CHAPTER THREE
Gretchen's svelte body, her curved up-tilted breasts, her lithe legs and desirable asscheeks, kept dancing in front of me as I drove. I headed our worn jalopy for the Conrad P. Hammond imposing mansion, seeing Gretchen's red hair, hazel eyes and wide, inviting mouth, beckoning me through the windshield. She was a very desirable broad even without all that moola.
Now, as I neared the Hammond house, I was overcome by doubt. Maybe I was too pushy in coming directly to this mansion in my old rattletrap and some too-fancy clothes. If the first impression the tempera mental Conrad P. got rubbed him the wrong way, my goose, to say nothing of my aching c**k and balls, would be cooked.
Why, I wondered, disconsolately, hadn't I considered this gruesome possibility before this late d
