A scent of lavender was heavy in the air as he drew up to the counter, stopping in front of the receptionist. She was a bleached blonde wearing too much make up. When she looked up her eyes were a startling blue. She popped her gum and chewed noisily nodding at him and pointing, said, "She's back there... she's been waitin' for yah."
He swallowed thickly and then cleared his throat narrowing his eyes. "I bet you say that to everyone."
The receptionist shrugged and went back to filing her nails. "She's in the back room. Go see her or don't. Either way it's gonna cost yah."
He nodded and turned, finding that his feet moved one in front of the other as if compelled. Before he reached the back door he turned his head surreptitiously to the side to sniff his arm pit. He couldn't remember if he'd put deodorant on this morning (in his rush to get out of the hotel for his early meetings). That was a long time ago. No odor, good. One less thing to worry about. He knocked quietly on the door.
"Come in."
Her voice was heavy and raspy. It was clear that she smoked. When he opened the door the room smelled like cigars. Madam Cookie was a big woman sporting a black beehive. She smiled to him and motioned to the chair across from her. "You sissy," she said as she chuckled. He arched a brow. "You heard me. You're a sissy boy."
He turned bright red.
She grinned and he saw that two of her teeth were missing. "You're wearing women's underwear again."
She cackled. He felt a cold chill go down his spine. It was the first time he'd met a fortune teller who had so easily nailed anything before he'd even said a word. He licked his dry lips. "How ... how did you know?"
"Yer damn fly's open!"
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