must be elected officials on the
public dole,” radio host.

You know, the kind every city has at least one or two
of, the kind where you really don’t know if they
actually FEEL that way or are just doing it ’cause
that’s what the station thinks everyone wants to hear.
Kinda like telephone talk porn operators in that way, if
you know what I mean, not that I’ve ever needed THAT
kind of service.

Our city seemed to be an especially fertile swamp for
these Rush Limbaugh wannabees and neverwillbees, but
Bubbles’ “favorite” was Dr. Gladys Hemliner, a kind of
cross between the Rushmeister and an evil Dr. Laura
(unless you consider that repetitive twiceover), who
somehow managed to corner the market on morality,
decency, spirituality AND somehow had room left over in
her soul to be able to tell you exactly how you screwed
up on your tuna casserole. In short, just the kind of
people I LOVE messing with, except this one was just too
funny to take seriously.

Today she was in especially fine form and was punching
all of Bubbles’ buttons. Well, OK, not ALL of her
buttons, obviously, ’cause most of those now result in
really, really cute orgasms, but just the ones that were
there before I came along. You know, the dull ones.

Just before the last commercial break, Dr. Gladys had
been going on and on about how the local District
Attorney’s office was being especially nice and polite
to all the perps out there and, though Bailey, as the
one who SHOULD have been the most upset was giggling
appropriately, Bubbles was slowly but surely growing
freckles that weren’t there before and all of ’em had
been moving together slowly until her face was now a
shade of crimson that glowed so brightly even Henry kept
looking in the rear view mirror to make sure it wasn’t a
cop trying to pull us over. Or maybe he just liked
looking at Bubbles just ’cause. Lord knows, I sure do.

So, anyway, after all the ads about how you can lose
weight by swallowing a pill before you go to sleep (and
not eating four hours before bedtime, natch), Dr. Gladys
comes back on and says she’s just gotten a fax from one
of her sources down at City Hall that has her bra straps
all twisted around. Well, not really, but you get the
general idea. Oh, hell, in the interests of fairness
(heh, yeah, right), I’ll let you judge for yourself.

Imagine, if you will, the following as if it’s coming
from a willowy, blonde dominatrix with an IQ of 170,
degree from Yale, and bullwhip firmly in hand, because
that’s the way I always did it. Unless, of course, you
happen to LIKE willowy blonde intelligent dominatrixes,
in which case imagine Dr. Ruth with the personality of a
shark and teeth to match.

“Well, now, ladies and gentlemen, I hold in my well-
manicured fingernails a fax I’ve just received from one
of my many reliable sources inside City Hall. Now I know
I can be irritatingly accurate at times, because that’s
why they PAY me, after all, but sometimes it really
pains me to be SO on target. This, my friends, is one of
those times.

Even I, Dr. Gladys Hemliner, am shocked – and I’m not
shocked all that often because it’s hard to be shocked
if you’ve come to anticipate these things as easily as I
have – but even I am upset and find it hard to believe
the pansies and bleeding hearts in this city have sunk
to this point. I’ve come to expect it from the liberals
in the mainstream press, which is why we’ve not heard
more about this particular story, but THAT, my friends,
is why I am here. This, my friends is why you people
turn to me, and THIS, my friends is why I enjoy the
ratings I do.

“It seems that, someone, probably someone not up for
reelection, obviously, has decided that it is in the
best interests of the citizens of this city – that’s you
and me, my friends – SOMEONE has decided that the scum
of this city, the absolute WORST filth of this city, the
kind of bloody, molesting GRIME that violate those who
risk their lives to uphold our laws, SOMEONE has decided
that those kinds of malignancies should not be locked up
or, better yet, CUT out, but rather SOMEONE has decided
that those ugly, simpering, trash heaps of society who
rape and molest our city’s finest, our very POLICE
OFFICERS should be TURNED LOOSE on the streets of our
fair city to, doubtless go on raping and molesting you
and yours.”

Whataya know, boys and girls, turns out I was about to
be famous. A famous scummy, filthy, bloody molesting
grimy, malignant, ugly, simpering trash heap of society,
but famous nonetheless.

