them to look like that." The man looked shocked.
"One's in a hot tub," a sexy woman in fishnet stockings and heels told a little tape recorder.
"Did you call us
"Yes," a drunken man blubbered.
"The moral police?" Another sexy woman walked past seven men standing against the crispy dry bamboo partition-wall. Behind were safety people with the last of the young kids ordered up by the pedaphiles.
"Put that in your files," a lady flashed the Polaroid camera in the leader's face. "What is it?" The dazed by blitzed-and-exposed Epstein asked. "Your mugshot." The lady took another. In fact she piled up the photographs of the power people in a binder a skinny guy was carrying around like a pillow with a ring on it.
"Shrunken and shriveled now," one woman told the taperecorder and all the opposition -- men and women wanting such scum cleared off "the stage". A wizened older man with a dispassionate interest came from within the widening perimeter with a stack of towels. A Detective smacked a towel into the chests of each "stalled" partier. "Might want to cover up."
"I assure you Sir, my lawyers are on the way." The Detective thought to himself for a few seconds then reflected to himself, "No doubt. But you," he got in front of the man, "Have no right to call me Sir."
The flow of all kinds of trafficking in the world quieted momentarily while these people in a motel were being filibustered. "The cops are onto us!!!!!" A young boy with a fat, gold chain and no front teeth yelled from a balcony to the parking lot. One set of car wheels squealed and burnt rubber. A Squad car pulled in front of the parking lot driveway.
"Those don't look too powerful now," a woman traded heels for Service shoes and said of "the dicks". The motel deskman had woken his family and all of them sleepily busied themselves behind the desk and wiping the dust off the lobby-size potted palm trees.
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