Mr. Bags never swept in front of the restaurant. “They got people who do that,” Mr. Bags would say. “I don’t want to take anybody’s work awa... from them, even though they don’t do a very good job.” He pointed out the bits of trash in the gutter. Each night after closing, the restaurant sent one of their busboys outside with a hose that he hooked to the faucet and used a special wrench to turn on. He sprayed from the front of the restaurant out to the street, sweeping all the accumulated day. "We could just go back to the lodge and swim in the lake," Vanessa suggested, absently pulling an itchy stretch of transparent nylon out from underneath her left breast. "It's too hot to do much else, anyway."Vanessa was right, Ric thought, gazing at her perpetually exposed curves highlighted by nylon and spandex. It was even too hot to think about fucking, despite the sexy attire the little exotic insisted on wearing. It wasn't because she looked tired or hot or was drooping a little from the. More

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