Grave Matter

The moment Johnny Liddell laid eyes on the redhead, he knew the voice belonged. She was sprawled out, her hair a coppery tangle on the beige rug, her arm crooked over her head. The eyes that stared up at him were slightly slanted, half closed; her lips were parted, showing the perfection of her teeth. A loosely tied dressing gown gave ample evidence that the magnificence of her facade had needed no artificial assist.She was redheaded, she was luscious, she was stacked.She was also dead.