Black 68 Chevy Nova exhibited the muscularity of masculinity, as this vehicle rolled out of its’ parking space onto that street of stillness. Shade of night accompanied the way he was feeling behind the wheel of his car, as darkness had a way of concealing blemishes of diminished perspective.
Three blocks away from his place, a traffic jam of almost twenty cars was starting to build up. Honking horns and verbal vitriol made for a waltz of misfits. With those cars lined up at a red light, that Chevy Nova waited its’ turn to move forward. The night had a bit of an edge about it, as even the ordinarily cool temps in Palo Alto were teetering around eighty degrees.
Yawning, as Hank sat there waiting for the traffic light to shift to green, he decided to turn on the car radio for a bit of company on his way to this night’s crime scene. Coincidence or kismet, the kind of company Adler was getting from the tune starting to play on that car radio was bad. Bad Company.
Primary strains of Bad Company’s “Ready for Love’ came through the car radio, like a braid of burgeoning bliss with chords of caressing confidence. From those first rhythmic utterances of Rodgers’ core capability and Kirke’s persistent throb of play to Ralphs’ and Bozwell’s deft combination of smoothness and stamina, this quartets’ prime performance of sultry delivery ascended to a sensuous cresting.
Traffic light turned green, as the Chevy Nova continued on its’ way from the urban bustle to a quieter locale of outer suburbia.
Hank Adler’s grey eyes had a smoldering magnetism to them. His gaze was like a fisherman casting a line outward to anyone in his orbit. Dark brown hair mixed with incoming patches of grey, always gave him a resemblance of a man in need of a trim on the top and the sides. With a stature of six foot, two inches; he had a fit build that was not overly muscular. Adler’s routine of getting a run in before going into the precinct kept him fit enough to pass the department physical. But, being in his 40’s still proved time had a way of pulling in the reins, even on a once charging tiger.
Muscles weren’t the only things which were sore on Detective Hank Adler, as his nerves had been in a constant state of bruising from all he’d witnessed over his years on the police force. Hank wasn’t completely numb to the predatory predilections of those he dealt with. Yet, there were those moments when the rope’s end had been closer than farther away.
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