Wow, Man… wow!

"… So I said to this chippy," his bald-headed drinking companion was saying, "I said, listen you cunt! You've eaten more cock than you have pork chops! You either get your lips on the red end of this prick or I call the pit boss! Now, in Vegas, Weldon, a bitch doesn't want to call down the wrath of a pit boss on her hustling ass, see, so…"

Earl was looking at him, pretending at listening, but not hearing a word he'd said, when Lynn's flight arrival rang in his ears. He'd gulped his drink, mumbled something, and was on his way toward the door when he heard: "Man, we get those drink-hustlers in here all the time! I thought you were with it, Mr. Clark."

Lynn had cried… kissed him and cried, her arms around his neck tightly, those delicious solid tits of hers digging into his chest while she choked and hissed words into his mouth. It occurred to him then that they might have a tag on her! Fuck, what a rotten foul-up that would be!

"Look, Baby… don't be too conspicuous," he'd managed, clutching her to him lustfully. "Wait'll we get out of here."

And then, they were on the freeway with her still wrapped around him in that little Volkswagen, but it wasn't until they were heading north on the Golden State that he'd asked to see the money.

She'd laughed, opened her purse and piled it onto his lap. "There you are, my handsome deceased husband… sixty thousand dollars in cash! Now, where are we going?"

He'd looked at it, fondled it, even smelled of it. "Oh, Baby, we're going all right, straight to the Goddamned moon… but right now, I've got a place with friends."

"Friends?"

"Over a year now. You'll love them, Doll. They're rare… this set of wheels belongs to them in fact." He laughed. "Not only that, but you're going to love the way we make this bread into a hundred thou, like magic, Baby… magic!"