“Thought maybe I’d join you,” she says, holding up two cigars with Crooked Tree Inn stamped on theside.
I flick the ash from my cigarette. “I brought my own.”
She tucks the spare cigar between her breasts slowly and then puts the other in her mouth, puckeringher lips around the end. “Care to give me a light, then?”
The end isn’t cut. This girl has no idea what she is doing with the cigar or with men.
“You aren’t supposed to be outside.”
“I’m supposed to make sure the guests are having a good time,” she purrs. “So, that’s what I’m here todo.”
I tuck my lighter in my pocket, and her shoulders slump, the cigar slipping to the corner of her mouth.
“You weren’t so eager to please yesterday,” I remind her.
She hastily pulls the cigar out of her mouth, twiddling it between her
