OK, here we go!

Here's the first chapter of my novella, Arkansas Uncut. It's offered for your reading pleasure, as a birthday present for the first year of Josefina's Sin. It's the ONLY place you can read Arkansas Uncut, and I will post the chapters every 5-7 days. And yes, it's meant to be funny!

You can (and should!) still buy Josefina's Sin, available at Amazon etc., and at your bookstore. Make them order it for you, if they don't have a copy in stock!

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and now... 

                                               ARKANSAS UNCUT

Chapter 1

California, a Thursday in early October, in an election year, in the twenty first century:

Being a casino lawyer wasn’t as interesting as it sounded.  At least not the parts that John handled.  In most ways he could have been counsel to a used car dealer. Breathy, desperate messages from foreign females were definitely not par for the course.

John kept his clients on the straight and narrow.  In California, unless you were associated with an Indian tribe, you were pretty much limited to cards and bingo.  The actual gaming part was so closely regulated that there wasn’t much wiggle room for people to get in trouble.  John dealt with personnel problems, security issues, the occasional crime, and some slip-and-fall type personal injury.  Certainly no way to become a millionaire, and not exactly headline stuff.

John replayed the message once again.  She needed to see him.  Today.  This afternoon.  "Oh, please, please help me," moaned the accented voice before hanging up.  No name, no number.  Just a voice that sent adolescent shivers up his legs. 

There was something about a damsel in distress that got any guy going.  He pictured her with long, curling black hair, almond eyes, full red lips, and a figure of lush yet perfect proportions, sheathed in a form-following black dress.  He stopped himself before he could get to the fishnets.

Too bad, he thought.  He had to leave at one thirty to be in court at two. If she didn’t show up by the time he had to leave, she would just have to miss him.  If she showed up at all. He was going to follow his routine, exactly as if she hadn’t called.

For the first time in ten years, John worked at his desk through lunch. 

She probably weighs three hundred pounds, he told himself as he picked at a bag of nuts he kept in a drawer for afternoon snacks.  I won’t give her another moment’s thought.  He doodled a sketch of Jessica Rabbit on his notepad.

He straightened the aqua-blue tie that matched his eyes.  He practiced his putting with the putt-return kit he had on his carpet.  It was almost one, too late to go get a sandwich.  He would just have to wait until after the hearing to eat.  So he might as well stay in the office until it was time to go.

At exactly one o’clock, the outer door of John’s office opened.  John’s head snapped up as he sliced the putt into his desk.  At his door stood a woman. 

Well, he had expected a woman.  But this woman had hair that cascaded in waves of honey-gold from the crown of her head, at least six feet off the ground, down to her waist.  Her eyes were green, large, and heavily made up in a tawdry but bone-thrillingly exotic way.  Legs that started at high-heeled silver pumps rose indefinitely, until they reached an emerald silk dress that wrapped its way around broad hips, narrow waist and voluptuous bosom.  Only the fishnets were missing.

Cue the Jessica Rabbit music.

 “I am Vanessa,” she said, taking his hand in both of hers.  “I am so glad you will help me.”  She pulled his hand to her cleavage.

“Blatt!” John sputtered. He started to pull his hand away, but she held it close.  He would have to be a bully to pull back with the force it would take to dislodge himself from between her copious breasts.  Or be in a coma to want to resist.  “Ms. uhm, I’m sorry,” he tried again.

“Alturai.  It is Turkish,” she said.  She put the accent on the I. 

“Ms. Alturai, please, come in and sit down,” John finally got out. 

“Please, Attorney Samuelson, you must call me Vanessa.”

“Sit down, please.” 

Vanessa finally released John’s hand.  He pulled out the chair for her, and watched as she smoothed her skirt over her rounded back-side, before seating herself.  He swallowed. 

“I haven’t got much time,” he started.  “I need to leave for court in twenty minutes.  Please.  Tell me how I can help you.”  He forced his face into a neutral, professional mode. 

“I am so terrified.  I am desperate.  You must help me.”

“Ms. Alturai.  Vanessa.  Tell me, if you can, what kind of a problem you have.”

Vanessa bit her full lower lip. John stared.  Finally, she took a deep, heaving breath.  “Michelangelo Carmini, at Mesa Casino, he wants to force me to have his baby.  He will force me, Attorney Samuelson, and I do not want to have his baby.  I do not want him anywhere near my,” she glanced down to where she did not want him, and John’s eyes, willy nilly, followed hers. 

“Uh, why?  Why would Mike want you to have a child with him?” His voice cracked.

“You know him.  I know.  You call him Mike, like everyone else, but you know his real name.  He tells, he told me about you, a long time ago, about the time with the bingo machines.  He said you were honest, and brave, and courageous, and the best attorney money can buy.  But I know you will help me, you will.  I know.  You must not let him force me!” 

“Now, relax, Vanessa.  Take a deep breath.”  John certainly did.  “Now start at the beginning.  But quickly, as I do have to leave.”  He glanced at his watch.  “In about ten minutes.  So, in summary form, what are you talking about?”

“Some reform?  What does it mean, some reform?”

“Summary form.  The short version.”

“No.  I am not a virgin.”

“Version!  No, don’t get upset.  I just need you to tell me what is going on, but you need to tell it quickly.  Or you can come back.  I’ll be back by four.  You can come back then, and take all the time you need.  Do you want to do that?”

“Oh, no!  It will be too late by then!”

“Why?”

“But Attorney, don’t you see?  He will take me, and drag me to the back of the bingo parlor, where it is very, very dark, and tear my clothings off, and force me to have his baby!”

“This afternoon?”

“It is my fertile time.  Oh,” she wailed, “you will not help me.  You are a man.  You cannot understand how terrible, how humiliating, it is to be subject to a man’s whim!”  Tears formed in those beautiful, if over-made up eyes.  One overflowed its limpid pool, and trickled down her cheek.  The makeup didn’t run.   “If you will not hide me, and shield me, I am at his mercy!”

“What would you have me do?” he asked hoarsely.

“Find my sister.”

“Your sister?  Why your sister?”

“Or put your baby in me, now, to block his!”