Romance Novel - A collective effort

But when Michael dropped his underpants and revealed a throbbing "Lexington" Rafe gulped. Then he mumbled some excuse about having a dental appointment, grabbed the keys off the cupboard and, grinning sheepishly, departed at a high speed, for him, and decided to try for a threesome with Gloria and her best friend.

Just then, the band launched into a rousing rendition of "YMCA". Unable to resist, the assembled company began dancing.

Michael quickly stuffed his rapidly shrinking 'weapon' back into his Levis and ran out to the dance floor where he made eye contact with a big bruiser wearing a frilly pink shirt. They gravitated towards one another, as if in slow mo, happily unaware of Christina, who was busily snapping pictures of the two of them.

The bruiser took objection to Christina taking photographs of him when he was in the company of the likes of Michael and he began remonstrating in a high-pitched squeaky voice. Christina's plight did not receive the usual response from the onlookers when brave, gallant knaves, always eager to come to the aid of a damsel in distress, are abounding.

But, as it happened, there was a team of plasterers upstairs who were finishing off the alterations to the GENTS. It further happened that one of them was wheeling his barrow through the lounge along the plastic strip laid on the deep purple lush carpet to fetch another load of pink plaster. Pink Himalayan pink in fact, in honour of the weed so named which was introduced into England by some exotic flouncer and is now threatening to wipe out more delicate and traditional flowers.
"You can't talk to a lady like that", the lad said to the bruiser pushing his well splattered cap further up his forehead. "Who can't? the bruiser said menancingly, "what the bleep does it having to do with a snivelling little bleeping bleep like you to tell me how I bleeping talk to bleepers. Bleep off you bleeping bleep." The plasterer's gopher took a swing at him and the bruiser caught his arm and tossed the lad over his shoulder. He landed on a table full of glasses with a crash and the plasterers all appeared. The bruiser drew his Derringer and started waving it about. Christina cowered in the corner behind the bar. Somebody ran out and told two cops and when they appeared they had their shooters out ready and as soon as they saw the bruiser threatening a crowd of innocent American citizens they opened up. When the smoke cleared and the clientele peeped round the tables they had hid behind they saw two bodies. Michael was shot through the head by one of the bullets that had passed through the bruiser; the number of which could be counted by the holes in the back of his tuxedo jacket.

After the meat wagons had gone O'Flannahan of Homicide arrived and began his enquiries. Christina was taken down the the precinct station for questioning and her camera confiscated. She was taken into O'Flannahan's office, given a cup of coffee from the dispenser, and asked to wait until the detective in charge came back from the scene of the incident and had made a statement to the slavering hacks who believe there's another story going on beneath the veil of appearances.

She went back and forth over various stories to tell but each one had a drawback to it. When O'Flannahan arrived after a couple of hours she asked to see a lawyer.

"I'm sorry, but incidents at the Blue Gazebo are lawyer-free zones. We get to interrogate you without counsel. So, what's it gonna be? Made up your mind which story to tell?" barked O'Flannahan.

Christina started to pale, and wilt, and panic, and swoon. She didn't know WHAT story to tell this cop, but she knew if she didn't come up with something soon, without counsel, she'd be in the slammer, the hoosegow, the big house. She tried to look demure as she frantically tried to think of what to do. Finally, she looked up at O'Flannahan, opened her mouth, and there was a sharp rapping at the door.

It opened, and in walked Raina and M-Glo, dressed identically in royal blue jumpsuits and GoGo boots. God, it was a flash from the past!

O'Flannahan picked up the phone which was on the floor and barked into the mouthpiece--"Who the bleep let these two bleeping bleeps in here? Gettem outa here". Two underlings came in and escorted the interlopers off the premises and told them that the Boss would send for them when he was ready and to not leave town.

"Now Christina" he beamed avuncularly, exuding goodwill and charm derived from his Celtic forbears. "What's a nice pretty girl like you doing in a dump like that taking snapshots?" She didn't answer. After a short while he swivelled his chair round and gazed across the rooftops of the city. Still there was no answer.

With an air of distracted disinterest to turned back to her and seeing her pale blue eyes brimming with tears he said, "Well? "

"Well..." Christina began, then caught a glimpse of the two lesbians in the hallway and had a sudden flash of inspiration. "I went there because I forgot it wasn't Thursday, which is Ladies' Night, so Miriam Gloria and Raina wouldn't be there. But the guys were doing a new line dance, so I shot some short videos with my digital camera so I could show the girls on Thursday."

"Wait just a bleeping minute there, missy," O'Flannahan snorted. "You mean to tell me you're one-a them lesbos, too? What the bleep is this town coming to?! You perverts are everywhere!"

"Well Bleep you, too", cried Christina as she theatrically and artificially burst into tears. "We can bleeping do any bleeping thing we bleeping want, and you bleeping better get used to bleeping it! Bleepity bleep bleep!"

Unimpressed (he was used to the bleeps in his job), O'Flahannan swivelled his chair so his back was to her as he listened to her snivel and thought about her drivel.

Just then, the door swung open again and there were Raina and M-Glo, flanking the CO of the police department. "What's this I hear that you had these two beautiful ladies escorted out of here????", he demanded. "Section 20.1.24.5.6.1.a CLEARLY states that while counsel is off-limits, friends, family, and neighbours are NOT, so they are here under Section 20.1.24.5.6.1.a, do you hear me, Constable?????"

