“See how much fun we are having Jose. Really you should stay for a while.”
Jose awkwardly looks around the room. He’s probably seen this all before, at least 17 times a night, but something about the look in his eyes betrays his wonder and apprehension of this seasoned debauchery. Debauchery that he has by his willing participation facilitated.
“Soon maybe. I got to run. People to see.”
“Baby, has anyone told you you are too gorgeous?”
Misty kisses Jose on the lips before escorting him back out the foyer. She now returns looks for a strainer in the kitchen, a teaspoon and has the Count break the content onto the plate gently grinding the teaspoon against the strainer.
“See what happens when you are nice to the help,” she says taking out a fifth bag of coco pops.
“Careful Count. You’re going to break the strainer. I picked it up at Costes in Paris. Maybe you should have your girlfriend help you?”
Misty smiles a wicked smile before reaching over and holding my hand.
“I always have the time of my life when you drop by.”
“Me too,” I reply, my eyes slowly gazing over the room and the dim lights reflecting picture perfect silhouettes. Silhouettes that are destined to one day fade into oblivion.
“What are you going to write about tomorrow darling?”
“Something tantalizing to be sure.”
“You better. That’s why I read you.”
I finally take my last drag of my remaining cigarette before motioning to make my way out.
“But it’s only 4 o’clock mon cherie.”
I put Misty’s cheek against the palm of her hand and feel how flush it is before gently kissing it.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she intones as I finally say my goodbyes and make my way to the elevator.
Except Misty wont call me tomorrow. It’s understood. I stand there anxiously waiting for the elevator before briskly making my way onto a suddenly chilly late October evening…
Michelle KNOWS, I introcuded her to the MapleLeaf’s Captain because he was the most handsome muscular man out of the lot of them.
And Michelle, I even introduced you MORON to the Mapleleaf’s Captain, HELLO!
NO! I know what I am talking about here. THEY WERE ALL COMPLETE PSYCHOMANIC AND SOCIOPATHOLOGICAL! AND sexually dysfunctional.
GO WITH THE COKE WHORE! You have your pick Metallica. Sue Ernst, Jacqueline Zima, Julie Capone, Barbara Mitchell, Tara McCabe, why I could introduce you to the LOT OF THEM! Stay the fuck away from me.
what a crock of shit. Complete fiction, no ring at all of authenticity.
more gag inducing pretension. this shit is all fake and vapid. useless, meaningless, soulless, talent less. write about something interesting for once. not about something we know; inbred rich people do blow. big. fuckin. whoop.