Bubbles looked at Bailey. Bailey looked at Bubbles.
Henry, thankfully, just looked at the road. Slowly,
apprehensively, Bailey and Bubbles turned to look at me.

“Hmm” I mused with a smile. “I wonder who the hell SHE’S
talking about?”

Well, OK, obviously I thought it was funny, so I found
it kinda strange when no one started laughing. The red
in Bubbles’ face drained away and she looked more like a
mime than anything else – an amazingly cute, young mime
with pigtails, miniskirt and white ankle socks that now
matched her face. Bailey’s hands went to the dashboard
of the SUV and began punching away at a keyboard and
suddenly I noticed a panel pop out where there wasn’t a
panel before.

Now relegated to background noise, Miss Law and Order
Talk Radio Host from Hell continued with her merry rant
against the newest threat to kiddies, corporate America,
and the Republican way of life, namely little old moi.

“It seems, according to my extremely credible source,
ladies and gentlemen, that our own District Attorney’s
office has chosen NOT to seek a grand jury indictment
against this creep NOT because of lack of evidence but
simply because the victim in this case – and I’m not
going to give her name here because I AM capable of
sympathy to her plight even though she’s obviously not
doing the right thing here – has chosen not to come
forward and be a credible witness. Now I’m not a lawyer,
per se, but I do know a travesty of justice when I see
one and this, my friends, is as bad as they come.”

Well, OK, something was certainly a travesty, but
blaming it all on poor ex-Officer Hooper didn’t seem
fair to me. Of course, I’m not entirely unbiased here,
obviously unlike Miss Microphone. But I might have
misunderstood her, because at the time I was paying more
attention to Bailey than I was the radio. The Assistant
District Attorney had finished punching buttons and the
popup display suddenly came to life in the form of a map
of the city. “What the hell are you doing, Bailey?”

“Punching in the address of the station. You’re going to
pay a visit to Dr.
Gladys.” It was more a command than a request. She
didn’t even look at me.


“We had a deal.” She pulled her hand back from the
screen and I noted a flashing blue dot. Damned if this
thing didn’t have an autopilot. Well, considering how
little Henry had moved during the entire trip, he might
have BEEN the autopilot for all I knew. “And the hell if
I’m going to let some media Hitlerette ruin it.”

“But I’m going to be FAMOUS!!” I snickered.

“Write a book.”

“Now I can imagine a lot of you out there shaking your
heads over this,” continued the Hitlerette, “but my
source goes on to say that the original prosecutor
assigned to the case AND the initial judge appointed to
set bail have RECUSED themselves from the case. I don’t
know about you, my loyal listeners, but that sounds to
me like some sort of a DEAL…”

OK, it was bad enough to go blaming Hooper, but Bailey
and Judge Aunt Peg? Who was next?

“And it only gets BETTER, ladies and gentlemen! Get
this! My source goes on to say that this cop rapist’s
female hippie city-paid public defender – and I can’t
stress this enough, this woman is paid by you and me –
she showed up to his bail hearing wearing – and I can’t
MAKE things like this up people – a miniskirt and
pigtails! Is the city in the habit of hiring Ally

By now I was wondering who this “source” could have
been. Yeah, there were cameras in the courthouse, but
George was too embarrassed by his part in it all that he
decided to erase all the tapes from that day. I could
have believed it might have been him, but the next week
he quit Public Service to finally retire in Florida. Oh,
well, I guess I’d and ask the mouth herself.

I reluctantly turned to Bubbles to see how she was
holding up. To my surprise, the red had come back and
she was busy dialing her cell phone. Her fingers were
trembling so much she had to dial twice, then finally
had the operator do it for her. She got through just
about the same time Henry – or the autopilot – pulled up
in the parking lot of Radio Station KWIT: The Voice That
Never Will.

Well, I thought maybe I could so something about that.

As luck would have it, we got there just before the news
break at the half hour. I didn’t know much about the
radio broadcasting biz back then, never having much use
for it aside from letting me know what my man Eminem and
Dre were up to, but I always figured the stations were
these huge, behemoth-like buildings with huge antennae
sticking out of ’em. Shows what I know.

