everything falls apart 54
The third had live women wrapped like dolls in enormous plastic packaging. They hung on rack, complete with a change of clothes, and men rifled through, looking for just the right one.
The fourth was simply a cute young woman sitting on a couch. “Hi, my name is Precious. I don’t have a lot of money to waste on this commercial, but I’m not a transsexual, I’m not a clockwatcher, and if you pick me, you’ll be glad you did.” Good enough, I thought.
Precious, as it happened, worked out of her apartment. I thought that to be a plus, as I wouldn’t be walking into and out of something that was obviously a brothel. But it turned out not to make much difference; from the looks I got, Precious’ neighbors were very much aware of her profession.
I rang the buzzer. “Just a minute, hon.” It was more like 15. She came to the door in high heels and a boa. “Sorry. I had to get myself together.” Her apartment was red walls and soft music and a futon and a pile of dirty clothes hastily hidden behind the couch. “Would you like a drink, hon? A friend of mine is marketing a new product. Martini in a can. He calls it The Winchester.”
“Sure.” I saw a full ashtray and a pack of 100s. “Mind if I smoke?”
“Help yourself. That’s what they’re there for.”
I felt very adult just then. Even with my girly cigarette and prepackaged cocktail. This was some approximation of what sophisticates did.
The fourth was simply a cute young woman sitting on a couch. “Hi, my name is Precious. I don’t have a lot of money to waste on this commercial, but I’m not a transsexual, I’m not a clockwatcher, and if you pick me, you’ll be glad you did.” Good enough, I thought.
Precious, as it happened, worked out of her apartment. I thought that to be a plus, as I wouldn’t be walking into and out of something that was obviously a brothel. But it turned out not to make much difference; from the looks I got, Precious’ neighbors were very much aware of her profession.
I rang the buzzer. “Just a minute, hon.” It was more like 15. She came to the door in high heels and a boa. “Sorry. I had to get myself together.” Her apartment was red walls and soft music and a futon and a pile of dirty clothes hastily hidden behind the couch. “Would you like a drink, hon? A friend of mine is marketing a new product. Martini in a can. He calls it The Winchester.”
“Sure.” I saw a full ashtray and a pack of 100s. “Mind if I smoke?”
“Help yourself. That’s what they’re there for.”
I felt very adult just then. Even with my girly cigarette and prepackaged cocktail. This was some approximation of what sophisticates did.
posted by Steven Kedrowski at 10:16 AM
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