Not Quite an Angel by Bobby Hutchinson Page A

schools, summer camp. Being a little kid is pretty boring.” His voice was rock steady, and the protective walls he’d erected years before were firmly in place.
    She stumbled on the curb just then, and her misstep provided a welcome distraction, giving him an excuse to put his arm around her. He left it there as they walked, and she didn’t seem to object. He could feel the sweet swell of warm hip against his palm, undulating gracefully as they moved. He could smell her perfume, something light and flowery.
    â€œDo you want to go somewhere for a drink, or maybe dancing?”
    She shook her head. “My feet hurt.”
    â€œLet’s head back to the car, then,” he suggested. “We can cruise through Hollywood if you like.”
    She looked up at him and gave him the smile that made a weird place in his chest feel sore. “I’d like that very much.”
    Once they were in the convertible, he drove slowly up Sunset toward Hollywood, along the famous boulevards. Dusk was falling, and the smog gave the city a muted, shadowy hue, like an old sepia-toned photograph. All the signs and marquees were coming alive in the twilight, flashing color over Sameh’s skin as they drove. His small sports car was almost lost in a sea of Porsches, Cadillacs and Lincolns, with the occasional pickup mixed in for comic relief.
    â€œThese shoes really hurt my feet,” she remarked, reaching down to remove the blue satin heels that were a perfect match for the dress. “Delilah insisted I wear them. I had to practice for a long time this afternoon before I could walk in them at all, but I’m still not very good at it. They hurt my toes and make my legs ache.” She picked up one of the shoes and studied it as if she’d never laid eyes on a high heel before. “I guess even shoes can be sex objects, right? They certainly aren’t designed for comfort, the way our sandals are.” She sighed and flexed her toes, their nails painted pink. Adam kept glancing over at her legs encased enticingly in sheer stockings.
    There was a noticeable run in her panty hose, right from her left toe up to where her leg disappeared beneath the short blue skirt, but she didn’t seem aware of it or concerned. Damn, even the holes in this woman’s stockings made him horny.
    He could sense her eyes on him, and at a red light he turned to smile at her. She didn’t smile back. She lookedserious. “There’s something you should know about me, Adam.”
    A million somethings. Like where she was really from, for instance, and how he could best entice her into bed with him without running the risk of permanent disability. “Let me guess. You don’t like wearing high heels?”
    â€œBesides that.” Her tone was solemn.
    He had a bad feeling they were heading back to la la land here. “Okay,” he said with a sigh, “I guess you’d better lay it on me.”
    â€œIs that the same as telling you?” She was frowning.
    He couldn’t help laughing. “Right.”
    She laid a hand on his arm, and he could feel the warmth through his light sport coat. His peripheral vision was excellent, and he knew her blue eyes were riveted on his face.
    â€œI know when you’re not being truthful with me, Adam. It’s a little like these flashing lights.” She pointed up at one they were passing that said Filthy McNasty’s, Bar Open, Dancing. On, off, on, off. “If what you’re saying is the truth, your light stays constant. But when you say something that’s not true, the light blinks like that one and I know you’re trying to deceive me.” She withdrew her hand and looked away from him. “I’ve known every time, and you’ve done it rather a lot.”
    He thought that over for a minute, feeling uneasy. In the first place, what light was she talking about, for God’s sake? In the second place, if she was on the level, it