Spinning Round

Martha was getting sick and tired of nothing but big bands and crooners. She needed a little sass in her life, a little jazz. She craved something more than songs about dreamy eyes and stars and mooning over dead sailors. No, she needed something raucous, a little Wynonie Harris mayhaps? Lord, but the neighbors would die if they knew she was listening to race records and sex and whiskey. Good, she thought, spin it.