Janet Strauss is on her knees. She gnces up at the tight military cut haircut and ice blue eyes. The doctor's pants are down around his ankles; she looks down at his military cock, proud and at attention. She does her job and strokes him. She gnces back up at him and smiles before taking it in her mouth.

  He shivers and grabs the back of her head, pulling himself fully into her mouth. Luckily, he isn't very long, just enough to make it fun but not enough to make it unpleasant. She sighs, “This is the highlight of my week. A customer who isn't an asshole.

  The old Bakelite telephone rings, and without removing his dick from her mouth, he answers it. “Yeah, yeah, okay, I will be there ASAP,” he says and hangs up the phone. He starts thrusting into her mouth faster. “Take it all just like that,” he quivers and fills her mouth. She swallows and stands up, brushing her knees off.

  “You know you're wasting your time here, right? You should join the company as a nurse,” he says, pulling his pants up and handing her a card.

  “Really now, you're trying to recruit me? Easy, Mr. Tuesday, I might think you're in love with me.” She rinses out her mouth with a beer from the refrigerator.

  “It's a good deal. I can get you brought on as my assistant. Come see things you didn't even know were possible. I am headed to Africa on Monday,” he says. “No more cold.

  She raises an eyebrow at him, “So you can get it for free.” She says, putting on her coat, “No thanks.”

  He pulls out a few bills from his wallet and hands them to her. “Friday?” he asks.

  “Yeah, sure,” she says, closing the motel door behind her and going back out into the frozen Colorado winter. She lights a cigarette and pulls her coat tight around her. “Screw this cold,” she says. Getting into her car.

  Janet knocks on the door of her next client. She grimaces, "I hate Steve. I hate his name. I hate his weird sock thing.” She sighs, her wallet a little too empty for her comfort.

  She knocks on the door harder. It swings open. “Steve?” she says to the dark motel room. “If this is some weird, kinky thing, I am charging you extra.” She turns on the lights to see Steve dead on the floor, his body bent in a horrible position.his skin a dark gray color. “Well, that's the end of Steve,” she says, giving him a nudge. With the toe of her heel. “Guess that ends my day early.” She looks around for a phone.

  She turns around to see the housekeeper holding a hand over her mouth. “What did you do, Janet?” The maid turns and runs down the sidewalk.

  “He was dead when I opened the door!” she yells defensively after her.

  She sits at the railing waiting for the police to show up. “Africa sounds nice right about now,” she mutters. Two cops get out of a white and blue police car, the lights still going. They say something to each other and split up. The partner goes inside and starts taking photos. The lead investigator approaches her. “Ma’am, my name is Ruttage, and my partner is Cranston. How did you know Mr. Arbark?”

  She makes a confused look at him. “I met him when he called my number and asked if I would visit him for a drink.” She hates this part. ‘Police have to act like they don't know what I do for a living; meanwhile, I know Mr. Cranston over there keeps Lou Ann busy.’.

  “I see,” he says, looking her over. “You sure that's the best line of work for you?” She lights another cigarette. ‘And now the thinly veiled judgment,’ she smirks.

  “You think asking me questions while I freeze to death outside is the best choice? I would be in reception right now if the maid didn't think I did this and put a mop through the handles," she retorts.

  “Would you rather have this conversation at the police station? I hear it's warmer there," he suggests with a thinly veiled threat, his finger pointing at her for emphasis.

  An ear-piercing scream comes from inside the motel room. They both turn, and they see the body is no longer a body, and Inspector Cranston is no longer alive. Steve was chewing on him.

  She takes a long pull on her cigarette. “Well, shit.” She says as the inspector panics and fumbles trying to get his gun out of the holster. She reaches in and closes the door. The inspector's gun sliding across the concrete as he drops it.

  “What the hell, dy?” He mutters, “What the hell was that?” He says, panicking, he goes to his car and calls it into dispatch.

  She picks up the gun and points it at the ground.

  The zombie is beating on the thick pte window. She stands looking into the room, both hands on the gun. “Well damn, not what I expected when I woke up this morning.” She holds the gun up, toggling the safety off. She waits for it to break through as it smashes on the window with its fists.

  A bck sedan screams into the parking lot. They come out with surplus military swords, thick, heavy, and clunky. A perfect match for what looks like chainmail and pte armor. They rush into the motel room. She watches as they hack it to pieces. Mr. Tuesday steps out of the back seat of the sedan wearing gloves and a white hospital coat.

  “Well, this is unexpected,” he says to Janet.

  “Yeah, not what I was expecting either,” she says, fumbling with the empty cigarette pack, hoping there is one more left.

  “So how about that job?” he asks, giving her one from his pack.

  She lights it. “Is it always like this?” she asks. ‘I really need to give these up; they say they are bad for you.’ She inhales, ‘Fuck it.’

  “No, usually it's much, much more fantastic,” he says.

  The next day she joined the DynaShore international organization.