This place was teeny-tiny, with a little parking lot,
one or two satellite dishes on top, and one measly
antennae that wouldn’t have reached the fourth floor of
the downtown Hilton.

But they DID have a killer sound system broadcasting
throughout the station so that, wherever you were, you
could hear DR Gladys Hemline, whether you wanted to or
not. And at this point in time, I really wanted to.

Because right after the news break, Radio-Free Bubbles
was on the air.

“Thanks for the news update, Jim. Just before the break,
I was discussing the recent decision by the city NOT to
indict our latest cop-rapist because apparently no one
in this city has the…heh…BALLS…to do the right
thing. I admit this is a strange case because of some of
the details that have come to me from one of my
numerous, credible sources at City Hall.

One of the strangest details – and I was speaking of
this earlier – is that the public defender in this case
seems rather…well, unorthodox to say the least. As
always on the my show, we, eh, try our best to give both
sides of a particular issue and this is no exception. It
just so happens that we have now waiting on the line,
one Barbara Cramer, who claims to be the very public
defender in question.

I say, “appears,” because, well, hehe, you’ll see soon
enough. Before I put her on the air, remember that she,
and all public defenders, are paid by the taxpayers of
the city – that’s you and me. I can’t stress this
enough: WE pay this, eh, ladies’ salary so that even the
worst scum in our court system are guaranteed, heh,
adequate, hehe, representation. And, if I say so myself,
this guy got, hehe, pretty much what he deserved.”

Yeah, OK, so fuck you too, I thought, as the guard waved
me through the back door. It was a small station, it had
a small guard. He didn’t even wear a gun. I mean, what
would they do if the place was attacked? And with this
particular radio host, I would think that might be a
definite possibility. In any case, it didn’t seem like
he was too enamored of Dr. Gladys, seeing as he fell
asleep just after he let me in and locked the door
behind me. Or maybe he’d heard her so often, he was
bored silly. Too bad for him – if anything, the next
hour was certainly NOT going to be boring.

“OK, Miss Cramer…”


“eh, Bubbles?”

“That’s what everyone calls me.”

“Heh, OK…Bubbles. snicker Welcome to the DR Gladys
Hemline show.”

“Oh, like, THANKS, Dr. Gladys. I’m a BIG fan!”

“Oh, really? I wasn’t aware you were allowed radios in

“Tehehe, that’s funny!”

“Not nearly as funny as your voice. Is it real?”

“Hehehe, yes. But you, like, wouldn’t believe HOW often
I get asked that.”

“Eh, yes I would. If you don’t mind me asking,


“Bubbles. If you don’t mind me asking, exactly how old
ARE you?”

“How old do you WANT me to be?”

I could almost picture Bubbles with her thumb firmly in
mouth, little voice breathily squeaking seductively from
around it, eyelashes taut and eyes wide…damn, that
girl was a work of art.


As I made my way down the main hallway, it seemed most
of the other folks in the station were just as bored
with Hemline as the guard. The two teens – I guessed
they were interns – in the small cafeteria were
snoozing, their sandwiches half-eaten. If she had that
effect on her listeners, I can’t imagine WHERE her
ratings came from.

“So, tell me, eh, Bubbles, you’re supposed to have us
actually BELIEVE you’re a state-licensed attorney?”

“Yes, ma’am. As I told your, like, producer…”


“Oh, yeah, Brucie. He’s got such a HOT voice.”

“Well, I think that’s the first time THAT subject has
ever come up, hahaha…”

Anyone paying any sort of attention to the broadcast
could hear ‘Brucie’ laughing along with her and, yeah, I
can see where it could have been the first time it came
up. But then Bubbles finds talking Irish Setters ‘HOT’
so there’s no accounting for tastes. The station was
actually more tiny on the inside than it appeared.

Besides Herr Hemline, there were only three other people
in the whole place – Bruce and two production assistants
in the sound room. Both the assistants looked about as
bored as the rest of the comatose folks in the station
but hadn’t quite fallen asleep. Yet.

