"Ladies Night"

We drove into Sturgis, and cruised slowly through a gauntlet of motorcycles of every type and description. There were bikers from all over the country in every mode of dress imaginable. Some guy yelled, as he pointed at Breedlove, "Hey look, it's Dr. Hook." Breedlove nodded and adjusted his eyepath with a wide grin. The air was filled with wolf whistles, and several guys yelled, "Nice ole lady you have there." I felt as if I was on display.

Breedlove pulled the Indian in beside a massive Harley panhead, and killed the engine. Seven or eight bikers immediately walked over to inspect the old machine.

"My grandfather used to have one of these," a blonde haired biker with a two-foot long beard said. Another one, with three teeth, and huge biceps eyed me up. I slowly got out of the side car, and stretched my cramped legs alongside of it. "Three-teeth," drew closer.

"Nice tat's," he said. I looked down at my chest, then realized he had not made a mistake but was talking about my temporary tattoos.

Breedlove was busy showing off the motorcycle to an ever growing group.

Three-teeth said, "Hey tonight's ladies night at the Miller Beer Tent. You're old man can drink for free if he takes you along." Great, just what I needed. Breedlove heard the word beer, and turned quickly.

"Ya don't say," he said.

"Yep, all you can drink. The great thing about it is the wet t-shirt contest. Five-hundred dollars first prize." The man stared at my chest, then added, "you might want to get in on that."

Hey, I knew I gained a few pounds over the winter, but this was ridiculous.

Before, I could say anything, Breedlove chimed in quick.

"Five-hundred dollars? We sure could use that, we'll be there."

"What?" I said.

"Hell, we'll split it."

I did have to pay the private eye a pretty penny, but this was ridiculous.

"The secret is cold water," Three-teeth said. "Ice water is best."

I shivered at the thought. My God, I was actually considering it.

Three-teeth looked down at my big feet sticking out of the pink flip flops, and whistled soft and low.

"Now them's some dang big ole feet." He sort of smiled.

He turned and walked away.  On the back of his black T-shirt printed in white letters was the slogan, I (heart) feet.

Jesus, could it get any worse.