"Oh baby, that was good!" It was an effort for Wanda to struggle out of bed and retrieve her cigarettes from her purse. "Want one?"

"Sure do."

They smoked lazily, gathering strength to deal with the bright new day. "How's that claim of yours coming, Greg?"

"Fair. I've got an old buddy of mine coming out to work with me on it."

Her brown eyes flashed with interest. "He my type?"

"If you mean does he like screwing the answer is yes. But there's a complication. He's got a brand-new wife, scarcely dry behind the ears. Eighteen years old."

"You sound bitter."

"Hate to see a good man fall is all."

"Well, who knows, maybe he'll be in need of some alternative company from time to time. What do you think?"

"If he is, I'll give him your name, Wanda. Hell, you'll probably meet him. We'll be in here drinking on Saturday nights, like always. Hank's the only guy I ever knew could keep up with me."

"Maybe being married has changed him."

"Well, if it has, I think it won't take any time at all to unchange him. No woman could come between what me and Hank have together."

"You guys are beginning to sound like a couple of fags."

"You looking for a good clout in the jaw, Wanda?" he asked lazily, putting out his cigarette.

"Not exactly. But I'm not above a little hard stuff, if that's what turns you on." Within moments they were wrestling furiously on the bed. Greg had one last thought for his buddy. He sure hoped that that wife of Hank's wasn't going to turn out to be some kind of prude, trying to interfere with good men's work and fun. Cause there was no way Greg was going to put up with that. He wasn't going to let any woman make life miserable for his good friend, Hank.

CHAPTER THREE

Greg didn't leave until well past noon. Wanda still lay naked on her bed, smoking, when there came a knock on the door. She slipped on a bright-red kimono and opened the door to a bearded older man in faded, baggy jeans, a German Shepherd at his side.