The Case Of The Vanishing Beauty (1978) - Plot & Excerpts
Prather Chapter One SHE LOOKED HOTTER than a welder's torch and much, much more interesting. Up till now the floor show had been getting less attention than the rest- rooms—a Mexican hat dance, some Mexican troubadors gnashing their teeth through "La Cucaracha" and "Cielito Lindo," and a swarthy comic who wasn't comic—but as soon as she walked onto the little dance floor and stood in the spotlight everybody went nuts. Guys were applauding as if their hands were shot full of novocain, and yelling things that sounded to me like "Olé!" and "Bravo, Lina!" and "Hot damn!" They liked her. I didn't blame them. She was in her early twenties, and tall. About five feet nine, and every inch of it loaded. Her lips were the dangerous red of a stop light and her eyes were the same black as the masses of black hair piled high on top of her head. She was slim, but with hips that were amply ample and high, full breasts that she was careless about but nobody else ever would be. Plus a flat stomach, a slim waist, and golden skin as smooth as melting ice cream.
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