Snoogering Loves Company
“Better not. I’m driving. Gotta stay mentally inert for this job,” I joked.
“Cooie. One glass won’t ‘urt ya. You aren’t the kind that gets pissed on one glass then are ya?”
“Pissed?”
“Yeah, pissed, wankers, snoogered.”
“Oh,” I laugh, "In my circle, getting pissed means you’re angry. No. I wouldn’t get pissed on one glass. I was a heavy drinker at one time, but moving to L.A. cured me. Driving in L.A. is scarey enough without drinkin’. Gotta be alert to drive around here. Never know when you’ll have to shoot hard, fast and straight.”
“One glass won’t ‘urt ya,” Eva persisted.
Lynn had told me Eva was always trying to get him loaded up before the night’s run. He’d also told me she’d invited him in once at the end of a shift and had done a striptease for him on the coffee table. He hadn’t gotten laid, but she pretty much controlled him after that. And that control would cost him his job.
“Did you drive far then?” Eva asked as I tried to imagine her gyrating naked for Lynnie on the coffee table. I wondered what other strangeness had occured on the coffee table.
“To here?” I pictured Lynn sitting right where I was sitting, leaning forward, his mouth open, his eyes bulging as Eva’s naked breasts swayed back and forth inches from his face.
It didn’t make any sense. Why would a woman who gets paid big bucks to slave over hot naked strangers all night, why would that woman want to come home and do a free striptease for her driver? It would be like driving a bus all day in heavy traffic, then coming home and volunteering to drive the neighbors’ kids to soccer practice. I just didn’t get it. And neither did Lynnie. But my son sure would.
“No. Ten minutes by the freeway. I live mid-Wilshire. . .in the rough section. I like it there. I hang out at the pool a lot. The dumpsters are interesting and the constant police helicopters overhead gives the place a certain ambience. The gunshots and ambulance sirens put me right to sleep.”
“Cooiee, sounds like a right nasty place to live.”
“Not really. Besides, with this job I’m out on the road during the really dangerous hours.”
“Ever have any troubles? Driving Chloie I mean?” she asked as she brought in the tea, leaning over me so that her breasts were inches from my face, “Milk?”
I could smell the alcohol on her breath and it wasn’t just wine.
“Uhh, no, thanks.” Eva’s game was throwing me off balance. I lost track of what I had been saying for a moment, then caught it.
No comments:
Post a Comment