She was a platinum blonde.. that blonde that Jean Harlow made us sit up and take notice of. Tattoos up and down her husky arms : no nonsense! Security door: electronic peep hole. Not the kind of office one might expect for this kind of business. Industrial. The building, not the business.
She was one tough cookie with her smile locked up in a safe somewhere and any man who could crack that safe might have a shot at having a shot or two in a dive bar, dark, with leatherette banquettes and Sheldon Leonard banging on the cash register to give angels wings.
Bullet proof hair: Glowing white at perfect odds with her long sleeve tattoos snaking to her shoulders making a statement.
I was never so happy to get out of an office as I was today, having been there for less than thirty seconds. It could have been fifteen, but the exit door was stuck and the thought of her coming around the desk was frightening.