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About Larissa

Meets her downtown—holy shit, she’s fire! Dressed sharp, smirkin’ like she owns me already. “You’re early,” she says, cool as ice. I’m sweatin’, mutterin’, “I couldn’t sleep anyway”—total Bob Harris move. She laughs—fuck, that pissed me off! But also, damn, it’s hot. We vibe, talk cash—greed’s the glue, man. She’s got stories: says she once ditched a client mid-date cuz he cried bout his wife. Hilarious! I’m crackin’ up, thinkin’, “This is better than therapy!”

where is the sex game in this one?

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I dust myself off and head to the café on Main Street. I need a coffee, like, yesterday. I order a freddo, and the barista gives me this look like I just asked for a unicorn. “You sure?” she says. “It’s strong.” I’m like, “Lady, I’m a bailiff. I can handle it.”

Scott Williams Obituary - Sparta, NJ