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She was about 40 years old . She was Michael’s girlfriend. She was a topless dancer.
We were visiting our friend, Kayrene, on The Big Island, Hawaii.
Kayrene and another friend, Reggie, bought a house near Hilo as an investment. Their timing was horrible, the bottom fell out of the housing market, it was 2005.
We went to visit at Christmas, we met Kayrene’s neighbor, Michael. It turns out he was an educator like me but had not worked on Hawaii because according to him, they would not hire “Howlies.”
Consequently he was growing pot up in the mountains and making a helluva lot more money than he would have as a teacher.
Michael was also a golfer like me. He mostly played the Hilo Municipal Course and said he could get me the Kamahaina rate of twenty dollars, which sounded great.
After smoking some of his reefer and drinking a few shots of tequila we decided to play the next morning. He said he would like to bring his girlfriend along, Lola.
The dramatis personae:
Me, Michael Fox, school counselor and golfer
My wife, Sandy Cites, criminal investigator and yoga teacher
Fran, our friend and property appraiser
Reggie, childhood friend of Sandy and wine maker.
Charlie, her boyfriend and Bank Executive
Kayrene, our friend and nutty pothead.
Michael, pot grower and neighbor, building a house.
Lola, his girlfriend and topless dancer.

Charlie had grown up in a wealthy family in Tacoma, Washington and his father was an avid golfer. For that reason, he decided never to play golf. And he did not. He wanted to go with us to check out the situation , especially Lola. When Michael left that evening, Kayrene filled us in about Lola.
“She is something else, she has these fake breasts that are amazing. She flies to Honolulu every weekend to ply her trade and returns on Monday and spends the week in Hilo. She has a shop, “Lola’s Sexy Boutique”.
When she is in front of her shop arranging her wares, cars have been known to careen out of control on a regular basis.”
Charlie and I arrived at the golf course for breakfast and were having a “loco moko” when Carlie tapped me on the shoulder and motioned toward the door. “Lola”
She was wearing high heels and tight fitting pants and and wore a red blouse that barely contained those famous breasts. All heads in the restaurant were craning for a view.

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