Hairy Roadtrip
Copyright© 2017 by Old Man with a Pen
Chapter 13
Not that the sheriff stayed behind. He walked along with us. Wendy was anxious ... fidgeting ... antsy. The beat from the Avocado was catchy and had Wendy’s hips rolling. The sheriff was definitely paying too close attention to the sack of cats in her slacks. Wendy does NOT wear jeans. Summa Cum Laude Law School graduates who passed the bar on the first try do not wear jeans ... or so she said.
It’s okay ... linen clings ... jeans mold ... no matter ... it’s all fine ass.
“Sheriff ... your wife is looking this way.”
“Shit ... who is that woman?” he asked.
“Wendy Austin...”
He gave me that look ... you know the one ... the one that says, “Don’t make me make you regret it.”
“Wendy Austin ... Attorney at Law,” I said.
“That is a lawyer?” He said, “I expected she’d be a centerfold.”
“Exactly my thinking ... until she foxed me into marrying her.”
That brought us BOTH to a standstill.
The Sheriff made a simple statement, “Does Karen know?”
“Yup ... what she said was, ‘Stay out of Colorado.’”
“Colorado?”
“Common law,” I said. Then I had to explain the circumstances. So ... we’re standing out in the pasture ... and I kept talking until he said, “I see. Stay out of Colorado.”
We turned to the Avocado ... outside the crowd was fancy dancing. Some of those hispanics can really dance ... and they were dancing with Wendy ... and the sheriff’s wife ... and both of them were having way too good a time.
What I meant by that ... they were big eyed smiling ... and the smile reached those eyes ... if you know what I mean.
A walking, talking invitation for further exploitation. Those Guatemalans are short ... but suave. It was the tall, handsome Mexicans that worried me the most.
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