The black door was opened from the inside as we approached, my beauty sliding her lithe figure onto the back seat with the grace of a dancer. Still holding my unresisting fingers, she urged me to sit beside her as the door was pulled closed behind with a solid clunk. At that instant, I finally plummeted into an emotional chasm, my tortured thoughts seeking release. Senses returned while the car was straining its way through the unremarkable crowded streets. I glanced out of the window as anonymous buildings glided by, the brightly coated pedestrians bent forward against the lashing rain. While the teenagers amongst them, too cool to care, laughed in small groups as they dragged themselves reluctantly to school. I gazed up at the sky as a small section of cloud parted, revealing the spring sunshine just above. A tiny whimper and a trace of a smile appeared on my face. I felt a hand on my arm and I turned hoping to see her once again. But I was greeted by the concerned look of another. "I'm more the john type," I muttered. "Sugar Daddy seems to fit." That would mean they're off the street..." They're on probation, I guess." Both of them?" the woman eyed me sidelong."Fire sale," I replied, "Roscoe was looking for a new home for them." Manny was absorbing more of this than I wanted public, so I said, "About the tests?"The woman got back to business giving out numbers and forms and such. The girls hung out at the counter to chat, then she pushed them into the exam rooms before Manny and I. "Lucky thirteen," she said to me, looking up.I went up to the desk. "So..." the woman muttered, eyeing me over her reading glasses, "Roscoe was a decent sort, for his type. What's YOUR story?"I frowned. "I don't want to expose any confidences -- what do you know?"Gladys -- that was the name on the nameplate on her desk, Gladys Fenwetter -- said, "I know those two are working girls -- we see just about every hooker in town a couple of times a month. We know who's running who, too, if.
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