Clueless Dick

She wafted into my hole-in-the-wall office like a cold, city breeze with the wind at its back. I looked up and looked up again, startled. And that ain't easy with a hard-bitten, chewed up, steel spined shamus like me - who's seen everything this grungy, spiky, sirens-in-the-night, neon lit excuse for a neighborhood has to show. And tell. She was a doll. And not one of those strange, little, 2 cent plastic dolls you get at the five-and-dime with just a couple of dashes of paint for features and a paper-thin slip of cloth for a dress. I'd been there. No, she was a real stunner - with legs for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles, oh yeah. She opened her ruby glossed, gateway to heaven lips to speak and I braced myself for the sound of the chimes of angels. "Oh, sorry. Wrong office." And she was gone. And with her, all my hopes and dreams of gettin' out of this grimy, cliche ridden swamp of circumstance in Noir.


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 Time For A Drink     Gennadiy Kondratyev