Senator Herb Smith was nursing a raging hangover when his secretary poked her head in the door. “Morning!” “Who the hell says?” Heidi frowned, puzzled. She wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, Smith knew, and she couldn’t type to save her life, but she had a great pair of tits, so it was a fair trade. “Did Senator Dean reach you?” Heidi asked. “He wants—” “I know,” Smith said. “He really needs the report on—” “I heard you, Heidi. Get me a cup of coffee.” “Sure,” Heidi chirped. His hangover was only partially responsible for his foul mood. He’d spent the previous evening at Suzie’s apartment, listening to her commiserate with the characters of Melrose Place. As the end credits rolled, he slid his hand up her thigh. “Uh-uh, honey,” she said. “My friend is visiting.”