“Anyway, as I told Brucie, you know, it’s easy to look
up my license…”

“And you better believe we did, Honey, our internet
hookup is the only reason you’re on the air.”


“So…Bubbles. Is it true you wore a miniskirt and
pigtails to an arraignment hearing?”

“Yep! It’s, like, the same one I’m wearing right now,
too! It’s my absolute FAV!”

“Your absolute, eh, FAV?”

“Yeah. It’s, like, red and green plaid and looks
absolutely KILLER with my white blouse that I’ve got,
you know, tied around my little boobies and I just LOVE
playing with the bow…”

“Well, uh, Bubbles, I think…”


“I’m almost afraid to ask what THAT was…”

Well, knowing Bubbles like I do, I didn’t have to. But
“Brucie” and the two sound guys were obviously
interested because they all suddenly woke up. I figured
that alone probably got the program a few dozen more

“Snif. Uh, my bow came ALL loose…” It sounded like she
was gonna cry. Or something.

“Okaaaay, now Bubbles…”

“Sniff. And now my little boobies are all cold. Giggle.
Can you, like, say that on the radio?”

“Uh, you just did.”

This was an amazingly important discussion, judging by
the attention the crew was giving to it. They didn’t
even notice me come in the sound booth. Probably the
most fun they’d had in ages. Well, when they weren’t
skewering liberals or feminists or whatever Dr. Gladys
decided she didn’t like that day. Still, it did seem
kind of strange that she was letting Bubbles control the
conversation. Very UN-DR. Gladys Hemline. Now that I
could get a good look at her, I could see why she was so
upset about everything.

If I had to look in the mirror and apply make-up to that
face every morning, I’d probably bitch and whine about
everything too. She certainly picked the right medium,
seeing as her voice was probably the only thing she had
going for her. OK, so I guess she wasn’t really
downright UGLY, but let’s just say the willowy blonde
dominatrix must have been hiding behind the curtain
because sitting in the chair in front of the microphone
was a short, middle-aged brunette with a hawk nose and
more jewelry on one hand than Harold the 5th Street Pimp
wears on his entire fucking body.

“Oh, OK,” continued Bubbles, without missing a beat. “I
just, you know, thought maybe it was one of those words
you can’t say on radio, like CUNT and PUSSY and COCK and
FUCK and…”

At which point, Dr. Gladys shot up straight in her chair
and looked at her producer and the sound guys, who were,
in turn, looking at each other…

…and giggling like they just came out of a strip club
on Fraternity Night. So much for six-second delays. I
could almost hear five hundred fingers punching buttons
on five hundred cell phones all over the city.

For her part, the Jeweled One began looking frantically
around the booth for some button or another to push, but
not seeming to find the right one. But, like most
disasters, this one didn’t stop her from talking. The
more I learned about Gladys Hemline, the more I began to
think there wasn’t anything on this planet that could
make her stop talking. And I really LIKE people who
can’t stop talking…

“Uh, Bubbles, please, let’s not go there, OK? I wouldn’t
want to have to cut you off.”

“Oh, OK, Dr. Gladys. I’ve just, like, never been, you
know, on radio before.” She let out a very smallish,
very subtle, and very cute pause before that signature
mantra I’ve come to know and love.

“It makes me…hot.”

Brucie and the sound guys (I’ll call ’em Chuck and Buck
’cause I hate using the same names over and over)
started slamming their hands against the instrument
panels and heeing and hawing and acting pretty much like
drunken idiots. I guess life in the Hemline Party was
pretty boring if they found this kind of stuff amusing.
Like I said before, so many things make Bubbles “hot,”
I’m surprised when she can go from Henry’s house to the
corner store and back without an orgasm.

“You must lead a pretty boring life, then…” countered
Hemline, who was staring wide-eyed at her crew through
the glass panel.

“Uh, well, like, I don’t know if I’ve ever been MORE not
bored. I mean, don’t you, like, really get off on
knowing that you’ve got, you know, all these people out
there listening and calling and…ooooh, just thinking
about it…”

“Yes, I know, it gets you ‘hot.”

