... ..victimless crime scene ....March 5, 2006   "You don't talk much, do you."  Elliot Longstreet looked past the declarant and locked eyes with the cocktail waitress.  He lifted his chin imperceptibly, but the waitress smiled and nodded.  Longstreet returned the smile and perfected the contract.  She would bring another round.  Now he returned his attention to the woman who, an hour earlier, had walked past his table for the third time before stopping to chide him about the dangers of drinking alone.  She said her name was Darlene and, with a name like that, Longstreet knew she wasn't lying.  Darlene was thirtyish with long black hair, full lips, and a compact body.  She was staying at The Windsor Court on business, something about sales of post-mortem medical equipment.  She had come down to the Polo Lounge for her own reasons.  "No, Darlene, I suppose I don't talk much."  "That's okay," she whispered in absolution, "you're intelligent and I find your brain sexy." "You should see it when I'm not wearing my skull," replied Longstreet. Darlene laughed and glanced in the direction of the approaching waitress. "Let's get out of here, Elliot.  We'll go to my room and, when I'm through with you, it'll look like a crime scene."  previous..|..current..|..archives..|..1st quarter index..|..next

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