After being a cop, the PI business was a natural transition, and it allows me the opportunity to fly solo, except for the occasional assistance from Ian, as well as a recent addition to the mix: dragon lady. Her white t-shirts provide a sense of purity in an impure world, especially when blond haired cuties attack me from almost every direction, and I have to fight them off with my bare hands. While my preference rests with blondes, especially of the Swedish and Russian variety, I never turn down redheads, brunettes, and raven haired cuties with breasts the size of Starbucks mugs, the Venti version. Beautiful women accost me from every direction, and while most men are more than happy to call one girl their own, I consider two a much better number. Kayla Indigo, my high school sweetheart, who has long since died, made me realize that committing to one individual was a highly overrated concept. But none of my women ever complain about my choice in transportation. I’d bought my fire-engine red Dodge Viper SRT-10, based on its sleek look, 8.3 liter V10 engine, and panty-dropping pickup—going from 0-60 in 3.8 seconds, although my personal best was 4.32—based on a quiz I’d conducted before my purchase, and with the same amount of zeal I reserve for my cases.
I prefer my cases, like my women, to be well-endowed, honest creatures, but what I often receive instead are well-endowed liars who prefer to strip their clothes, and then proceed to run in the opposite direction. Even though I try to feign disappointment, it is often the reason I get up in the morning, and is almost, if not more important than my surfing. Surfing provides an excuse for me to hit the beach, bask in the bikinis, wipe out on some waves, and then do it all again tomorrow, with heavy emphasis on the string bikinis. Micro-minis just happen to be an underrated fashion statement, from which I will probably never recover.
Leaning back in my chair and wiggling my toes, I screen my clients the way I screen my women, based on whichever drop-dead gorgeous woman happens to waltz through my door first and manages to hold my attention for some preordained amount of time, because my cases often require my undivided attention and a full-blown commitment.