07 Uncorked - Chrissy Mcmullen Mystery
“Crazy is when you paint yourself orange and go around thinking you’re a kumquat. I hardly ever paint myself orange. —Dagwood Dean Daly“Hey, Miss Chris.” Apparently Dagwood Dean Daly, better known as D to the underbelly of Chicago, Illinois, had caller ID. He answered on the first ring. It was 9:52 L.A. time, which meant it was almost noon by Midwestern standards. “You ready to sleep with me yet?” “I’m not very tired,” I said, but it was a lie. My conversation with the senator the previous night had worn me out. Apparently the thought of orgies is exhausting to a person who rarely even has onesies. “Well, we wouldn’t have to sleep,” he said, then spoke to someone nearby. “Uh huh. I’ll be with you in a minute, Sandy. “Not till later, anyway,” he added to me. “And I have to get to work.” “Hmm.” He sounded like he was debating hard. “Hey, I know. I could come to your office. I mean, you’re a therapist, right? What’s more therapeutic than sex?”
Write Review:
Guest
Read Also
9 / 10
9 / 10
10 / 10
User Reviews: