Chapter 2“I’ve told you at least a thousand times and I’ll tell you again, Clarice—you really need to get laid more often, girlfriend.” Tangie Arnette, with her shaggy, flaming red hair highlighted with wild burgundy streaks, and her practically flat chest hidden behind a Metallica T-shirt, lifted her glass of gin and tonic toward the ceiling. “A huge stiffy poking you to fulfillment will probably eliminate the need for all these late-night phantasms!” Her slightly tipsy laughter echoed off the sitting room walls. “Or would that be ‘phant-orgasms’?”
“You know I rarely agree with Tange, whose mind in constantly in the gutter,” said Leslie Darden, her glass of golden Pouligny Montrachet poised for a toast. Giggling, she plopped down Indian-style on the antique horsehair sofa with its lion’s
