"The funny thing is, though-I learned a lot about training from the commie krauts. And since then I've used it when consulting with US squads. But you can see why no one in coaching wants my name linked with theirs."

"Guess so."

Noreen felt the heat increase in her belly. Asshole ached, ate at her undies.

Hungry twatlips chewed, salivated. Smacked open and shut in her groin.

She went into her purse. rummaged around for another tobacco stick.

"Anyway," the dude continued. "I've got other pokers in the fire. So to speak." He looked at her cigaretted yip.

So she did Like suck action. Slash thought she might like something else stuck in there.

"Cigarette?" he said.

"Sure. Here."

"Thanks."

"Light?"

"Fire away."

Noreen blared up a tall flame on her lighter. Touched the cigarette tips.

His head was wreathed in smoke. Fumes plumed through his nostrils.

"What other-uh-activities you into, Slash?"

"Film work. Some theater."

"Does that tie in with-"

"I direct and choreograph action sequences. You know-fights, chases."

"Sounds cool."

"And I also coordinate any special conditioning or training programs the performers might need. Developing big pectoral muscles and flat tummy for a muscleman role-like if the guy's supposed to play a viking or ice-age warrior."

"Neat!"

"Get women to work on their legs, upper body. Flexibility and movement."

"Anything lined up?"

"I was approached about what was described as a major project. I'll be checking it out-the importance of these gigs is in the eye of the bankroller, and it often outstrips the financial remuneration with regard to yours truly."

"Well, I'm one girl who's gotta find something else to get into."

"With your physique-uh-it wouldn't detract from a performing career. You sing? Had acting lessons?"