Set in the world of cat shows, a mystery, and here I am plopping you right in the middle of the whole darned thing (right in the middle of the 1990's cat show world):
“Oh, Dahling, I had no idea you were this forceful,” Tish murmured in my ear. “Quite luvely, actually. Dottie gave me no clue.”
“Oh, Darling, before you arrived today I had no idea you were a man, much less gay, actually,” I simpered back insincerely.
Tish’s head whipped up, he regarded me solemnly for a moment, and then a big grin split his face and I got a glimpse of a gold tooth. “Oh, Sweetheart, Dottie likes you, but does she really know just what you’re made of?”
“Hell, Tish, I don’t know what I’m made of, but I think we’re going to find out together. How does that suit you?”
“Like my favorite Calvin Klein jeans,” he replied.
To write, or not to write?