San Francisco, 1935
Imagine an insinuating saxophone and you will know what it was like to meet Violet Harris. A tight dress wrapped around her like a wet leaf in autumn. My own dress was silk and hers, who knows, maybe rayon, but she filled it out with a tawdry sensuality that turned men's heads.
Includes a chapter of MURDER ON THE WATERFRONT!
No comments:
Post a Comment