As soon as the seatbelt signs came off the biker reclined his seat and headed for the land of dreams. Unfortunately, his head dropped my way, and all ... could see to my right was a sea of ginger beard that smelled strongly of stale cigarettes. Oh, joys!Still, it could be worse, and soon it was. The Wall Street wannabe produced his laptop and a file of papers and set up office.“This is all strictly confidential,” the stuck up little fuck snapped at me and then jabbed his finger on the call button. "You have nice-looking legs, Iris. Maybe it's better not to hide them in tall boots." Let me look at you..." She scanned him. He had abandoned his Goth attire in favor of worn and ripped black jeans, an oversized plaid flannel shirt and old tennis shoes. In lieu of his bowler hat he wore his hair in a spiky Mohawk. Instead of his wire-framed glasses he had a pair with black plastic frames and square lenses."These are a pair of jeans I wear when I have to do dirty work at the office -- pull. More

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