Thursday, July 13, 2006

Dating


The perfect evening

The evening was warm, allowing her to wear a small dress that covered and insinuated the important parts of the body. The moon was glowing, predicting a magical evening.
She had taken a shower, waxed her legs, brushed her hair, put some lipstick, and polished her nails. She had chosen the perfect underwear (easy to take off) and the perfect dress. She put some perfume and black mascara.
The doorbell rang, he showed up at 7 o’clock sharp. He had drunk a whiskey and had paid a visit to the nearest brothel (the evening could go wrong). He opened the door for her and drove carefully to the restaurant.
The food was great, though she didn’t eat much. She didn’t want to get fat. He didn’t eat much either, he didn’t want her to think of him as a pig. He chose the wine; she hated it, but smiled. They skipped dessert. He insisted on paying the bill, though she made more money than him.
He drove her to her house and she invited him for a night cap.

(…) XXX
On the next morning, he dressed himself and left in silence, pleased. She opened her eyes, unsatisfied, hoping for a call that would never happen.

1 Comments:

Blogger happy prince said...

me!

1:46 PM  

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