Mike Hammer greets the winter holidays, or "A Fist Full of Snow", parts 4-5

 She came into his office like a tropical breeze on a warm, sandy beach.  The steam radiator let off a whistle by the open window.  She smiled, “Who’s the fresh one here, you or the radiator?  I haven’t gotten that treatment in years.”  Hammer put the shot glass into the open drawer behind the desk. 



 The black satin shift that hugged her could not have had a better occupant.  He moved like a panther from behind the desk.  His hand slide around the back of her neck, under her soft dark hair.  They kissed hard.

J. B. Fletcher 2010