Open House

The motel manager momentarily surveyed the young man up and down. "Passing through or here on business perhaps?"

The man remained motionless, but for his hand scribbling over the credit card slip.

Raising his head for an eye to eye, "I suppose you could say that. Spent some time looking at property for sale around Smithson County, I believe it's called? Sound right?"

"That's it," complied the manager, studying the credit receipt through the smoke screen made by the cigarette between his lips. "Mr. Woodson. You wouldn't be interested in becoming a motel owner?" He gave the young man a sly grin.

"No, no. Grew up in a place similar to the smaller towns around here. Just thought I'd check out the market. Know one thing, some pretty sassy babes selling Real Estate around here." He gave the manager a wink, turned and butting his suitcase against the screen edged outside.

Walking toward his car, he spoke to himself. "Sassy and sweet tasting too!" He laughed aloud. Inside the car he removed the business card from the visor. He pressed it on his nostrils inhaling deeply. Then licked it with his tongue.

"Marie, honey, there's nothing like the taste of perfume in the morning. 'Midnight Passion,' I believe she called it."