I called out to her, “Doctor Susa?”
The dark-skinned raven-tressed beauty turned toward me, her brown eyes pinning me in place. Her deep green dress had a hemline just low enough to hide her panties and a bodice just high enough to keep the police at bay. Her strappy wedge sandals and crimson smile completed the come-hither effect from head to toe, and left only one question: why was she in the storm sewers?
“Ah, Doctor Anderson; I was hoping you’d come.” She put just a little too much emphasis on the word come.
“What are you doing down here? The alligators…”
“It’s all right; I know how to handle the wildlife down here.”
The way she said handle made me want to be part of the wildlife. Not that it would help: gators see us as a source of meat and that’s about it. Sometimes you get a guy like me who respects them and whom they respect. That’s why they call me the Gator Whisperer, and that's why the city called me in to deal with their alligator problem.
“Doctor Susa –Rhianna– it is totally unsafe for you to be down here. Three sewer workers have already been killed; the gators have obviously got a taste for human flesh. That’s why the city called me in to assess the situation and give recommendations on how to control them.”
“But Jeffrey, there’s no need to control the alligators. They’re all dead.”
“I sincerely doubt that. The environment down here is totally protected and they have no natural enemies. They’re not going to just die off.”
She sashayed toward me in a way that made me repeat two kids and a loving wife like a mantra. When she rested her slender arms on my shoulders I almost forgot the words.
“Read my lips, Jeffrey; there are no alligators down here.”
Just then I heard the rumbled chuff of a mature bull ‘gator.
“Then what was that?”
“Oh, that? That’s Nasser, one of my crocodiles. He was just saying that you smell delicious.”
“Well, you do.” She licked her lips in anticipation. “You’re pretty big, so he’ll probably leave some for me. Do say hello to Steve Irwin when you get to the other side.”