To Trust a Stranger Read Online Free PDF

here. And we're going to need that police report for the insurance.” When a six-and-a-half-foot-tall transvestite crosses his arms over his eye-popping chest, gives you an impatient look, and starts tapping his pointed patent-leather toe, the effect is galvanizing, Julie discovered. She clutched the phone tighter, but could not quite bring herself to punch in that last I. If she did, all hell would break loose the minute she got home.
    “Look, I've got a problem, okay? I don't want my husband to find out I was out tonight,” she confessed, her shoulders slumping in defeat as she lowered the phone. Debbie knew who she was and therefore almost certainly knew Sid in some way or another, although her mind boggled at picturing mucho macho Sid having an acquaintance with a drag queen. But Debbie was such a bizarre figure that it seemed all right to confide, a little, in him. He would have his share of secrets, too. Besides, she'd wrecked his car, he wanted to call the police, and she was just now fully beginning to comprehend what a really bad idea that was. She was willing to bet good money that every cop in
South Carolina
knew or knew of her husband, and once she called them she might just as well take out an ad in the paper describing the night's debacle and be done with. If telling Debbie a little of the truth would win her enough sympathy to give her time to think, Julie was all for that. “Oh, yeah?” Debbie sounded interested rather than sympathetic, but interested worked too. More people were coming into the parking lot now, and a candy-red Corvette drove past them on the way to the exit. It honked, and a manicured hand tipped in long, bright red nails waved gaily out the driver's window. Lana and Clint.
    “If you know who I am, then you must know I'm good for the damages to your car,” Julie said. “But I really don't want to call the police.”
    “Is that right?” Debbie was looking at her speculatively. “Suppose we get in my car where we can have a little bit of privacy and you tell me all about it. Maybe I can help you out here.” Debbie's very masculine-feeling hand curled around her upper arm again before Julie could answer, urging her toward his damaged vehicle. Julie glanced up, registered once again the mind-boggling dichotomy of platinum curls bouncing against breasts roughly the size of the Himalayas on a linebacker's broad-shouldered frame, then allowed herself to be persuaded. Turning to a flamboyant, gender- bending stranger for help was probably only a little less stupid than chasing after Sid in the first place, but under the circumstances none of the other options she could think of were any more appealing. Debbie opened the Blazer door for her, and Julie slid into the black leather seat. It was only as he shut the door behind her and walked around the hood to get in himself that it occurred to her that maybe getting into a car with a strange man in women's clothes might not be the smartest thing she had ever done.
     
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    JULIE CARLSON WAS EVERY BIT AS HOT as Mac remembered. Great tits, great ass, great legs, skin the color of honey, long, tousled black hair that would look fantastic spread out over a man's pillow, kissable lips, big brown eyes. He'd first seen her at her wedding. At the time he'd been a cop, hired for the occasion to provide security, and while he'd been full of admiration for the sexy young bride he'd been busy thinking about other things, and she had never so much as glanced his way. Her eyes had been all for her groom: John Sidney Carlson IV; born with a silver spoon in his mouth that Mac had never stopped wanting to cram up his ass instead. Back then Sid made a splash with everything he did, and his wedding-his second wedding-was no exception. There'd been a thousand guests, including the governor and more big names than you could shake a stick at, TV and newspaper coverage, and Julie Ann Williams, one month out of her reign as Miss South Carolina, for a bride. That