Body and Soulhs

She manage to walk into my office despite having legs long enough to reach from here to pay day. Arched eyebrows and smoky brown eyes spelled trouble for me with all the subtle grace of a flashing neon sign.

She took a seat at my desk like a cat on the prowl with the smoothness of silk and the slide of a snake. Her red dress manage to fold and wrinkle while the contours of an already well-advertised body remaining firm and unyielding.

She breathed and moaned a story about a husband gone missing while ballooning across the Pacific. One of these self-styled adventure hounds who have too much money and, by the looks of her, too much woman for his own good.

She suspects foul play and so do I. The bard once wrote there was something rotten in Denmark and, brother, I'm hip-deep in a week's worth of a Danish fishmonger's laundry.