Please stay tuned for publishing information when available.  Hold on to your seats with both hands please because this book is a roller coaster thriller.

She ran in the morning because it was the only time available for her to run and also work, and she nearly always got her run in, no matter how cold or snowy it was in the Denver winter.  It was also less busy out on the trails and roads at that time, and with that, less cat calls by men admiring her long, toned legs.  Of course, she seemed to always attract that kind of attention, ever since her years of ballet did wonders for her legs as well.  But there was no career future in ballet.  Neither was an English literature degree. Who in their right mind wants to teach English Lit the rest of her life while teaching ballet classes in the evening to little girls with spindly legs dragged in by their helicopter mothers?

            In the car on the way to her office, her cell phone rang. “Hello Gentri?  Mr. Rogers is here.  How long will you be?”

            “Patty, please tell him that I’ll be about 15 minutes late.  Something came up.”

            “But Gentri, you never – “

            “Just tell him, he’ll get over it.  There are plenty of sports illustrated magazines in the waiting room. In fact, he may get lucky and find the swimsuit edition, unless someone stole it and ripped out the best bikini pictures already.”

            Gentri Lawrence, real estate broker, GRS, GRI, SFR, attempted to be on time, but the run today felt too good, her feet seemed to barely touch the ground, and so she lost track of time.  And of course, she had to find heels to match her outfit and raven hair.  She always wore heels, a necessity, unless she was back home on the sandy gulf beaches, running, or perhaps playing tennis.  Sometimes she temporarily wore them to bed on special erotic occasions, when the opportunity presented itself, although that was too many years ago, unfortunately.   She walked in the back way to her office, quickly reviewed the day’s calendar and list of showings, and then rang Patty to bring Mr. Rogers back.

            She looked quickly into her hand mirror from the purse, relieved she had her red lipstick on, but knew her hair was a mess.  Who cares?  She wanted to get on with it and sell some prime real estate.

            Patty led Rogers into her expansive office suite, adorned with massive broad-leafed plants on both sides of her cherry wood desk, as if the desk was an outpost in the forest.  They told her Cherry wood was masculine, but who cares. She loved the look. The side walls displayed her diplomas, certificates and some art work, and the window on the right of the desk showed the majestic Denver skyline.

            Gentri stood up to greet her client, her hand outstretched to receive his shake and she saw that he briefly glanced down to her legs, not so subtle, perhaps, but she knew she had him already with that action he demonstrated. Typical, but not unexpected, nevertheless.

            “So, tell me Mr. Rogers, What – “

© SRCarson Publications, 2021