"Good morning Douglas." Good morning Ian," he replied.Douglas was dressed in a rather drab black cardigan over a white blouse agrey knee length skirt ...nd black low heeled shoes his hair as usual waspiled high on his head and he wore ugly glasses with black frames and noor almost no make-up, this wasn't a problem for Ian less competition forthe affections of the female staff Douglas was only three years older thanhim sometimes he wondered what had happened to him to make turn out sofrumpy, he. (I'm sorry to sound racist in that last statement, but sometimes the truth just falls out of my mouth when I talk; but that's not the reason that I'm writing.)I didn't want to go straight home; I needed something to calm my nerves. My bosses were on my ass; upper management was on my bosses asses, and my immediate supervisor was on my nerves, and so on and so on.I don't go to the bar anymore, I would rather buy my liquor at the store and enjoy at home, but I've been single for the last two. Hard nipples were a clear sign. “Or maybe some rock?” Or she was just selling drugs.“I uh ... I’m good, thanks.” Clara smirked, but Jack caught a hint of embarrassment there. Funny, coming from a wolf, from someone who normally radiated self certainty and even a little animal aggression. From someone who’d licked him on the cheek.“You sure? If you’re not Jack’s girl, you can—”“I’m good, really.” She held up her hands and shook her head. “So you know Jack?”“Yeah. Little man and his woman here. The girls hung out at the counter to chat, then she pushed them into the exam rooms before Manny and I. "Lucky thirteen," she said to me, looking up.I went up to the desk. "So..." the woman muttered, eyeing me over her reading glasses, "Roscoe was a decent sort, for his type. What's YOUR story?"I frowned. "I don't want to expose any confidences -- what do you know?"Gladys -- that was the name on the nameplate on her desk, Gladys Fenwetter -- said, "I know those two are working girls -- we see.
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