Not the Hot Dog

I was in a questionable position, knowing I was doing the wrong thing, hoping no one would notice. Something came past me, right at my ear. I looked on the ground. It looked like feces.IMG_0602The room space was long and narrow, leading into an ocean, the water warm.

She was young and beautiful, her tight shirt knotted at the back. I wanted to know more and tried to ask her.

“You really want to know?” She kept going.

I persisted, but my time was up. And then there was a group of detectives, all of them filling in time cards. And I saw my bill for $750 and was alone with the paper and she was locked in a room. 20150419_181957One of the detectives came out, doing up his pants. “I like it like a hot dog, know what I mean?”

I didn’t.

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