?Don’t you dare start to cry, you little bitch. I don’t have time for that. Up on your feet. Present yourself.? Her orders were like little blows from a whip, sharp and concise, very different from my Master’s long winded guilt-trips. Though I had a feeling she might be pretty good at those too. As I stood, and pulled my shoulders back, I got my first proper look at her. She was a ballet dancer. The kind I had always imagined would take my place in my relationship with my master. She was 5’6? and impossibly slender. She was everything I am not, cool, detached, calm, covered with makeup. Each of her personality traits seemed like a kind of jab at me. her hair was long blond, and tied up neatly in an austere bun. Her whole body seemed to say, ?This, you pathetic fat short difficult whore, is what a woman should be.? Meanwhile she measured me up and I was most certainly found wanting. ?How much do you weigh???11 stone? 164 pounds? I thought this was probably the time for honesty.? And. . it can be a different angle, a slant of sunlight... We were alone — the kids had taken Hobo and the Proper Villain on some sort of Saturday morning errand.She smiled, “Joint?”“Absolutely.”She drew it in, reached across our kitchen table, handed it to me. I held my nose, I closed my eyes ... no, no, not Love Potion Number Nine.I said, “Wow, this is sweet.”“New mixture. Dotty had ‘em add a little more sativa hybrid. Little less indicia.”“I like it.”“It’s like a cross between Sofa Surfer and Rack-Rack.” She smiled at me, “With a little TableFan thrown in to reinforce the THC.”“I like it. A lot.”More frequent flyer miles. Because I wasn’t a full-time FBI employee, I got to keep my mileage. Health insurance would have been nicer, but I’d take what I could.Unlike my earlier visit to Ft. Payne, I could now be more open with the Alabama SBI agent, Sarah Richardson.I said, “First off, your biker — Gustav Hindenburg was an on-again, off-again snitch for the DEA.”She sighed, “They never tell.
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