I know where this is fucken headed. Typical of where I live that nobody will come right out and say it. I try to muster some control. 'Sir, I ain't gay, if that's what you mean. We were friends since childhood, I didn't know how he'd turn out ' A no-brand smile grows under the sheriff's moustache. 'Regular boy then, are you, son? You like your cars, and your guns? And your - girls?' 'Sure.' 'Okay, all right - let's see if it's true. How many offices does a girl have that you can get more'n one finger into?' 'Offices?' 'Cavities - holes.' 'Uh - two?' 'Wrong.' The sheriff puffs up like he just discovered fucken relativity. Fuck. I mean, how am I supposed to know? I got my fingertip into a hole once, don't ask me which one. It left memories of the Mini-Mart loading-bay after a storm; tangs of soggy cardboard and curdled milk. Somehow I don't think that's what your porn industry is talking about. Not like this other girl I know called Taylor Figueroa. Sheriff Porkorney tosses his bone into the box, nodding to Gurie. 'Get it on record, then hold him.' He creaks out of the
This is the end of the preview. Sign up
access the rest of the document.