Lawrence Kelter’s Baby Girl Doe: Excerpt & Interview

baby girl doe, lawrence kelterEXCERPT:

“There’s nothing wrong with the Menuccis, but you know how Dina earns a living, don’t you?”

“She works evenings selling restaurant supplies. Are you crazy or something?”

“Ma, listen to yourself. Who sells restaurant supplies at night? She’s a call girl. My God, how gullible can a person be?”

“Madonna mia, sweet little Dina? Are you sure? She said Vesuvius is her biggest customer.”

“Vesuvius, the Italian restaurant on 49th Street?”

Ma nodded.

“Yeah, I’m sure there’s an eruption there every time she walks through the door.”

“How can that be? You know Mickey V, the owner; he’s a family man.”

“First of all he’s not Italian, even though he professes to be. He’s Greek. That’s why he never uses his full last name.”

“For real?”

“Yes for real. His last name is Vloganitis, or Vaginitis, or something you’d need antibiotics to clear up, and he’s the biggest sleazeball on two feet. Believe me when Dina visits him in the restaurant, his soufflé isn’t the only thing that rises.”

“So Mickey is Greek?”

I nodded with conviction. “Mickey is short for Mikolas. He got into a jam over unpaid traffic tickets several months back and asked me to help him out. That’s why I know his real name.”

“Were you able to help him?”

“I made a call over to my friend Tay at the DA’s office. She pulled some strings. They let him pay the fines, and he was able to avoid criminal charges.”

“And he’s Greek.”

“Like baklava, Mama.”

“Oh my? Does that mean . . .”

“That’s right, Ma, Dina’s probably multi-portal.”

She cringed. “Stephanie, that’s disgusting.”

“You brought it up. Do you prefer I use the term backdoor specialist?”

“Madonna, too much information.” Ma pretended to retch.

“Ma, you’re such a prude. You’ve never heard of ass play?”

“What play?”

“Ass play.”

“Isn’t that the group that sings about clocks?”

“Oh my God.” What am I going to do with this woman? “No, Ma, that’s Coldplay.”

“Stephanie, I’m confused.”

Evidently. “Ma, ass play . . . anal sex. Stop being such a Girl Scout.”

She shrugged. “You mean like for a gay man.”

“It’s not just for gay men, Ma. Straight couples do it too.”

“But why?” Ma was completely out of her comfort zone. Fine droplets of sweat broke out across her lip.

How can I put this delicately? “Sometimes a man prefers to squeeze his car into the garage instead of just leaving it to hang out in the nice wide driveway.”

“You’re losing me. What does this have to do with cars?”

Sometimes there’s just no beating around the bush. Yikes. I can’t believe I just said that. “Because, Ma, after a woman shoots two or three linebackers out of her vagina, it isn’t exactly a snug fit anymore.”

Ma smiled with revelation. “Ah. So you’re talking about a man’s pleasure.”


“What about the woman?”

I flashed my palm like a stop sign. “I’m not going there, Ma.” I wasn’t saying I don’t go there, but I wasn’t going there with my mother.

“I still don’t believe it. Dina told me flat out that she sells macaroni.”

I giggled. “A hooker whose cover story is that she sells macaroni? Does that make her a pasta-tute?”

Read the interview…

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