O'Flannahan snorted, then retorted, "I was just about to report, sir..."

He walked round behind her chair slowly and leaned against the door. Then he came up behind her and bending down he hissed into her ear "Why would these Miriam and Raina freaks want to see shots of a gorilla dancing with a tight-assed fruitcake in the Homosexual Hussar? Not for a giggle surely? Not on Ladies Nite. We've been watching the joint for months and there is no Ladies Nite."
He sat back down behind his desk and without taking his eyes off her poured himself a stiff drink, lit a cheroot and placed his large feet on the in tray which was a foot deep in yellow legal pads.

"Where's Ronaldo?", he snarled at length. She started sobbing quietly.

"Don't give me that routine", he said, I've seen more broads sobbing in that chair than you've sucked lollipops. Who're working for?"

TOO LATE!! lol

It's the story of my life Mamie.

THIS is what to respond to!

[Just like in the word games, Spendi... too late is too late. Now, if only you'd agree to meet me - I'll even buy you a beer ]

I was only one minute late. Possibly the digit clicked to 55 one second after you posted and just as I did on 55. In which case I was only one second late. I'll let someone else take up your version and see where that goes.

It's pub time now.

<I can fix this.>



"Forget reporting. Just take care of the ladies, will ya? I got things to do," the CO ordered, then turned abruptly and left.

Miriam Gloria and Raina grinned at each other, then at Christina, then sat down in the empty chairs on either side of her facing the desk. All three women stared at O'Flannahan in silence. He realized he would have to change his interrogation strategy.



"Who?" the women answered in unison.

"Don't give me that routine," he said. "Who're the three of you working for?"

The women looked at each other, then turned back to the inspector with blank expressions. "I'm sure we don't know what you could possibly mean," Miriam Gloria replied silkily. "Ronaldo is just an old flame. Is he...in trouble or something?"

"CUT THAT OUT!" O'Flannahan roared. He had very little patience for these sorts of games.

"Look ladies. I've read Shakespeare and the Goddess of Complete Being and I know what you three represent. It's just a question of working out which of the three manifestations you're all trying to act out as if you're each all of them at once. As things look at this early stage in the investigation I'm keeping an open mind but I've got Christina here pegged as the Sacred Bride. The Loving Mother and the Queen of Hell I'll get round to when we've run some checks on you."

He pressed a buzzer on his desk and the Custody Sergeant came in. "Joe", he said, "stick these broads in the cooler for the night. I'm going home. I need some time to think."

ooops

<Good save, Eva, my new heroine>

The three ladies were escorted to the lower levels of the hoosegow where they were invited inside a cell in which there were three other ladies, ladies who would become very important in the not so distant future.

In the meantime, where WAS Ronaldo??? Well, back at the ranch/farm, Ronaldo was looking pretty good to Echo, who had never been 5 miles from their ranch/farm, and Echo was looking pretty good to Ronaldo, what with her inheritance and all. So Ronaldo thought about the situation and wondered if he could live on a ranch/farm the rest of his days and then thought "Nah"... So he asked, "Do you have a tractor I could borrow? I have a few errands to run, like bustin' some friends out of the slammer." Delighted she could help, but more delighted to get away from pastoral scenes, Echo showed him the tractor (and how to operate it), and when he climbed aboard, she climbed in after him. "Let's sell this ranch/farm and get the helloutta Dodge!", she yelled in his ear. "You don't have to shout, Echo, I haven't started it yet!" And with that, he turned the key and out they went, way out, out into the wild blue yonder, where the somethingorothers grow.

The three new women were Lin-ditsy Logan and a reality tv starlet and another unidentified sister who apparently burglarized rings routinely. They all had hair extensions that were too hard for the jailors to remove without causing splint ends to occur.

The six ladies now had enough natural firepower to make up an action packing committee.

O'Flannahan's flunky, Officer Joe, was so flustered at the idea of putting six women in the same small cell that he inadvertently forgot to follow procedure and confiscate their personal belongings. Within minutes of locking the cell door behind them, Christine pulled out her cell phone (pun intended) and texted a message to her superior.

Ten minutes later, the door to O'Flannahan's office opened, and the CO stuck his head inside. "Sorry, but you'll have to let those ladies go. Can't hold 'em without charging 'em, y'know. They'd have my ass for that. Section 5-0-3.1, paragraph 2B and all that..." As he backed out and closed the door, O'Flannahan thought to himself, "Section 5-0-3 my bleep. Somebody told him to let them go." He wondered who it was that had engineered the release of his suspects. Were those gals working for the feds? It was getting harder and harder to tell the good guys from the bad guys.

As they walked out into the bright sunshine of the police station's parking lot, the women smiled and climbed into M-Glo's Subaru. The three women remaining in the cell had passed on some valuable information. It was time to find Ronaldo and put their plan into action.

So Christina pulled out her cell phone again and punched in an autodial number. She spoke into the phone for a few moments then said to the others, "Okay, I have an idea where he might be. He's on some crappy little farming highway about 10 miles south-east of here and he's heading our way. But first, I want some sex. Who's in?" The other two looked at each other and in unison said, "Let's pull into that Ramadamanadingdong Inn ahead, honey." As the three gorgeous babes, 2 in royal blue jumpsuits and GoGo boots, entered the hotel foyer, a dark-skinned gargoyle-y type intercepted them before they reached the reception desk.

"Which one of you is Christina?" he rasped.