“hhhuuuummmmmmmm…yeah…I’m, like, wet already.”

“Well, I think that’s MORE than…” Dr. Gladys adjusted
herself in her chair and continued to look around for
that button she just never could seem to find…

“You, like, mean to tell me that you don’t, you know,
get off by telling everyone, like, what’s good and
what’s bad? Oooooh, just, like, THINKING about having
that kind of power… giggle My fingers are all sticky,

“Well, I really don’t…think much about…” The good
doctor grabbed a tissue from a nearby container and
dabbed her forehead.

“Ooooh, I don’t know, like, WHAT I’d do if I had, you
know, that…kind of power. I’m not a nice little girl.
Hehehe, my nips are all hard. How about yours?”

Hemline’s many-jeweled fingers jumped by reflex up to
her chest, then quickly dropped back to the instrument
panel, still searching in vain for something to push.
“Uh, I don’t see…as that’s ANY of your business…”

“But I’m SUCH a big fan, you know! Remember last year
when you, like, found out Councilman Garcia was messing
around with Judge Shirley?! Ooooh, heh, aaaaaahhhh….
Gawd, I just HAVE to take my panties off now!”

“Well, that wasn’t the…POINT. The point was that she
was, you know, giving him three times as many clients as
any other attorneys…” She tossed the tissue away and
quickly grabbed another.

“So it WASN’T the blow jobs in her office?! Damn…he
was such a cutie too!”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“I wish I could have, like, given him blow jobs in his
office. Snif. But he, like, had to move to Denver…”

“His choice.” She adjusted a bra strap and shuffled
about in her chair again. The tissue tore into little
pieces as it ran roughly across her neck, and she threw
what was left of it to the floor.

“And remember when you, like, got Assistant Chief
Simmons kicked out because he, you know, hung out at The
Palace? Ooooh, damn…I got off FOUR times during his
press conference!”

Man, I’m glad the incredibly cute and bubbly one was on
my side. Even high as a fucking kite and working on her
second cum, I’d hate to have her cross-examining ME. She
was like the fucking Incredible Hulk of sex. Gladys got
this really funny look on her face and I couldn’t help
notice a hand go down below her desk.
“Now, that…that wasn’t right. I…didn’t care WHAT he
did in his free time, the degenerate …fag. But he
was…you know…refusing to…prosecute…his uhhhhh

“Ohhhh, just thinking about all that…POWER. Sixty-
thousand listeners…”

“Seventy-three thousand…” Hemliner corrected without
hesitation. I had to laugh out loud at that. Obviously
she could still concentrate on the IMPORTANT things.
Though I had the strange feeling THIS particular
broadcast was probably going to be heard by just a tad
few more than that…

“Yeah…uhhhh…damn, I get hotter and hotter just,
like, thinking about all those people out there hanging
on every…ooooooooooooohhhhhh…and they all wait for
YOU to tell them…”

It was obvious to me – and probably to Brucie and Chuck
and Buck – by now that Dr. Gladys Hemline had met her
match at last. It was major turn on for her to find
people who agreed with her and they usually got a lot of
airtime. Bubbles agreed with her SO much that they even
missed the news break on the hour, which is something
radio folks NEVER do except in cases of emergency. But
this conversation was SO engrossing to all involved that
I guess it qualified as an official emergency. Or

Whatever the circumstances, our very own Bubbles was
obviously on a roll now, and no one dared interrupt her.
In fact, if I were to guess, I’d say Brucie and Chuck
and Buck were absolutely mesmerized. DR Gladys Hemline,
on the other hand, wasn’t mesmerized as much as she was
getting turned on by the whole thing. So turned on, in
fact, that she had stopped trying to find that button.
Or maybe she HAD found it. I’m not a woman, much less a
female talk show host, so I have to guess at these
things. But she DID have one hand beneath her desk and I
have NO idea what she was looking for down there.

“I just, like, can’t imagine how SEXY it must…be to,
you know, have all those people calling in just to,
like, talk to you.”

