Sally swiped her nape and grimaced at her slick fingers. It was nowhere near the hottest part of summer, either.
Not that it was scorching. More, uncomfortable. Sticky inside the uniform, her undies were sweaty, and her hair had frizzed into red pipe-cleaners. The night was airless but not oppressive enough that they would be inundated with alcohol-fuelled domestics or need to patrol for match-happy larrikins. But there was a full moon and that invariably drew the local NUPHYs out of the woodwork.
Her eyebrows lifted at her non-PC slip. Tut-tut. Most improper to label a punter with ‘needs urgent psychological help yesterday’…even if the straightjacket fits.
Tut-tut.Most improper to label a punter with ‘needs urgent psychological help yesterday’…even if the straightjacket fits.Sally snor
