Big Shot Detective couldn't find his ass with a flash light, road map and both hands. He smothered his giggles into his hand.And his partner, whoa, no... she was something. All blonde, cool good looks and ice in her veins, sexy as hell in her uniform. He could imagine her strapped down to the table, spitting at him. She would be in that uniform at first and then naked after he cut each and every delightful bit off of her. He would be able to touch her everywhere, anywhere. His hand slid under his. Would the part I'd ordered fix it? What should I do tomorrow when everybody was gone... and so on and so forth.Once I started to get tired, phrases started repeating themselves in my head, inane phrases that made no sense or were just really stupid, but were repetitive and rhythmic in some way or another, to go along with the pound-pound-pound crank-crank-crank breathe-in, breath-out. I rode over an old railroad bridge, over a couple of roads, past an old factory, followed the river for quite. More

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