“It’s…well, it’s…hard to…describe…”

For the first time in recent memory, I figured Dr.
Gladys Hemline was at a loss for words. Not to worry,
though, ’cause Bubbles, ever one to lend a hand, was
there to find ’em for her. And Gladys needed a hand just
about now, because the two she had were fairly busy. I
was kind of tempted to go into the booth to see exactly
what kind of plain and boring panties big-shot talk show
hosts wore, but this was Bubble’s show and I didn’t want
to ruin it.

“Yeah…heh, knowing you can, like, put them…on
and…eh…cut them off…whenever you want. And knowing
they can’t, you know…do anything about it…you can,
like, bring them right up to where, you know…what they
want to say…and then…BAM…like, interrupt…”

“God, yes…”

Her eyes were closed now, her lips drawing closer and
closer to the microphone, that once powerfull voice
dropping down an octave as her breathing almost
overpowered the words. She’d given up on the tissue now,
which was just as well because the three guys in the
sound room would’ve had to have emptied both restrooms
to get her enough to soak up what was coming off that
forehead and dribbling down that dirty brown hair. Her
feet were coiled around the legs of her chair, her legs
occasionally sliding up, then tightening and clamping

“…Having, like, all those…SHEEP out there, you know,
yelling and…screaming…at you and…never having to

“oh, yes…”

“…And being able to, you know…say ANYTHING…about

“Oh, God yes…” She leaned closer to the microphone and
extended her tongue…

“…And they can’t, like, do ANYTHING…I bet that makes
you HOT.”

“…yes…yes…Oh Jeez…HOT…can’t imagine…HOW
hot…” Her lips met the felt at the tip and slowly
moved up and down one side…

“…remember the time you, like, had Senator Humphries
on, you know, about that bribery thing…”

“…oh yeah…YEAH!”

“Gawd, I couldn’t, like, STOP…”

“…couldn’t…STOP…FUCK!” She leaned over the table
now, her head resting on it, inches away from the
microphone, her body stiffening as she rose from the
chair and moved it to one side, all with her legs,
because her arms were, well, somewhat busy – modesty, of
course, preventing me from describing just HOW busy.

“…when she, like, started crying…”

“OH, GOD!” Her head jerked to one side, suddenly, as one
of her legs kicked the chair to the floor and she went
into convulsions, bucking up and down, her stomach
rubbing violently against the table.

“…uh, Geez, Dr. Gladys? They let you say THAT on the

For someone who made her living with words, Dr. Hemliner
was in a pretty sorry shape. Not only couldn’t she
answer, but I doubt she could’ve made it off the floor
to get to the microphone, seeing as how badly she was
rolling around down there now. Heck, she even rolled out
of her skirt, which was a pretty good trick considering
at no time did her hands leave her panties. And, yeah,
they were plain and white. Story of my life.

“Oh, THAT’s right!” continued Bubbles, oblivious to the
good doctor’s condition, “you’re Dr. Gladys Hemliner.
You can, like, say ANYTHING.”

From the mouth of babes, I thought as I left the sound
room. Brucie had somehow managed to free himself from
his stupor enough to get his cock out, the dirty
bastard. If he were REALLY smart, he’d have used the
time to make sure he had a back-up recording. Probably
be worth a fortune on ebay someday…

“Oh, well, like, it’s been nice chatting with you, Doc.”
Bubbles was droning on and on as I made my way past the
still-snoozing security guard. “Ewwww. I really got to
go get, like, cleaned up.”

“If you ever, like, need a good lawyer…” OK, now THAT
was funny, I chuckled to myself as I crossed the parking
lot – just in time to hear a screeching noise as a
studio van pulled up to the main entrance – though I
figured with all the money Hemliner had she could afford
something better than a “female hippie city-paid public
defender in a miniskirt and pigtails.”

Even if she WAS the hottest, cutest one in the whole

Which is about what I told her when I got back in the
SUV. Even with the AC running full blast, it STILL
smelled like a bordello in there – though no one was
complaining – as Henry pulled out of the parking lot.

“Yeah,” she smiled as she finished off the box of
wetwipes from Bailey’s glove box, “but, like, now I’m