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A sheen of perspiration glistened on her chest and fed a darkened V-pattern down the front of her top.
“I have a novel idea,” said Heat. “Why don’t we do this thing called an investigation? Gather evidence, assemble some facts. Somehow that might sound better in court than, ‘Here’s how it spins for me.’”
I wish more people did full investigations.
Rook couldn’t help himself. “Now, that’s a marriage of terms that always tickles me, ‘high-end’ and ‘call girl.’ Like, is that your job status or a sexual position?” He earned their silent stares and muttered, “Sorry. Go on.”
awesome...
Nikki had her air-conditioning off and walked her apartment naked and wet, not bothering to towel off in the humidity. The die-hard soap bubbles felt good on her skin, and besides, once she dried off, she’d be damp in no time in the soggy air, so why not be damp and smell like lavender?
“Man promised cupcakes, I don’t want thought, I want a cupcake.”
Its the thought that counts...
She held it open and said, “By the way? Yes. I did bite your tongue.” Then she slid the door closed. Nikki watched him grinning on the sidewalk through the back window as her cab drove on.
“I like to think science isn’t about right, it’s about thorough.”
“Never saw a dude sweat like you, man. Shaking your hand is like squeezing Sponge Bob’s ass.”
“What’s your take on Agda?” asked Raley. Rook considered and said, “She’s like Swedish furniture. Beautiful to look at but pieces missing.”
“Because now that the judge and I are poker buddies,” she grinned and picked up her phone, “I can call him myself.” “You sleep with me, then you make fun of my theories and steal all my friends.” Rook leaned back and crossed his arms. “Just for that, you’re not meeting Bono.”
“Somebody asked him once if the perfect crime had ever been committed. He said yes. And when the interviewer asked him what it was, Hitchcock said, ‘We don’t know, that’s what makes it perfect.’”
