Page 39 of Stilettos & Whiskey
I turned and watched Bertha run toward us naked as the day she was born. Her perky breasts protruded from her chest like bizarre melons.
Edgar barked.
“Holy hell! I’m surprised they don’t smother her in her sleep,” Nate declared.
Grandpa stared at Bertha for a long moment. “Dunno, but I gotta say, those tits would be a mouthful.”
“Grandpa,” I scolded.
He grinned at me. “Hey, all my parts still work.”
Bertha skidded to a stop and deliberately fell on Lucas with her hands clamping down on his butt, “My, aren’t you pretty, and firm. So very firm.”
“Hey!” Lucas didn’t know where to put his hands to get her off him. “Let go of my ass.”
I pried Bertha loose. “All of them belong to me. No touching.”
Barking loudly, Edgar danced around us.
“But they’re so pretty,” Bertha protested.
Fighting back a grin, I nodded. “Very pretty. Sit, Edgar.”
The coyote sat.
Bertha’s smile faded. “I’m really sorry about your apartment. We chased the assholes off, but not before they did a lot of damage. The cleaners haven’t been able to get rid of the smell yet.”
“I appreciate everything you and your friends did.”
An evil smile curved Bertha’s mouth. “After the ruckus, I went out and bought myself some protection.”
Oh, crap. The last time she came home with protection, it was a stun gun, and she used it on the mailman. He still refuses to deliver mail to the complex. “What did you buy?”
“Sam! Bring me my walker,” Bertha shouted.
A hairy, old geezer whose toupee resembled a dead critter perched sideways on his head climbed out of the pool. “Yes, my love.” His itty-bitty Speedo left nothing to the imagination and exposed his shortcomings to the entire world.
“Isn’t that Sam Foster, the Sun City playboy?” Nate asked.
A giggle escaped Bertha. “It is. He’s got the moves, if you know what I mean.”
“Yep, those Sun City folks know how to party,” Grandpa commented.
We all stared at him.
“I need to let loose ever once in a while.”
I grimaced. “TMI Grandpa. TMI.”
“Holy hell!” Lucas growled as Sam pushed a walker over with an AK-47 jury-rigged to the handle. “Do you have any training on the proper use of an automatic weapon?”
Sam shrugged. “You just pull the trigger.”Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
We all hit the ground, except Sam who stood there frozen in horror and still gripping the trigger.
I flinched as bullets peppered the door and windows in my apartment. “Let go of the damn trigger!”
Sam turned and looked at me. “What?”
