“There was no sign of Lulu, my fierce protector. “You won’t find much,” I apologized, standing there in my Floris. “At least it doesn’t mean much to me.” She gasped and jumped away from the desk, startled. Of course, Cassandra Dee always looked startled, chiefly because of her eyes, which were goggly, and her brows, which she penciled into a high, exaggerated arch. Her complexion was a vivid milk white, her lips a garish shade of red. Her abundant black hair was swept back and held that way with... a black headband, worn low behind the ears, forties style. She came off looking somewhat like a mime done up as Betty Boop. She had on one of those skin-tight black unitards that they used to call catsuits back in Julie Newmar’s heyday. Maybe they still do. Whatever you call them, you have to be long and lean to wear one, and she was. She was a tall woman, willowy, about thirty. A ragged denim jacket was tied around her waist, either as an accent or to hide her hips. “Geez, Hoagy, I—I tried calling ya—I knocked even,”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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