Dick Tracy (Dirty Jobs) by Jesse Rawlins

That ass looked familiar. And as I worked to place the booty—the dancer raised her arms. Soon as I spotted the tats, I recognized my wife: “What the hell you doin’, Tracy?” “Never mind,” she whispered, spinnin’ on six-inch heels. “What are you doing here?” “Gotta meet a guy.” (She had me whisperin’, too.) “Meeting […]