My name is Cole Adams.
If you have the right money,
I’ll wear a suit.
Cole Adams sat on the corner of Nasta Ana and Browder watching the painter stencil the name of the newest tenant onto one of the Newport Building windows. As his shoes began to soften on the concrete sidewalk, he thought about his next move. Was his gun loaded? Was the safety on? Would he even need a gun for this job?
As Jan and Dean’s new hit ‘Surf City’ echoed out of a nearby radio, Cole saw movement in the next window; she was a red head. Her silhouette swayed in the window as she poured herself out of her dress to beat the heat. Cole was frozen with her slow moves until the yearning in his body brought him into motion. He raised his camera and prepared to snap the scene he'd been paid to capture.
The red head’s father ran a small hunk of the wharf and was pretty sure his daughter was messing around with the wrong sort. Cole had been sent to put proof on Polaroid and report back to her father. However if things were worse than just a little illicit dalliance, Cole was to take care of what needed taking care of and bring the girl back to Daddy.
The breeze missed the back of Cole’s neck when he saw the wrong sort of people walk out from behind the red head. Her hair was black and her body petite. She followed Red in dropping her dress, and the two began to kiss. Her next order was to wrap her arms around Red and hold onto her hips. For such a small woman, Blackie generated a lot of power and seemed to grow in size as the two women embraced. Soon the two were in ecstatic agony in the window, as would have been the rest of the world if they had Cole's view.
The red head’s father ran a small hunk of the wharf and was pretty sure his daughter was messing around with the wrong sort. Cole had been sent to put proof on Polaroid and report back to her father. However if things were worse than just a little illicit dalliance, Cole was to take care of what needed taking care of and bring the girl back to Daddy.
The breeze missed the back of Cole’s neck when he saw the wrong sort of people walk out from behind the red head. Her hair was black and her body petite. She followed Red in dropping her dress, and the two began to kiss. Her next order was to wrap her arms around Red and hold onto her hips. For such a small woman, Blackie generated a lot of power and seemed to grow in size as the two women embraced. Soon the two were in ecstatic agony in the window, as would have been the rest of the world if they had Cole's view.
It took every bit of his training and coordination to prevent the camera from hitting the ground. He had no idea that girls behaved in this sort of way, men sure, but not dames.
“Only in San Fran,” he thought as he began taking pictures.
After fifty or so clicks of the camera, Cole had another thought, Red’s father had wanted her physically protected from the wrong sort of crowd if it was necessary. And this seemed like a pretty good reason to walk upstairs and see if the girls would let him join...protect them from each other. Sliding one tool of his trade into a pocket and patting his holster to make sure the other tool was also there, he crossed the street.
Pro Se is excited about its free web pulp
"The Book of Green"
This will run every night "The American" does not.
Written and Illustrated by Fuller Bumpers
