“Can’t help ya,” she said, waving me out. “You’ll have to come back later.”“You don’t even know what I need to ask.”“Doesn’t mat...er,” she said and looked at the clock. “It’s almost lunchtime. I’m not gonna miss my show.”“Ma’am, please...”“I’m not your ‘Ma’am’,” she barked suddenly. Then she settled back into her chair and said, “Name’s Selma.”I nodded. “Selma. Please. I only need to know if a particular person has stayed here recently.”“How recent? My memory’s not what it used to be.”“A few. Tonight, she was dressing to seduce me, perhaps living in one of her secret fantasies. I looked down at my poetry then at her as she took a seat at a table near the front but off to the side. Our eyes met as she sipped her coffee, looking over the rim at me. She then put her cup down and leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs, her skirt higher on her thighs, her tits stretching the tight turtle neck shirt. Our eyes met again and I remember her smile when she tilted her head, gesturing for. More

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