A Monster's Tale

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They started off with him seeing her naked.

Kelly Lindsey often sunbathed in the nude. The Flying Witch was her boat after all, all sixty-five, high-powered feet of her. With the canvas blinders up, one would really have to be determined to catch a glimpse of her from the dock. And the handgun she kept next to her drink on the stand kept her from feeling naked.

The Sun had bleached out even the minor traces of brown in Kelly’s hair, and baked her skin to a warm bronze. She was far too beautiful to be taken seriously on first sight, except during those few months when she’d worked as a stripper in Florida—just out of high school and eager to be on her own. But that was six years ago. She had a better way to make money now, and it was usually legitimate.

“Knock, knock. Anyone home?” The voice came from behind her.

Kelly flipped over and out of her lounge chair, in the same movement pulling her gun off the table and training it on the man standing there. She didn’t care one damn bit that she was nude.

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