It isn’t often a beautiful blonde woman pulls a gun on me in a bar. Okay, to be truthful, it’s never happened before, and I hope it never happens again, but this little life changing event lead to two great stories and one of the most interesting nights I’ve ever spend at the North Point Supper Club.
I hadn’t planned on sex that night. Oh, I’d checked the board for anything interesting, but I only planned on getting a drink and chatting with some of the Points Club regulars for a few minutes. I really needed to get back home to work on the novel.
Yes, I really am writing a novel with M. A. Taylor. The rough draft is finished, and right now it’s sitting in my lap to do the first big edit. That’s why I haven’t been posting as much as I would like.
But what happened last night…well, I just had to take a break from editing to write down. I’ll get the stories up soon, then get back to the novel.
Now, the problem with Candy Kane is that it’s hard to know where to look when she enters a room. She has these perfect breasts that she knows just how to display and they tend to attract every eye in the room. If you can drag your gaze upwards, her intense blue eyes and pouty red lips will knock you for a loop. All the while, you have to remind yourself to keep breathing because, yeah, you’ve stopped doing that.
Anyway, one of the last places you would think to check out, while looking at Candy Kane, is her hands, and that’s how she caught me by surprise when I finally noticed the gun she was holding.
“Hey, Marc, would you mind being shot?”
Okay, with her ‘died and gone to heaven’ takes on a whole new meaning, but I didn’t think I was quite ready to take it that far. After all, I do have a novel to finish.
I raised my hands. “What did I do? What did I do?”
She giggled, and looked down at the gun. “No, this is just one of the prop paint ball guns we use in role playing. I want you to play the bad guy in a scenario, but you’d need to be shot. It’s just a small part to get things going, but I’ll pay you two points.”
She batted those big blue eyes at me. “Please?”
Okay, maybe I’m a sucker for a pretty face, but I caved. “Does it hurt?”
I hadn’t even noticed Alan Johnson standing behind her. (Well, who would?) “It stings a little, but not bad,” he said leaning over Candy’s shoulder. The guy was wearing a brown leather jacket and fedora, and brandishing a bullwhip. It was the full Indiana Jones outfit. “I’ve shot people before. It’s perfectly safe.”
Well, how could I say no? I had to know what was going on. “Is this going to be something for me to write about?”
Candy brought the gun barrel to her lips, blowing across it like it was smoking.
“Count on it.”