She wouldn’t get a job to save her life. She’d much rather find a man to support her. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, except that she never...held up her end of the bargain. Housewives are supposed to do housework. She preferred to pretend to be a socialite, and I could tell by now that she was practicing to be just that. Her new lover was one of the country club set, after all, not a grubby private detective like me. Of course, my being said private eye had made it easier, and cheaper, to. But you have to imagine adding three squeaks, a tongue click, and two finger snaps during that pronunciation - all while making a sort of snorting noise. I was the queen of my little planet, on an arm of a galaxy five galaxies away from your Milky Way; that is, until some crazy males from a planet in another arm of our galaxy decided to blow us up to prove how macho they were. They were too stupid to think to prove their machismo by pleasuring our planet’s queen (me) in bed. I managed to escape. More

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