Chapter 67. Werewolves

ZHIVARGO

I made both of my doctors take HIV tests, and tests for other STD's before I agreed to fuck them. I fucked them with an agenda. To frame them. To add both trump cards with the key in the hem, of my garments. 

I remembered those tests, administered, discreetly, in my office on the 34th floor, overlooking Manhattan. I fucked them in my office. And got it all on DVD, digitally mastered in HD.

I had them on standby, for insurance. 

It was a scorching hot day in the bowels called the hell-of-a-Manhattan-work-day. I had just hung up the conference phone talking with Drummond, a circuit judge, when two well-seasoned and properly uniformed cops entered my office, with their guns drawn. 

I recognized the taller, chubby cop. He was light skinned and muscular, with no neck, looked like. Uptight punk. His name was Officer Blow. I knew him really well. I sold him 7 kilos of pure Columbian c****ne a few weeks ago, during a trip we took to Miam