“Is that a pistol in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?”
“It’s a pistol.”
Libby shifted her gaze from the gun’s barrel. His formerly baby
blues were now glacial.
“I guess I wasted my money on these fuck-me shoes.”
“I’m not opposed to mixing
business and pleasure.” He waved his gun towards the bed.
Taking advantage of the distracted crosshairs, Libby executed a classic tart noir maneuver.* The gun fired but failed to halt her forward momentum, his left eye a lava flow of colour and drama as she impaled it with a three-inch heel.
*Forgive me for this sketchy
plot device.
Finally, one of us gets violent! (As for classic Tart Noir maneuvers, I would think that fucking should happen before eye impaling. Pleasure always before business!) I'm loving this assignment.
ReplyDelete"a lava flow of coulour and drama ... " - Brava!!!
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