Excerpt
The man on his hands and knees in front of me had been there for a few minutes
already, but in this establishment that was nothing out of the ordinary. I
didn't realize at once that he was asking me something; the Velvet Underground
were pounding lugubriously out of the speakers at a high enough volume to drown
out anyone speaking in an appropriately servile tone of voice.
"Can I lick your boots clean?"
"I'm sorry, what?" I ducked my head. Rearing up on his knees, he said more
loudly:
"Can I lick your boots clean?"
I shrugged. "Be my guest." His face fell. "You filthy little piece of scum," I
added, not wanting to disappoint. He cheered up at once and ducked down, tongue
poking out of the slit in his leather mask. But just as I turned back to the
conversation he had interrupted, a horrible realization struck me.
"Oh my God, they're suede! Stop it! Th ... read full excerpt from Freeze My Margarita ebook
