the banquet was full of prime rib. women laced in corsets. men sweating tuxedos. he sat heavy at the bar, arms longer than expected - hair that held gel. she sipped from pink madness and approached with a napkin spiked to her heel.
"may i?" she perched, pulling the skirt taunt under her ass like a christmas ribbon to a child's finger. "i'm juliette." she smiled, selling real estate between molars. dipping her hand deep into purse, she pulled out a receipt scribbled in ball point madness.
"care to hear a story?" she read. he stood, dawning a black leather jacket. it smelled like a beating. the servers shouted last call for american slop and she put the paper to bed.
